6936/Sorcerer's World: The Hunt For Jason Blood

Sorcerer's World: The Hunt For Jason Blood
Date of Scene:	14 July 2021
Location:	Cornish Moors -- England
Synopsis:	Jason Blood remains elusive. For now. And just who has taken up Excalibur? And for what purpose?
Cast of Characters:	Bruce Wayne, Kara Danvers, Zatanna Zatara, Meggan Puceanu, Hope Svelgate, Robbie Reyes

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Bruce Wayne has posed:
It has been several weeks since the Dark Knight first darkened the doorstep of one Jason Blood once more. Several weeks since he recruited the one-time knight turned cursed wizard. Several weeks since he involved his sometimes ally in the ongoing battle that the Justice League has found itself waging against the villainous sorcerer Felix Faust and his growing list of allies.

Weeks since that ecounter went bad. Since the Gotham Observatory was all but destroyed and Faust added the one-time Spirit of Vengeance, Eclipso, to his growing ranks of allies. Weeks since Jason Blood was compelled to speak the rhyme that reveals his other self -- Etrigan, the Demon. Weeks since Eclipso brought him under his sway.

Unsurprisingly, the Dark Knight holds himself more then a little bit responsible for what happened to his ally and even while dealing with the Faust issue while maintaining that ever vigilant protection over Gotham City, every spare moment has been turned towards following the slightest of clues to try to track down the infamous rhyming demon to try and find a means to help him.

Stories of monsters unleashed abound in the world -- most false admittedly, but a few with enough truth behind them to be worth investigating, to utilizing those formidable resources to check them out. And then those few finally leave but one destination to look at. A troublesome one indeed.

It is an unlikely place to find trouble to be certain.

Bolventor. It does not sound like the sort of place that one might find trouble. The little hamlet nestled in the Cornish moors has no more then a few hundred residents. A sleepy sort of village in a quiet corner of England. But one very much steeped in history. One with ties far more personal then most for one JAson Blood. Though the question of whether it is his own reasons for being there? Or if he is an agent for someone else.

The moors are a wild area, rolling hills rising up out of wetlands. Long, tall grasses mixed with scrub brush, rock, flowers and the occasional scraggly tree or old, crumbling stone structures. Something out of another time, with hundreds of square miles to search. If one did not have a good notion of where they might find a certain Demon. And even if one lacked the imagination to guess, the sudden explosion of dark magics that permeate the air, that call out to all those who are even mildly sensitive with their demonic taint would surely light the beacon.

Dozmary Pool. An innocuous sort of setting. Unless one pays heedance to the legends that it is the last resting place of Excalibur of course.

Kara Danvers has posed:
Supergirl is quick to follow up on the last mission! While she doesn't have a personal stake in seeing this through, and is not even a regular member of the Justice League, Kara still feels obligated to help Batman see this through.

Supergirl has never met Jason Blood, or Etrigan, and in fact has little to due with mystical things in general. Either way it doesn't take her long to fly from Metropolis to the Cornish town in the UK.

Kara tries not to make a scene as she comes to a stop high above said town, clouds hiding the bottom half of her legs.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
People have lived in Cornwall for over 400,000 years. Zatanna likes to imagine the wild hills with the wind hissing through the grass overlooking the now famous surf beaches when people began living here. Cornwall is full of old earth magic. Despite Bruce's troubled brooding, he has good reason - she well knows; Zatanna will make sure he eats a Stargazy Pie before they leave here. She already has a bag of hot pasties to munch on while they search for their quarry.

Dressed for the stage, in tailored black pants with a satin stripe down their sides, a white tie, and the stiff stock shirt of a magician, in contrast to the stout stave on the branch next to hand, she has perched in a tree overlooking the famous lake. The bag tumbles from her hands at the first blast of magic. Her fault. The scenery had beguiled her into thinking that they could find a reasonable way to help their former ally.

"Think they saw us coming?" She asks after jumping down from her perch.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
When it comes to demons in England, one could do a lot worse than asking John Constantine about their current disposition. The right inquiries in Gotham or New York can connect the Laughing Magician to another pair of organisations innately tied to the British Isles. The occult-bending League of Extraordinary Gentlemen has two centuries and some dealing with things that go bump, and Excalibur by its very name bears something in common with Arthurian matters. Their common vector walks through the grass by way of overland path, untroubled in her pace. Said girl who lives in the Cape Carmine lighthouse off Gotham just happens to be drawn by the permeating evil in her backyard.


Bolventor is a far sight from Gotham, but getting there is no issue for Meggan. She doesn't even stand out as a tourist, wearing hiking boots and the battered pack of a committed hill-rambler out to bag a few munros or marilyns. Inquiring of any nearby locals for landmarks comes all the easier when she speaks with the same Cornish accent, muddied a little by intriguing Celtic origins.

Totally innocuous, her, except the blonde exudes a shocking amount of magical energy herself. She casts a look around, as though taking in the peaceful bucolic landscape of Cornwall at its finest, instead of searching for the allies to a friend. For the moment, the pointed ears that act as a dead giveaway to her Tuathan heritage are absent.

Hope Svelgate has posed:
Lady Death sits in her Sanctuary, the church forgotten by all but the lingering Earthbound spirits. Faust is not far from her thoughts, the number of times he has eluded her as few quarry have continues to grate. She can just hear the Endless Death in her head admonishing her for her attachment to this, taking it personally.

Black framed burning white eyes snap open from her meditations, the magic of the enchanted stained glass windows reaching out and tugging at her senses. Lady Death stands and turns to face the beautiful panes of colored glass even as they ripple and change into scenery unfamiliar to her, Bolventor. Usually the windows reveal to her scenes of Chaos and peril, places where the barriers have been breached or mass unnatural death is nigh. She scowls and stares at the idyllic scene trying to puzzle out why it is that the enchanted windows are showing her this place.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
    The Ghost Rider is driving cross country with the HellCharger, tires no longer burning rubber, but burning the fire that engulfs them, as the car is veering westbound with a desire to track down more of those people that tried to blow him sky high. The need for revenege is the fuel for this engine.

    The ground suddenly opens beneath the charger and the rider screams in his own head, yelling at the other soul inhabiting his undying form.

    "What's this? Where are we going!?" ((I DON'T KNOW, THIS IS NEW TO ME!)) Replies Eli as the car enters a portal through the realms of hell.

    The ground opens with a firey light from below near Cornwall of all places and the Charger flies through and lands on the wheels hard, but the fires errupting from the exhaust cool as the rider comes to a stop and opens the driver door to step out with a single foot and looks around the landscape.

    "Where are we?"

Bruce Wayne has posed:
Even in the days that he might have taken a more... skeptical view in regards to magic, to demons and ancient magic swords, it would not have taken him long to assemble the clues, the information about those involved and determined that this was the most likely place to track down his quarry. But in all fairness, the sorts of criminals he chase in Gotham end of in Arkham Asylum. Believing that they are chasing after magic swords is actually pretty mild for then.

His experiences have opened him up to a few new possibilities as of late. And like any good detective, he goes where the evidence leads without any personal preconceptions.

The Dark Knight is not one for normally hanging out in such wild surroundings. He is definitely an urban creature. Not so much by design as the fact that is where he finds his quarry. And while it is rather pleasant in its own way he rarely lets such sentiments distract him from the matter at hand.

Or maybe he's just discontent at the lack of elevated perches here by the pool. The scrub trees can be climbed and sat in perhaps, but apparently they just don't suit his gothic sensibilities as the Dark Knight crouches on a pile of rocks, staring out over the pool. No more then a mile in circumfrence and no deeper then nine feet at most, pool does indeed seem to be an appropriate description. Not the sort of place one would expect to find either a powerful mage or a demon unleashed. But appearances can be surprising.

"Just so long as Constantine's friend shows up," the cowled figure says in that customary rumbling tone, the masked gaze flickering between both Zatanna and Supergirl for a moment before settling back on the nearby waters that reflect the starry sky above. "And so long as we're not wasting our time out here," he adds. Not exactly impatient. The Dark Knight doesn't get impatient. But his stakeouts are usually in more... familiar locales too.

He does not have cause to wait long. Nor will Lady Death or the Ghost Rider long have to wonder just what it is that has attracted their attention. The sudden surge of dark, demonic energies are abruptly given a very visible source as at the far end of the pool a glowing disk of fire appears, small at first and then growing larger and larger -- more then enough for a human at first, then growing to the size of a car, then two, and it continues to expand.

From that flaming portal a massive gout of flame of the most brilliant sort of red, shot through with highlights of pure black emerges, lashing out towards the lake as if to envelop it, to burn grass and banish water in one terrible burst. But a soft, glowing white radiance seems to spring up from the lake as if lit by the brightest moonlight and the Hellfire washes over, breaking like waves against a cliff.

As the flames fade away the Demon Etrigan stands there, framed in that flaming portal, a mass of demons of all sorts at his back. Still he shows signs of the taint of Eclipso, the half-moon of shadow covering his body as he leaps forth with that demonic army clamoring behind...

Kara Danvers has posed:
And so Supergirl is taking the "high ground perch" today. The lack of buildings certainly prevents Batman from getting an aerial view of things. Kara takes it upon herself to remain in the sky and watch the surrounding miles for signs of suspicious activity.

But then the portal of flame opens up below, near Batman and the rest of the party, prompting Supergirl to quickly make her way down.

She lands next to the others, eyes focused on Etrigan, and the demons accompanying him. But she doesn't say anything. Instead Kara looks at Zatanna, silently hoping that the magician knows how to negotiate with demonic entities..

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna's knuckles whiten on the staff she grips as a portal appears, unleashing energies that should burn everything in its path. She holds up the staff to defend them, but the radiant magic of the deep pool they stand next to protects them. Briefly stunned, she blinks, shaking off the blast.

"Show offs," she mutters, glancing from Batman to Supergirl.

Advancing toward the demon and his gang, "Now, what is their game?"

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Bubbling flame calls to Meggan, a furious beacon breaking at the walls of reality that keep their dimension separate from countless legions occupying nearly as many wicked realms. Before the water even begins hissing, she breaks out in a run to get away from the path. Heading for the tranquil pond is possibly the act of a rather mad individual, not that it gets all that better when orienting on the three people already at the peripheral blast radius.

White light that lifts up sharply changes the landscape and quells her reaching out at some level to the natural elements, pure air and cool, ancient rock gripped unconsciously to hurl back if need be. Coming up on their western flank, she doesn't exude much power at all visibly. But being hip-deep in reaching for the elements isn't much flashy.

"That's a bloody show," she says. A wave will do, fingers curled into her palm. "Also hello. I imagine the lightshow was for your benefit? Not the typical sort of entertainment, and we're rather far from Glastonbury to warrant this kind of pyrotechnic display, mm?"

Green eyes crackle with laughter. "Gloriana, by the by."

Hope Svelgate has posed:
Lady Death's features twist into a snarl. "You would dare?!" There is a building fury as she regards Etrigan's portal and then demonic army he seems poised to unleash.

"Apocalypse!" Her voice rings out echoing through the decrepit church as her Chaos-forged blade flies from its resting place and into her hand. The weapon is sheathed at her side, opposite the Asgardian rune forged weapon on her other hip.

Lady Death then raises her other hand, glowing with the fiery blue mystic power of the Energy Arcane, and channels that power into the enchanted stained glass windows opening the gateway between her Sanctuary and the place revealed in the glass.

The air near the pool in Bolventor seems to shimmer and ripple slightly before out from the distortion steps a rather tall woman that some might describe as a Hellspawned Valkyrie, while others might go with Albino Demonic Dominatrix. Lady Death does not seem happy to be here and even less pleased with the sight of the portal and its demonic horde before her.

"Turn back now and you might escape Oblivion." The words are pointedly directed at Etrigan.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
    One foot on the ground, the other on the floorboard of his car, the Rider simply looks up to the show, not really giving Super Girl, Zatanna, Batman, or Meggan or even Lady Death a glance as he stares up at the hellhoard and the leader in front of it.

    A slow hiss escapes from the flaming metal skull as his jaw slowly lowers before the teeth clench and clack again. ((I DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT IS, BUT I WANT TO KILL IT)) Eli roars with furry within the twin souls of the rider in leather.

    The Ghost Rider leans his head to the side as he reaches into the car and grabs something in his hand before shutting the door and without a word, the car's engine roars, the tires spin and the Charger takes off, charing without a driver towards the demon and the hoard while the Rider simply starts to walk, a chain lowers to his right side before he starts to spin it, a faint orange glow growing within the metal as he approaches, a smile somehow felt like it's visible on his face.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
The light show is impressive to be sure. Or at least it would be to most. It is, unfortunately, becoming a little old hat to the Dark Knight and those others -- both in the League and without -- who have been clashing with Felix Faust on a regular basis for the past weeks. Though the light shows usually aren't quite so... fiery. Perhaps a natural outcome of adding this many demons to scene. Abengazar, Rast and Ghast are remarkably formidable. Perhaps amongst the most powerful of their kind. But they don't go in for the whole hellfire and brimstone like this particular crowd.

All manner of demons seem to flow out of the portal after perhaps the most fearsome rhyming demon that Hell has ever produced. Many are tiny, little more then dolls. But they glow, alight with fire, little sparks passing from hand to hand before they rear back to hurl those balls of flame. Others are lean and whipcord slender, though still rippling with muscle as they slide forward with deadly, sinuous grace. Others are massive, bluborous as they practically ooze across the ground leaving blackened scars of burnt earth in their wake while others are powerhouses -- twelve feet tall and massive, with wings nowhere near large enough to support them... and yet they still somehow take flight.

"~Destroy my foes, my most fearsome pets. Bring them low, and harvest them in our nets," Etrigan spews out in apparent defiance, undeterred in would seem by Lady Death's threats -- or the flaming car that barrels his way. That horde of demons might be less indifferent, but sheer numbers seem to give them courage, courage enough to begin racing forward to intercept the gathered heroes.

And Etrigan? He steps up to the edge of the pond before opening that gapping maw once more, the flood of Hellfire washing out in unstoppable waves. Again that silvery glow springs to life over the waters of the pool. But this time the fires do not break like waves crashing over a rock. This time they give ground, driven back as the rhyming demon literally begins to burn a path right into the waters of the pond.

"I hesitate to ask, but I don't suppose you know if Excalibur is actually laying at the bottom of that pond?" the Dark Knight says to his most trusted sorcerous ally, glancing towards the top-hatted mage for just a moment before his gaze turns heavenward towards Supergirl and gives her a nod. "DIsperse them if you can. We need to get to Etrigan if possible," he calls out, turning towards one half of the advancing demonic horde. "I hope you're not getting more then you bargained for when you agreed to help," he says, briefly glancing towards the blonde, no doubt quietly assessing if she is up to the task.

It is a simple enough plan. Hopefully Batman has some notion of what they will do *if* they actually manage to reach the rhyming demon.

Kara Danvers has posed:
Supergirl doesn't hesitate, careening forward in flight towards one of the demons, fist first, hoping to punch it straight in the head. When she propels forward, it is with as much force, and speed as she can muster from a standing position, which is no doubt exceptional on all counts.

Should her hit connect, she will burst towards the flying foe even faster, and attempt to grab onto it in a bear hug, and crash into the ground with what has no doubt become known as a Kryptonian body slam.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Smiling grimly, Zatanna nods once at Batman, then faces Etrigan. "Excaliber has lain at the bottom of the pool, waiting for a heroic hand to remove it from its stone for centuries. It remains, Batman. What Etrigan wants to do will tear the veil between realities and wreak the world."

Eyes riveted on Etrigan, Zatanna points her staff, "He can not." Her voice lashes across the moor, "!TLAH"

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
"Hell-Lords unfortunately are a bother. Rarely hear them be so musical, though. I may not have John's tack for it, but who does?" Meggan asides to Batman. By a glimpse, she doesn't look at all suited for the task, unless the fear of snarky band logos lies near to infernal hearts.

Kryptonian speed is nothing to be scoffed at Supergirl takes off so quick that it leaves the metamorph's golden hair fluttering, and she casts a swift look to the burning hellion and the pale deathly woman approaching. Her smile widens. Zatanna's warning halts her from whatever she planned, and she nods. "Not too keen on Etrigan stealing my teacher's sword, all in all."

In two petite bounds, she circles through the grass, hands extended to brush over the feathery, sun-crisped vegetation that stretches deep into ancient bedrock. Foundations of a continent crumbling into the sea, land so old it practically got an epoch named for it. Power she whispers to in a shared language, reaching for in a shared bond that cups the sacred pool with a generous margin to spare.

Demons and hellish imps prowl the edges, but they might start stumbling or ending up thrown back when the ground rises in revolt. Pillars of precambrian stone lurch forth from a rumpled landscape. Flat tracks sag immediately, hillocks squished up together in a tremor-ridden earthworks. Broad channels slash beyond the shore, bent by lumpy foxholes slumped in unpredictable patterns shaped by tectonic forces and an angry Tuatha. Micro-quakes build up quick to make footing perilous, though the scale and scope of the earthworks rapidly centers in a nested circle.

A seal.

Hope Svelgate has posed:
Lady Death is known for many things, but repeating herself is not one of them. The Demon Etrigan was given something resembling a chance, there will not be another.

The White Witch of Hell draws the Chaos-forged blade Apocalypse and spins, slashing the blade through the air behind her. In the wake of the blade's passing space/time, reality itself is seemingly rent apart opening a portal. "Wolves, Vassago! To War! Whichever Hell Lord he serves will not have this world."

Emerging through the portal when called are a pair of very large hellish wolf-like creatures, 'The Nameless Wolves', followed by what can only be called a Nightmare. Vassago is an albino hellborn stallion covered in horns, spikes, and various other sharp bony protrusions, with hooves awash in hellfire.

"Anfalla!" On command from the deathly warrior woman, the Nameless Wolves surge forward to attack, tearing demonic flesh and crushing demonic bone with their jaws as they carve their way first through the front most lesser ranks of the horde.

Lady Death watches her beloved pets go with a slight smile. There are things that she loves, just usually not humans. As she does she mounts the albino Nightmare creature Vassago, ready to ride straight for Etrigan.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
    The Rider only steps forward, as if he's going to savor this fight, the chance to spill blood and let loose his rage and anger, something he's been denying Eli, and knowing that each time Robbie tells his uncle 'no', his uncle is bidding his time. Waiting. Ever in the background, waiting for the chance to take over their semi-shared body.

    In this moment, Robbie takes a back seat. ("Go.") Robbie says to Eli, and Eli hunches forwards, the chains spinning madly as he literally leaps from the ground into the fray.

    The car continues to drive of its own volition and plowing through as many demons as the 60 year old metal powered by hellfire can.

    "I'VE WANTED TO TASTE TRUE DEMON BLOOD FOREVER!" Cries out Eli as fire erupts from his mouth and the spout at the middle of his head.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
Certainly none of the demons confronting them out here on the Cornish moors has anywhere near the power of the Demons Three. Aside from perhaps Etrigan himself. But there are a whole lot more of them and sometimes she numbers can make a difference where raw power does not. At least the demons had better hope that is the case. Or the mass of them that starts to swarm towards Kara as she slams one of their number into the ground are very likely to regret their decisions.

While Kara occupies the demons on one flank, it would appear that Meggan is indeed up to the task on the other. That on-coming rush of demons finds itself stopped in place by the very earth itself as it shifts and moulds itself into barriers that channel the horde into impassable passages, all designed to slow and imprision, to steal their very footing as the earth moves beneath them. Effective indeed.

And then there are wolves. Huge, impossible beasts that look every bit as fearsome as the demons themselves, plowing into their midsts as they try to regather, as those masses of burning flesh try to surround and engulf Supergirl, where imps hurl ball after flaming ball of demonic flame at the earthenworks that seem to bear down on them inevitably. Suddenly they have tooth and fang to worry about as well as more then one is all but torn apart by the unearthly beasts. Some of the demons turn towards theflaming skull-headed figure, surging towards him. The lean, dangerous ones, slithering close in serpentine fashion as razor sharp claws extend. They have no real idea of just what they are in for. Those facing the flaming car might be a little more daunted, hurling hellfire to slow it's assault. And likely dismayed at it's lack of effect.

While the Demon Etrigan might come to regret his indifference to Lady Death's orders, he carries on even in the face of her rushing towards him. Of course, the hellfire that blasts from that gapping maw is an not insubstatial barrier, one to make even demons lords to think twice. Nevermind those beings on the otherside of the cosmic order. That flame continues to carve a path into the glowing waters of the pond as he moves onward, five feet, ten feet, twenty feet from shore. Few might be in a position to see it, but there, just barely poking through where water and hellfire meet is a glowing, golden hilt. The water swells, the frothy mass seeming to coalesce into a shape. No doubt a trick of the light, but for a moment it is not mere water there, but the shape of a woman standing defiant in the face of that primal, hellish onslaught.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
Etrigan reaches out his hand, even with mouth stretched in impossible, inhumans dimensions to let loose that torrent of flame, he still seems to smile. And there, inches short of his prize Zatanna's magicks take root. He strains, striving to close those last few inches, to wrap hands around the weapon once wielded by his liege lord. And finds himself denied.

Of course, not all of their foes are grounded and the huge, flying demons take to the air in defiance of physics, too small wings holding them aloft. Deadly spines launch themselves from their bodies, sending out a deadly rain of projectiles to fall in amongst their gathered foes even as flaming whips begin to manifest in their hands.

The Dark Knight is a little out of his element here. He can be an effective brawler when need be. But not in this kind of fight. It is speed that will serve him well. So as that barrage of spines begins to fall amongst them he pauses only to offer what cover he can to Zatanna. And then he is off, leaping forward, trying to pick a path through the confrontation. A path that will bring him closer to Etrigan without being burned alive. Close enough to try and reach the man buried inside the monster.

Kara Danvers has posed:
Supergirl is aware of the demons approaching her as she deals several punches to the grappled demon she targetted at first. Whirling around she claps her hands HARD, hoping to send them flying backwards. Okay so she heard that the Hulk did it once and wanted to try it out!

Assuming success she will keep up the pressure on the first demon she attacked. She doesn't want to let him regain his focus whatsoever if she can help it. Taking this fight into the sky might be necessary..

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Deadly missiles rain around the mage, standing tall despite the menace. Batman has more to do than protect her. She fears for him, having no magic shield amidst the sorcery raging over the pool.

With a pass of her left hand, she whispers, "Mih dleihs." A tremor translates into the shaft that Zatanna holds aloft as she splits her attention between keeping Etrigan from his goal and protecting Batman. Biting her bottom lip till it bleeds, a sacrifice to sorcery, Zatanna, struggles to freeze the fiery demon till Lady Death and Meggan can bring their strength to bear.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Too close for comfort, too close by half. Etrigan coming within a near handsoan of Excalibur sends a furious tremor through the blonde, and for a moment, those burning green eyes reflect nothing more human than an archdemon itself would possess. The gauntlet thrown puts Batman and Zatanna both at awful risk, eldritch shields are not, and the blonde darts to where hellfire and water converge.

Any pretense of being merely human collapses altogether in a second. Divinity unfolds in force anchored to the living sphere of the earth, Gaea's rage flung back in the face of sullied demonkind. Standing about eye to eye with the rhyming demon in height, she simply thrusts her hand out and speaks in the tongue of fallen Camelot, that most ancient precursor of Welsh: <<No.>>

Soulfire wings unfold in a blaze containing colours the mortal eye barely registers, primeval elements spinning into an armoured gown of seething waves and raging winds. Luminous flames forge a whirlwind around her, fed by celestial energy and life itself. When confronted with simply too much hellfire for one ephemeral being alone to deal with, Meggan decides to balance the scales by throwing a considerable amount of the opposite force back to buy time for Lady Death and her sword to cleave things apart or Zatanna to banish them all to a bar at the end of time.

Apples are good there.

The spiritual Lady of the Lake no longer stands alone, accompanied by a shapeshifted avatar of northwestern Europe countering a convincing argument.

Hope Svelgate has posed:
Lady Death kicks her heels hard into the sides of her steed and Vassago takes off into the the sky at startling speed leaving a trail of Hellfire in his wake as the blazing streaks of his hooves create a comet tail across the sky.

High above the water and Etrigan's Hellfire attack upon it, the White Witch draws her Chaos-forged blade and holds it skyward as it begins to swirl with the reddish-orange power of Chaos energy drawn from the ends of Infinity. Storm clouds begin to swirl that were definitely not there before begin to swirl above her.

"Blixtnedslag!" She shouts as she slashes the blade downward in a fierce motion until its tip points at Etrigan and in a feat worthy of Thor, a mighty bolt of lightning is brought forth from the clouds, screaming downward towards The Demon Formerly Known as Jason Blood.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
    "COME! BE DEVOURED!" The flaming leather clad warrior calls out as he brings the chain across his body, and it wraps around the neck of his first foe, the spike on the end burrying itself into the demon's shoulder and then with a mighty pull, the rider yanks the beast to him and actually takes a bite of the demon.

    As he gets swarmed by the creatures and demons, the Ghost Rider seems to be overwhelmed by the forces of Etrigan, as he drops to his hands and knees, pieces of his leather being ripped from his skeletal and metalic form. But there's a rumble as the car turns and moves towards the downed rider and it isn't slowing down.

    The charger is plowing through demons, and being powered by the extra hellfire being thrown at it by the other demons. The black car with flames coming from the exhaust runs /OVER/ the Ghost Rider, but where he was stands nothing.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
One cannot help but wonder what all of this looks like to the residence of Belventor, a mere two kilometers to the north. How long since such displays of magic were a common thing in this place. When other legends and monsters walked the earth.

It is questionable just how much of a fight Supergirl's demon is likely to put up at this point. There would not be very many alien races still capable of standing at this point. But these are demons. They do not belong in this room. It is questionable if they are even alive in the traditional sense. The horde of them advancing on the blonde superheroine might prove daunting to her, their existence tied up in dark magics. But before they can close in on her she whirls and slaps those hands together, a sonic blastwave springing forth in her wake. Even the most powerful of the mass approaching her only holds their gorund for a moment. And then they join the weakest of their number, hurled about, flying backwards, some to land amongst the rocks and long grasses lining the shore. Others to land in the frothy water itself where they struggle against the rippling midnight surface, trying to claw their way to shore. And giving unearthly, rage-filled cries as they find themselves dragged beneath the waves.

Dozmary Pool is not without it's own defenses it would seem. Though how long they would have last without the backup provided by those on site is another question entirely.

The aerial assault is a dangerous one to be sure. Those without substantial magics would surely be overwhelmed. But the power on display is everybit as formidable as anything Faust and his allies have unleashed to date. It's weakness? There are simply too many powerful foes too spread out to be pinned down by such an assault. And those that do find themselves under attack have both magic and agility to fall back on. So the winged monstrocities scatter, breaking up into smaller bands seeking to harry the heroes. A trio swoops down to try and deal with Zatanna and her sorceries, flinging barb after barbed spine her way, seeking to pierce flesh and tear bone. A group of five wing their way towards Lady Death, a collection of flaming whips lashing out, long tendrils of fire seeking purchase on her pale flesh, seeking to bind her limbs and contain her might. Another group swoops down towards Kara, dropping from the midnight blue heavens overhead towards the Kryptonian, seeking to turn her tactics against her and pin her to the ground.

A full force of the winged demons descend upon Ghost Rider as he tears through the horde surrounding him. One, two, even three fall, but as the last two begin to tear into the flaming-skulled figure that car is there, the flames driving them back long enough to envelop the figure, leaving only that vehicle out of nightmares behind. One more mystery to contemplate. Later.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
The Dark Knight does not get spared either, though only a single winged demon chases after him. That flaming whip cracks out, again and again nipping at Batman's heels. And those few times that it is on track Zatanna's shield does it's job, deflecting the flaming lash away time and again. "Fight back Jason. You're more then this. You hold the Demon fast, it does not hold you," he calls out as he closes that distance.

Between Zatanna's magic and the spiritual Lady of the Lake rising to the defense of Britain's heart, Etrigan is hed fast, unable to close those last few inches, to grab hold of that mythical blade. But it is only when Meggan swoops in to add her power to the frey that he is actually forced to take a step back. And then two. The torrent of hellfire continues to pour forth from that gapping maw, seemingly without end as if channelling the power of Hell itself. But the frustration, the rage is clear on it's expression. Etrigan is not happy. The rage fuels his connection to Eclipso and he strives for one last effort.

Which is when that bolt of lightning leaps out of the clear, starry skies above, cracking down like a bolt from... well, not heaven certainly. Not given who is responsible. But it is enough. Lightning meets demon and the hellfire comes to an abrupt end. Etrigan is hurled back, thrown back out of the pool as the waters of the pond rush into to retake their place. And the Demon glares malevolently at all as that portal of hellfire that still lights up the surrounding moor rushes towards him. "~You have not won, nor seen the last of my hide. The Demon shall have his fun, and you shall all come to my side."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Blinding light followed by a deafening crack of thunder announces the power of Death. Zatanna thrills at the force of the Lady of the Lake, pushing against the power of Hell itself. Inexorably, Etrigan retreats before the three.

Staff still held high, the magician falls to her knees, her top hat blown off by the force of the magic blasts. Blood spots her mouth as she grins at Etrigan bowing before their power.

She laughs, "Today we have!"

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Lightning and burning rubber carve up the night. Meggan might well be drunk on the energy she hauls from far-flung islands and nearby groves, fields, and shores. Etrigan alone is her focus, everything else reduced to a prismatic blur. Another wave crashes away from her as he shambles back into the protection of the hellfire gate, soulflame and celestial fire blasted from her open hands.

"Shut it," Meggan murmurs in that fraught tongue. "I've heard better from a drunk exorcist."

Not exactly the most earthy of things, though her light-girt wings carelessly drop behind her and she sinks to the ground when he vanishes. Back down to her bare feet, no sign of those poor, shredded hiking boots have survived. Hair woven from light and air sways in a relatively cohesive form, though the rest of her body takes a bit to shift fully back into flesh as though it's forgotten how.

Minor inconveniences, limited ability to return corporeal. "Thank you. That was magnificently done, but bother if he shows back up with friends to steal it again. Hopefully he sods off and stays gone."

Hope Svelgate has posed:
Lady Death is not done. Etrigan the Demon was given his chance and chose Oblivion over turning back and it would seem the Pale Rider atop her Nightmare steed intends to deliver it to him.

She raises her sword, channeling her own Energy Arcane into the clouds mixed with the 'Holy' power of the Angelic soul of her mother within her.

"Död Från Himlen!"

As she utters the incantation, several glowing spots appear amidst the storm clouds heralding a lot more lightning is imminent, 'Death From Heaven' as it were.

In her other hand she draws the rune forged blade Scynister, the weapon growing and twisting from a short sword into a full on scythe as she does.

"Anfalla!" She commands Vassago and the Nightmare steed dives for Etrigan and his portal even as lightning bolts seem to burst from every part of the blackened swirling mass of sky, all aimed at the defiant demon who would laugh and rhyme in the face of death.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
Etrigan is formidable, there is no doubt. And the black diamond of Eclipso that has corrupted him gives him yet another pool of power to draw on. But it also saps him of his free will. And few are anywhere near as powerful as a thrall as they are when standing on their own two feet. The Demon is outclassed today and will not have his prize.

Should he be concerned about the power on display, gathered against him, thrown towards him as that portal moves to engulf him? To carry him away. Probably. But perhaps the lack of free will serves him well there. The fallen demon only glares his hate. Hate for Lady Death and her sky-wrought power. Hate for Meggan and her well-timed support for the pool's own mystical power. Hate for the Kryptonian girl that fearlessly engaged his demonic armies. For the skull-headed man who held up his other flank. For Zatanna who's power thwarted his aims. Even for the Dark Knight that made one hopeless attempt to call forth his weaker, human self.

And as that power lashes down Etrigan disappears from sight, engulfed in flame. But that energy tears through the rift, the gateway flaring to almost blindingly painful intensity before winking out of existence.

With that string cut a cry goes up from the demonic host -- at least that of it which is still standing. Flames ripple across their form and cut off from their home, they wink out of existence, ripped back to the hell that spawned them. The moors surrounding the pond are abruptly all but silent aside from the smoldering flames that still lick at the tall grasses that sway in the evening breeze, deep, black scorch marks marring the fields of green.

"Damn it," the Dark Knight mutters under his breath, gaze focused on where the object of his search has disappeared once more. That hard-eyed stare is directed to the no longer there portal before Batman draws himself a little straighter, turning back towards his collegues. Time to begin, all over again.

The hunt for Jason Blood will continue.

Hope Svelgate has posed:
The albino Nightmare averts its attack dive as Etrigan finally pulls his vanishing act and the divine lightning shreds through the portal, combining with the rest of the onslaught to rend it from existence.

"Damn it!" Lady Death curses under her breath, another escaped foe, another enemy made, but at least the demonic horde was stopped and whatever they were after is safe for now...

True to form, like every other time the league has encountered this walking vision of death, Lady Death whistles for her Nameless Wolves and with her blade Apocalypse in hand slashes open a rent in space/time to who knows where, riding off with her hell beasts hot on her heals, vanishing.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Night brings its valiant ride with a golden pallor. Meggan has a report to make, a concern to chase. For her, sleep shall come indeed on the shores of a little cove where the sand and the waters meet in tangled accord and an ancient spur of rock wreathed in meadow flowers and gnarled trees welcome the sun. No one's bound to question if a girl made of the wind or stirred waves sleeps in the dawn's light there, but it shall be Meggan's way of refreshing herself in the arms of the natural environment. Rather unlike the plant-based acquaintance she has in Gotham, it may be something more peaceful.

But she has a long walk to go before finding a suitable niche, leaving the Kryptonian, detective, and magician with a wave.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
The very first rays of the rising sun begin to fall over the Cornish moor, a glimmering touching the water. Only those black scars on the earth give testement to what happened hours earlier. The battle waged here. That, and the linging sense of demonic power that lingers like a sickening miasma in the air. Where the flaming rift opened up hours earlier to eject the demonic horde a new rift opens. Bright and golden, a strange shape slashes the sky emitting a hovering figure that is swallowed up in the light. He floats, moving without step, without effort until he hovers above the waters of the now placid pool. A golden gloved hand reaches down, laying atop the surface of the water. "<<Sleep>>" comes that not quite human voice, tinged by power. Then the gloved hand dips beneath the surface of the pond. And when it lifts from that water, sparkling with the morning's first light, a golden hilt is gripped there, held aloft triumphantly before figure and blade alike vanish together.