9757/Path of Glory: Down Among The Dead Men

Path of Glory: Down Among The Dead Men
Date of Scene:	21 January 2022
Location:	Endless Graveyard
Synopsis:	Jonathan Sims and Red Robin pay a visit to Castle Winterhaven. Reports of Lady Death's demise prove to be greatly exaggerated. Things end on something resembling an amicable note.
Cast of Characters:	Hope Svelgate, Jonathan Sims, Tim Drake
Tinyplot:	Path of Glory

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Hope Svelgate has posed:
    It has been some time since Lady Death's last appearance, when the Armies of the Dead and demons of the Endless Graveyard flooded the square of St. Patrick's Cathedral to do battle with the Archangel Michael and his angels. That battle ended with the mother of all explosions, a veritable nuclear strike of Holy Power that the Hell Lord was at ground zero for, and subsequently had to be carried from the field. Perhaps this is that Strange Aeon spoken of by Abdul Alhazred where even Death has died.

    News of her condition has not exactly been forthcoming. For those who know where to look and have the sight, the church abandoned by all including it's God in Hell's Kitchen, Lady Death's Sanctuary on Earth, stands as silent and foreboding as ever. Any daring to venture within even there will not find the Lady, but they may find someone else...

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon approaches the church wearing his tac gear and carrying his staff, his aura practically overflowing with life energy. It's because of this that he pulls up a veil around himself and his companion for this trip--there's no way he's meeting Lady Death alone again, not after the debacle that happened last time. And there's no way he's jumping through portals into Hell without being certain he has a way back, either. He makes mistakes, constantly, but seldom the same one more than once.

    He makes sure no angels are about as they approach the Sanctuary--he has no desire to draw their attention here. He waits until they're well within the bounds of the Sanctuary to drop the veil, and looks over at the man he brought along. "She's intense," he murmurs. "She was a mortal once, and became a Hell Lord through sheer grit and gumpton, so far as I can tell. She's not fond of men, nor mortals, nor... well, me, to be honest, but she's part of this bloody game now. She threatened to leave me in Hell and let me fight my way out." He grins, briefly. "No worries, right? I mean... she hasn't killed me yet. Should be /fine/." His tone drips with sarcasm.

    He turns to regard the door. "Besides, she warned me I was in a terrible situation, when no one else who might have known bothered. It's only right that I return the favor." After another glance to be sure Tim is ready, he raises his hand to knock on the Sanctuary door.

Tim Drake has posed:
    When Jon had explained precisely what they were doing and where they were going as they geared up, Jon in his tac gear and Tim in what he thinks of as his stealth suit--all blacks and dark greys except for the splash of red on his chest, coincidentally he has the most armor plating--Tim had been silent. Not judgmentally so, just... considering, analytical, in the way he always is. Brow furrowed and eyes narrowed, deep in thought. He'd agreed to come along and come along is indeed what he's doing, a silent, shadowed presence dogging the Archivist's step as they slink through occupied Manhattan like mice scurrying about a larder.

    "As a third player, I presume," Red Robin says as he peers up at the Sanctuary's facade behind the white-out lenses in his domino mask, the angles more severe than before, harsh and bird-like. "Free agent?" Then he clicks his tongue and follows after.

    There's nothing for him to do but stand there and wait as Jon knocks on the door, though he takes up a defensive post a few feet behind, scouting the streets for incoming angels should they try for an ambush.

Hope Svelgate has posed:
    There are no theatrics this time. The door does not magically open itself. The knocks upon it feel almost too loud in the stillness of this seemingly forgotten place where naught but urban decay seems to reign. It's almost like nobody is home or at least pretending not to be home as one does when salesmen come calling, during times of war, or when Angels appear.

The doorway is however, not magically sealed nor it seems even locked. While it will groan in protest and creak quite loudly easily alerting anyone who might be nearby, the doors can be opened without too much difficulty.

    Within the depths of the abandoned church, seated cross-legged upon the altar is a red headed young woman, hair tied back into a ponytail, who appears to take her fashion advice from Lady Death, but in red, less skulls, and no cape. Truly Hell must be a very hot place.

    Satasha senses the magic outside even before she hears the sounds of the interlopers at the door. The arcane book of spells bound in a mysterious leather than she was reading from is shut with a thump sound as she glances at the door sword laying next to her.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Champion for a third, I think," Jon murmurs, glancing aside to Tim for a moment and then... waiting, to see if anyone's going to open the door.

    When there's no answer he does indeed pull the door open, but does not step over the threshold. Channeling flows of air, to keep the sound within the building and not echoing outside to alert any enemies, "The Champion of Gaea seeks audience with Lady Death. I bring tactical information about the battlefield, and an offer of... well, mutual cooperation, at the least." He peers at Satasha, finally noting her there at the altar. Keeps right there on the outside of the threshold.

Tim Drake has posed:
    There's nothing much for Tim to do but stand back and... wait. For Jon to be invited in. That he's not even willing to walk over the threshold tells Tim that this relationship, whatever the Archivist has with Lady Death, is less than friendly.

    So he continues his careful observance of the street, concealed partially in shadow. "Should we have brought some kind of gift, or... offering?" he asks, quietly.

Hope Svelgate has posed:
"Champion of Gaea? You certainly have a high opinion of yourself." The red headed young woman replies to Jon, though any apparent age is relative given the agelessness of the Hellborn, she could in truth be even older than Lady Death. She shrugs, unfolding her legs, and returns the book to a satchel hanging at her side and lifts sword the sword that was resting next to her on the altar before leaping down from where she was perched. "A piece of advice, nobody here cares about your titles."

Her gaze drifts for a moment to Jon's companion, giving Tim an appraising look. Her eyes return to Jon as if trying to figure him out. "I can open the way to Castle Winterhaven for you. For your sake though I hope this information is valuable. Her mood has not been the best since she woke up."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon regards Satasha quite calmly, suppressing his irritation. This 'Champion' business wasn't /his/ idea. "I didn't know if she'd bother with 'Jonathan Sims, wayward mystic, and his friend.'" A brief grin, and he steps inside. "But yes, the information is valuable or I wouldn't be here. We have the same goal--keeping Michael from taking away free will."

    He glances to Tim. "The information /is/ the offering. I don't know what else she'd even /want/. We're not exactly brimming over with swords that can cause archangels to explode." He walks through the run-down church and stops a little ways away from Satasha, shifting uncomfortably. This is a place of death, and he's /brimming/ with life energy now. It's... weird.

Tim Drake has posed:
    And then there's Tim, who feels nothing out of the ordinary beyond the chill in the air. Winter on the East Coast, and all. And even that doesn't really affect him much, not with the thermal regulating fabric woven into the underlayer of his suit. By all rights he's perfectly comfortable, standing as he is now amidst this run-down church.

    Well, as comfortable as an atheist in church can be.

Hope Svelgate has posed:
    Satasha's duty at the moment is to protect this potential weak spot in the veil that could in theory be used to access Lady Death's domain as well as being her toehold in the mortal realm. Without such places, the return trip from Hell can be frighteningly difficult. Like any place designed as a prison, getting in is always the easy part.

Jon is a known quantity, if one that has come perilously close to dire consequences in the past. But not one who is seen as posing an actual threat to the Sanctuary or the Hell Lord.

"Then she'll be waiting for you through here." Satasha informs them. She then turns and begins inscribing glowing sigils in the air with her finger. Her magic is different from Lady Death's and yet there are some similarities of style like one may have influenced or even instructed the other.

Once the sigils are complete, reality itself seems to stretch and tear as a glowing green rift appears.

Through the portal can be seen a grand chamber, like one might expect to see in an old gothic castle, were such a castle decorated by an actual goth in blacks and reds and the occasional white skull motif. This particular chamber seems to be a throne room and in the distance, at the far end of it, seated upon her skull throne upon its dais, appears to be none other that Lady Death herself. Cuddling up against the legs of the Hell Lord are the Nameless Wolves, large lupine hell beasts almost as tall as a man at the shoulder that she is currently giving scritches behind the ears as if they are the Best Boys in all of Hell.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon glances over at Tim and smiles, briefly. "Never let it be said I didn't take you anywhere /interesting/." Into Hell they go, evidently.

    Once through the rift he shifts uncomfortably again. Hell is /not/ a comfortable place for him just now, and reminds him of his own impending doom. But he approaches the throne, though not /too/ closely. "You're looking well," he comments. Politely, even! "You must heal quickly. We've come to speak about the war in Manhattan." A glance to Tim, a gesture for him to introduce himself. He's half-expecting Lady Death to make some kind of snide comment about their battle prowess, though he never can tell what she's going to do.

Tim Drake has posed:
    If this guardian at the gate sees fit to overlook Tim, then Tim is fine with being overlooked. His pride will never be so big as to override a potential strategic benefit like that. In most things, it's better to be underestimated.

    There's a second or two after he steps through the portal that Tim stops, and looks around. Briefly he almost seems... perplexed, his mouth thinning into a line, but then he proceeds forward after the Archivist. When prompted, he offers up a "I go by Red Robin," and a polite tip of his head to Lady Death, seated upon her throne. And then he's silent.

    This seems like a situation where sticking your foot in your mouth is a bad idea. Best not to risk it.

Hope Svelgate has posed:
    The heads of the wolf creatures both look up at once as the outsiders enter the Hall. It probably would neither be the first nor last time these canines had eaten human flesh, but Lady Death places a hand atop the head of each, preventing them from running off.

    She crosses her legs where she sits upon her throne looking down at Jon as he approaches. One of her eyebrows twitches for a moment as Jon brings up her wounds, a sore subject on multiple levels perhaps, the faintest traces of scarring where Michael's divine spear impaled her still visible just beneath her solar plexus on otherwise unblemished marble white skin.

"The Prodigal Father returns." Even Lady Death can make jokes it seems, a Biblical one at that. Perhaps it is a barb for a barb in her mind. The Albino warrior woman's gaze turns to Tim, "And Red Robin? You are very brave to follow him here." The second 'or very...' part of that common saying goes unspoken.

    Lady Death leans back against the throne. "Wine!" She suddenly bellows. Moments later a demon fit to be depicted in any demonological tome describing the denizens of Hell wheels what looks like a tea service cart in from one of the side doors to the chamber and begins pouring a dark red liquid from an ancient looking bottle into three goblets before distributing them, the first to Lady Death, then to Jon, and last to Tim.

    Perhaps Satasha was wrong about her mood, this is certainly better than Jon's last visit. Or perhaps nothing has simply caused her to fly off the handle yet. The calming effect of having ones dogs at their side is not to be underestimated either, even giant Hell wolves.

"So speak." She tells Jon, once her goblet is in hand. Wine, too, makes most things better.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon takes the goblet, again politely, taking 'prodigal father' in stride. She's not /wrong/, after all. He takes a sip of the wine and coughs slightly. Good /lord/, that's strong. Not that he's any stranger to heavy drinking, but /really/. Hell wine, yikes. He manages, "Red Robin is a member of the Justice League Dark, and a friend... and, yes, one of the bravest people I know." Not stupid, Tim, nor foolish, not at all.

    "I know Michael's plan, and we're already moving to counter him. I came to offer information in the hopes of..." He sighs. "We want the same thing here. We want Michael defeated. I know where he's going to be, what he's looking for. I pass that on to you, and you can be there, to aid us. This... 'game' we're playing, whether we like it or not... if we team up against him, we have a better chance at keeping him from resetting the universe."

Tim Drake has posed:
    What Lady Death leaves unspoken is still broadcast loud and clear, at least judging by how the corners of Tim's mouth twitch downwards. It's a barely-there microexpression, and instead his reply is a nonchalant tip of his head towards Jon. "Buddy system. Not a good time to be walking around unaccompanied in these parts." His usual disdain for New York is set aside in the moment. It's not Manhattan's fault that the Heavenly Host decided to expel its invading force right smack dab in one of the busiest metropolitan centers in the world.

    Really annoying that they did, though. Couldn't the end of the world be happening somewhere nicer?

    He takes the goblet up after Lady Death has, and politely sips from it. It's a display of pure will that he doesn't gag. Tim barely even makes a face!

    Though he *certainly* does when Jon starts complimenting him. The way Tim's weight moves from one foot to the other is decidedly awkward.

    For the time being, he continues to keep his mouth shut.

Hope Svelgate has posed:
    Lady Death drinks from her goblet with gusto, quite clearly enjoying its contents, before taking a moment to wipe a few stray wine drops from her mouth with the back of her hand. "Yes, I want Michael defeated." The way she says defeated it is pretty plain she means dead. But then what else would one expect from the one who calls herself Lady Death?

    "Tell me what you and I will act." She was always planning to act anyway, having more information on which to do so only increases the odds of Michael's demise. 'Aid us' is glossed over, but there he goes again even more plainly asking to team up. "Let's make no mistake here, I intend to end Michael. You want to team up with me?" She's not laughing ...yet. "Are you willing to see it through to the end or do you intend to surrender again when Michael decides to threaten someone you care about?"

    Tim's ability to drink the Hell Wine with barely a reaction does garner an upward quirk from her lips, perhaps she is impressed, although that smile changes to amusement when Jon's compliments make him uncomfortable.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "He was going to take me either way," Jon replies quietly. Firmly. "Maybe it was a mistake, but it's done now, and I intend to use the opportunity to gather information. Michael overlooks those he thinks have little power; when I am his prisoner, I am /certain/ he will tell me things he wouldn't otherwise. See it through to the end? I am willing to die, and defy my gods to fix the imbalance in the universe. They are part of the problem, and I'm going to make sure that's corrected, and that Michael is stopped in his crusade."

    He glances to Tim, for a moment, then back to Lady Death. "I don't know if you /can/ kill Michael--not as he is. I think that no matter how many times you try, he'll just come right back. The Metatron was recently destroyed in battle and just made a crater out of several blocks of Inwood; it seems to be something the archangels can just... do. Whatever's keeping Michael from being destroyed, you're going to have to remove those protections from him before you can kill him anyway."

    He takes another sip of wine, and sighs. "Michael is going after six sites around Manhattan, that he needs to activate in order to get at Gaea and reset the universe properly. We are defending those sites and sealing them temporarily while another works on a more permanent solution." A pause. "I am all but certain that your Sanctuary is one of those sites. That's what I came here to tell you today--you're sitting on top of one of the wellsprings we need to defend, and Michael's trying to find your Sanctuary." He chuckles. "/Trying/. They're looking in entirely the wrong part of Hell's Kitchen, and I have /no/ intention of letting him know where you are."

Tim Drake has posed:
    That one sip was certainly enough for Tim. He's pure human, through and through. No magic or superhuman endurance to keep him on his feet if he accidentally gets sloshed on Hell wine. But he did what he needed to in line with general etiquette. Which he's had plenty of experience with, on account of his upbringing in the elite society of Gotham socialites.

    "Whatever end awaits Michael, I don't think it's death as any of us," and then Tim tips his head to Lady Death again, "Us mortals, at least, can comprehend. I'm fine with kicking his uppity butt out of this plane of existence but I understand there are larger forces at play here. All roads lead to Rome, anyway." As he speaks, Tim sets the cup back down on the tray with a thankful nod to the demon servant who provided it.

    Then, after Jon's explanation, Tim speaks again. "My plan is to begin guerilla warfare tactics across the city in the hopes of confusing the Heavenly Host and providing them false intel. Nothing I can do will level the playing field in pure power, but if we can keep Michael thinking that your Sanctuary is somewhere else entirely... direct his attentions elsewhere?" Another pause. "With your permission, of course, we might be able to cause some chaos. Ruin his day, at the very least."

Hope Svelgate has posed:
The empty wine goblet is discarded, simply tossed aside, clinking down across the floor where that serving demon scurries after it before carefully cleaning it and refilling it.

While all of that is happening, Lady Death regards Jon while her other hand absently strokes one of her wolves. "You're willing to die?" Something clouds her expression as she asks this, perhaps remembering what Jon told her would befall his daughter if he died. "Death is not a choice, death is inevitable. Life is the choice. Being willing to die is worthless, meaningless. Are you willing to live? To cling to life even as something like Michael seeks to tear it from you? To battle tooth and nail with everything you have to live on and to fight? That is the conviction that wins the day, nothing less."

    Lady Death laughs out loud when Jon says he doesn't think she can kill Michael. "Everything can die." She states flatly. "Everything." She repeats for emphasis. "The question is how. Sometimes you just need the right tool. Make no mistake even God can fall. Life and Death are two sides of the same coin, that which exists can perish." When Jon speaks of the Sanctuary being one of those six points. "The fool would come to me? Well, that is interesting. His little exploding trick isn't going to work a second time." Then her smile becomes almost malevolent for a moment. "That's good, because if you did your agonies would be legendary." Treachery is not something she has even the slightest tolerance for.

    "Death is death." She tells Tim. "It comes for all things eventually, even the universe itself. What beings choose to do with their time is what gives them meaning. Michael thinks he is beyond Death and seems to have convinced all of you. But I'm going to wipe that smirk off his face and watch him regret everything as he coughs up the last of his life blood before expiring." There's that smile again. At some point within this time, the goblet has been returned to her hand and she takes another long drink off Hell Wine. "Your plan has merit, two things that holds true for all organized armies are that they require intel and are easily disrupted by guerilla operations. Michael expects a glorious field of battle, deny him that and you will have your edge to strike." There is a definite note of approval in her voice.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I'm certainly /trying/ to live," Jon replies sardonically. "Perhaps I see it differently than you. I am a doctor; I know all too well a body can 'die' and then return to life. I have known plenty of people who have died and come back, and not even all of them are vampires. But that moment, of dying? Even if people come back, by medical means or mystical, it changes people. Always. I can die and return, I can create a way for the Archive to not pass to my daughter, I can ensure I have anchors to come back to and hitch a ride on Ra's barge back up out of the underworld and my friends can storm the gates of Duat to come for me--but death, however brief, is still not a thing to scoff at, nor take lightly. And I do not. If I did, it would be harder to ensure I'm going to live. And... that's the plan."

    There's something underlying his seemingly calm words, a kind of fierce, desperate determination. He's /going/ to live, ultimately, regardless of the ticking clock hanging over his head, even if he has to defy the gods to do it.

    He nods aside to Tim. "/My/ part of the plan is... distraction, at least for the moment. He wants glorious battle, so I'm playing the game, at least outwardly. Scouting the locations of the seals, casting a /very/ flashy spell, keeping him busy so he won't notice the other things going on in the background--my people who are going to deny him this battle for good. The next target is the El Arbol de Esperanza, the Tree of Hope, in Thomas Jefferson Park, East Harlem. We'll be engaging him on Saturday."

    He looks over to Tim. "What are you thinking, for... distraction? Keeping him away from the Sanctuary?"

Tim Drake has posed:
    There's certainly no argument from Tim about the nature of death. Oh, he could have that argument, but today, here, is not the place. So he cedes the point to the Hell Lord on her throne. Maybe someday they could have that argument, when the world isn't ending.

    "Heaven's Champion is a member of the Titans, a team I have ties to. It'd be easy enough to feed information to Michael through them. That would be a start, at least." Tim folds his arms over his chest in a fairly casual gesture, one hand lifted to rub at his chin. "We have big, flashy players like the Archivist. People who can craft spells, or possess artifacts that have already drawn Michael's attention. We make it a little too obvious that we're clearly trying to distract him with one team while a second team covertly begins to ward and protect another area, and either through misinformation fed to Michael, or by his own initiative, he discovers this plot."

    Tim's hands fall back to his sides, and he shrugs with one shoulder. "All the while we're leading him further and further astray. He doesn't think very highly of us humans so I suspect he'll have certain blindspots we can take advantage of."

Hope Svelgate has posed:
There is a sound of protesting metal as Lady Death's goblet visibly dents within her grasp. "You think you understand Death? That's cute. Medicine? That isn't true death, not until the soul is taken. Vampires? I have shown more than a few of those what Death actually is." She pauses and takes a breath rather than crushing the cup in her grasp and wasting good wine. "But you do seem to have found your will to fight. Never lose it again." That at least seems to be enough for her to let it go, this time anyway.

"Disinformation. Smart. Yes, I recall Heaven's Champion. However, Michael would be a fool to rely solely on her for his intelligence. She will be much easier to remove from the field than he is though. Eliminate his ability to make war through his minions and force him to truly take the field. That way he can't keep exploding if he wants to accomplish his goals." Maybe bringing up Caitlin wasn't the best idea after all. "Though there is no reason both can't happen at the same time, whittle down his forces while misinformation leads him into one trap after another."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "He's taken the field, and he follows the rules of the 'game' to the letter," Jon replies. He's in no mood to argue about whether or not he understands death; he'd probably argue that he doesn't understand much of anything. So, focus on Michael, and tactics. "We wiped out most of a batallion with a smaller force. Several of the archangels are only working with him because they must; one of them changed the terms of my surrender. I can actually attack the angels now. Killed a Seraph." He frowns, then shakes his head. He's not proud of that; it was just a thing that needed doing.

    "I would suggest we set up a method of communication, so we can share intelligence. Caitlin Fairchild..." He hesitates. "I'll take care of Fairchild. I'm already working on that." Better, probably, not to mention /how/ he intends to 'take care' of Caitlin. By ensuring she lives. That's an argument they can have another time.

Hope Svelgate has posed:
"A Seraph?" Lady Death smirks. "There might be hope for you yet." The wine goblet returns to her lips, all of this is much better with wine. "Yes, Fairchild. See that you finish what you started." Or I will seems to be the unspoken end of that sentence. Apparently the Hell Lord approves of channeling Nullspace upon enemies, to the surprise of absolutely no one.

Her eyes move to Tim considering something for a moment, but seemingly decides to drain her goblet instead. "I will not be absent from the field much longer. Satasha's portal remains so that you can return." A not so subtle signal that this meeting is at an end, even as she holds out her goblet to the demon for a refill.