8359/Cabbage Night

Cabbage Night
Date of Scene:	30 October 2021
Location:	Westchester County, The Hunt Home.
Synopsis:	Turns out an evil Hag Witch was responsible for the missing kids. The day was saved with minimal pain and suffering for Team Good. John drags in a new recruit that might wind up making him rue the day.
Cast of Characters:	John Constantine, Megan Gwynn, Albert Rothstein, Nettie Crowe, June Moone

---

John Constantine has posed:
    Cabbage Night, the night before Halloween, the night where young punks all over the US of A feel emboldened to destroy the property of others. Some times it's just toilet paper and soap, but sometimes they take things a little further than that.

    Like twin brothers, Ronald and Donald Archer and their girls Betty and Caroline, a group of entitled brats that thought it be 'cool' to trash that house on the hill. They weren't afraid of rumors of the place being haunted.

    ...and now they're missing and John Constantine's 'map' in the backroom of the Laughing Magician pub alerted him to 'something weird' in Westchester.

    Rumors of the disappearance of the teens is spreading like wildfire and those with the right questions to ask or the right friends to listen to might have even heard that the group was heading for the old Hunt House up on the hill.

    Or maybe, just maybe someone happens to just be strolling by the place when John steps out of the portal he opened right into the backyard. He takes one look at the run down, creepy looking house on the hill and says, "Huh, looks like home, dunnit?" Home being that Wretched Pile of Sticks known as the House of Mystery.

Megan Gwynn has posed:
Megan Gwynn just happens to be strolling by said spooky house, mostly cuz she has heard the rumours of it being haunted, and she was totally curious to explore them herself.Can you really blame her? She's always had a knack for trouble, and she had her own fascination with magic and ghosts ever since her dad died when she was a child. As she steps up to the house, that's when John pops out of his portal and she blinks. "uh..Okaaay? That's something you don't see every day..?"

Albert Rothstein has posed:
Albert Rothstein had heard some rumors about the group from some of the kids he teaches at school. If it be something that was spreading online, or if they were students themselves. Albert has decided to check it out, and so, he decided to come check it out. He parked is car a bit away somewhere with plenty of lights and people about in hopes it does not get egged or such tonight. Albert is walking up the road to the house in his normal casual clothing, no costume tonight for him.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Oh, I dunno, John." comes a more properly accented British voice as Nettie Crowe steps out, wearing black boots, black leggings and a gray shawl that pretty much hides what she was wearing beneath. She looks up at the old house, and pulls her silvery-gray hair back into a messy bun, her wand tucked into her hair as she checks the pockets of her shawl.

    "I rather think this one has less charm." the witch replies, giving a slight smile over to the taller mage as she tightens her gloves.

    "Let's just hope whatever got you riled up upstate hasn't made its way out here, yeah?" she murmurs, looking up at the dark house.

John Constantine has posed:
    Megan's arrival has John's attention pulled from the house. He waggles a finger in her direction and says, "You... shouldn't be here, luv." Dismissing her entirely after that, because he's an *asshole*, he turns his attention back toward the house.

    He shakes his head slightly, "Mmmm, no this isn't that. But there's some dark fuckin' shite here. Here I was hoping we'd just find the bloody kids fallen down a well or some such. Old, whatever's here is *old*."

    Movement in his peripheral vision catches his attention and he spots Albert. "Bloody Hell, Nettie, we got lookie loos." That would be in regards to both Albert and Megan.

Megan Gwynn has posed:
Megan Gwynn kinda sticks out with her bright pink hair and fairy wings. But hey, it might just be nothing more than a costume, being Halloween and all. Cuz you never know. Except that she gives off a distinct magic vibe. No doubt she can sense magic as well. "Oooh, who are you? Are you a real Wizard? That portal was pretty cool!" she beams! but doesn't move from the front door.

Annd looks like more people are arriving. "Ooh are these your friends? How fun, a whole party of ghost hunters! Well at least I don't have to go it alone!" yeaaah this is all just a big game to her and..Did her wings just flutter on her own. "Well then, what are we waiting for, let's have some fun!" and with a giggle she steps boldly to the door and knocks on it three times.

Albert Rothstein has posed:
Albert Rothstein looks over and says "Aint a looky loo. am looking for a couple missing teenagers. Heard some rumors they came up here to check the haunted house, and aint been heard from." He looks at the three and at the girl calling one a wizard a brow raises but he waits to see what is said.

June Moone has posed:
Rumors spread like wildfire, leaving fear and uncertainty to billow in their wake; few, if any corners of Westchester have gone untouched.

As rumors filter south and their fidelity fades - 'The Archer Boys, Betty, and Caroline' becomes 'Two teenage boys and their girlfriends', becomes 'Four teenagers', becomes 'Some kids' - becoming little more than post-fold headlines and subreddit threads, their remnants remain every bit as redolent as ever; if anything, dissemination is a surefire way to enhance them, according to the evershifting laws of psychophysical dynamics.

So maybe it was a coincidence that, at 2 AM on a Friday, June Moone found herself tumbling down an internet rabbit hole lined with scraps of news from Westchester.

Or maybe the raw and rich scent of mounting terror wafting from up north set something astir inside her.

Either way, as John, Nettie, Albert, and Megan find their ways to the wildfire's heart, June's there.

Weighing--

Lurking, in a dense patch of shadow just beyond the wild foliage lining the way towards -- up -- the hill--

Ringing, because she forgot to turn her phone off, and her supervisor doesn't have a healthy understanding of boundaries--

One quarter of one runthrough of a Dua Lipa chorus later, bushes briefly rifle, then June stumbles out with branches stick in her hair, eyes bouncing warily around the quartet, and phone deathgripped in her right hand.

One beat of eye-darting later, her left hand stiffly comes up for a greeting. Half a beat after /that/, she hastily thinks to assure:

"I'm /not/ a vlogger-- I /swear/."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "You /did/ just address one." Nettie states to John quietly, tilting her eyes back a moment, and then sweeping her hand over them with a murmured word. Bit of illusion, and her inhumanly colored eyes turn to her more natural honey-brown.

    "Hello Poppets!" Nettie states, clapping her hands a moment. "Isn't it past your bedtimes?" she inquires with a smile, looking to Megan, to June, and Albert.

    And then back to Megan. She narrows her eyes a moment at the fairy, and she points her finger at her. "Except for you. You, probably shouldn't be messing with." she comments quietly, and then she gives a flat expression. "... ghost hunters. Yes. That is what we are, precisely." she comments quietly, and she lets her up-turned nose wrinkle a bit as she turns back to John.

    "Puppies." she comments with an amused expression and then she looks up at the house that suddenly Megan is knocking on and she obviously winces.

    "Oi! Wings! Back up a touch! There's Evil in that house an' you're lighting up more proper than a Tahiti Holiday!"

John Constantine has posed:
    The door creaks open, the distinct click of the knob engaging hinting at the fact that it didn't do so simply because it wasn't shut all the way. "Bloody HELL!" Quick on the draw, it's how he's survived as long as he has, John's right hand raises and a little burst of magic is all it takes to yank the door shut again.

    "*Neetttttiiiie*," he WHINES. Fucking *puppies* is implied at the end of that whine.

    The 'wizard' comment doesn't get acknowledge with an answer. ...because any answer he has would just be snark and nastiness. One comment might have had something to do with Harry Potter, broomsticks, asses and what the word Quidditch really means. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep that one at bay.

    Then there's a phone ringing... and yet another interloper on his crime scene. "Bollocks!" Those faded denim blues of his, tired and red-rimmed and surrounded by dark circles to the point of looking like bruises roll Heavenward.

    ...and then something tugs on the magic he's using to hold that door shut. It's an insistent thing. "So much for trying to sneak in unnoticed," he mumbles under his breath before he lets the magic go, the door flies open and he starts up the three rickety little stairs toward that open door.

    "Yes, yes, missing kids... *I got* this," he tosses over his shoulder at Albert.

Megan Gwynn has posed:
Megan Gwynn just beams at the others, clasping her hands innocently behind her back, "Yoooou shouldn't be here, it's too dangerous, Youre just a kid..lBlahblahblah.." she makes a face, imitating their warnings with puppet hand gestures. "Talk to the hand, this fairy's going in whether you like it or not! You might just need her help!" she giggles and winks before darting inside..

Yeaaah that door just opened on its own, Didnt it? Oooh that there's a random phone ringing and Megan peers around for the source of the ringing. "Soooo who's calling?" she frowns but finds no phone ringing in the house. Hmm.."So where do we start?"

Albert Rothstein has posed:
Albert Rothstein 's brow raises at Megan, wondering if the girl might be on something. He Looks back to Constatine and says "Well looks like some weird stuff is going on here, and a little extra muscle can come in handy, I plan on checking out this house, and it sounds like it would be much better if we worked together, and were not tripping over one another.

June Moone has posed:
"Michael Jennedy," June murmurs, frowning and skirting just shy of actually looking at Megan, "my supervisor at Columbia-- he's going on vacation in a week, and he's-- I mean, he's a good teacher, but organization iiiiissss--"

With nary a touch, the door is open;

"... not..."

and there are still four children unaccounted for.

"... not... relevant to this-- hh, okay--"

June briskly, gently slaps her cheeks, rubs them, then heads inside, playing with her phone just long enough to turn the flashlight on and shining it around for better visibility.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Nettie doesn't seem amused by Megan's antics. She reaches down to brush a finger to the blue amulet she wears, her disguised eyes looking to John. <You might want to rein that one in John. I'm likely to use too much force and break her wings. Already have a pair from Tir Na Nog who have it out for me.>

    "Well. We can start with your names, in case we have to pull you out of some sort of mental spellery. I'm Nettie." she introduces herself simply, and she holds out her hand -- which with a flutter of wings is occupied by a crow. Nettie brings the creature to her shoulder, and breathes out a moment before she draws a crystal on a chain from her shawl, holds it in her hand a moment, and she breathes out, letting it glow like a little, rose-quartz colored lantern. You kids and your technologies and your cell phones.

    She holds the crystal aloft.

    "My friend is John. It would wise, poppets, to mind him. Lest he eject you forcibly from any investigation." she states, and gives a soft 'hum'.

    "Could quickly ward a wee circle for a 'home base' as it were."

John Constantine has posed:
    John turns to address Nettie with, "If that one dies, not on me. *Not on me*... even if I'm the one that kills her." He steps through the doorway, Sight wide open.

    All's quiet inside the Hunt House. It's too quiet, even with the door to the outside open, none of the sounds from out there, distant traffic noise, night animals, the occasional plane flying overhead, none of it's heard from the inside.

    The furniture is all covered in sheets, dingy grey with time, the corners drip with cobwebs, a layer of dust covers the floors at least an inch think; save where feet have disturbed the decade's worth of the stuff. It's apparent that the house hasn't been lived in for a very long time. Shadows cast by moonlight streaming through the window seem longer than they should be; or is that just an illusion?

    A glance at Albert and he offers, "Just stay close, and run like the bloody devil's chasing if I say run, because he might well be, aye?"

    "Nettie," his voice dropped to near a whisper more out of that 'it just feels like we should be quiet' than anything else, "...there's a *lot* of dead in here. Five just here in the main room, all seem to be caught in death loops."

    His heart drops, but not too far. "None of them seem recent." So not the kids in question. "This place needs a cleansing in a bad way once we find those sodden punks."

    The thing is, the thing John isn't yet aware of, he's not the only one that sees them. Of course for him they're steady and solid and for everyone else they're flickering in and out of existence. A young girl dressed in clothing from the turn of the century with her neck bent at an unnatural angle dangling from a rope from the open hallway above, a teenage boy and girl - both impaled by the same long spear-like piece of wood and stuck together in an eternity of agony, an older woman with a bullet wound in the middle of her forehead and a middle aged man with an ax sticking out of his skull.

    "Yeah, do that Nets," John murmurs distractedly while he walks around the near frozen shades of the teenagers impaled together. "Clothes are eighties maybe," he mumbles to himself.

    All five of them stuck in their death loops are screaming silently or otherwise reacting as they did in the moment of their death, be it surprised shock or just terrified screams.

Megan Gwynn has posed:
Megan Gwynn beams at Albert and June who seems not to mind either way. To Nettie, she smiles and courtesy's, "Megan Gwynn at your service!" she offers, oooh and is that a crow? Her eyes widen in wonder, reaching out an arm to said crow. "Oooo Soo, pretty.." oo and a glowy Crystal too! So awesome!

She smiles sweetly at John and shrugs, "Oh, do t worry about me, I can take care of myself, and if I need to get y'all outta trouble, I can do that too, in the blink of an eye!" she smiles and winks.r
But for now, she turns her attention to the house, and of course she can sense magic and see ghosts too, peeling her senses for anything unusual. And she shivers, staying close to the others as the death loops make themselves know. "Ohh..What is this? People died here, for real?" she shivers, but..No, no way is she gonna run or be scared. She came here to help, dammit!

"Soo, how can we help them..?"

Albert Rothstein has posed:
Albert Rothstein will start to reach out to touch one of the ghosts but stops himself just before. He is having to duck down and hunch over a lot, cause of his height. He will ask, "So, what happens if we touch one of these things?" He will ask frowning a bit and does wait to see the answer to Megan's question.

June Moone has posed:
The first flicker draws breath into June's nose like a bullet. It sets her teeth on edge; pulls her spine reed straight; turns deep, brown eyes into frantic saucers.

John's warning goes in one side and out the other because someone else has her ear just now, whispering too low -- too close -- to be heard by anyone but June.

Just let me in, June.

At least the suggestion of introductions manages to stick:

"I, uh--" she murmurs, low and distant.

Come on, sweetie; all you've got to do is SAY it. She's practically BEGGING for you to say it~.

"... uh..."

The lump in her throat barely budges when she swallows. It's not until she manages to unclench her hands and tear her eyes away from the twenty-something blonde shaking pill after pill after pill after pill after... ... into her trembling hand that, ".. uh, June," finally comes out-- only to be promptly followed by eyes darting towards Albert so she can hiss, simply, "Don't."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Nettie gives a quiet "Well. That's cheery right around for the holiday." and adds in a "Stay Close, kids."

    She's including John, who is really the most capable in the room, in the 'Kids' category.

    The crow eyeballs Megan, ruffles feathers and attempts to peck at her palm in an angry fashion before he growls: "Hands off, Tinkerbell, or I take 'em to add to the pickling bucket." in a male's voice, his feathers ruffling, and he tilts his head back.

    "Don't touch anything." Nettie states, and she reaches into her side pouch and she pulls out chalk.

    "Listen to the June, Lad. You don't want to start getting involved too deep in this. You three shouldn't be here." she states, and she draws down to a kneel and begins to draw in a circle. It's many layered, her fingers working speedily, inerringly, and within about a minute, there is a seven-foot wide protective circle, created with arcane symbols and drawn from Crowe family tradition. It's Old, and it's *strong*.

    With a word, and her hand drawn up, three fingers extended as if she were swearing an oath, the circle flashes.

    "... anyone start feelin' faint, or feeling like you're not yourself -- you get yourself in the circle, and you stay yourself in the circle, poppets. Can't be exorcisin' nothing in this house when you're not yourselves." she warns.

John Constantine has posed:
    "Won't do anything, they're all stuck," John points out but he also adds, "...touching' is still creepy, mate." Like who would *want* to. "My priority right now is the potentially still living. Deal with this after we find those missing kids." Hopefully still alive, but that hope's fading a bit in John's mind.

    "Something's holding them here, Nettie, feeding on the suffering of their last moments. They didn't all die here either."

    Each room is the same as the first, more of the dead stuck in their final moments. All of them were either murdered or... decided they'd had enough of this life. None died peacefully, most died bloody and it's the blood that shows in bright red with every flicker.

    Something about June tugs at John's senses, he has them wide open, after all. His gaze is ripped from the most recent shade he's studying - a twenty-something young man clutching his stomach, trying to keep his innards from being on the outside - and toward June.

    Megan? Well, John's one hundred percent Liverpudlian ASSHOLE and he's just not equipped to deal. He makes a face that *clearly* says, 'the bloody hell is your *deal*'. Too much chipper for him and there's not even fish involved.

Megan Gwynn has posed:
Megan Gwynn makes a face at the crow, and smirks a bit as it answers back, "Ooh, you remind me of someone." she giggles, "But he's a raven wuth better manners." the warning not to touch anything is needed though, and she steps closer to the others, just in case. Who knows what might happen here.

She glances at John and nods, "Right, focus on the living, get them outta here first. She follows the others from room to room, peering around thoughtfully, and just smirks at John's cranky attitude. Hey, someone's Gotta keep the balance here.

"Helloo?" she ventures into the latest room, peering around, "Anybody here?"

Albert Rothstein has posed:
Albert Rothstein nods a bit to this and looks around at the others, and says "I don't know much about magic, but if there is a physical side to this stuff, I should be able to handle most of it."

June Moone has posed:
"... can't you talk to them?" June wonders, eyes roving between Nettie and John. "About the children?"

The tremor backing that question is, surely, born of empathy for her fellow (teenaged) people, unrelated to the Cheshire smile lighting the lower reaches of her Self, sending faint white shimmers through the woman's extra-dimensionally kissed aura for those with the senses to perceive it.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Be nice to Corvax. He's almost as old as I am." Nettie replies to Megan, and there's a vague note of disapproval about her manners.

    "No, June. They're in Replay mode. It's a bit like... if a record skips. Or a bit of a DVD's corrupted and tells the laser-thing to point back a few seconds ago. They're probably not even aware of our being here."

    She's gentle-voiced as she explains, knowing that some feel strongly for the dead. They were suffering -- but she knows JOhn.

    He won't let them be.

    She pauses at one door, and she brings her chalk up to inscribe a symbol there. Marking rooms they've checked into, and she frowns a moment.

    "John, there's a bit of a..." she pauses, and she waggles her fingers towards the back of her head "... can you feel it? Like something's just beneath."

John Constantine has posed:
    "That's interesting," John mumbles, his attention still on June. But it's not the time for that so he lets it go. "No, they wouldn't hear us. They're... a little like recordings, just a bit of the real thing." It's just not something he can easily put into 'lay terms but Nettie's got it better. "Yeah, got it," he replies to the Greywitch.

    So the path through the house continues until John reaches the point in the upstairs hallway just beneath the attic door in the ceiling. It's one of those old things, likely with steps that pull down. The rope or chain typically used to do so is missing.

    Not that something like that would normally be a problem for John Constantine. But he's just standing there, staring up at that little door.

    When he starts to murmur under his breath, the words are in Latin. For anyone that speaks such, Latin's a boring language and the individual words don't really matter do they? Just the intent of them. He's ordering something to show itself, refusing, it seems to be drawn into that attic to face it on its own turf.

    The chanting grows louder, a sigil tattoo on the inside of his left forearm glows brightly enough that the light can be seen shining out around the cuff of his trenchcoat.

    In one last, booming string of commands, he shoves his hands up toward that trap door. It might seem that it's him that just blew the thing open... it might, if it hadn't blown outward rather than inward. John raises his hands to shield his eyes against the splintering wood.

    The temperature in the room suddenly drops, plummets, breath can easily be seen now.

    A beat, two, three and all's silent again. When she finally shows herself, the hag that crawls from the hole in the ceiling is twisted and misshapen, she skitters across the ceiling above them, head bent wrongly in order to look down upon them.

    The flickering images of the dead stop flickering, become solid, become *real*. The twenty-something holding his guts inside lets them go to tumble to the floor before stooping to pick up the blade at his feet, the weapon used to kill him.

Albert Rothstein has posed:
Albert Rothstein looks around the room as it gets colder, and then the hag coming out and her victims becoming more solid "Ok, this does not look good." He will look around and seeing the guy picking up the blade, will ask out "Ok, can I punch them or do I need to find something to hit them with so I don't actually touch them?" He is looking around for something to use if that is the case, coatrack or something along those lines.

June Moone has posed:
Oh, June.

Twisted, wizened inhumanity drags June's gaze all the way across the ceiling while pouting thrums within; it's only the slick,

    wet

                *plop*

                        of things getting real that tears it away.

She greets the gutless, knife-wielding man rising down the hall with a sharp, shuddering gasp and stumbles backwards-- directly into the thick, brawny arm of a logger who was screaming his way through the fresh loss of his other arm before the hag disturbed his suffering. Blood pumps from the stump where his forearm once was; the remaining limb is no less powerful in cinching around June's neck. Still screaming, whatever terror held him its grasp in life and haunted him through death has finally been pushed aside in favor of something else:

You didn't come all the way here just to be strangled to death at the hands of some other witch, did you?

Hate. Whether it's for June, for his tormenter, the hag, or life itself, sheer and scintillating hatred bleeds from every decibel of his endless scream. It sets filth-encrusted nails against June's neck viciously enough to draw blood, and radiates from the lifeless sockets of his eyes.

Let me in, June--

"-- aa-- aaah-- hhhnnnghh--!" strains from her lips as her feet leave the ground; flailing kicks join frantic, futile scratches against her captor's arm and elbows thudding against his head and shoulder.

Let me in, and I'll rip her heart from her chest, just for you~.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Nettie pulls her wand. She brings it up to bear, defensively, and she recalls to mind all of her spells, offensive, defensive. She grips it in hand, her other hand dipping into her shawl's pockets to draw out other materials.

    She begins to utter old words, and raises a protective barrier around herself and Albert, glowing in a pale, sickly bluish-black in the darkness, her head tilting slightly.

    That bothersome feeling at the side of her head was getting stronger.

    "--what's the plan, John?" she asks, not taking her eyes off the hag.

John Constantine has posed:
    With speed one wouldn't expect from a bent, broken looking old hag, that thing drops from the ceiling and lands on top of John; the thing she's perceives now as the biggest threat in the room. Her clawed hand shoves forward, *through* his chest. But there's no blood, no... it's not a physical attack, it's on another level. His eyes widen, but that's the only reaction he shows in the moment.

    The hand attached to the wrist with that glowing sigil flies up to press against the thing's forehead. A beat later and he bellows, "Cellar, Nettie, CELLAR! Get the kids!"

    Through the sea of now solid, murderous, dead armed with the weapons of their own demise, Nettie, get the kids.

    "I got this! Go!" He doesn't *look* like he's *got this*. The longer that skeletal hand remains inside his chest, the more pale he becomes; or more to the point the more 'lacking in color' he becomes as if he's fading to black and white, clothes and all.

    "For fucksake, luv! Whatever you have hidden up your bloody sleeve, LET IT IN!" That's aimed at June right before he starts chanting again, hand still pressed against the Hag's forehead. It's a battle of wills at this point, his versus its. He's got stubbornness and spite to spare, but this thing is OLD and powerful and feeds off suffering and pain. ... something John Constantine has in *spades*.

Albert Rothstein has posed:
Albert Rothstein will step in to grab the arm of the one holding June, trying to free her. He is not above breaking said arm, as this is just a ghost not a real person. He plants a kick into another one of the now solid ghosts. There are a few things about Albert, he is strong, and he was taught to fight by some brawlers that were some of the bests. He will ask "Which way we need to go?"

Megan Gwynn has posed:
Megan Gwynn narrows he4 eyes as ghosts start to swarm them exponentially, "Well, that's just not nice!" she clutches a hand to her chest, summoning a glowing pink dagger to draw out of her chest and swings it at the ghosts, with enough potent magic that it should scare away any ghost with half a wit about them. "Hurry then, get the kids, I'll keep them at bay!"

June Moone has posed:
June hits the ground scuttling on her hands and knees, desperate to put some space between she and the revenant logger who's now working with, at best, like 0.5 arms. In lieu of thanks, she hisses,

"Enchantress--"

as she slips, briefly thrashes her way into sitting, then resumes scooting away from danger.

        "Enchantress--"

The syllables waft from her mouth, undulating through fel-chilled air-- very nearly braiding together, only to spiral apart for a while before drawing back together in their graceful dance.

                "ENCHANTRESS--"

Like thunder, the name splits the air while the walls rumble; it sends raw, throbbing power through the house, setting nerves alight with tingles and more sublime senses ablaze with otherworldly might unleashed from its mortal shell. It hoists June several feet into the air as her limbs spasm outwards and her head rockets backwards; like dying stars on a clear, clean night, purples so dark as to nearly be black twinkle across the whole of her body, suffusing it with a veritable bonfire of witchlight.

Those syllables waft their way back to her, deep green and radiant as they coil around her head and chest. With a bright and violent shimmer, they stretch--

-- they blossom with mass and substance from nowhere and everywhere--

-- and then they distort along with the rest of her, a haze of crackling energies and fading lights stretching towards John and the Hag--

"Rude, rude, rude."

-- until it solidifies into The Enchantress, clad in a deep green tunic with a matching hat set just low enough to cloak her face in shadow. The admonishment's paired with a right arm still aglow with twinkling light that etches a trail through the air as she drives it towards the Hag's back.

"Swearing at the only thing between you and a broken heart."

Despite the mystical reinforcement, it is a fundamentally physical act.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "-- you heard the man lad!" Nettie crows to Albert! "Going down!"

    And though it kills her, she breathes out. She has to trust that Synchronicity will pull him out -- and the safest place for ALbert to be is away from John when that happens.

    She brings her wand up to bare again, and blasts a path forward with a bout of Force. "Bar Not My Way." she commands, and she sling Knifey McGutsareout to the side. She'll apologize when they're not trying to kill her.

    "Anyone not fighting the hag with me, we're responsible for the living!" she calls out, and the Greywitch charges for the stairs.

    "Albert -- grab the railing lad, we'll need it!"

John Constantine has posed:
    Those ghosts, aren't ghosts anymore little Fairy, oh no, they're constructs of an evil, powerful old Hag now, not so easily frightened off.

    Suddenly John Constantine isn't the most dangerous thing in the room, innit so? When Enchantress plunges a hand into the back of the Hag, the hand in John's chest is ripped out. Immediately he beings to move back into the realm of 'live and in color' rather than black and white. He rolls to his hands and knees, coughing and splutter for a moment before shoving himself to his feet. Spite and willfulness is all that gets him there.

    The hand attached to that sigil tatted forearm extends as the Hag turns to face the newest threat in the room. "Welcome to the party, luv," he offers in reply before he begins that chanting anew, louder, more 'umph' behind it, banish this evil blah blah blah, all that, Latin.

    The Hag hisses, her own voice coming from everywhere at once, from the mouths of her controlled minions. "Thissss isss *my* home, *my* domain. Who daressss tressspasss here."

    If he wasn't in the middle of chanting a spell, John would certainly be quipping about that thing being able to say Suzy sells seashells by the seashore in a sexy swimsuit or something of that nature, but, alas, there's work to be done.

    The path to the cellar won't be an easy one, it won't be without horror and dangers all its own. So many of the angry dead in one place, so many for the Hag to use as puppets on a string, all of them have one goal. Stop the rescue of the children four, they're needed after all, for tomorrow night when the clock strikes the witching hour.

Albert Rothstein has posed:
Albert Rothstein will grab the railing and rips it off the wall, and says "You want a hole down, or we looking for cellar doors? I can make us a hole." He offers and he will swat one of the shades away from him, as the hanging girl grabs him by the head and he has to rip her off his head, which leaves scrapes along his scalp and ears.

June Moone has posed:
Reaching greedily through slick, red warmth, Enchantress's fingers brush up against her prize only for the outrage of a sorceress disturbed in her own home, in her own domain to drive the witch in green's arm backwards with enough force to hammer a spike of pain through her shoulder. Of course, when the Hag goes on to actually declare it as such through dozens of mouths...

... the Enchantress laughs. It starts as a broad smile too brilliant with malice to be cloaked in shadow; quickly, it evolves into the back of a hand pressed over her mouth in an entirely sardonic display of decorum as her shoulders shake and low, muffled noises leak out.

By the time the Hag demands her name, the Enchantress' hand is pressed against her chest while rich, cackling mirth rings through the room--

-- the halls--

-- the house--

-- for several unbridled seconds. As it starts to die off, she manages to slip, "Your home? Little Hag, this is a grave," between chuckles. Still dripping, her right hand comes up for a dainty fingerwave.

"I'm your executioner, sweetness."

The greeting's punctuated with a quick *snap*, spraying droplets of blood into the air. The blood only arcs for a second before it begins racing towards the Hag, spreading--

-- hardening, sharpening into a dozen razor sharp spines--

-- in flight, threatening the other witch with being nailed to the walls of her own domain.

"I could burn the house down, you know," she idly muses. This is entirely for John's benefit, even though her attention's locked onto the Hag.

"She has a point. It is her place of power; it would make things much simpler."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Can you lad?" the witch asks, turning and looking at Albert, and she glances down.

    "Do it!" she states, and she brings up her wand to fire off another round of forced air at the hanged girl reaching for Albert's head!

    "Do it lad! I've got your back!" Nettie calls out, and she brings her wand back down.

    Reaching down she grasps ashes from her pocket, and she brings them up.

    THe words are in Old English, and unlike John and his Liverpudalian stained Latin, her accent with her language is Perfect.

    Her eyes glowed in that same bluish-black, and she curls her fingers. With Enchantress and The Hag fighting upstairs, she tries to wrest control of an incoming spirit, a great beast of a man, missing his arms and his head.

    "Shake the murderer's control from your spirit, I command you under my control, the blood of the Family Crowe sounds back through the ages -- shake the dust from your bones and Rise in service of Annette Crowe!" she commands!

    What a time to break out her Necromancy!

John Constantine has posed:
    The Hag's quick, oh yes she is. She spins away from those sharpening spines, but only partially so. She's quick, but she's not *that* quick. She gets nailed (no pun intended) by half of those bloody projectiles.

    The other half? They narrowly miss pinning *John* to the wall ... and only because he manages to skip step over to one side. That would have hurt, he'll address that later though, he's still chanting. He pivots around on one foot so he's facing the the thing again as it struggles to pull spikes its left arm and shoulder, top of the left thigh. Pinned in place, for now, it howls and screams and sputters and spits - enraged.

    That rage transfers to her constructs, to her puppets on a string. From somewhat organized attack to nothing but blind, red visioned rage they rush toward Nettie and Albert.

    Save the one with no arms and no head. That one's Nettie's now. Just call her Michone?

    John breaks his chanting long enough to call, "No, there's a cemetery out back..." The true point of power. "...this cu-..." America John, they don't like that word. "...bitch is going back to Hell!"

    ...and the chanting begins anew. The Hag's struggles begin to fade from rage to fear. It rips its shoulder free, then its arm. Is it... smoking? It certainly is, John's close, but not quite *there* yet. And he's tiring.

Albert Rothstein has posed:
Albert Rothstein will drop to one knee in the living room and then the big man starts getting bigger. Till he is fifteen or twenty foot tall if he stood up, instead kneeled down hunched over a bit he starts punching the floor, making a hole and ripping up the floorboards one he has it fist size to let it grow. He flinches as he is hacked at and punded on by the specters, his enhanced size providing him some protection but not immunity to their attacks. "If I go any bigger, I will rip the house apart."

June Moone has posed:
"Oh," the Enchantress breathes, nostrils flared.

"Oh, there is."

There are only a couple spines left as June walks -- strolls, really -- towards the Hag, beaming... and once she's close enough to press her boot to the other witch's wounded thigh, those rip themselves free too.

"Let's see if we can't do something with that," she utters as the spines snap towards her hands. The moment they're in her grasp, she drops to a crouch with both spines poised to to be driven through the Hag's chest, then plants a palm directly over the heart she so nearly held. Her free hand twists through a series of arcane forms while a gale of Sumerian rushes from her lips; crimson energy arcs between the spines and her hand, forming half a dozen tethers between the three. As they cohere into rattling chains, her hand sinks inwards, and now -- not unlike the Hag's assault on John -- it's a thing of sharpened will and mystical determination more than physical ripping and tearing. It's an attempt at reaching out and TAKING the Hag's power as her own-- if only for as long as it takes to banish the predator back to Hell, taking her connection to the cemetery with her.

There's exactly one break in the spell-work, right around when the chains take form. It's just long enough for the witch in green to glance sidelong towards John to note: "You can just say it, you know," before it's back to business.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Your Body is now my Wall. Shield Me until you fall to pieces, and then your Spirit is Free." Nettie commands of her new subject. She feels the darkness of her action -- but John would forgive her. She's sure.

    "Go lad! To the base-- Sweet Mother you've grown --" she pauses for just a moment, and she looks up to the ceiling, and then brings her wand about and lets loose a bought of flame. The headless, armless poor sot ends up taking a beating from his former comrads, but Nettie's going down into the Hole.

    "OI!" she calls out in the basement as she drops down, landing in a roll and a crouch. It's all coming back to her now.

    She brings her crystal pendant up, and with a word, it shines brilliantly as she seeks out the living in the basement.

    Meanwhile, those red-eyed, angry and unsettled dead are ripping at their former comrade, and trying to pull down on Albert!

John Constantine has posed:
    The Hag doesn't go down without a fight. Even that fight is only to scream and claw and bite and snarl without effect, The Hag doesn't go down without a fight.

    If he wasn't in the middle of, at the very height of, banishing the Hag, John might just *say it*. It's been a fucking week, a fucking month, two of non-stop bullshittery. He'd probably just say it and say it and say it. But now's not the time.

    With her trapped and weakened, John's work becomes that much easier. Smoke thickens around the Hag, filling up the hallway. ...and then just *poof*; she's gone leaving behind only her agonized scream to echo as she's engulfed in the fires of the very place she's been banished to.

    John drops to one knee, finally letting the after bits of being so violently violated by Hag Hand. Gross. So Gross. From one knee he ends up on both and then on his ass, leaning against a wall, legs all splayed in front of himself. He plucks that one Silk Cut from behind his ear to be replaced later and lights the damn thing from a smoldering bit of Hag ash. "Fucking *cunt*," he breathes out along with the smoke from his first inhale from that cigarette.

    Downstairs, the light illuminates not only the kids all chained to a far wall, but the slow and winding circle of magic making that spirals toward a drain in the middle of the floor. Slow blood letting has all four of the kids weak, barely conscious but alive. It's hard to say what would have happened tomorrow night, during the witching hour, had the Hag not been stopped. One thing's for certain, it wouldn't have been Rainbow Shitting Unicorns and Ice Cream.

Albert Rothstein has posed:
Albert Rothstein 's clothes are turn up, and he takes a few gouges from claws, and blades, but as the ghosts fade out, he looks around and seeing they are gown, he will shrink a bit but stays bigger than normal for now "Can you get them and hand them up to me or do I need to come down and help." He waits for an answer f she is going to hand them up he uses his longer reach to help.

June Moone has posed:
Wild black tresses flutter behind the witch in green. Madly bouncing chains fill the air with unearthly wailing. The Enchantress bathes in the blood red light pouring from the Hag's chest; even as the other witch smokes and burns and screams, her heart -- her power -- is trapped in a jealous grip.

When smoke and fire fade -- when the eldritch currents swirling around her abruptly still -- the Enchantress is left panting and gripping a lump of black, sloughing flesh. As she lifts her head to regard the Hellblazer, the shadows recede far enough that hunger's writ plain in her features, brown eyes darting all across the Liverpoolidan's waning body--

-- and then they still, weighing him as a butcher would a bull.

A beat later, the panting starts slowing to a stop and the green witch flashes a dazzling smile.

"There," she exhales, idly lifting her right hand to her lips. "You feel better now, don't you?"

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Bollocks this all -- too much of a turn from Dark to Light." Nettie mutters, and she draws her hand to her amulet.

    <Found the teens. Slow bleed out. They'll be confused. Should we be singing Ding Dong the Bitch is dead yet?> she questions through their amulet, and then she pauses, and looks up to the ceiling <John... the feeling at the back of my skull hasn't gone. Are you all right lad?> she questions, and she tilts her head up and looks to Albert.

    "If you wouldn't mind -- I can get them off the walls." she calls out, and picks her way very close as the ghosts fade. With a strikethrough of her hand, she releases the poor gent she'd taken control of, returning him to the aether and hopefully towards the light. She brings her wand out again, and she destroys the winding circle of magic on the loor, making sure it cannot be used again by the bitch to crawl her way out of Hell where she belongs.

    "Give my regards to Mary Jessop." she mutters crossly, and then she goes to tend to the four kids.

    "Hey there, poppets. Don't try to talk, Nettie's going to make sure you get outta here an' spell away this. It'll be jus' a bad dream." she whispers gently as she works to free the wee teens.

John Constantine has posed:
    It's not the first time that John Constantine's been looked over like a side of beef. It's just that it typically happens in shit hole bars around closing time. "Little bit, aye," he murmurs around the cigarette that's now just dangling between his lips.

    <I'm fine, Nettie, just not entirely sure what I'm looking at. Kinda feel like she either wants to shag or make a meal of me. Witch is dead. One of them anyway.> John replies through the mystical connection of the amulet around his own neck.

    He struggles his way back to his feet. Most might be afraid in the presence of the Enchantress. Fuck, even John's a little afraid, but the man's poker face is always on point. "Name's John, John Constantine. So where's the little kitten? In there somewhere still?"

    The four teens barely manage little bobble headed nods or groans in response to Nettie's efforts and comfort. They all smell just a touch like John's favored beverage. Drunk and bloodlet. Might not even have to spell them to make the forget. Human minds tend to take the easy way out of this sort of thing, had to be a dream, right?

Albert Rothstein has posed:
Albert Rothstein will rip the hole in the floor bigger, just to make things easier, where he can jump down and use his enhanced height to lay them on the floor in the living room when Nettie hands them to him, and even offers her a boost back up t the ground floor when they have them up ther.

June Moone has posed:
"June is exactly where she belongs."

That he's struggling to his feet surely doesn't help, but more than anything it's the poker face that buys John another round of eyes cutting across his body.

"Perhaps she'll be there the next time you march boldly towards death or damnation, shivering in the background," she muses with a thin smile once the mood's passed on. A slight shift cloaks everything but the lower third of her face in shadow once again, just before she she puts her back to him.

"Somehow, I've a feeling you'll find yourself there sooner, rather than later," she tacks on, walking -- floating -- from him.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Be a dear and set them in the circle I've drawn on the floor, would you? I'll take a minute to draw anything out of them that may be remaining." Nettie gives a smile to Albert, helping each of the kids carefully. She notably does not touch them for any amount of time longer than she absolutely must, and only through her shawl. With Albert's help, the quartet are set up to the ground floor, within the circle she had created, and Nettie moves to stand among them.

    She closes her eyes. And at this point, she was prepared. Any remaining traces of dark magics she pulls out, and with her head tilting back, she draws them into herself. Better to keep it. Taste it, while John deals with that poor girl upstairs.

    And then it's over, just as nice as you please. Nettie holds the remaining darkness inside of her as she breathes out, and taps down herself, looking for her own cigarettes -- which she's not carrying with her tonight. Her nose wrinkles in frustration, and she gives a petulant sigh.

    <You need me to lean on, I am here, John, and in the circle.>

John Constantine has posed:
    "Aye, well, tell her to stop by the Laughing Magician Pub... then we can make sure *she's* there. It's in Hell's Kitchen that. Always looking for a few new 'friends' to make my job easier." He plucks the cigarette from between his lips before he adds, "Oh, you have no idea how right you are, luv." A beat, two maybe before, "We're havin' a wee bit of a gathering there tomorrow, ya'no, should she want to drop in."

    The John just falls silent and watches her float away, opening his Sight WIDE. What does he see, anything beyond what he's already guessed?

    <No, I got this one, Nets. Get the kids set to rights and let's go home. I feel fuckin' gross, fuckin' *Hag*.> Gross, out of sorts, a little drained of something he's not even sure...

    Another day ending in Y and magic's messy, innit?