9286/The Quick, The Dead, and The Doomed

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The Quick, The Dead, and The Doomed
Date of Scene: 26 December 2021
Location: Endless Graveyard
Synopsis: Jon finds out he's doomed, /more/ doomed, and Lady Death was almost nice. Shit got weird.
Cast of Characters: Hope Svelgate, Jonathan Sims
Tinyplot: Path of Glory


Hope Svelgate has posed:
The Sanctuary, that old abandoned church in Hell's Kitchen where the Earthbound spirits gather, looks as desolate as ever. In the aftermath of Michael's ascension to his true form on Earth, the spirits have gone largely quiet. Silence and stillness reigns here. Knocks go unanswered but the doors pose little resistance should they be pushed open. Inside things are as dusty and broken down as ever.

Before the altar, however, stands a portal seemingly composed of Hellfire. One that has either been left standing or recently made and yet to close. Either way the church is empty of life. Through the portal can be seen what looks to be an old gothic cemetery stretching as far as the eye can see, a cemetery in which the dead seem to stirring and rising out of their graves. In the distance rise the foreboding gothic spires of the castle fortress Winterhaven.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon does not wear his Archivist getup this time. He's not trying to impress anyone, and he wants his head clear. Whatever agenda he's here for, he wants it to be his own and not influenced by the pressure of his ancestors and their gods.

    He knocks, and when there's no answer, he pushes open the door. Walks through the empty church, and maybe he'd have turned back if not for that portal. He contemplates it as he walks up to it, eyeing the dead rising out of their graves, the castle in the distance.

    What the hell? This is why he's here, right?

    Going through the portal as seemingly a normal human might not be the best idea, but he does it anyway. Steps right on through, into that endless graveyard.

Hope Svelgate has posed:
For a graveyard, the Endless Graveyard is currently far from silent. All around the dead are rising and ...organizing? More than organizing they are arming. The clanging sounds of forges can be heard and the smell of fire and brimstone fills the air even more than otherwise as demons labor to produce hellforged weapons for the armies of the dead, armies that are seemingly being raised and prepared to march to war and they are legion.

Amidst it all stands the towering form of Lady Death talking to a massive man, slightly taller still without the aid of heels, and twice as wide, a veritable mountain of hellish muscle. "Will we have enough Netheranium weapons?"

"Yes, M'lady. Production continues apace. The enemy is a fool to give us such time to prepare." The huge man replies.

"It would seem this angel is just as capable of Pride as men and like them, he will fall." Lady Death says with a hellish smirk, flexing the fingers of her left hand, now adorned with a gleaming reinforced metal gauntlet at odds with the rest of her attire, as if testing their function.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon surely stands out in the graveyard. He's mortal, for starters, and not visibly armed nor armored. A red sweater, blue jeans, heavy boots. He hikes through the graveyard, taking note of the preparations around him. It answers some of the questions he came to ask, but not all. If he's afraid it's not obvious in his movements or expression. Maybe it's just tightly controlled.

    Or, really, he figures what he's facing down when Michael comes back is worse than anything Lady Death might do. At least she'd probably make it quick. Maybe.

    He stops a little ways from Lady Death and the towering man she's talking to, frowns at the man for a moment before clearing his throat. "I'm surprised you let me get this far, or do you really not think of us as a threat?"

Hope Svelgate has posed:
Lady Death looks in Cremator's direction. "I will deal with this. Leave us."

"Of course my lady." The towering hooded giant, back laden with various hellforged weapons turns and begins barking orders to other Hellborn and demons of the realm to get back to work.

"Should I?" Lady Death asks turning to face Jon now , those glowing eyes of her staring into him, even as she continues testing the fingers of the new gauntlet. As she does, there is a brief burning pulse from within him as the mote of Energy Arcane he carries flares briefly to life within his being. "You are no threat. You lack the determination to win at any cost."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    The most obvious change in Jon isn't visible to any kind of normal senses, but /clear/ to one with Death Sight--he's going to be dead before summer. Fated, marked, inescapable.

    The other change that might not have been apparent from merely observing him is apparent after he doubles over in pain, crying out and pressing a hand to his chest. He doesn't grovel or drop to his knees or anything of the sort.

    Instead, he looks up at her with a glare.

    "Yes, yes, you're very powerful, you could probably kill me where I stand. Either get that over with or quit posturing. I've got no time for arrogance just now. I need to know your intentions in this campaign."

Hope Svelgate has posed:
The towering albino glowing pits that pass for eyes narrow at Jon. "You asked a question and I answered it. There's little point though, you're already dead. Too weak to fight to your last breath, instead you submit to him, it's pathetic." The scorn practically drips from her words. "Although, I could reap your soul just to deny Michael, make him come and fight me for it." It's hard to tell if she's just goading Jon, or actually serious. Both seem entirely possible.

"My intentions?" She laughs out loud and the gauntleted hand clenches into a fist. "As if one who has already surrended has any right to ask that. I am going to /win/ of course and put Michael to the sword."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Because that went /so/ well for you last time," Jon replies sarcastically as he straightens. "Are you interested in intel, then? Or are you just going to charge at him with your army and hope his isn't bigger, stronger? Do you have a plan for defeating Michael beyond 'destroying him'? Because I can tell you without a doubt that if you do so, you and everything else dies with it."

    A pause, then, "/My/ intentions are to keep as many people alive as possible, turn back his army, and find a way to stop this foolish game that's being played with our lives by the Presence. But if all you care about is defeating Michael, by all means." He gestures to himself. "I can't die just yet. There's a little girl out there who'd become Archivist if I do, and there's /no/ way I can let all this rest on her. So, go ahead and try. You can battle my gods for the right to judge my soul and then I'll tell you all to fuck off and figure out how to come back. I /really/ don't have time for this shit."

    He folds his arms across his chest. "Hard to win if you don't know what the battlefield is."

Hope Svelgate has posed:
With a wave of Lady Death's hand, the portal that Jon entered through winks out of existence and blue flames ignite within her eyes. "You may claim not to fear death, but there are far worse fates. If you want me to get it over with for you then perhaps I will indulge you that much, if running your mouth is your pitiful attempt at suicide, to run from your own weakness. I have commanded the legions of Hell and toppled its archdukes, warred upon the most gruesome battlefields in existence for lifetimes and /you/ would lecture /me/ on how to win a war. Keep going, your agonies will be legendary until there isn't a soul left to reap."

As Jon continues her laughter keens louder, "Your gods? Your gods have no sway here, you've literally walked into Hell and think you have any swagger to stand on? Pray to them all you want, they won't answer you in your time of need, they'll just leave to your fate. That's what gods do." And then the laughter stops. "Enjoy the wastes, I have better things to do." And with that she actually turns and starts walking away as if to simply abandon him to his fate amidst the cenotaphs.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon growls in frustration as Lady Death walks off. "And you would leave my daughter to die, then?" he calls after her. It's the /one/ thing he can think of, to get her to turn around. "If I'm stuck here, then she dies, sacrificed to fuel a madman's need for immortality. If I die, then /she/ winds up with my power, and she is too young to face what's coming for the Archivist. I'll fight the legions of Hell if I must to get back to her, but there's a ticking clock out there." The pain in his voice is keen, a kind of desperation.

    He takes a step after her. "Besides, /you're/ the one that started out by /hurting/ me. Are you just a damn bully like Michael, or do you care about /something/? I came to ask if you'd help protect the civilians. I came to offer the information line I've gained from inside Michael's camp. I am /not/ going to let him destroy my home and my people because he wants to put us on trial for our sins again, but I'm not going to let /you/ destroy it in the name of whatever grudge you have against him either."

Hope Svelgate has posed:
The grin Jon receives when she turns back almost seems to delight in his desperation. "But you're already dead, remember? It's written all over you. You say you care about this daughter and still throw your life away. Perhaps I will go and save her, from /you/. From the disappointment that fathers inevitably turn out to be."

Something he says though does make her pause and it is not what he may have thought. "I hurt you to answer your question. To make a point. One that you seem to have failed to grasp, so I will spell it out. In this world there is only Power. Power decides everything. You asked if I considered you humans a threat and I showed you that I do not. I fought, bled, and suffered, for every bit of Power I possess. For you to come here and court your own death is beyond stupid. By your own words you have a daughter who needs you, who you want to protect from this power, but you would throw your life away just taunt me? Subjecting her to all of those things you claim not to want for what your ego? You're no better than my own father."

But at the very least she's still here and still talking. "I care about being free of the whims of Heaven, I care about vengeance against those who would let an innocent girl suffer unimaginable tortures without lifting a finger. So tell me then, what is your information, how do I kill Michael without destroying your world? I'm listening."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "What are you /talking/ about, already dead? Michael won't kill me--I've had that confirmed from multiple sources." Jon stares at her in clear confusion. "I swore on /ma'at/ that I'd come back or my soul is forefeit, come back alive and still /myself/, so I'm hardly throwing my damn life away. I don't expect you to understand what I did, nor respect it. But it won't kill me."

    That doom over his head? He doesn't know. Not a clue. Maybe he'd be struggling with it more if he did.

    He shakes his head. "I want the same thing you do. You were human once. Everything you say tells me you suffered horribly, in ways you did not deserve. I want to fix a world that lets that happen. I want... I want to stop having to prove we deserve to exist. But if I don't make sure that this works out, if I don't... play this damn game that's been set up, then everything ends, and Agnes with it all. That's why I'm here. You think I'm not determined to do whatever it takes, but you don't know me half so well as you think."

    He takes a deep breath in. Lets it out again. "I don't know how to defeat Michael without destroying the universe yet, but I spoke to... I spoke--oh for /fuck's/ sake! That... that /arsehole/!" He throws up his hands. "I can't /say/ who I spoke to, but I have a spy in his bloody camp now, he's just playing games again and won't let me say his name. Git." He shakes his head. "I know for sure where they're going to strike first. St. Patrick's Cathedral, in Midtown Manhattan. And I can give you whatever other information my informant feeds me."

Hope Svelgate has posed:
Lady Death just kind of stares at Jon for a moment, stares like she absolutely can't believe what he is saying. "Oh you're not serious?" She is laughing again, like something is kneeslappingly funny. "Oh, you don't know do you?" Is that the briefest flash of pity in Lady Death's expression? "Fuck, Michael really is a dick."

The fire and brimstone leaves her expression as she looks at Jon squarely. "You're marked, very clearly to my sight, inescapably fated to die. I would say you'll be dead before Summer at the latest. That's what I mean when I say you're already dead, that's what happened when you surrendered to Michael."

She listens when he talks about having a spy. "Spies are useful. It makes sense that he'd target holy ground, the shared resonance will let him cross more easily." She stops and looks at Jon, really looks at him with her full attention. "If you want to live, if you are serious about sparing your daughter that fate, then Michael needs to die."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon's breath catches in his throat. He stares at Lady Death for a long moment, eyes widening. "What...?"

    Pieces fall into place in his mind. His breathing goes ragged, as a dozen little things come together, add up. Being told he's on the right path, with love and compassion. Lucifer saying he was at the center of the wheel. Michael singling him out. Uriel, hinting around at the role he's meant to play. The thing he keeps asking, over and over: didn't they do this already? Isn't that what Christmas is /about/?

    "Oh, /gods/." His voice trembles. "They want me to sacrifice myself. What, to... to prove that I /would/? That /someone/ would?" Something sick enters his tone. "Gods, Cael's right. He's going to nail me to a bloody cross." He flexes his hands at his sides, eyes darting back and forth.

    "Inescapable? Michael dies, the universe dies. So I die either way. /Damn/ it!" He reaches up to scrub his hands through his hair. "No. No. There has to be... it wouldn't be a /choice/ if there wasn't a way out. I'm not... /fuck/. I can't die, not /now/." He looks up at Lady Death, giving her his own full attention.

    "Can you kill him? Really? Or at least, beat him hard enough to make him /stop/?"

Hope Svelgate has posed:
"It's not much of a sacrifice if its inevitable. But knowing them, that is probably what they have in mind." Lady Death agrees. "What meaning does it have without choice? If they force you to choose because they know which way you'll go, is that really a choice? Heaven loves these kinds of fucking games. Ever read Job? Fuck 'em all." Lady Death's opinion of Heaven is fairly well known, but she reiterates it all the same.

"Maybe the universe dies, either way Michael doesn't get his way. He doesn't get to try and make everyone dance to his game." There is a fair amount of spite in her sentiment but there's more there too. The idea of being controlled, forced into things is anathema to her.

"All things die, even the universe, death isn't the end though, at least not according to her. All these afterlives? Souls are supposed to be reborn. Maybe it's time to burn it all down, every one of these meddling divinities that thinks they know better than Death trying to harness her power and let something better rise in their place." It's weird because unless she's talking about herself in the third person, she's referring to Death as someone else.

"Can I kill Michael? That remains to be seen, but I know what makes him hurt, what can make him /bleed/, and at the very least he's going to hurt a whole lot before I am done with him. Whether I fall or he falls, I've never surrendered before and I don't intend to start now."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Michael's plan, at least so far as I understand, is to re-make everything with less free will. Maybe that's the plan if we fail." Jon laughs, bitterly. "If I don't dance to their tune. Fuck."

    His eyes narrow. "There has to be /something/. There has to be. I am not just going to... to lay down and die. There's an out, I /know/ there is. I just have to find it." A pause. "It's not his game, anyway. Michael's. It's... maybe Uriel's? Maybe the Presence? I wasn't clear. I know the Great Mother isn't happy with any of this. I... maybe /she's/ the one putting me in this position...?"

    He opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. Closes it again.

    "Oh."

    Then, "/Fuck/."

    He shakes his head. "I've read Job. What do you mean, Death? Not you, I presume." He's gathering information while his mind is trying to grapple with the puzzle he's putting together. "Souls are supposed to be reborn... so the Eater of Hearts is... stealing them?" He frowns. "Destroying them. I always figured that was better than eternal torment, but..." He frowns.

Hope Svelgate has posed:
Lady Death leans against a Cenotaph. "Michael and his kind are not the only powers, there are others beyond Heaven, beyond Hell. I bring death to those who deserve it, but Death is death itself. She just is. She exists beyond any of these petty death gods that have made a mess of the underworld and their own stupid games. She has visited me a few times, wants to me to understand her, to wear her mantle. I'm not sure I agree with everything she says, but her power is very real."

There is something she isn't saying, holding back. There is a way, a power that could almost certainly stand up to Michael, but that would mean subordinating herself to another.

"Should people live just one life?" She asks when Jon brings up the Eater of Hearts. "Should they suffer in eternal torment? Why not just allow them to be reborn, with a clean slate, as a new person with new potential? Otherwise what are you than food of the gods? Souls harnessed to perpetuate divine power for eternity."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Is a clean slate really... /me/ though? Who are we, but the sum of our experiences, our choices?" Jon shakes his head. "Maybe if karma's a true thing, if there's some way we retain our cores and wind up in the places we deserve. I think I'd support that... but then where does that leave the Duat? The gods I serve? Not that I'm entirely happy with them, just now."

    He sighs. "I don't know. I don't pretend to have answers." Then he laughs. "Every time I think I find an answer, I just wind up with more questions."

    He regards her quite seriously. "Will this army you're raising help defend Manhattan? Or is the whole of your attention focused on Michael? Do you have any interest in coordinating with our other forces or will you be going your own way?"

Hope Svelgate has posed:
Lady Death's own expression becomes deadly serious again. "Questions of war are not settled so easily. What I do depends on what Michael does and he in turn will change his strategy depending on what we do. Taking the head of an enemy general is a very effective way to break morale and laying waste to his home if he overcommits himself on Earth is also a possibility. They've gone too far though this time. I intend to bring death to every one of these angels. I will ask no quarter and give none in return. Remove Free Will? I will see them all dead for even considering that. If you're going to help, then help, otherwise just stay out of my way." Taking marching orders from anyone on Earth was never in the cards from the start.

Another wave of her hand and the Hellfire portal to the Sanctuary in Hell's Kitchen reappears. "I will send someone to communicate our battle plans once they are drafted. If there's nothing else, I have the raising of an army to see to." Raising in more ways than one.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon hesitates, for /just/ a moment. Maybe surprised she's letting him go so easily. Then he nods. "The battleground has already been decided. It is my /home/. I will defend it, whatever it takes."

    He heaves a sigh. "See you on the 6th, I suppose. May your blade find Michael's heart." He sounds like he means it. Maybe it'll be better that way, in the end.

    Anyway, they're going to have to work around the damn Hell Lord and her undead army. /Great/.

    He sighs again and turns to go, trudging on down to the portal with his brows furrowed, turning the problem around in his head to try to figure it out. How does he avoid this supposedly inevitable death? He can't die yet. He /can't/. Too many people need him.