Summary:The Wild Hunt becomes the Hunted Log Info:Storyteller: None |
Related LogsTheme SongNone |
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It's the 21st of June and the moon is dark. The shadows that are cast over the streets of New York are longer than usual and there's a feeling of … something … in the air. Animals in the city are restive - dogs bay loudly even though there's no moon and cats hiss and yowl at each other on rooftops and in alleys.
The sounds from the Central Park zoo are terrible as the big cats roar and monkeys gibber.
This is not a nice night and certain heroes of New York know it. They've been waiting for the 'other shoe to drop'.
That shoe had dropped about two hours ago when the Hounds of the Hunter, Fomori mounted on great silvery beasts, flying horrors and an assortment of dark elves, imps and goblins had descended on mass on the city.
It had been agreed the heroes would lead the hunt somewhere safe to fight - away from the population and an area in the Adirondack National Park had been chosen. What the group hadn't counted on was the oath breakers and liars that had been added to the Hunts number - transformed into creatures of horror themselves.
"Don't get caught by them - they might not try to kill you." Zatanna is saying as she teleports some of the heroes to the next staging point. "They might add you to their numbers and then we'll have to fight you …"
And nobody really wants that.
The Hunt has come. Yet unknown to them, they are this night the Hunted, for the Branded have prepared for this night. They needed a place where Spider-Man would have ample locations for web-slinging. A place where they could control the land and turn their enemies' numbers against them.
Priscilla's preference had been an abandoned subway tunnel beneath the city; with its tighter confines and iron-heavy steel tracks, it would have been ideal. But that did not work out. Voodoo is frustrated at this. But she was not stupid or reckless enough to set all of her hopes on achieving that goal. Voodoo is not going light tonight, and has been staying ahead of the baying hounds, snorting beasts and screeching flyers with her hoverbike, which has made sure she is carrying even more fun toys for tonight's fight.
Because oh yes, this alien-hunting stripper ninja is going to stop and fight quite viciously as soon as they are clear of the innocent civilians and her companions are ready. "C'mon, you cowardly bastards, hunt harder! Come and get me!" the gold-accented purple clad figure shouts, as her mind links up with her companions. « Hope everyone's ready. It's about that time. Remember: Two clicks means duck very fast. »
Well, THAT'S an awfully unfair number of baddies. If Spider-Man didn't wear a costume whose mask covers his whole head, his hair would likely be standing on end from how hard his spider-sense is screaming (so to speak) at him - and it's excellent motivation to stay mobile. Don't stop, don't slow down if it can be helped, don't be an easy target.
Move.
And then *keep* moving.
"Don't have to tell me twice!" Spider-Man replies to Zatanna as they're teleporting; he hasn't even finished talking before he shoots out a webline, anchoring a high branch of a convenient tree, and immediately bounds into the air, beginning his next swing.
He's not above laying some traps for unwary, over-eager Wild Hunters, but he needs the right spot first. And he needs enough lead time that he can spin his webs without getting run down under Fomori hooves or worse in mid-rigging.
Loki managed to find himself a couple more cold iron daggers, alas, the cold iron sword he commissioned could not be completed in the time allotted. Ah well, daggers, magic, guile and allies will just have to do! Allie that aren't expendable even, what a novelty! One thing he did take the time to do was to work with his beloved wife on tweaking the rift sealing spell, to build in protections to avoid him getting fried this time if he uses it.
The Lord of Lies has been enjoying the chase utilizing his shape shifting talents to good advantage, he finally settled on a gryphon form to lead them towards the chosen point - good mix of offense, defense and they are very swift and agile fliers, so it was good. Also, he likes the combo of black feathers, golden mane and claws and of course green eyes; Yes, he's actually vain enough to care about his appearance!
Once the Voodoo sends her mental reminder he power dives to the chosen point in the park, and morphs into his own shape, drawing Laevateinn, his flaming sword, in one hand, and a cold iron dagger in the other. «If only someone could queue up some music - oh, wait…» The air itself starts blasting Fleetwood Mac, 'The Chain'. Hey! He likes the song.
"Indeed, conversion to huntsmen is generally rather…permanent, and life expectancy is very low."
Dylan was well suited to being bait as Hengroen, regardless of which shape he was in, is supernaturally fast. Staying just out of reach wasn't too difficult though pissing off the Hunt definitely has its drawbacks. The Singing Sword is strapped to the saddle, easily drawn if and when he needs it. "The sword provides some shielding from the eyes of the Hunt if you require it." he tells the others.
The thing with the Hunters is that they are frenzied - which means they aren't always careful about what they do. The only thing the group hadn't been able to do is lure the Hunt into the Tunnels - when they had, the Hunt had gone on a rampage and attacked civilians.
"You'll be needing that, I'm sure, Agent Grey." Zatanna answers the MI-13 agent, nodding to Voo as she links them. They'll need that to. "I'll run interference to give you all time to get into position."
They can hear the hooves of the Fomori's beasts and the keening of the horrors and others that attend them. Not far from them now, there's only to seconds to spare as Zatanna moves out into a clearing - singling herself out as a target.
It works as the rabid horde charges the area - as Zatanna voices a spell which probably can't be heard over Fleetwood Mac.
Behind the first wave of the Hunt, a wall of arcane flame flares up. That splits the hunt and another group of a half dozen or more, circle around to charge Pris' and Dylan positions.
Which should put a few of them under Spider-Man and Loki.
Who they haven't seen at the moment is the leader of the Hunt … Malekith … where is he?
As soon as the signal of thought goes out that they have reached their destination, Voodoo stops the hoverbike on a dime and drops to ground level, rolling off as her backpack swivels around. She starts yanking out these brick-looking things with spikes on them and wires between them, driving them into the turf, turning them this way and that. She may not be a speedster, but she is very, very fast and incredibly agile; in less than a minute Voodoo has set up ten of the things and primed the first switch on the attachment on her belt, already sprinting away with to position herself on the other side of the Maginot Line she has created, sword and pistol coming out; she has gone for slug-throwers tonight, with cold iron shells.
« Let them through. » Voodoo signals, as she slings her backpack up onto her shoulder and latches it in place for later. "C'mon, you slow-witted cowards! Here we are!" she shouts. And as the onrushing horde sweeps in, the last some of them may see is 'This side towards enemy'; a loud double-click, and then an array of ten cold-iron ball-bearing claymores explode all around and through their formation!
And Vooodoo stands her ground on the other side, ready to meet the ragged mess of whatever is left.
"Keep us out of the way of any attacks." Dylan tells his horse, patting Hengroen on the shoulder then drawing his sword and dagger. The Hunt, as dangerous as they are, aren't the main worry. Where's the dark elf leader? "Don't concentrate so much on the Hunt that you leave yourselves vulnerable to Malekith." he warns. "He is likely biding his time, waiting for an opportune moment to strike."
«Thankfully we have mind links to keep us working in concert.» The Trickster God of the Norse is a bit concerned though that Malekith hasn't shown his ugly mug yet though. Vexing. Regardless, he looks to the Spider-Man. "I know it is not your usual MO, but…here, just in case." He flips the lad a cold iron dagger, another appearing in his hand as if by magic, but actually drawn using sleight of hand. So…stage magic, if not the real deal.
Tricks are tricks, and Loki is fond of them!
Whatever Fomor gets to his position first will be attacked without any mercy, first he goes for the steed, slicing with sword and dagger, a whirling dervish, his skill with sword and dagger formidable even by Asgardian standards.
Across the mind link. «Yes! That. Exactly that, Malekith is a coward and a dullard, but he does have some smidgen of low cunning, like a hyena, or other carrion eater.»
He does rather admire the big boom of the claymore mines though (and the girl who detonates them!).
Gotta hand it to Loki, thinks Spider-Man, the Norse god has style to spare. Spidey's almost a little jealous of the gryphon upon whose back Loki is riding - assuming it isn't another illusion of some kind, but never mind that now. Zatanna's literal firewall splits the hunters into two chunks (at least), and the handful pursuing him and Loki aren't giving them much respite.
Spidey spares the Hunters another look as he's catching Loki's thrown dagger (yay spider-sense), and winces. Scratch that: aren't giving them ANY.
"I think I asked this when we met," Spidey calls out, "but you *do* have your licenses in order, right? Can't hunt without a license in New York, and believe me, if you think *we're* a pain in the butt to deal with, you do *not* want the state bureaucracy up in your area - !"
Chattering like that probably draws attention straight to himself, but Spidey's okay with that: he just drops from his current swing, plummeting towards the ground as if he lost his grip or something, and lays down a wide spread of loose but *sticky* webbing, carpeting the ground with it across a triangle between a couple of particularly prominent trees. And then he thwips out one fresh webline and swings away, as though he was never in danger at all. (Spoiler: He wasn't really.)
«I was figuring,» Spidey chimes in mentally mid-swing, «Malekith's probably letting his mooks bring us to ground so he can have the pleasure of finishing us off for himself. Not really sporting of him, but …»
BOOM
The claymores explode and three of the dark elves just drop, screaming in pain and unable to move as the cold iron scrapnel is embedded across their bodies. That leaves two Fomori of their smoke breathing beasts and two gibbering creatures that are a monstrous visage of their former selves bearing down on Voodoo as she stands there. She can see the shrapnel sticking from their bodies and whilst the explosion has slowed them - it's not stopped them. One of the smoke breathing 'horses' charges from her right, the other from her left as the two other creatures launch themselves at her with great gleaming claws.
Unlike movies, they aren't attacking one by one, they going to mob the woman.
Hengroen whinnies and grunts as the ground at Dylans' feet starts to buckle and break. In front of him are three enormous humanoid like creatures with caps of red on their head. And yes, that's the smell of blood he can scent. Red Caps … wielding enormous two handed swords that slash at Hengroen and Dylan alike.
KERTHUNK
Two horseman and three trolls are caught in Spider-Mans web between the trees. The spider might think he's in the clear until he feels talons dig into his back and … something… wrap about his midriff - with still more … something … trying to trap his arms against his side.
The Fomori and goblins that Loki attacks put up a fight, but the God is being drawn forward from his position if he continues.
About Loki and his assailants, an orb of darkness forms and when it clears - seconds later - there's two Loki's - dressed exactly the same.
A ninja does not expect honor from others, nor does she give it in return. The formori and the mob of creatures attack! …
And the ninja is standing somewhere else. No, she is no magicienne; that is her lover. But Voodoo is a telepath, and as alien as they are, she is a specialist at mucking with the minds of aliens.
Click click.
BOOM!
The ground where the image of Voodoo stood erupts in fire, flame and more flesh-shredding shrapnel, and then the ninja spins and whirls in amongst them, one hand slicing as the other fires that hand canon. It's the stench of blood and death this night.
As the redcaps appear, Hengroen prances aside, getting out of range of the furthest of them but one of the swords glances off his flank, the strength and weight behind it making his leg buckle. Dylan's sword parries the third of them and he slams his dagger back in its sheath so he can pull his phone out and point it one of the redcaps. "Taliesin!" An odor of ozone accompanies a crackling as electricity leaps from the phone.
Once the mines go off, that's the hidden signal for the Valkyrie, who was lurking above unseen, waiting as her mind conveys to the group, « I'll say this for you, the signals are hard to miss! » Dani grins with a feral expression as she nocks her psychic bow, unleashing her power in the form of arrows into the minds of the fomori and others still standing.
Brightwind, her steed, whinnies in challenge, soaring in and keeping his rider safe while providing Dani with a good aware of targets. Sure, it might not be fair to ambush dark fae with iron claymores, but the bottom line?
History is written by the victors, and Malekith will not be THAT this day!
"Ah, there you are, Imposter." Says one of the Loki's, alas, the instant that darkness field went up Loki was (at least temporarily) cutoff from the mind-link; it is not obvious now which is which. "At least you finally picked a form of rare beauty and perfection! I salute you." He does too, the sword then sheathed as he engages with with just the dagger, a beam of polar cold emanating in an eye searing flash of blue-white from his other hand. "Spider-Man, keep to position, keep the hunt off us if you can, there's a good lad."
Loki (though which one he actually is isn't clear) will definitely remember the aid rendered him by allies, and the insult and injury done him by—well, ANYONE. He doesn't hold grudges so much as cherish them, then when they die he has them stuffed, mounted, and keeps them on display! The combo of spell and blade is something Loki has been working on for a LONG time, literally millennia. Truth be told he's a better mage and dagger fighter than he is a swordsman, and he's one of the finest swordsmen in the Nine Realms.
Fortunately for Spider-Man, he's got more on his back than just the cloth of his costume - and even if it were, he's spent enough time working on his costume over the years to integrate *some* protection into it, but more to the point, the talons dig instead into a backpack with something big and clunky inside.
Which brings us directly to the UNfortunately for Spider-Man part - because what was he supposed to do in terms of bringing his 'secret weapon' to the party tonight? A web-sack is handy, but it doesn't last forever, and he didn't know whether the Wild Hunt would strike at sundown or midnight or an hour before dawn.
"HEY!" squawks Spidey, his internal early-warning system giving him just enough notice to keep his arms free. "I'm not your carry-on luggage! Now let go before I chop you into cole-Sluagh!" He's already slashing as he's able at the tail, or tendril, or whatever it is that's wrapped about his waist - and if anything tries for his arms again, Loki's loaned dagger is getting put to use keeping his arms free as well. But in his frenzy to free himself, he seems to have given up on web-swinging … ?
Red Caps are known as fearsome warriors, the scent of blood - is the blood colouring the caps on their heads. The more they fight, the more they kill, the more blood that flows over it - and these three have blood pouring down their heads and faces.
They weren't expecting Hengroen though - and one is knocked to the ground, it tumbles to rise to its feet, face mashed and hoof prints clearly visible on its torso. With a grunt, it throws itself at the horses legs, intent on taking the knees out - breaking them if it can. The third is slashed by Dylans dagger - a mortal … perhaps fatal is the better descriptor here … cut across its throat. Taliesin emits that electrical shock just as the first Redcap reaches Hengroen and the last standing one swings its greatsword at the Welsh Knight. Dylan has a fraction of moment in which both are stunned… but not down.
Dani's arrival couldn't be better timed as her 'dream arrows' pierce the minds of the newly turned - rather than reliving their 'worst' moments, they remember the good times - what it meant to be human. Everyone of them has one memory that rises now. Several of the Hunt just collapse to the ground, overwhelmed by intensity of their memories.
Those are … tentacles or tendrils that are grasping at Spider-Man - appendages that extend from the flyers body. Ewwwwww. Spider-Man manages to slash one tendril and is covered by ichor for his efforts - green and sticky - as the flyer decides to barrel roll them, taking them close to the ground and Dylan. Oh yeah - it doesn't seem to get the quip either.
"Imposter?" Loki says as the other Loki engages with his dagger. As Loki lunges, this one … teleports behind him and taps his shoulder. "Want to to try that again?"
"I'll take care of this imposter. You all just … keep doing what you're doing." Loki drawls to the rest.
As the creatures start to fall, Zee teleports them to a cage she has constructed at the edge of the clearing - not sending them back yet. They might need them for collateral.
The creatures might not be alien in the sense that Voodoo is used to but they are certainly alien to humans. The horses and Fomori are assaulted by Voodoo's … gift, leaving one open to be obliterated by her next explosion. That still leaves one who just charges right at her in a mind-messed, frenzy induced sort of way.
Into the midst of the standing, smoking, bleeding hunters comes the twirling, whirling dervish of Voodoo, her impossibly sharp blade coated in a layer of cold iron dust as she slices and dices and juliennes through them all. As the formori charges, Voodoo twirls around and then comes quite literally dancing up his back, propelled by speed and defying gravity with agility as she slices her way along: back of knee, inside of elbow, into a kidney, all the way up. And at intermittent moments the hand canon in her other hand barks explosively, its shell ripping and tearing as the shells literally pancake and then split apart into ragged slivers. « Well done, so far. Keep it up, folks. Loki, let me know when you're ready. It's your dance, so you call the steps. Glad you could make the party, Deathrider! »
Two redcaps and some flyers. Dylan's beginning to feel popular. Too popular. Dropping his phone into a saddlebag, he pulls the Singing Sword and shields himself from view of the Riders until he gets close to them. Which he does; tapping a heel against Hengroen's side, the horse leaps forward toward the redcaps and Dylan drives a sword into each of them. Hengroen rears and pivots so his rider can slash at the flyer that flew toward him. "Any sign of Malekith?"
"Absolutely not, why would I try something again that failed?" Loki laughs in the face of, well, Loki. "There's a saying I heard, Midgardian yes, but rather apt 'The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results.', bright fellow—Einstein, you probably don't know him as you're lacking somewhat in the brains department." A wry curl of his lips as Loki whirls, his image splitting off several times as he does, each of them forming a growing spiral around the other Loki. Oh dear, now there's a horde of them!
Multiple nearly identical grins form, and the Lord of Lies starts invoking — all of the various voices, slightly out of synch. The spell? Zatanna surely has enough craft to know a dimensional anchor, will the other Loki?
"No escape this time." The multiplied Loki's declare as the binding is unleashed.
«Ah, there you are again, thanks, Voodoo.»
"He's a shapeshifter and a magus, a pale copy of me, in those regards, Agent Grey." Lokis yell in one voice. "In this case - literally."
The spell woven is intended to prevent any sort of instant transit, cutting off access to the Ways, to teleportation, and other means of dimensional hopping. The area is not huge, but it isn't small either.
The barrel roll doesn't do anything to disorient Spider-Man; on the contrary, it gives the red-and-blue-costumed hero a better opportunity to get away - if he can just get *loose* first. «Dylan, little help maybe?» he thinks, more frantically than he'd like, then passes the dagger to his right hand and *STABS* - not at the tendril, but back at the monster's main body, 'behind' and underneath Spidey's back, at the same time as his left hand grabs at a gash he cut in the tendril and YANKS.
Spidey doesn't usually look like much in the strength department, but word on the street is that he has the 'proportional strength of a spider' … which, when scaled up from your average spider to a human size and shape, is considerable.
And right now, all that strength is devoted to hurting the Sluagh and getting loose from its clutches, followed closely in the order of priority by making sure he keeps the backpack on his way free. He doesn't even bother with a web, just pushes off from the Sluagh with all the force he can muster in his legs (again, not an inconsiderable amount of strength) and leaps for the closest tree.
«How many of them do you figure we've got zeroing in on us right now, anyway?» he thinks to the group, rummaging briefly in the canvas backpack he'd been wearing. Efficiency may have to take a back seat to survival at this rate, but the more of these monsters he can take out at once, the better …
As Dani sees how effective the arrows are, she keeps firing, raining the psychic weapons down as Brightwind soars overhead, « Wouldn't dream of missing it, Voodoo! » She keeps her distance thanks to the flying stallion, armor gleaming as she considers Spidey's question.
« Hopefully enough that we can do what we must, Spidey! » She soars over towards Spider-Man, guiding Brightwind along in case he needs a lift away from that persistent Sluagh.
Spider-Man's attack is definitely not expected by the Flyer nor is the strength the spider exhibits. He can feel the knife slide through the hide of the creature and the gush of … well best not to think about that. He probably won't be using that backpack again, though. As they barrel roll one more time, the creatures grip slackens, letting the blue and red clad hero drop - right over Dylan whose sword slices it back. As he does, the Singing Swords enchantment covers him, leaving the Flyer and others of the Hunt blind to his presence. But … not for long!
Dylan is rendered invisible to the Redcaps when he draws the Singing Sword which gives him enough time to dispatch the final one. He does have a Spider falling above him though and from what he can see, they're being pressed on all sides. The Hunt just seems to keep coming…
Voodoo dissects the frenzied Fomori, leaving body parts scattered about her. As she turns she's swamped by a wave of imps and goblins who have decided the only way to beat her is to bury her. How many mines does she have?
Dani might be a little distracted with her arrow casting and misses the Manta-ray like flyer with tentacled stomach that drops on her from above. Now it looks a bit like a reenactment from Aliens, or is it Aliens 3? Whatever - the Asgardian finds herself in a spot of bother.
"Of course, you're correct which is why I don't understand why you're doing it." An arcane blast of energy is aimed right at Loki's chest. Which Loki? The right one or a duplicate? "But I'll put an end to you all the same."
"I believe that would be him over there, Agent Grey." Zatanna motions to the duplicates of Loki that are … multiplying. "Too many, Spider-Man. I'm holding some back but more keep coming. How soon can you do your thing?"
Oh, this is going to hurt, but…needs must. Loki waits until his faux counterpart launches that blast of magic - the problem with Malekith is that he and Loki are fairly evenly matched, which no doubt fuels their bitter rivalry. The /instant/ his foe unleashes that blast, Loki pulls out his trump card - the Golden Chain he was gifted by the fae and told to use it when the time seemed right.
Well, this time seems right!
The chain is tugged out of a dimensional pocket, and lashed in a wide arc intended to wrap the imposter Loki in its intensely magicked links.
The magic blast? Well, Malekith is a skilled sorcerer, he picked the right Loki. Even as he lashes out with that chain, Loki takes the blast to his chest - it HURTS. His armor and native shields are strong, but so is the Master of the Wild Hunt. The armor buckles under the impact, and Loki 'Ooomphs!', his illusions cancelled, no more music, only one of him fighting the other him as a couple of ribs crack.
Hopefully that gilden chain will be worth the injury sustained!
The blood- and ichor-splattered purple-clad ninja glances around her, feeling the communications of her allies, knowing the timing is drawing close. « I'm ready, Loki. » she promises, seizing the bejeweled talisman from the small of her back and twirling around to drive it into the earth at her feet, as promised. "Akkeri!" she shouts, activating the second part of the anchor. Prepared items can work for anyone, regardless her lack of training; the talent with languages helps make sure she gets the pronunciation perfect.
Spotting the onrushing horde even as they overtake her, Voodoo has no time to really escape, but she runs nevertheless, a few of those exceptionally quick strides giving her just a second or two as she seizes the pouches still remaining inside her backpack, then whirls around and launches them into the mass as her sword slices them open, unleashing the torrent of iron filings, which she propels with the whirling twirl of her blade and her body as she does down beneath that wave …
And then as teeth and claw finally gain purchase upon her, Voodoo yanks the phosphorous grenade off her belt and drops it, the pin still dangling from her belt.
FOOM goes the fire!
"Charge." Dylan tells Hengroen and the horse immediately starts galloping faster than any normal horse could. Since he can't catch the falling Spider-Man, he's removing himself from underneath him. The Singing Sword cloaks them from the Riders, at least until they're too close. But by the time they're close enough to be seen, they're close enough for Dylan to stab, slice, or chop with one sword or the other. Loki wielding the chain lets him know which the right one is and he nudges Hengroen in the direction of Malekith. Should they get close enough, the Singing Sword can sever at least some of the enchantments around the sorcerer.
"Thanks!" Spider-Man calls out as Dylan gives him cover with the Singing Sword, literally cutting off the Hunt's ability to track him - likely not for very long, but he only needs a moment.
The damaged backpack, claw-torn and ichor-soaked, is simply torn apart the rest of the way as Spidey pulls out the casket, quickly looking it over to make sure it hasn't been damaged. Dylan's already heading back into the fray, which is probably just as well …
"Here goes nothing," mutters Spider-Man, unclasping the casket and holding it aloft, flipping the lid open to unleash the Light Eternal.
He'd be happier if Malekith HAD shown himself by this point - but even the regular Wild Hunt mooks, Fomori riders and flying Sluagh and shapeshifters and whatever else, are giving the heroes a hard enough time. Bringing the boss out on his own might make for even odds.
Dani yelps as the tentacle monster descends from the air, Brightwind's whinny of warning in her mind about the only indication she gets before places an arm up to ward it off. Thankfully, the Asgardian armor holds up as she grapples with the beast, trying to keep it from getting too familiar! "Alison warned me about tentacle monsters, now get… BACK!" She grimaces, the psychic bow in her hand transforming into a wicked looking mental blade.
Time for some cutting commentary!
Malekith is hit by swinging chain. It wraps about him even as it knocks him off balance. The illusion dispels and there stands the Leader of the Wild Hunt, scowling angrily at Loki. Just as he's about to say something, Spider-Man opens that casket…
A bright golden light washes over the area, making it brighter than daylight … Those with the marks of the hunt can feel a searing pain and when it stops, they just *know* the mark is gone.
Dylans Singing Sword slices a huge troll - causing it to turn to a pillar of salt. Dani's mental blade stabs into the flyer, Voodoo is engulfed in a blaze of sulfurous fire and Zatanna is obscured by a spire of arcane fire designed to singe the creatures swarming her.
Then it's quiet, almost eeirely so. The Hunt that light has touched just … gone. Except for the salt statue of a Troll.
"I won't forget this …" Malekith snarls before he too is gone …
The casket, chain and Singing Sword also disappear. Leaving just the beaten up heroes and the eerie silence. "Roll call. Is everyone alright?" Zee manages to croak.
« Alright? » Voodoo responds, as she starts pushing herself out from the ash pile of her fallen and incinerated foes. « That's going to be a while. But I'll get better. »
Indeed, the figure that crawls out does not look too much better than the ash piles of Hunt creatures Voodoo just incinerated. SHe is rather blackened and crispy, her flesh literally crackling with dry, whispery voice as she moves. There is a vague sense of agony laced beneath her telepathic communications, but the lack of her usual grace and balance is obvious to all who watch her. A much clearer view.
And yet she apparently felt this was the way to fight her enemies. They are dead, and they are not. So Voodoo counts this a win. Ow, what a win. « Everyone else? Loki, did you get your opening? » They worked so hard on that.
Brightwind comes down for a landing, wings flaring out as Dani swiftly dismounts. "Prince!" She moves quickly over towards Loki, stopping before the Trickster Prince, the Valkyrie just a bit shorter than he is, but not by that much in truth.
"I'm… glad to see you're alright." Then, well, it's an impulse, possibly the adrenaline, or the rush of surviving a battle like that, but she suddenly grabs Loki, dipping him slightly and planting a rather fierce kiss right on the probably unsuspecting godling.
Wheezing, Loki goes to one knee, cradling his broken ribs with one arm, the other bracing against the ground to keep him upright. «Well done, Voodoo.» He sends to her privately. Then over the link and aloud both. "Well done, all." A faint smirk at Zatanna, but Loki's game (He likes games!). "Loki Laufeyson, present and somewhat the worse for wear. Be advised, all, that my wife, the Lady Sigyn, Goddess of Fidelity is near to hand under wards and has prepared healing salves for all and sundry." A short, sharp laugh. "Even me!"
With a faint groan he rises to his feet, his cold iron dagger sheathed as he moves towards the horribly burned Priscilla, a healing spell cast to at least ameliorate some of the hurt sustained. Fortunately Sigyn is a much better healer than he'll ever be and she's standing by to assist.
The kiss is DEFINITELY not expected, but…he remembers that a kiss is just a kiss, right? "Oh, well…" That kiss is returned, and then Loki winces about the broken ribs. "…ow." Then grins and pain ignored, offers another, before laughing. Back arching (Yes, it hurts! No, he's not going to hold off). Loki howls a victory cry to the heavens. "VICTORY!" Someone else might just be a bit adrenalized.
The thing is that Loki rather LOVES conflict and risk, to his frequent sorrow. Still, it is also frequently a source of great joy to him.
He likes winning, and this is definitively a win.
Oh, there *was* a Malekith here, Spider-Man realizes as Loki wraps that chain around … Loki, except not really. Then again, just the fact that one Loki could pull that chain *out* was proof enough of being the real deal.
It's good news, in a way - because that means Malekith IS on the field when the Light Eternal washes across it, sweeping away the Wild Hunt and sending them all back to wherever they were hanging out before they descended upon the Big Apple.
And then the casket disappears, the light dissipating to leave only the good guys (men and women alike). "I think I'll take you up on the magical healing salves, Loki," he replies. "Pretty much intact, Zee, but those guys owe me for a new backpack. They literally don't make them like they used to …"
What, you thought he'd just grab a nylon knapsack at L.L. Bean to cart a precious artifact around? No, that was a good backpack that Peter Parker has owned for a *while*, and it was the right size to cart the casket of the Light Eternal around in. Nice and sturdy yet comfortable to wear, and a snug enough fit not to get in the way while web-swinging. It's probably not *completely* irreplaceable, just a pain to find a new one. And not cheap.
"Gonna be a while before I look at sushi the same way again," Spidey adds after a moment of checking his injuries. "Or calamari."
Dylan looks at the hand the sword disappeared from. "Shame." That would have been nice to keep for emergencies. With the enemies gone, he sheathes the Grey Blade and pulls his helm off. "I'm good. Hengroen needs a good currying. And maybe some paint." he adds, looking at the horses flank where the sword impacted it.
It's over as far as the Midgardians are concerned. Beating Malekith like that will give the Dark Elf some political problems to handle. It might have even bought time for Otherworld.
"Well done all…" Zees says tiredly. "We should make ourselves scarce before someone decides to see what the 'fireworks' were."
Loki's offered healing and respite so Zee adds the offer of transport "I can portal you back to New York if you like." She's already casting - soon the clearing will be empty again except for the dust and the ash.