Log:Army of Darkness, Scene 3

Army of Darkness 2013/10/29 	 Alistair Ebon Star Lightray Mage Forge Nightshade Yameen Snow Chen

3

Champions Mush - Tuesday, October 29, 2013, 3:21 PM

(Written in a simple text format)

Greetings,

Some of you may have had a vision of the demon lord known as the Reaper in the last day or so.

My vision was a bit more involved. While I saw the demon lord I also saw more. I saw the following: An army of undead warriors marches through the streets of Colonial Bay. Their ranks are composed of a mix of soldiers from Virginia's history: Native American warriors, British redcoats, French soldiers and American revolutionaries, Union and Confederate soldiers. Skeletal horses fill out their ranks. A few metahumans appear amongst their ranks: a speedster in a Japanese demon mask, a man charged with electrical energy, a caped Adonis with red glowing eyes. They are all marching onto the bridge, heading towards Sandy Bottoms Island and the Fae Embassy.

This army is what may be coming, not what must come. But I am not certain this vision can be fully avoided. Be prepared!

Harlequin

Sky Above Central Colonial Bay

''Below is the heart of the city of Colonial Bay, climbing from the creek and park in the south up to the hill of Colonial Heights with its grands mansions, then sloping gently down old narrow streets northwards to the grand civic buildings in the north. The colour of Chinatown is in the northeast and that of the Artist's Quarter in the southeast, and amid it all are the houses of many ordinary people of the city.''

Mage is a suit and tie and drive the hover-car kind of guy 90% of the time and he doesn't fly like somebody out of a Superman movie. For him the air is more than just wind and his cape is more than something that flaps behind him. Today he flies with a purpose as he heads straight for Lightray. His approach is casual though, not like a man looking for a fight.

Mage

''While some might argue that the quiet air that surrounds this man is arrogance (and some would argue that it is confidence), he makes no attempt to hide what he feels with false modesty. He may be a good man, but he is a man used to being in command of his life. ''

''Objectively, he is handsome enough: a hair over six feet tall with a thin "runner's build", black hair with a gray streak over each temple and a neatly trimmed black goatee. He is dressed in a black Quinntex bodysuit with a thigh-length blousey blue shirt over it. A gold sash cinches the loose shirt to his waist. Overall, a bright red cloak with a wide gold trim moves about with a life of its own and is held at his throat with a circular gold broach in the shape of a closed eye.''

Sukeban spirals up from the city trailing flame behind her. . o O (Huh. People. Guess I should say konichiwa, or at least see what's up.) She straightens out her flight path and heads for the other two.

Sukeban

''An 165cm tall athletic young Japanese woman, with a defiant posture. Her hair tied back in a high pony tail that hangs to mid-back, her bangs long and unkempt in the front. Shimmering red flames wash around her hair, kicking off drifting sparks and embers. Her right eye is a burning red, lit with an inner fire. Her left eye is covered by a black eyepatch with a red and yellow flame emblazoned on it.''

''She's wearing a black sailor-style blouse with a red scarf, the sleeves rolled up, the collar unbuttoned; a long black pleated skirt that drapes to her ankles, sensible black loafers, and white ankle socks. On her hands, she has a pair of black fingerless biker gloves.''

Lightray seems to be looking directly at the Sun as he sings something a strange language in a rich bass voice. The song sounds joyful despite being in a minor key. He nods poiltely to the two others but finishes his song on a rising note before speaking.

Lightray

''This man has golden skin that seems to softly glow from the inside. He stands about six and a half feet tall and has a strong athletic build without being over muscled. His facial features are strong, even, and of model quality. His eyes glow with the same golden light as his skin. His face is framed by shoulder length dark blue hair. He appears to be in the prime of life.''

''His clothing is like something from an old Hollywood movie: a white kilt-like robe that leaves the right side of his body bare from the waist up along with sandals that are strapped to his calves with white bindings. A glowing gemstone the size of a business card is centered on his chest. Wings of light seem to flow from the gemstone up and over his back like a softly moving cloak of light.''

''A faint smile rests on his lips as his gaze travels slowly about the room. He seems possessed of a calm self-assurance and dignity.''

Sukeban waves casually, "Yo." . o O (Lightray? I think? Don't know the other guy.) "Name's Sukeban. What's up?"

Mage waits for Lightray to finish the song, standing on the air with his arms crossed and the heavy cloth of his gold-trimmed red cape steady and spread out like a parachute below his shoulders. As the last note of the song dies, he says, "Very pretty. We need to talk."

Lightray murmurs in his smooth deep voice, "Do we, sir? Should we not first introduce ourselves?" He turns to Sukeban, his wings of sunlight waving lazily in the air. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Sukeban. I am Lightray." His golden glowing gaze return to Mage. "And you are sir?"

Mage says, "Today, you can call me Mage," then he catches himself, blinks and adds, "My apologies but I did not have a very restful night. Before I explain *why* I had a bad night, tell me Lightray, are you prone to visions? Are portents ever a part of your life?"

Sukeban folds her arms, "Somethin' big goin' down or somethin'? I'm a hero and a member of the Princess Guard, so I'm trustworthy and crap."

Lightray looks at Mage for a moment, then nods. "Yes, I have had visions before. And yes, I had a vision last night of the demon lord called the Reaper. I encountered one of its minions yesterday outside Lucky Finds in the Artists Quarter."

Mage nods to Lightray, turns to Sukeban and smirks. In an accent that just screams Boston upper-crust he says to Sukeban. "This would be of interest to you too. I had a portent that undead, possibly a host of undead, are preparing to attack your Princess and may pass through Colonial Bay on their way to do it."

Sukeban smirks, "The Reaper, huh? Fine. I helped kicked his ass the last time he showed his sorry face in town, I'll just have to do it again."

Lightray gazes down at the city beneath the three heroes. "Have you checked out the Monarch Opera House yet? It was the site of the last attempt by the reaper to establish a foothold in the city. When he set his minion to resurrect villains to capture Lorelei and others." He returns his gaze to the two of you. "I have cleansed it as best I can, but it remains a weak point between worlds. Also, Brimstone was searching for a box of some sort at Lucky Finds. Discovering what it is may help forestall or end before it begins this attakc by an army of darkness."

[To Sukeban] Mage says, "I prefer a more ... thoughtful approach to simply waiting for the bad guy and bashing. Do you remember the magical plague that swept through Colonial Bay two months ago?"

Sukeban shakes her head, "Magic plague? Huh. I didn't notice. Besides," she runs her hand through her hair, scattering embers, "me and thoughtful, measured, subtle, approaches aren't exactly on speakin' terms."

Mage nods, "I have visited the place, but never in an 'official' capacity. I shall have to remedy that."

Lightray murmurs, "I suppose I could ask if any of the DEMON brothers captured in the failed robbery have broken, but I doubt it. their fear of Brimstone would stiffen their resolve if nothing else."

Sukeban shrugs, "I can't do anythin' about the Reaper and his undead buddies showin' up, unless the magic-types point me in the right direction. But if does show up, we got a lot of heroes in this city. Just got to keep the damage to a minimum and take the Reaper out hard and fast, and that solves the problem."

Mage says, "I plan on investigating this Opera house and I plan on taking assistance with me." Looking to Sukeban, he asks, "Can you absorb fire as well as throw it? If so, you could be invaluable in a fight against demons. And you," he says, turning his eyes on Lightray, "knowing what is coming, do you foresee a ... shall we say a problem with self-control?"

Lightray smiles slightly. "How very delicately put. No, I do not see a problem with that. But then, it has never come up before so let us hope it does not occur to anyone."

Sukeban shakes her head, "Sorry, the only flames I can control are my own. They're part me."

Mage nods. "I intend to craft a spell specifically to assist with this problem. Unfortunately Lightray, the result may be painful," Mage says with a bit of a shrug and an it-can't-be-helped expression. "I'll try to calibrate it low enough that you are in no lasting danger." To Sukeban, he says, "In that case, I imagine the best place for you is by your princess. I will not burn down a perfectly good opera house just because it happens to be temporarily closed. I imagine she already knows, but will you verify Princess Stephanie is warned?"

Sukeban nods, "Yeah, I can let Oujo-sama know about it, but she probably knows. And if I got to burn down some crappy old buildin' no one is usin' to help save the city, well, that's life."

Mage frowns and says (with a surprising amount of threat in his tone for a guy facing down a woman with perpetually burning hair), "I will not sacrifice what remnants of culture remain in this blighted city for the sake of one demon *and* I would rather not have a battle on two fronts. So, see to your princess."

Sukeban laughs, "Sure, sure. I'll try not to damage yer precious kindlin'. See ya around." She dives back down toward the city.

Champions Mush - Tuesday, October 29, 2013, 9:20 PM

Monarch Opera House

''The Monarch Opera House is a landmark from a previous age. In the downtown area, it was once the jewel of Colonial Bay. It shut down along time ago. Mired in debt and red tape, no one has been able to refurbish it, or to tear it down and replace it with something else. Recently there has been some movement though. Outside, there are signs of life however. There are signs of a new owner, advertising Monarch Place - luxury condominiums.''

Mage arrives dressed to 'work'. Work in this case *not* being his usual suit and tie. As such he arrives by hover-car, not willing to alarm anyone (or anything) by using magic so close to his target.

A diminutive robed figure hovers slowly toward the opera house, legs folded and gloved hands couched in its lap as though in some meditative state. By meta-human standards its rate of progress is quite sedate which means it must have started its journey quite early because it arrives punctually at the rendezvous, stretch out to smoothly land on its feet before Ebon Star moves forward to join the others.

Ebon Star 

''About the only thing that can be said for certain of the figure before you is that it is far from imposing. Measuring about five feet tall it is shrouded in a loose hooded robe of some lightweight silver material that is highly reflective. As the figure moves the fabric rolls and sways in fluid ripples, revealing that the person underneath is quite slight in build. In the middle of the figure's chest rests an inky black orb that seems to consume light as much as the rest of the garment reflects it. Four equally fuliginous stellated points extend from the disk, left, right, up, and down, twisting into eye-catching patterns as the material folds and stretches. ''

''The mouth of the hood is swathed in a featureless patch of shadow that remains pitch black even in direct light. When the figure's hands emerge from the voluminous sleeves they are similarly wrapped in black gloves. ''

Lightray stands across the street from the Monarch in plain sight on the sidewalk. His tendril-like wings are draped over his shoulders in a slowly moving cloak of sunlight as his gaze takes in the dilapidated building across the way. HIs gaze seems distant.

Magic, the occult, and demons appear to be trending in the city's list of unpleasant activities as of late. Yameen does not ignore such things, but recently has developred a more vested interest. Thus, when discussions of visions, the Reaper, and abandoned opera houses are made, she accepts the invitation to the last. She arrives in the dim via nothing more exotic than her own two legs, though her path primarily involves rooftops and alleyways to allow some surveillance of the structure en route.

Yameen 

''This figure is feminine and petite, though few other details are readily apparent. A black and gray patterned headscarf (keffiyeh) covers most of her hair, leaving only a few raven strands exposed. The same scarf is also folded across her nose and mouth, leaving only her brown eyes exposed. ''

''The remainder of her clothing speaks of militant activity. A simple black shirt snugly covers her lean frame, tucked into a pair of camouflage patterned pants with a number of cargo pockets. The belt that holds them up also bears numerous small knives. Pairs of gloves and boots complete the ensemble, both in black leather. ''

Malcolm Gibbs arrives punctually, rolling up to the collection of other metahumans on a late model hovercycle. He's dressed in what may constitute sensible adventure wear, which is to say khaki cargo pants, combat boots, a long-sleeved shirt, and a pocket/pouch laden combat vest. Pulling off his helmet, Malcolm glances around thoughtfully and offers a loud, "Hm."

It almost looks like Malcolm was expecting to see someone else here. You know, other than the colorful collection of other local heroes.

Malcolm 

About 6'6" tall and looking to be about 175 pounds, this is one rakishly good looking black guy. His hair is cropped short, fading still shorter as it nears his ears, while his eyebrows are strikingly thick without being embarassing or distracting, and he even has a short, neatly trimmed Van Dyke encircling his mouth. Of course, his most striking features are his steely gray eyes. 

''Below the very handsome face, he's made of a whole lot of muscle. Much of the time he wears a gray or black shirt that showcases his impressively muscular build. Still further down, he wears comfortable blue jeans of a generic, workman's style. As for his feet, they're typically clad in leather work boots. ''

''Functional, inexplicably stylish, and quite comfortable to be sure, but it also doesn't give much hint to who he is or what he does. ''

On top of a light post across the street from the old, spooky, abandoned opera house, Alistair appears in a crouched position, swirls of smoke and the smell of brimstone accompanying the half-demon in his appearance.

His tail twitches behind him a bit, as he peers at the gathering group, since this seems to be the hip meeting place to fight horrible demons. All Alistair knows for sure is that this demon is not the one who made him the way he is.

Alistair 

''The creature before you is a of a relatively average height, standing at about six foot. Well, when he stands to his full height. Often times he can be found crouching down. Often wearing a black hoodie, when the hood is down, it's easy to see why he wears one. With the black hair, red skin, and horns growing out of his forehead, the half-demon is often more afraid of being mistaken for a bad guy than he is of the bad guys themselves. Black eyes with yellow pupils look out from his face, and his teeth appear to be sharpened into fangs. ''

''Several piercings adorne his head and face, his pointed, almost elven ears pierced in several places. Two silver loops in the upper left ear, one in the bottom left, and a bar in the upper right. His right eyebrow is pierced with another silver ring, as is his lower lip. He's actually quite fearsome looking, despite his smaller than expected size. His upper body is of rather average build. ''

''His lower body is not protected by any armor or fancy magical item, but by a simple pair of blue jeans, with his feet covered by a pair of sneakers which look like they may have been bought at a wholesale store, not even name brand. Of course the jeans have a nice hole cut in the back to allow his spaded tail to snake through. ''

"Oh, there you are, Al. Thought you bailed on me to play Diablo," calls Malcolm, tone playful. The tall man starts walking in the direction of the half-demon, apparently ignoring the difference in altitude.

Mage hits a button as he exits the hover car. Autopilot engages and the vehicles return to Pid-a-Ciel driverless. Walking over to Lightray, he says nods and says in an upper-crust Boston accent, "It appears we have a turnout. Could you introduce me? I know only a few present."

Lightray smiles slightly. "I am not certain I know everyone." He steps forward. "May I have everyone attention," he says in his deep resonsant voice, "I am Lightray." With a gesture towards the man, he states, "This is Mage. We thank you for truning up on such short notice. We are here to investiagte whether the Monarch Opera House is being sued as a staging area for an extradimensional attack. Inside is a weak spot bewteen this dimensin and, for lakc of a better term, Hell." He smiles widely. "Or a close enought approximation. Can I get each of your names?"

Without waiting for the introduction the tiny cowled person speaks in a voice that has obviously been heavily distorted. "I am Ebon Star my speciality is magic of the mind. "

"I'm Malcolm, though you guys have probably heard of me as Forge," intones the tall man. He offers a cheery smile and a tip of his head after turning around under Alistair's light post to regard the others. Malcolm absently hooks his hands into his pockets as he watches and listens.

Yameen is only mildly familiar with the glowing man and Malcolm, both under strenuous circumstances. She dips her head to both before responding to Lightray's request. "I am known as Yameen. If this location is vulnerable, why was the weakness not repaired, or guarded?" She may not be an expert at other dimensions, but any realm that can pass as Hell is not one they want to have open borders to.

"Alistair." Replies the half-demon frmo up above the group, "And yeah, Hell is probably a good thing to call it, I suppose. For lack of a better term." He hops down off of the perch and lands among the resst of the group.

Angstrom says, "Well, it's not as easy as it sounds," a voice says from an empty patch of the sidewalk. A woman in purple fades into view, drawing back her hood to reveal a head of immaculately styled blonde locks. She looks over the group of heroes. "You don't look like DEMON. Too colorful.""

"Well, it's not as easy as it sounds," a voice says from an empty patch of the sidewalk. A woman in purple fades into view, drawing back her hood to reveal a head of immaculately styled blonde locks. She looks over the group of heroes. "You don't look like DEMON. Too colorful."

Nightshade 

''Nightshade is a pin-up model, draped in purple. In high heels, Nightshade stands a little over six feet tall, a statuesque blonde with a curvy figure. Her costume is perhaps a bit overdramatic, calling back to a style of hero clothing from the past century. She wears a long flowing cape, with the hood up over her head, shading her face and the black domino mask that conceals her identity. Her top has short sleeves, but she has opera gloves that cover her arms from just past the elbow to fingertip. A short skirt and fishnet stocking complete her attire. ''

Lightray looks at Alistair for a moment, then nods slightly. He sighs softly when Nightshade appears.

Malcolm twists to look over at the appearing Nightshade, quirking an eyebrow at her commentary. "I'm going to opt to take that as a compliment," he replies coolly, though he asides to Alistair, "I dunno how you should take that, man."

[To Lightray] Mage says, "A friend of yours?"

Lightray looks at the darkly dressed blonde. In an even tone, he asks,"May I ask what you interest in this is, lich?"

Snow comes sliding in from the west on one of her ice ramps, skidding to a stop at the ground where the others are gathering. The woman of ice glances around a little and then dips her head to the one or two that she actually knows. "Still need some help?" she asks.

Snow 

''This young woman stands just over five and a half feet in height and is covered in ice. It almost looks to be an icy armor, sculpted to her body.''

Yameen's attention promptly turns to the tall blonde, though Snow's arrival is also noted; another with whom Yameen is passingly familiar. She has questions similar to Lightray, but awaits a response to his inquiry before voicing any of her own.

Nightshade's eyelets narrow as she turns towards Lightray. "Such language," she says shaking her head. "So quick with the four letter words. I have a name, you know: Nightshade. And my interest is the same as yours, I imagine."

"Hey now," intones Malcolm to Lightray, "There's no call for that kind of language." Malcolm pauses and then looks over to Alistair. "Wait. What did he call her?" The tall man looks momentarily confused by the possible misunderstanding on his end. It passes when Nightshade has a similar reaction, though he glosses over the "four letter words" part.

Malcolm looks over at Snow and waves, smiling cheerily. "Long time, no see. Feel free to lend a hand, Snow," he calls before looking back at Nightshade. "Sealing off the hellscape within the Monarch for the good of the world?"

Lightray smiles widely. "In preserving the lives of innocents by insuring that the Reaper or his minions are not using the weak spot to open a gateway to his realm? Good. Peace between us all until after we part ways then?"

Mage says, "So, Nightshade, who holds the your purse strings today?"

Something in Mage's tone makes it easy to substitute 'mercenary' in his spoken words instead of 'Nightshade'.

Nightshade says, "Let's just say that I have an interest in making sure that the Reaper doesn't return." She looks towards the opera house. "Are we going, or are we going to stand and introduce ourselves all night?"

"I don't think that's what he said." Replies Alistair, as he moves closer to Malcolm and then looks over his shoulder towards the group, "Look, I don't know who most of you are, but can you put your squabbles to the side for a couple of hours?"

"I suggest we go," Yameen opines as she begins to move towards the opera house. "Pleasantries or insults can be exchanged afterwards."

Ebon Star turns a darkened cowl toward the late-comers but seeing the steady stream of epithets and witticisms is already in full flow doesn't see any need for further comment.

Mage nods and turns toward the group. "Shall we? Who brought a key?" he smiles a bit at his almost-joke then says, "By the way, for those that don't know me, I am *not* a superhero. I am *very* knowledgeable on the topic of magic and can do what may seem miraculous to some, but those abilities do not come with superhuman endurance or bulletproof skin. In short, I gladly welcome any who wish to jump to my defense should the situation call for it."

Nightshade watches Yameen start towards the opera house. She gesture towards the entrance and dips her head to Lightray in mock deference. "After you, Mr. Kettle."

"Then what did he call her?" inquires Malcolm of Alistair, brows knitting together. Surely demonic gamers and magical heroes speak similar languages. Or so Malcolm's thinking goes. Malcolm moves toward the opera house after the others, regarding Mage, Lightray, and Nightshade in turn at the request for a key.

"You guys don't have some kind of magical spell to just open sesame the door?"

Casually Malcolm pulls a hand from his pocket, along with a little black case. He quickly produces a pair of small metal objects from the case and adds, "If not, I'll just have to have a little discussion with the lock."

Lightray takes a set of keys from out of a pouch at his side. He nods to NIghtshade as he says to Yameen, "In answer to your earlier question: I checked every two weeks on the building after cleansing it the best I could. But I do not have the power or skills to mend dimensions. Nor the finances to buy the building." He sorts through the keys and selects one. "But I do have enough to pay the realtor for a set of keys and a letter of permission to be here."

Lightray unlocks the front door of the opera house.

Snow nods her head and sort of stays in the back, she feels just a bit out of her element here.

Malcolm, as Lightray exposits, tucks the lockpicking tools back into their case and then the case back into his pocket. He looks vaguely disappointed, like a puppy that accidentally killed the bug it was hunting.

Mage smiles and nods. "I could have gotten us in, but much prefer your alternatives."

Ebon Star nods to Mage. "Nice pep talk." Rising a foot or two off the ground the tiny figure floats along with the others, still a good half head shorter than Forge and a fraction shorter than Nightshade. Without warning a shield of tiny oily black droplets blossoms to life around her. The little beads of whatever they are rolling and coalescing and splitting in a shimmering curtain obviously intended as some form defense.

Yameen steps aside for Lightray the key bearer. There are many ways to open a lock, but the key is usually the easiest. She dips her head to his explanation. "So prepared and monitor as you are able. That is a better defense than none at all. Is this weakness visible? Will an arrival be announced by more than dreams and visions?" They seem to have at least one subject matter expert, and she takes advantage.

Lightray says, "Last time a minion of the Reaper was here, it was powerful enough to trap each of us in our own minds while it tried to tempt us to sell our souls. Be on your guard. I would, in an over abundance of caution, raise any defenses you have now." As he finishes, sunlight seems to rise from his skin and settle about him in a field.

"For what it's worth, I would be immune to that if it happens again." Alistair offers.

The doors open into the front lobby where the box office, bar, and concession stand would be. Everything is dusty from disuse and the doors into the main theatre are marked with yellow warning tape.

"That is extraordinarily reassuring." Observes Ebon's distorted voice.

"Not something I'm afraid of," Nightshade says. With a turn of her wrist, she telekinetically peels away the tape barring the doors to the main theatre. She opens the door and steps inside.

"Before someone gives voice to the suggestion allow me to announce my strenuous opposition to splitting up." Ebon's voice doesn't carry far on the musty air, the sound seeming to afraid of the interior to wander far.

Lightray says in answer to Yameen's question as he heads across the lobby. "No the weakness is not viisble to the naked eye. But do you feel the vague unease on your necks and shoulders? The sense of being wathced perhaps? That is a side effect of the weakness." He adds, "And a demon arrving is usally quite noticeale. Y Would you not agree, Alistair? Nightshade?"

Either Yameen ignores the advice, or her defenses are already in place, undetectable, or nonexistant. In any case, her steps continue without pause into the lobby. "Where within the building is this breach?"

Mage pauses and looks about. Trusting eyes alone to tell him if anything else waits outside, behind them. As the others step inside, he keeps watch outside and steps inside nearly last.

"Duly noted," replies Malcolm to Lightray's warning. As Malcolm crosses the opera house's first threshold, metal starts seeping from his pores. By the time he's reached the box office, Malcolm is simply a mass of metal in the shape of a man. Flexing a steel-ensconced hand a few times, Forge uses his other hand to pull a slimline headset out of the metal covering his torso - roughly where a pouch had been moments before - and settles it on his head. The part over his eyes lights up with a dim glow, streaming data in his field of view as he follows the others.

"I know a lot of people notice me when I show up." Alistair says, "And I'm hardly a powerhouse. I'm pretty sure that people'll notice when one of the big guys shows up." He follows behind the core of the group, keeping up but staying to the back.

"And if I'm out-voted than bags not getting paired with any of the people without souls. You know who you are." Ebon seems to be maintaining a low dialogue qith herself, though again, it's in a low, quiet tone as she hovers to one side of the group."

Lightray stops in front of the warning tape. "Where else would the breach be? The center of the main stage. Sometimes I think drama runs in the Netherworlds veins instead of ichor."

Lightray checks the tape to see if it has been distrubed.

"That'll teach them for running that extended season of Faust I guess." Still hovering, Ebon star executes a slow turn, darkened cowl scanning the confines of the room.

Lightray follows Nightshade into the auditorium

Forge maintains position in the middle of the group, head swiveling this way and that to survey his surroundings. He casts a glance at Nightshade every once in a while - perhaps to ensure she's still with the rest of the group - though fixes most of his attention on the impromptu team's ill-illuminated surroundings. After all, it's dark in here. They could be eaten by a grue.

Mage asks Forge, "Would a flashlight be among those useful tools in your pouch?"

The main auditorium must have been a sight in it's hey day, vaulted roof and the kind of detailed stone craftsmanship that seems only possible for building from the first half of last century. The ceilings are high with a balcony level above and small private balconies along the sides.

"This place sure is pretty impressive, for how run down it is." Alistair offers, as he looks around, "So is there anything in particular we are looking for, other than 'Demony Things'?

Nightshade snaps her fingers. A ball of light appears over her left shoulder. She sighs. "They are going to tear this place down for condominiums. That ought to be a crime."

Forge reaches behind his back and produces a small, tactical flashlight. He clicks it on and offers it to Mage. Presumably it's not an unreasonable item to have. The metal man continues surveillance as he moves along with the rest of the group, resisting the urge to whistle at the all too impressive interior construction.

Yameen allows those who have nothing to fear, and carry light, to travel through first. "Many have no respect for history." She appears to share Nightshade's opinion of culture and architecture versus overpriced housing. She continues to survey what she can see, which likely increases with the added lighting.

Mage shakes his head and says to Forge, "No, you hold on to it. I believe it is tactically sound to shoot the man holding the flashlight first."

Lightray sighs softly. "Nothing seems to have changed since I was last here." After a beat he adds, "But we might as well go on up to the stage. "The view is speactular. And will not be around much longer."

Nightshade heads up the center aisle. Something catches her attention and she pauses beside a chair adjacent to the aisle, placing a gloved hand on the seat back.

Ebon Star has fallen silent, her whittering not really lightening the mood to any effect. Rising slightly hogher as she floats along she closes her eyes and focuses on her mind sight, using Malcolm's progress to navigate her way past inanimate obstacles. At Nightshade's comment she breaks her brief silence. "Building apartments over a hell mouth, was that the suggestion of the exorcist's guild?"

Mage nods, and quickens his pace but pauses when Nightshade does. "Problem?", he asks.

Shrugging, Forge clicks off the flashlight and reaches behind his back to sheathe it whence it came. Forge's headset continues to emit a soft luminescence that affords very little visibility. He moves along at a calm, reserved pace that keeps him solidly in the middle of the pack - apparently his comfort zone? - as everyone starts for the stage at Lightray's direction.

"Developer's probably named Buffy," opines Forge to Ebon Star.

Nightshade shakes her head in response to Mage. "Nothing." o O ( I remember seeing Ballantine the Great here once... )

Yameen pans her gaze from gallery, to boxes, and finally to the stage. "The arrangement is reminiscent of the Palais Garnier." She does not have memories of this house, but she has visited others in the past.

Mage gets closer to the stage and says, "Lets see what the All-Seeing Eye can show us." The broach at his throat opens like an eye, bathing the stage in a cone of light that not only illuminates the darkness but all that hides or is disguised.

Grunting, Forge averts his eyes from the cone of light as his visor lights up in green and red. The metal man swats the side of his headset and blinks his eyes a few times as he regards the stage before the group. Quirking an eyebrow, Forge inquires, "Is this the thing you did when we were in Georgia, Mage?"

Chen waltzs into the Opera House is cheerful abandonment of any sneakiness. "Hi. Hello! I'm a bit late. Is anyone here?" she calls out.

Chen 

''Chen Li is pretty much indistinguishable from any other young Chinese schoolgirl. Maybe a little shorter and slimmer than the average even allowing for the smaller physical stature of those of Chinese descent. She wears casual clothes, jeans and teeshirts normally, when not dressed in Colonial Bay High School uniform. Add a coat in cold weather. Her hair is the typical raven black like most Chinese girls, trimmed short. Her face is pretty rather than beautiful and usually animated and lively with unrepressed energy. ''

When revealed to it's truest nature, center stage becomes like a pane of glass. Beneath the glass is a swirling maelstrom. Through the storm it's possible to look down through its depths through the eye of the cyclone to an inky blackness so dark it seems to aggressively swallow the light.

Ebon Star's head bobs slightly as the maelstrom is revealed and she slowly turns where she hovers, turning her back to the chaotically spiralling cloud. and removing herself about ten metres distance out over the orchestra pit. Once there she still doesn't look toward it.

"Fascinating," Yameen observes the revealed pane and the swirling beyond. "That was certainly not present at the Palais Garnier."

Mage nods to Malcolm. "Exactly so."

There's a high pitched whistling from above the Opera House. It grows in volume and the pitch shifts higher. It's sounds like in incoming bombshell being dropped on the building. That's all the warning the heroes receive before a sphere the size of van crashes through the ceiling, threatening to land on Forge and shower the other heroes with debris.

Lightray holds out his hand towards the swirling maelstrom then shakes his head. "And it is shielded from me. I see it but do not sense it."

Lightray dives to try to shield Yameen from the explosive debris but does not do that good a job of it. On the postive side, he retains his footing and seems unharmed himself.

Nightshade blinks, snap-teleporting out of the field of falling debris.

The whistling sound of incoming projectiles is, unfortunately, far too familiar to Yameen. "Incoming!" is yelled even as she dives over the front rows of seats and rolls further after she reaches the ground.

THOOOOOM! The black spheroid slams down into the stage, showering bits of stone and marble around it's crash point.

Mage starts to dodge, but only twitches when he realizes that he is far enough away that he has no need to move. His hands and lips move as he begins casting a spell instead.

Ebon Star's darkened cowl turns upward to regard where the globe came from. Still hovering in place, her robe fluttering and flapping about her as the hot smoke laden air of the blast whips past her. "Either that's the exorcist guild telling us to stop messing with their livelihood... Or we're in trouble." She seems to have a pretty good grasp that noone is too seriously hurt.

There are about three seconds where Forge takes the opportunity to marvel at the sight beyond sight that Mage's amulet offers up to the group of heroes (and Nightshade). He looks to Mage, about to say something, when the whistling begins. Looking around for the source of the sound, Forge opines, "Man, I think that thing has it out for us. Every time you use it, things hit the fan."

Of course, Forge is over looking the fact that things go badly whenever Mage uses his amulet in Forge's presence. Such is the conceit of man.

Forge honestly doesn't get a chance to reflect further on the interrelation of himself, Mage's amulet, and things hitting the fan. A van-sized sphere smashes into Forge from behind with tremendous force, launching the metal hero clear off of the stage along with shards of wood and metal. He slams into a chair in the front row, upside down, and just lays there, legs limply dangling over the back of the chair.

When there's indication of massive damage while Chen is in the area she often gets the blame. Admittedly, usually not without cause. But in this case, "THAT WASN'T ME!" she yells to anyone who might hear her.

As soon as the sound from above them is heard, Alistair glances up. There's about enough time to see something is busting through the roof before he vanishes out of the way of the incoming object, reappearing in the center of the opera hall, far enough away to be out of the way of any flying debris and such, he hopes.

Vents open on the matte black skin of the sphere and it vents steam. Explosive bolts fire and the sphere falls away in two halves, revealing a robot nestled inside. It stands and vents steam.

Devastator - Mk II 

''A suit of powered armor, standing at an imposing nine feet tall. It's chasis is primarily black, with silvery overlapping bands of metal, wrapped around it's arms, legs, and torso for extra armored protection. It's armed visibly with blasters built into the palms of its hands, and large boxy pack on it's back, with thruster ports in the bottom. The helmet is a flat and boxy, like a television monitor.''

Static appears on the face plate of the power suit. In the snowy image it's possible to make out four eyes, teeth... a harsh buzzing electronic voice comes from its speakers. "I am Xerczin - Destroyer of Magi. Prepare to meet your fate."

Ebon Star still has her back to the impact point of the sphere, by rights she should be able to see what unfolds there but her shoulders slump visibly. "Perfect..." . o O (fudge!!!)

Shaking his head and groaning, Forge rolls over his head to get back to his feet. One hand grips the side of his head as liquid metal shifts and flows across his back, head, and shoulders. A few droplets of liquid steel hit the ground and splatter. Forge cocks his head as he regards the enormous power armor standing on the stage.

"That a fact?"

Forge's other arm extends out from his side. Liquid metal oozes down his arm and out of the palm of his hand into the shape of a katana. Wrapping his fingers around the pommel, the blade solidifies just as Forge launches himself back up onto the stage with an audible *WHUMP* of released tension from his suddenly industrial spring-like legs.

Mage effortlessly switches spells mid-cast moving from force bands to a mystic globe for the sphere to a metallic mind control without pausing or starting over. Mystic force erupts from his completed spell and a silvery mist flows from himself to the metallic target

The power armor ejected a tubular projectile into the air over the theatre floor. Individually targeting rockets shoot from the tube at all of the heroes present.

Mage dodges badly, but is surprised when the attacking rocket only mildly stings instead of the pain he was expecting.

Chen stands firm as the energy weapons washes over her harmlessly.

Yameen has not yet risen from where she landed when a guided explosive drops into her aisle. She manages to roll aside just enough to minimize the blast, though it is not pleasant. As the smoke clears, she rises to her feet, but otherwise remains in the vicinity. For the moment, she merely observes Xercsin; how it moves, other weapons that become visible, and so forth.

As soon as the tube ejects into the air, Forge takes a defensive posture. He brings up his katana and takes several half-dancing, half-bouncing steps away from the salvo of energy rockets raining down on the stage. Forge grits his teeth and otherwise continues to wait for his chance to strike.

Ebon Star frantically weaves through the air to avoid the incoming missile, perhaps a bit more extravagantly than was really needful. o O (Second mission and my role is to be a floating pinata)

The glowing figure of LIghtray barely reacts from where he lies on the floor.

Chen doesn't have to move, so she doesn't. Her left arm stretches out, and out, crossing the intervening distance to strike at the Power Armor with the maximum muscle mass she can manage on the spur of the moment.

Chens fist slam into the armor. It's left unmarked, and the armor holds its ground.

Alistair says, "spots the demon-powered...Power armor? That's sort of an odd thing, "Oh come on. How come I can't get power armor? That would be so cool." Alistair laments, before deciding to take action. He glances around for something heavy enough to damage the armor, but light enough that he can teleport with it, and while looking up, spots a chandelier. Not the big one, one of the smaller ones. But he should be able to get up to it, and use his enhanced strength to throw it at the power armor."

Nightshade floats up to her feet. Quietly, she teleports away from the scene.

Stagger-stepping around the debris field cast by Alistair's hurled chandelier, Forge whirls his katana in one hand. He leaps in, quick and efficient as Xerczin is, hopefully, distracted by other heroes from other directions. Ducking down low as soon as he lands, Forge sweeps around and angles to drive his katana into the vast power armor's lower back before trying to wrench it out in a wide, arcing slash.

Mage flies in Lightray's direction and green mist, scented of Spring and growth flows from the mages's woward the unconscious hero. "Lightray," Mage says, "Your presence is requested at the battle."

Lightray stands and turns to look at Destroyer of Magi. He checks to make certain the black band on his arm is still there then with a glance at the armored figure releases a blast of sunlight from his eyes. He says in a resonant voice, "Time to end you I think. Bring you heavinst attakc to bear on it. Do not let up!"

The beam of light scorches the armor of the behemoth. Little damage appears to have been done though.

Ebon Star says, "Ebon Star turns to regard the massive metal monstrosity and stares at it fixedly, her movements slowing as the darkened cowl glares balefully at the drone."

Ebon Star turns to regard the massive metal monstrosity and stares at it fixedly, her movements slowing as the darkened cowl glares balefully at the drone.

After a moment's silence Ebon's heavyily distorted voice rises over the battlefield. 'There is the spirit of a demon inside the machine, it has a ward that will absorb magical energy."