Owner	Pose
Jane Foster	Perth, Scotland 3:13 AM "Cause you think we all live in castles. And we do all live in castles. We got a castle each. We?re up to here with fuckin? castles. We just long for a bungalow or something." Eddie Izzard's famed stand-up quip isn't far off the market. The ancient royal capital of Scotland certainly has a couple of castles in abundance, all remarkably well quiet in the wee hours of the morn prior to dawn. Night rests with a light hand over a sleepy city of 50,000 souls, tucked on the eastern side of the country facing the North Sea. The air is cold, a trail of murderous fog leaking across the River Tay. Streetlights are out in a swathe of town, leaving only a smudged moon to see by. A man stumbles to a small throng huddled in front of the Black Watch museum. Blood blossoms on his shoulder, the remains of a footie jersey ripped to rags and tatters. The other four people, all men, wear the same general kit; crumpled shorts, dirty sneakers, ruined shirts, greyed faces and clear wounds. Strips torn off wrap around one's stomach, doing nothing to hide the pink viscera there. "Call got cut off. Bloody BT," he whispers. An iPhone lies dead in his hands, screen cracked and blank. "Roddy, you made that circle yet? They're coming!" Roddy holds some kind of chalk in his shaking hands. He scraped a line around the group in a wide ring, marked by slashed scribbles and squiggles that amount to protetion of some kind. "I got it, I got it," he repeats, frantically scribbling on the stones as best he can. The chalk snaps and he looks up. The Black Watch's cold iron gates marked in a brilliant golden crest start to shudder. Green fire dances around towers and the ornamental tops of the buildings. A woman steps out from the darkness, holding a spiral of a whip with multiple lashing tongues at her side. Roddy drops the broken chalk. He cries out shrilly. "Stay away, witch! I have invoked p-power here to b-b-bar you!" Her dark lips quirk a smile. As she passes, tall as any of the narrow doorways, the men flinch and close together around their fallen friend. "Oh, I'll feast with my sisters tonight. Succulent, sweet flesh of men to ease all our pains." The chalk circle cracks with the smell of burning pine and hot iron when the whip passes through, biting hard into a man's arm, the other barbed thongs reaching with a life of their own. All around the city, screams begin.
Mary Jane Watson	She's had some time with her to reequip. For Red Sonja, that's meant another loadout. A photonic sword taken from the armory at SHIELD as well as her new, upgraded weapon. A lighter chainmail armor reinforced with very thin ceramic plates to help try and minimize contact damage from the far stronger Asgardian undead. A large, nasty looking poleaxe and vibro-mace and a metallic shield, as light as she could get one. Heavily voerloaded if not for the fact of the light, technologically advanced SHIELD eqiupment and her own enhanced strength.     Sonja's chosen to go for the 'sneaky and stabby' approach wiht her weapons up and out and joining the rest of the group on 'sweep and skewer' maneuvers silently
Thor	Is is in the night sky above that a silhouette flows past the low-hanging cloud. Silent even though thunder roils distantly. Armored, bloodied, with torn fragments of ancient metal and ripped chain marking the signs of battle, the Mighty Thor rises up on the gentle caress of wind sending him skywards. Above the clouds now, above the grim portent of the night and the moon.     Behind the metal mask the Thunderer closes his eyes for a moment, feeling the ancient connection with such foul beings as dare cross against the people of Midgard tonight. Feeling the tumult of chaos as it threatens those so far below. He draws breath, the hammer in his hand flashing with a lick of lightning, then his voice is heard on the comms once again for those in SHIELD and those in Avengers.     << An ill wind passes, and battle is in the offing. Hear me warriors of SHIELD, I will be your sword this night. Call me and I shall be there. >>     Which is when he brings that hammer forward and starts to fly across those clouds.
Jessica Drew	How criminal is it to break into a gun shop at the crack of dawn to protect yourself? The SHIELD agent briefly holds this existential conversation with the other agents over coms before jimmying open a shop door. She has no Euros on her, and the card machine is down, so she does the next best thing and leaves a name and phone number. They can run her card later because the agent is -over- being barefooted in a torn skirt and less than adequate jacket when it is cold and wet. Perth at its summery best is cold compared to most places. Boots, field pants, even a armored camo jacket, socks, and a sweater go far toward making her feel equipped to face the day. When she leaves the shop, the silent streets are lit by distant lightning. A current of cold air roils off the river. She follows Thor's message more prosaically with, <Coming to your location.. I found clothes. It's quiet here for now.>
Daisy Johnson	The call to arms comes at a great time. Because you see Daisy was just about to start writing those blasted reports for top brass. It's what comes with bigger responsibility and higher agent level, yadda, yadda. But! An emergency. And Daisy is up in no time. <<Agent Johnson here. We are on the way. And good to have you with us, Thor>> Daisy steps out of the small cabin in the quinjet and runs to the exit, saying over comms. <<Every SHIELD agent available, gather and move towards those sounds of battle. Do not get isolated and move alone, get a partner.>> Because being stabbed in some dark alley in Perth Scotland isn't a great way to go.
Angelo Tampambulos	One benefit for Angelo is that he never really needs to go restock his weapons. Maybe ammo for firearms. But he hasn't been using firearms the whole time he's been here. However, he finds himself standing outside a gun store waiting for Jessica. Why? Because the 'partner up' idea is a good one. Everyone needs a 'battle buddy' or whatever you want to call it. Soldiers work best when they work together.     His armor has a bit less gleaming luster than it has on previous occasions. But that is only due to the amount of gore and viscera and yes scratches and scrapes it received from the draugr and other opponents he's faced here. Shield and spear are in his hands and he holds position until a better armed Jessica Drew comes out of the shop.     Then he moves along at her side and simply transmits over comms, "Copy. Partnering with Agent Drew." To avoid radio clutter.
Jane Foster	Twenty-four hours have inflicted two code red events on a c country not renowned for civil upheavals or mass violence. An attack in Inverness' city centre has allocated most emergency services and government resources to address the flooding, collapsed buildings left by Wonder Man's 'death', and deaths from roving undead soldiers. The police may be on heightened guard around Perth, two hours to the south, but they clearly haven't any notion of what brews on a quiet street near the riverside. No signs of sirens blaring or lights flashing at streetside, that's for sure. Those coming by air might not see anything untoward unless kitchen staff smoking outside a kebab takeaway or a convoy of vehicles headed along the highways outside of town seems ominous. Tourists are safely in their beds, locals stuck in a fitful sleep. Too many of them; this is too quiet, too inactive, even for a place as small as Perth. Reaching the point of the phone call -- a dingy pub near the Watch -- is almost too easy. No one is out there to interrupt. Some kind of crime is in the making, but there simply aren't any obvious signs of perpetrators. The Black Watch Castle and Museum sits back from the pub by a street. A moss-shrouded stone wall guards the rolling green lawns studded by old trees and 19th century architecture: turrets, stone buildings, tall chimneys. The highest are etched in St. Elmo's fire, green and eerie phenomena known to occur on the ships at sea and during storms. It's a significant hunk of property with several gates, all of which glow that lurid green. Several have been blown open, wrenched off their hinges or simply clawed open with horrific force. Recycle and trash bins lie strewn about the ruined chalk protective circle, along with a few spare limbs removed from the soldiers trying to evade the whip being used to lash them to pieces. One hides behind a van, bleeding copiously from his side. Roddy's leg is in the street. Another man uses a doorway for cover, firing into the apparition flicking in and out of sight as she buries her face in the entrails of the unfortunate mystic who got downed protecting others.
Mary Jane Watson	Red Sonja is on the hunt. She's close to the ground, running along. Rather than trying to directly engage the ranks of the undead that outclass her physically and be swarmed by them, she's trying to scout ahead. They know that there are some sort of hostile mages or entities in control of the group. Tonight she is taking it upon hereslf to try and locate them early. In addition to her outfit there's just a large poncho thrown on her body to mostly help her blend in - well, minimally.     She's just circling along, running and zigging and zagging, trying to stay out of sight of the disir.. This is a game of evasion. And to hopefully get an idea o fwhere the main 'thrust' is coming from.
Angelo Tampambulos	Moving alongside Jessica, Angelo breaks into a trotting jog. It is a lope designed to eat up distance without burning too much energy. A soldier needs to conserve his or her energy for the fight to come. So the two of them are moving at a decent clip when they turn a corner.     Up ahead, the apparition seems to laugh at the attempts of the soldiers to combat it. The keen tactical mind sizes up the situation, and Angelo doesn't hesitate. He takes a stutter step to get into the right position... and back comes his right hand before he grunts with the effort of yet another spear throw. That spear is heading for the apparition even as he changes from a jog to a sprint as he suggests to Jessica, "Cover me."     His real objective? Well, he has no idea if he can hurt such an apparition, but he hopes he can at least draw its attention. He is sprinting towards the downed Roddy even as he calls over comms, "I see a soldier down. Ghostlike being in combat with it. Anyone capable ot harming such spirits, we would welcome the backup."
Daisy Johnson	Taking it to the air Quake zips across the night skies towards the trouble brewing. And quite the trouble it appears to be. Ghosts? Not exactly in her ball park but ... <<I don't believe I can, but ... >> Vibrations are felt as Daisy gets closer to where Jessica and Angelo are at, joining in with them from above and landing right next to them. She focuses, hands held open to the front as she attempts to reach out and feel the vibrations of those ghosts, anything she can pick at and can manipulate. Because if they interact with the real world? Perhaps they produce enough vibrations she can handle. "Let's see .."
Jessica Drew	Uncomfortable with the backpack slapping her back, Jessica stops to readjust it then speeds ahead to catch up with Angelo. From behind one of the waste bins thrown willy-nilly in the street, she unslings the railgun and sends a barrage of fire into the apparition. <No way we are stopping this, Angelo.> A few steps takes her to one of the downed soldiers and a quick check of his pulse tells her that he no longer needs care. Popping up from a crouch, she fires more. <Thor, Daisy, we need backup.>
Stephen Strange	Anyone capable of harming such spirits... A voice is heard in the darkness. Quiet, but certainly not through any sort of commlink and, regardless of where the person is, heard as if standing right beside the person. "I believe I can be of assistance." A shower of amber sparks light up the darkness. Quickly forming a ring, the space within the circle forms what looks to be a doorway to a grand foyer. A silhouette...framed within the portal. The figure walks through, one step...then two...until the form is floating in Scottish sky. It does not take much to recognize the newcomer. Red majestic cloak. Blue robes. The Sorcerer Supreme, Stephen Strange, has just entered the fray.
Jane Foster	Darkness shrouds the disir kneeling over the still-warm body. A first pass might hide the grisly proof of how she defiles the dead -- and best pray her prey is still dead, else he is bound to be in pure agony. Another bite rends something other than flesh and pulls out the essential matter of life. The woman tips her head back, blood coating her chin to her nose. Warm lines run down her throat and collarbone. Spots drip on her tattered cloak rimed in dirt, gore, and a glow. She licks her fingers clean of a fine residue that's not blood or bile. A shiver of contentment seizes her, enough to register on Daisy's vibe-radar. (Vibradar?) Green flames reflect in her cat-like eyes and she turns, scanning the street for another tasty victim. Her attention lingers briefly on the Inhuman's relative direction. MJ's stealthy approach isn't attracting her notice so much as a different thing. Power. The pause buys the injured man shooting her to no avail time to hobble away from the door he's hiding in and fall against a garden wall, trying to find the gate latch and cover in someone else's backyard. The loosened whip curls around the ancient disir of its own accord, the long bloodied tongues threaded by blood, flesh, several Irn Bru pop cans, and one length of raw spinal column fused by greenish magic. Bone rakes the cobbles. Like a predator catching scent of blood, her head snaps and she moves forward in a terrifying blur of motion. One second standing and the next she advances several meters in flashes. Then the next moment, she is across the street. The whip rears back and ricochets forward in a splay of long tangled tawses looking for sorcerous flesh to entangle. She's not giving Strange any time; as the others know, she's an ambush predator when given the chance. "How good. You have come to die, magician."
Mary Jane Watson	The threat is paying attention over to Doctor Strange. Good. This means that they can flank her while she's distracted. She's taking the time to threaten and speak out. And as the thing is -rushing- over towards the other side of the street Red Sonja curses. She's out of position for the attack and there's no way she can strike the thing from that far. So instead she's running across the street, again trying to stay out of immediate line of sight and notice while staying close to the ground and hopefully not being caught ahold of in the midst of the melee.     Red Sonja goes to speak to her comms, sending a message to the others, bu tprimarily to Daisy <<While the witch engages the Wizard, she will be vulnerable. I can attempt to pincer her if you can throw her from the air so we leave her open to the Wizard>> Not a plan that Sonja is particularly fond of proposing; namely relying on a Wizard. But she's worked with Stephen before and has a respect for him.     Or at least respect for Magik, whom is married to him. So he can't be that bad. Sonja is, presuming that Daisy agrees to the idea, moving to quickly try and circle around to get into an attack position.
Thor	The satellite radio waves bounce their far way across the world into the sky then back again, words sent almost instantly announcing the steady unfurling of events as the ancient confronts the modern. The Disir spectre with its flickering in and out of sight draws cries and pleas even as the screams of its victims carry through the night.     It is clear that they tug on the strands of fate, bringing those threads together as voices rise seeking aid. The Sorcerer Supreme steps through, gaining the attention of the wicked disir in all her arcane splendor even as she flashes forth, dashing, darting, cracking that whip. Her words rise as she hurls her threats!     And that is when Mjolnir /explodes/ onto the scene with a powerful /WHACHOOOOM!/ as it impacts the area where that monstrosity dares utter its wickedness. The force of the hammer crackling into the ground, leaving a circular crater that ripples with such intensity as lightning licks across the broken ground.     And there is Thor, floating down slowly beside the Sorcerer and lifting his voice, "Doctor, good of you to join us."     Not flippant, simple and stern in tone as he knows this battle will be severe. Even as Mjolnir leaps back into the air with a soft /whom/ as it flies to Thor's hand.
Daisy Johnson	"Here." Daisy offers Jess a thumbs up once she comes out of her concentration over the shades. And she then frowns, "Not good news. I can barely feel them so..." but then there's a mage doing mage things and portal'ing into the fray. "A wizard arrives precisely when he means to..." she quotes out of a rather famous book but nods sharply, "We do, Thor is on the way to help as well.." she says to Strange's benefit. Yet there's little more time to talk anymore, it's time for action as the spectre gets on the move. "JD, Angelo, let's go. We need to stop the spectre. Sonja is coming from the side.." or at least she hopes they can at least delay the creature so that Strange can unleash his magicks... She focuses her powers on the vibrations and--- Big explosion and sparks of an hammer hitting. She grimaces and has to take a moment to dampen the heightened vibrations running through her but eventually does so, "Well, I suppose that problem is taken care of.."
Jane Foster	The man trying to breach the fence hears of someone moving out there and braves a warning. Risk of being heard against being attacked weighs out. "You bloody mad. Get out of here while you can." He leans heavily on the gate until it gives way under groaning hinges, shouldering past. Dark blood streaks the vertical wooden boards as he hobbles in for cover, leaving the door open for someone else.
Jessica Drew	The ground vibrates as Daisy unleashes her power, producing a numbing sensation in the soles of the spider-mutant's feet. Next to the rapidly cooling body, Jessica watches luminous green eyes turn her way for an instant. Atavistic hairs stand on the back of her neck as they rove over her position and then turn to other prey. Life on the magic savanna. When the gold portal opens and Dr. Strange steps out, she has to remember to close her mouth, she seldom is on ops requiring Avenger-level strength. <Angelo, pull back. I'm covering you.> If distraction is the game, then Jess can play, too. She moves toward the gates while the Whip-wielding apparition has her attention fixed on Strange and readies herself to blast her with bio-electric venom. From her position, she senses movement behind the gate until a wall of pressure hurts her ears and the air splits with the arrival of Mjolnir. A shadow on the side of a building inside the gate pulls her attention from the scene. <We have movement inside the building, I'm going over the fence for a look-see.>
Angelo Tampambulos	The preturnatural speed of the spirit entity that can affect living beings moves it out of the way of the hurled spear even as Angelo was charging forward. Before the spear even strikes the wall that -was- behind the disir, it flickers and is gone, only to reappear in his hand.     HE is ready to charge ahead still, but when Jessica says to pull back... well, he's a team player. He does so. He -wanted- to try to evacuate some of the personnel, but it appears that the distraction gave some of the Black Watch the time to extract.     So he lifts his shield, points his spear and nods his head.     And then when his partner, aka battle buddy... announces where she is going, he turns to wordlessly go back her up. He can't stick to walls or lift buses. But he certainly can run an obstacle course in record (for normal humans) time. So he is moving to give Jessica the backup that everyone should have. No lone wolves tonight. Nope.
Stephen Strange	The wicked creature is fast. Damnable fast. However, the sorcerer (not wizard...they wear pointy hats) is expecting a reaction. Even as that whip cracks in the fell creature's hand, Strange's hand flicks up, palm outward. Eldritch energies spark as an amber mystic circle springs into existence. A shield...to deflect the whip coming towards him. "On the contrary, I was going to ask you to leave." There is no humour in that voice, even if the comment might have been rather flippant. No, Stephen is rather serious. "But, I see that is not going to be the case." With the mystic shield hopefully deflecting most, if not all of the dark whip, it is time for Strange to go on the offensive. The sorcerer's free hand raises up...then thrusts forward in a throwing motion. As he does so, a blast of magic, greatly resembling a thunderbolt, flies forward towards the disir...
Jane Foster	Chaos briefly gives opportunity for the heroes come to deflect a disir from an all-you-can-eat buffet. Chaos in the streets. Lightning roars into the middle of the street. Front windows shudder in the row-houses fronting the Black Watch castle and trees toss their limbs in the violent pressure wave released by Mjolnir. Cracks deform the protection circle hastily written, whatever purpose it served sundered, though Strange can probably see the crude marks for what they are in classical British sorcery preferred by the Crowley mob. The disir hisses when Mjolnir tries to fry her in a go, and she comes into brief brilliant detail right down to her green-glowing eyes. Molten blobs fall from her armour, highlighting a row of knotwork tattoos spread over the visible skin. It might seem an immediate victory as she's hurled back, surely defeated... But disir fly. She twists around in midair, spitting out a black runic curse and the whip rushes to her spectral hands. A hideously fast snap breaks the sound barrier -- she's bringing the thunder if Strange has the lightning. This is all very perverse with the Thunderer /right/ there. Daisy's shuddering quakes topple the burning black gate. Green witchfire spreads to devour the adjacent stone wall, growing holes reveal the grounds beyond. Buildings glossed in shadow and a fell stillness are brought into Castle Dracula-ish relief, stark and sharp divisions of foggy windowpanes. Chaos on the green. Angelo might spot a slumped guard on a tidy path, the man's skin grey and no obvious signs of injury other than possibly running across a life-sucking monster. Jessica can see the way is clear ahead, no signs of heartbeats or softly wailing security systems that her senses detect. The museum and cafe are situated to the left of the barracks, the dead guard on the path leading to them. No signs of life or movement in those windows might be a good thing, but also a bad thing, considering multiple weapons torn from the walls are floating. Waiting for the next thing to move.
Mary Jane Watson	The man giving Red Sonja a warning gets a nod and a 'get yourself to cover' expression from her as she goes to race along in an arc. Circling through the melee, going to then find a nearby building to climb up. Sonja might not be the Cimmerian that could clamber up walls like an eel as fast as one might fall off a cliff. But this is simple.     Sonja goes to get quickly up and over on the rooftop and then goes to watch the battlefield. Monsters on one end, monsters on the other end. Civilians. Targets.     And just as the disir is bouncing off the blast of hammer and magic she goes to leap up through the air after taking several steps to biuld up speed. Even with her enhanced strength, Red Sonja is no Cimmerian. Mary Jane is no Peter Parker (or even the Fabulous Frog Man). What she does have as she launches herself through the skyline are two blades. One Cimmerian steel forged with secondary adamantium atop. The other a photonic blade taken from the armory for a single mission. Both fly down as she goes to scythe and slash!     Even something immortal, all powerful, and invulnerable might at least -feel- pain from two blades wielded by the She-Devil With Swords. If her blades would strike true, if momentum would carry her.. And if the witch was focused on the two far more potent attackers.
Thor	It is only fitting, like breeds like and matters escalate with such abandon. The roil of thunder and lightning and energy all comes one after the other as the Disir wages her war against the beings before her. There is courage in the malice of the creature, though when the whip lashes out and slashes at the thunderer it seems definitely more of the latter.     For one of the tail slashes across the Asgardian's face, spattering blood across the armored cheek guard even as another tendril slithers almost like a lover's caress around his armored gauntlet and /yanks/ him forward, actually pulling Thor out of the air and slamming him down with both his feet crashing into the ground digging up twin divots as he /pulls/ back on the leathery weapon now holding his arm.     "Foul creature, what sleight imagined or real has you so tormenting the innocent! If you carry grudge then address it with me for I am at the least acquainted with the crimes you and yours have committed."
Jessica Drew	A leap takes her over the fallen gates lit with arcane fire. Jess looks back briefly at Angelo and stops for an instant to listen for signs of life, for signs of the enemy through the noise of the battle behind her. Nothing, nothing at all until a shadow above her alerts her to odd shapes floating in the air. <Angelo, I'm going up> No sooner said than done. Jess clings to the stone wall like a...well, yes, a spider, the railgun and backpack snugged to her back. The floating black shapes resolve into a surprising collection of antique weapons - arquebuses, bows strung with arrow, javelins, all pointed toward the street battle. Experimentally, she extends an arm to wrap a fine filament with a tensile strength surpassing steel on the closest weapon. A crossbow. She tugs hard and it barely budges. Bracing herself against the wall, she pulls again. <Angelo look up.>
Angelo Tampambulos	Look up. Okay. Angelo does as he is instructed. Spotting the weapons... he turns and goes into a sprint. His gleaming armored form moving over the ground with the sort of speed one might expect from an Olympic athlete. Pun intended.     He swiftly moves to attempt to place -himself- at the apex of where those weapons might be aimed. His armor, his shield... his flesh acting as shield if that can be arranged.     Sure, with so many weapons, the odds are some will get past him. But he does his level best to be the target. The disir has more dangerous enemies to deal with. Jessica is going places that he can't really follow without a lot of work (and rope!.. Maybe ladders)... but this. This he can do.
Jane Foster	The disir isn't fully inside reality, phased partly into a different dimension. Mundane weapons pass right through as bullet holes on the walls attest. Photonic blades tinkered by one Dane Whitman scalds her inchoate flesh, a hot smell of metal and dust accompanying Red Sonja's strike. She will stumble until learning to compensate for hitting a figure not fully there, the Cimmerian steel having a little better effect on slashing at the whip-tongue that wraps around her calf to yank her into the air. Thor and Doctor Strange both provide the disir temptation and pain in equal spades. She grins mirthlessly into the latter, hauling the Asgardian closer to her. "Foul? Tell that to the men you betrayed." The blood that hits the air doesn't last long, physically absorbed into her. He pulls her forward and she goes with it, lured in. "Abandoned men lay a curse upon you faithless gods. Suffer as they did in your name." So little ichor strengthens her hold by a noticeable amount, and she twists the whip up to her shoulder while rotating on her back foot. Swiveling around on that point, she brings her knee up to leap airborne. Significant centrifugal force accommodates the spin as she kicks out with her right left in a brutal tornado kick to deliver the strongest force possible at Thor. The whip twists and snaps on the rotation. Her keening shriek blends with its barking crack. Strange is, unfortunately, on the other end of that crushing collision between two very unmovable forces. The ephemeral weapon isn't after him, but the magic, the power within, flesh just a benefit. When whip tongue strikes mystic art, it's enough to send him careening away. --- The Black Watch Museum proudly boasts a collection of weapons that hang in midair for no particular purpose. Maybe it's a magical display, though the halberd starting to teeter the moment someone enters the building would make this unlikely. Its blade crashes down on Jessica, giving Angelo a fine opportunity for his shield to become porcupine quilled by bolts, arrows, javelins, and a plain dinner fork. The clatter of noise is loud, horrifically so in a closed space. Bec-de-corbins, polearms, and regimental swords clash in a martial Fantasia gone wrong. But their source? One disir on the field would be bad enough, but this is evidence of a second. She isn't in the museum, already racing across the grounds for the River tay. Strange in his tumble might well be concerned to spot two shapes flying across the river up to a hill crowned in the /royal/ castle. Royal castle. Royal city. The seat of the Scottish kings, home to none other than... Oh. That. The Stone of Destiny.
Mary Jane Watson	Sonja is whip-yanked up and into the air, going to slash about with her blades. Moving to try adn use the photonic blade, then the one cored of secondary adamantium to wildly try and chop her way free. A slash from one goes to skewer through it, and Sonja goes to flip out to land on her feet. She goes to grumble. "Fine you freaked thing, let us see how well you handle feeling the heat!" Sonja's racing through the area now, going to gather several bottles of various things tos tart mixing them together. Going to get out a cauldron as she starts going to pour toxic ingredients within it. Bubble, bubble.. Acid. Poison. Alcohol. Running from house to house to gather things and start to combine them.
Thor	With one arm bound and held, Thor does draw the creature in, though offers no further rejoinder against the harsh words hurled toward him. His features tighten into a blood-smeared scowl as he brings his arm up, hammer spinning sharply as he slings it around...     Only for her to /yank/ and draw him off balance toward her, the mighty Mjolnir /slicing/ across the distance with a _whom_ of sound as it flashes past, lightning flickering out to play across the ground and walls as it blurs past and away.     She yanks again and the Thunderer staggers forward, planting one foot and going to one knee as he _yanks_ back again hard yet somehow she seems able to resist the man's efforts.     And that is when she leaps, taking to the air and spinning in that smooth clean arc as she lashes out with tendrils and feet and the screech of such reprisal impacting hard several times as he staggers back...     "You speak of betrayal... I have betrayed naught."
Jessica Drew	Acute sensitivity to air pressure changes barely saves Jessica from being carved like a roasted bird. The halberd misses her by an inch as it races toward the ground. Spider reflexes slap a line to the stone wall which she plummets from to cache herself under one of the towers overhangs. The railgun unloosed, she tries another experiment and knocks a battle axe out of the sky with a single shot. Out beyond the downed gate molten energy explodes in pyrotechnics. If only she had the magic to direct those weapons into the Disir's back. Jess spends a precious moment imagining that magic back quilled with ancient weapons. To Angelo: <Want up? What next? Do your weapons have an affect on that thing?"
Angelo Tampambulos	Pausing in his defense of Jessica, his shield having grown several projectiles and having some crossbow quarrels stuck in his armor... and one sticking out of his thigh, Angelo reaches down to yank that out and toss it aside with a spray of blood.     "In theory. Yes." he says. Then he extends a hand, his sword replacing his spear. "Here, take one." he tells Jessica. He hands it over and then summons his spear once more even as he runs forward and out towards the river.     He is trying to catch up with the fleeing disir, but not -just- that. He's trying to get a feel for the movement and the range... and only after doing that, he hurls that Celestial Bronze spear once more, trying to at least slow down the disir.     The good thing is that even should he miss, he can always summon it back. Magic for the win.
Stephen Strange	Mystical protection is one thing. However, it is not infallible. The shockwave...the shear power of the two combatants is more than enough to send Strange careening. It...isn't graceful, as legs and arms flail from the force of the wave shoving him away. It is only the quick actions of the Cloak of Levitation, cocooning the sorcerer, that prevents major injury. But...the sorcerer does hit the ground...and none too lightly. And yes, Strange is going to feel that one in the morning. While he might be the chosen of gods, he is still mortal. But, no time to worry about pain now. It is time to step up. As Stephen regains his bearings, it is then that he notices two figures heading for the royal castle. And yes, he notices that they are flying. Which means...not exactly on his side. Again, he uses that audible trick, where he speaks and yet everyone he wants to hear does so, simply and clearly. "Multiples. Two are headed for the Stone." The Stone? Way to be clear there, Doc. And...that is all that he gives for information, as he is already taking flight, heading for the self-same hill. Does Strange mean to take on two at once? It isn't like he has a choice at the moment.
Jane Foster	Sonja can detangle herself shortly before being slammed into the ground or strangled. An advantageous outcome compared to the outcomes of the Asgardian god and the undead huntress caught together. Even a grazing blow by either can inflict devastating wounds, and the vicious scuffling throws pavement and dirt airborne. Locked in deadly battle, the pair are splashed by lightning and green fire. A balcony crashes, glass sent scattering from Thor yanking at her forcefully enough to cause her to slam into the ground. The disir flinches from the mighty hammer -- not stupid, this one. "Liar. Warriors launched their ships in oaths to their king. They left with you and your false king's blessing. Asgard would be with them. They were cut off and forgotten here." She drags the whip tighter, leaning in close enough to drink the traces of ichor on the air. The rough, callous edges glimmer in fire, a curse feeding her as much as mortal lives, sorcery, and especially god-given fuel. "Left to die in despair in a cave. They prayed. Sacrificed themselves. Asgard never answered. When Asgard's children fall, remember the loyal men abandoned on a lonely shore. We are their vengeance." Jessica's too quick for the falling weapons that slash and shoot at anything nearby. They whirl aimlessly or clatter to the ground when struck down. Whatever animated them lacks precision to meet up with a tough, fast-moving spider; she can hew her way through them and come out like a medieval weapons Kris Kringle to dispense arms to the good boys and girls. When she emerges from the museum to join up with Angelo, the rolling lawn to the river has no barriers to their run. Only crossing the dark water itself, which the pair ghost-like disir can plain cheat by floating over. It's a long throw even for an ancient Greek hero. Strange might be that much faster to reach the hill. Ragnveig and Nefja diverge before they reach the castle's formidable wall. Partly because the sorcerer is an indisputable source of delicious energy. Nefja swerves to dive through the wall. Ragnveig pulls a leaf from "things evil Aesir undead aren't allowed to do" and catches Angelo's spear midthrow as she turns. "Don't dare me to eat your mother, halfbreed. Or are you flirting?" She puts her full strength in hurling the spear right back at him and Jessica. Tortured counsel indeed.
Mary Jane Watson	She has her own concoction ready. Now.. Now she has simply to get it back to the combat zone. Everything poisonous that could be found and melted together thrown in a large pot in several minutes of working. Now Red Sonja goes to haul it with her. Seeing a car that is miraculously functional, she goes to start the engine. She presses down the accelerator. And goes to rev her engine as hard as the old truck will do. It only has to survive one more journey after all. She follows along after the melee, through the air, and then goes to grin wickedly as she moves to put the pot of improvised Greek Fire over in the passenger seat. She goes to call along the comm <<Thunder God, throw this in her face!>> This is no duel of honor or pasttimes. But one of savagery. The woman has earned herself no rites of honor nor duel. Sonja fights dirty. Presuming htat Thor or Strange get what she's doing, she's going to kick the driver's side door out, leap from it.. To hopefully have the vehicle with it's engine block, contents of slaughter hurled up through the air.. To be detonated if they agree it's of any particular aid by magic or thunder.
Angelo Tampambulos	Spear gets caught, and Angelo snickers as the creature attempts to 'return to sender' the thing. With a minimal effort of will, the spear is dissipated into the air itself as it returns to storage within Angelo's bracer. At the same time, his shield vanishes and a bronze bow appears in his hands.     Into comms, he remarks, "Sorcerer. My weapons are celestial bronze. I believe they can harm these creatures. I am about to send several arrows of that metal towards them. Feel free to put them to use in your magic if you wish to."     And then... while he is no Hawkeye, he has been practicing archery for as long as anything else he's done. It also helps that just drawing the string creates an arrow on the bow. No need to manually reload. He stops at the water's edge and raises the bow for a high arcing shot before releasing as many arrows as he can fire in the handful of seconds he has available. Somewhere between six and twelve arrows all fired. The last fired before the first can reach its target. . . -if- it reaches its target. In reality, he's not truly trying to -hit- the undead creatures. He's trying to provide Doctor Strange ammunition for his own magics.
Thor	"Fool of a Disir," Thor's voice comes back, though not as strong as it once was. Stern and severe albeit not with the volume and hissing disdain that is present in the spectre's words even as she /yanks/ him closer as globules of Asgardian blood floats into the air only to be devoured and drawn into the glowing figure of the warrior woman's spirit. "Think you in war all can be saved?"     There's a crackle as he slams his fist into the ground hard enough to shift her stance even as he pushes forward and suddenly they are face to face, one powerful hand grasping her arm as he /wraps/ that whip around it and around her shoulder as well in one motion, his other hand grasping her by the throat. Those blue eyes widen behind the armored helmet, then suddenly he growls, "Think you I know not what it cost?"     Which then there is the chirp of the comms in his ear, the voices, Sonja's calling to him, to throw something even as he hears the /roar/ from behind. Yet he does not get clear nor move in that instant, perhaps not seeking to throw it in her face. But perhaps instead to ensure she gets hit by it...     Right as in the next moment Mjolnir returns flying almost faster than the eye can see... straight for Thor's hand.
Jessica Drew	Jess drops to the ground next to Angelo with a flex of her knees and a brief one-handed touch to the ground. "I think Strange means we have incoming."     he battle raging outside has attention fixed on it until a glance upward warns her of one last weapon. Jess pushes Angelo roughly away before another axe buries itself into the grass lawn. "Stone? Is this for something inside? Were we briefed about that?" Like the witches in the Wizard of Oz, two dark shapes scud through the night air toward the museum. If speed and creepiness is intent, it answers her question. Their dark voices carry over the waters as one of them plucks Angelo's weapon from the air like a piece of straw. The agent watches the spear arc toward her then disappear. "Did you make it disappear?" The ground shakes as Thor's fist thuds into the ground. One of the twain lands not far from the museum doors. Sisters to the Disir fighting Thor. Sword in hand, she hefts it to accustom herself to its weight. Despite knowing herself outclassed, Jessica runs full speed at it to plunge the sword into its breast.
Stephen Strange	Three disir. what fun. As Strange is once again targetted for a meal, it seems that he has other plans. "Enough!" At the exclaimation of the single word and a flick of the wrist, another one of those portals opens between the attacking disir and the sorcerer. Only, this time, it is set to intercept the vile witch....and close the moment it crosses the plane. Ever wonder what happens to a body when it is halfway between plains and the door closes? Yeah, Strange might be curious to see that, too. As for the other...well, the Greek warrior was kind enough to provide celestrial bronze. And, two can play with the telekinetic game. Strands of power leap out, snagging the bronze arrows in flight. They guide the missile weapons, adding speed and arcane power as all converge on a single point... The disir heading for the Stone.
Jane Foster	Vicious laughter fills the spectral woman's dead throat. "Paid? No! Their curse will find you still." No one ever vetted the disir for humility and that, in the end, will cost her dearly. The whip snarls around her in thirsting tongues, dragging sinuously across bared Aesir flesh to hurt that little bit more. The fact he's trying to hold something inherently phased into another realm will leave Thor's arms brutally cold and numbed. She pushes back against him forcibly, driven by unyielding hunger and a healthy dose of hate. And it might be an equal contest until-- The hammer and flamebath join on a colliding trajectory, chemicals ignited by casual ignition blowing out windows and wrecking a hole in the Black Watch's damaged wall. Flames play off metal and cloth, but the returning uru weapon carves a hole through the disir's divinely-charged substance. They don't collapse like a nazgul meeting Eowyn's sword. No, they detonate. --- Nefja and Ragnveid shriek at their sister's demise. They clearly feel that loss. Nefja, the disir closest to Strange, skirts through the wall to get a better trajectory past him. About the time he bisects her with a portal, sending some of her substance under a hail of arrow-fall to another place. Even a being that dwells simultaneously in two places cannot deal with part of her torso and spinal column being transposed in a complete different dimension than the rest of her. Dark strands of energy spool out from the portal, a corruption that immediately kills the grass in a three meter vicinity, cracking a rift in the castle wall down through the foundations. Ragnveig isn't immune to celestial bronze and it hurts, getting a quiverful punched into her. The immensity of her speed helps with merging through the wall, but not the magical tendrils and pointy objects ripping into her being. But what happens after that is behind ruptured castle walls. One last check.
Mary Jane Watson	Going to be flung through the air, Red Sonja isn't fast enough as she goes to hit -hard- over across the collapsing wall as she would be whiplashed into it roughly, even as it would be collapsing. She goes to take a hard tumble, even as she's shifting up as best she can to yank out her shield to hold it atop her body, tucking in her limbs as tightly as she could underneath her as she would fall, rubble collapsing atop her. Even as it tumbles and crashes atop her, there is but stillness within as her comm cuts off.
Thor	The impact has a pregnant pause as all things collide, the energy and power of a myriad forces all coming together. The flames illuminate the Disir as the hammer strikes home, crashing in and through her as that green energy around her surges. Brilliant colors bathe the front of that museum in unholy light as the fire takes hold of the forms of god and fallen.     Then as her shriek rises her body turns inwards briefly, then suddenly /outwards/ with a BAWHOOMPH! That hurls Thor into the air hammer clasped in one hand as he /flies!/     Then lands heavily in a crunch of charred armor with smoke and steam rising from its joints, flames still sizzling all over it and burning the very ground upon which he lies.
Angelo Tampambulos	"Yeah. That was me making the spear go away." Angelo says aside to Jessica with the hint of a smile on his face. Then he speaks into his comm even as he re-summons the sword and hands it to Jessica once more....     "That was impressive sorcerer. That portal. Can you open me one to wherever that last one went?" asks Angelo. "If you can... now would be a good time." says Angelo as he re-manifests his spear and shield, and then begins running forward. "Jessica. With me." he says, running towards the river. He's hoping a portal may open before he gets wet but you know... sometimes you gotta act on faith." And he is hoping that Strange will transport him and Jessica where they need to go....     If the portal is opened, he'll charge through it and go on the attack immediately. Spearing that last disir as best he can, with a rapid fire series of stabs and thrusts. Relentless. If he has backup, so be it. But he is ready for a real fight. Wouldn't it be a cliffhanger if the target wasn't even there?
Stephen Strange	There isn't a verbal answer given to the Greek warrior. Just a look. But, Stephen does seem to reciprocate. With a twirl of his fingertips, yet another portal opens...with this one opening to within the castle grounds directly. A flicker of green is enough to signal that the last threat is there...perhaps stunned from the barrage that manage to hurt it. Still, doorway opened. No need to swim. And...easy access. With a nod to Angelo, Stephen just offers a short nod and a wave of the hand to offer passage." "After you."
Jane Foster	That's one disir destroyed, one dissipated, and one probably about to suffer retaliation for its actions. Thor smolders, Sonja has another scar to sing of later, and the cracked facade of the Scone Palace bears the hallmarks of another battle on the banks. One last matter: Ragnveig. Doctor Strange's portal easily breaks a passage to the other side of the wall, into a handsome hallway with a runner carpet, a few oil portraits in the process of decaying. The interior is all very sedate and respectable for a nonagenarian queen to wander through if she so felt like it. Except for a sheet of runes bleeding on the walls, the very fabric of reality starting to warp and twist to a spreading sickness that oozes through the building. Liquid sand runs up and down a pair of twinned arched windows overlooking a modest little hill, the site of Scottish royal coronations for centuries. The warped glimmer makes it hard to recognize tables and chairs, let alone a maddened, pain-riddled undead Asgardian woman looking for the Stone of Destiny. Those who pass through the portal await a reaction to a throw of a spear, a jab of a sword, a tut-tutting of sorcerer fingers. But for anyone outside, there's only darkness until...