Log:Pale Night Wakens

2015/11/10 Forge Grimm 1

Tonight is probably not the best night for a motorcycle ride. It's cold and windy and raining semi-frequently as a storm system tracks up the east coast, angling for New York City (and Long Island). For now, however, Colonial Bay has to put up with the side effects of being slapped with the western edge of the storm.

Malcolm Gibbs sits astride a stretched out chopper, terribly glad that he prefers riding with his full-head concealing motorcycle helmet. He is, naturally, also wearing some heavy weight jeans, motorcycle boots, and a medium weight leather jacket that may or may not resemble one of those classic Marlon Brando biker jackets from the 60's. Stuck at a traffic light, Malcolm idly hums the Mission: Impossible theme into his helmet's microphone. Grimm may or may not be sick of hearing Malcolm hum Mission: Impossible, he's only been doing it off and on for four hours today.

Just ahead of the two of you, Reality suddenly twists in a nauseating manner. Probably becasue some squirms/twists/flies/crawls into normal time/space about 20m in front of the motorcycles.

This oozing horror looks like shuge squid flying on slimy, membranous wings. It is black, streaked with putird yellow, green, and brown. It has a single, twin-pupiled eye. Elementary physics should prevent its wings from supporting a crature of it's bulk but does not for some reason. It is constantly loping, twitching, twirling in movement.

It's twin-pupiled, inverse single eye locks on Grimm as it let's loose a moan/scream/trill that runs down your spines and right into your core fears. This creature is beyond monstrous and its mere presence is a blight on the world and your minds.

Cold doesn't bother a shadow, and what's a little rain? Grimm is dressed in motorcycle leathers and black motorcycle boots to protect from the rain. She has her own black helmet own for safety as she sits on the back of the motorcycle, arms wrapped around Malcolm as she hangs on, nestled comfortably against his back.

What also helps against the wind and cold? Having a tall, muscular boyfriend as a wind break.

Grimm, as a matter of fact, hasn't gotten tired of the theme song. Occasionally she picks up where he leaves off for a few bars before getting distracted by a burst of speed or trying to encourage Malcolm to do things that are definitely not street legal.

When she spies the unnatural, sanity-blasting creature, her helmed head lifts up and she pulls away from Malcolm a little as she fixes her gaze on it. It takes a few moments before she can even speak. "Oh...oh shick..."

There are varoius commuters and passerbys standing about when this monstrosity rips itslef into your Reality. To a one, they either flee or cower in terror at its scream.

Malcolm Gibbs feels, rather than sees, the thing first. His gut lurches and his mouth feels drier than it has since that time Grimm tried cooking turkey with dry white wine and mistook Malcolm's spare silicate packs for salt. As Malcolm's head slowly pans left and right, he can feel his vision tunnelling down until all he can see is the inchoate horror down the street.

Grimm pulls away from Malcolm. Malcolm just plain freezes, eyes wide behind his helmet as he stares in non-comprehension at the Thing up the block. This may be somewhat beyond his normal paygrade.

Grimm's whole body tenses up as her mind registers the thing. Or at least, where it's from. She has an awful, terrible sinking feeling as she feels, of all things, an affinity with the creature and her powers.

Gabrielle leans around Malcolm as she grips his left shoulder. "M-mal, we need to go. Right -now-," she says shakily. He may be able to detect a slight tremble from the Siren of Shadow.

When Malcolm remains frozen, Gabrielle manages to steel some of her courage. "Mal!" she snaps at him to try and get through to him. In desperation to buy some time, she makes a throwing gesture towards the creature as if throwing an overhand pitch. A shadowbolt streaks from her hand towards the Horror that Should Not Be. The shdow bolt strikes hard and true on the squimring creature. It lets out a roar of inchoate rage and pain as it flung back over a dozen meters down the street. Unfortunately, it strikes nothing as it flies back, but on the other hand, it is now dripping a glowing, sizzling liquid that burns small holes in the ground. The creature rights itself, if that is the correct word, in the air by apparently benidng its body into isteldf in some impossible way so that it's singular eye focusses again on Grimm while its tentacles seem to flow through each other to face you all again. These same then teist in aalmsot hypnotic and certainly unsettling manner which causes oddly pinful loking beams of force to lash down in a cage-like manner around Grimm, Malcom, their motorcyle and eveything else in a 3m radius in an attempt to entrap you all.

Even from the distance that the creature is now, you both can see the liquid stop dripping from it.

Malcolm, helpfully, snaps out of his moment of primordial terror after the beams of energy start zorching the pavement around himself, Grimm, and the motorcycle. He looks left, he looks right, and then he looks upward. Over his shoulder, Malcolm inquires of Grimm, "I think you know we can't just leave this thing here. Just as bad as leaving that sarky to wander the streets."

Liquid metal starts to bubble up out of Malcolm's pores, spreading rapidly across his body and over his clothing. About the only thing that doesn't get coated in a smooth coating of semi-solid metal is his helmet, which seems to just float over the biometal. Properly "dressed", Forge flexes his fingers and starts to stand up from his motorcycle.

"I suppose I could just go straight through. Y'know?"

Grimm feels guilty that when it came to facing her fears, she wanted to run while there was a risk to innocents. "You're right, Handsome," she admits and swallows with difficulty. She pulls off her helmet and shakes her hair free, then sets the helmet down on the vacant seat in front of her.

With a flicker and the sound of dark whispers, she's standing at Malcolm's side. She shoots him an encouraging look, but her smile is nervous, then looks back to the cage holding them. "You probably could," she says without a doubt. "But I can try to tear it down and clear you a path to that thing." Darkness and shadow swell about her hands before she brings them up and sends a torrent of dark energy towards the energy cage holding them. A human-sized hole is blown out of the entangling cage of force by the torrent of shadows.

Forge waits until Grimm's dark energy blasts sunder a few of the beams forming the cage around them. He takes a single step forward, body contorting into a thrower's pose as liquid metal flows up his forearm and stretching out from his hand into the shape of a boomerang. As the boomerang solidifies, Forge torques his body just so, snapping his wrist expertly(?) to launch the Alumarang out of the cage through the hole.

The Alumarang arcs out at the flying horror and strikes it hard on its mottled squamous flank. The blow itself does not seem to phase it much but the force of it throws the creature 8m to its right where it hits the side of a tall glass covered office building. Which in and of itself does not seem to bother it either. But, for some unknown reason, it sreeches/roars/trills in rage/pain as silvery light erupts from where its flesh makes contact with the wall searing its side. The horror flies away from the glassine wall it was forced against as red marks appear all over its flesh. It fixes its eye upon Malcolm as it waevs its myriad tentacles in, about, and through each other. A beam of scintilling brillance lashes out from the creature tentacle tips, shoots into the sky, dips down again, makes a ninety degree turn and punches through the hole Grimm made to strike at Malcolm. It misses the shiny metallic hero to strike to one side of him. The human-sized spot it hits glows for a moment then fades from existence.

"Excuse me, beautiful, I need to go have words with that guy. He's stealing pieces of our reality and that's just not cool."

Forge promptly takes off running. Because Forge continues to fail to take dots in useful movement powers, he does not make very much forward progress this phase. As Forge sprints out of the energy cage through the hole Grimm blasted into its perimeter, his arms start to change colors from their normal brushed steel appearance to a dull, matte black surface. Random small pieces of metallic junk in the area start skittering across the pavement toward him as a result of the increasing magnetic resonance of his arms.

"Excuse me, Horrible Thing That Makes Me Queasy To Look At? I would like to welcome you to our reality, but I believe we need to have a serious discussion."

Grimm nods as Forge decides to have a conversation with the thing she just wants to blast into oblivion. She flickers to catch up with Malcolm, reappearing outside of the cage and hovering in the air about three meters up and three meters ahead of Malcolm. "Sure thing, Handsome. I can try and hold him down while you have words with him." It may be universally understood that words is a euphemism for fists, alumarangs, and other impressive Forged weaponry that she hasn't even seen yet.

As a black outline encases Gabrielle, four black tentacles start to snake out of it. Disturbingly, they are also a bit squid/octopus-like. After all, she shares some things in common with this creature. Barely.

The tentacles lengthen as one starts to dart towards the floating Horror. Grimm's tentacles stretch out towards the squidish horror then grab on and forces it to the ground as its wings are bound up by the shadowy tentacles. It does not seem too distressed by being grabbed but it screeches/trills/roars in rage/pain as the silvery flames erupt again when its flesh touches the smooth concrete of the sidewalk.

Images of absolute power over others, riches beyond belief, voluptous willing women without number, food beyond compare, all these will be Malcolm's if he but holds the woman still. Do not let her move and all this and more will be yours.

Images flood into Forge's mind as he runs toward danger. His eyes widen as words flash across his brain, his brain missing three beats worth of his sprinting. Forge's feet tangle up and he goes rolling across the ground in an uncontrolled and uncoordinated heap. When he stops, Forge slams one fist into the ground and then the other, waves of magnetic repulsion washing outward to blast away unwanted scrap metal as he forces himself to his feet.

With defiance, Forge roars, "YOU CAN'T BUY ME OFF, SQUID!"

Forge clambers back to his feet, eyes narrowing as he eyeballs the flying eyesquid in Grimm's tentacles. He looks like he should be flush with a mixture of exertion and anger, but, of course, he's currently covered in metal. As a result, Forge just looks like the angriest piece of sculpture ever.

Rolling his shoulders, Forge reconsiders his choice in tactics since Grimm is restraining the beastie. Killing it with fire seems like a bad idea with his girlfriend right there. Narrowing his ironclad eyes, Forge brings his black metal covered arms up into a proper boxing stance.

"Lesson one, don't steal component parts of reality. We need that ****!"

In spite of the space intervening between himself and the monstrosity from beyond known space, Forge throws a jab punch. A ripple of magnetic force appears just in front of the thing that mirrors Forge's jab punch.

It is a powerful hit from Froge on the squidy horror. So strong a hit, that it does some actual damage to the creature and, in addtion, manages to free it from Grimm's tentacles for the moment. It is still incontact with the ground and screams/trills/roars as silver flaming sparks leap up around it still. Grimm's tentacle unravels from the squid-like creature due to the jarring impact from Forge's strike. She's more than a little in awe at how strong Forge is. She doesn't often get to see him in action this close.

She raises her hand and curls her finger closed as pitch black darkness surrounds her hand. It's a motion as if to crush the creature. The squidy horror squirms in pain for a moment, but then Grimm realizes that it is reacting to the silver flames, not her shadow touch. If anything, it seems to take some sort of pleasure she thinks from way its Qlipothic essense roils. The squid-like horror flaps his minsicule wings and rises from contact with the gournd which causes the silver flames to wink out. It then seems to leap forward as a serrated beak emerges from the mass of tentacles that form its body. Its target appears to be Malcolm.

Suddenly there is a winged, squid-horror lunging at Forge. The metal man's eyes widen in surprise as the thing crosses so much space so quickly. He really doesn't have time to process the fact that there is a horrible, serrated beak being bandied about like the double buck knives it really resembles.

A horrendous sound of metallic violence fills the air as sparks fly in every direction. Forge stumbles backward a half-step or so from the force of impact, his body bending backward as his hands and metal cables get into something vaguely resembling a slap fight with Squilliam's tentacles. The entire time, Squilliam is busily trying to dig its beak into Forge's metallic exterior, an act that causes a lot of scuffs and scratches on that biometallic membrane, but very little in the way of the effect it may have intended.

"Stop tickling me, gosh darn it!"

Forge continues his slap fight with Squilliam until, at long last, the scissoring jaws of the extradimensional, anti-reality squid forces Forge out of immediate slapping/biting range. Thrusting his arms backward, Forge arrays his fingers curiously as a look of intense concentration crosses his metal features. Breathing deeply, Forge concentrates on the effect he wants to create. Over the course of a few moments, his hands appear to flash rust, bubbling and cracking as his membrane oxidizes horribly.

A moment later, Forge lunges forward and dips his entire upper body down low so he scan rake his horribly rusted metal hands across the pavement. Explosively, his hands burst into brilliant, roaring flames as he swings himself upright again. Over the unconscienably loud flames consuming his hands and forearms, Forge roars, "Lesson two, NEVER MESS WITH A BROWNSVILLE BOY! AIN'T NO BEAT DOWN LIKE A BROOKLYN BEAT DOWN!"

It seems the squid horror is highly inflammable given how effective the thermite charge seems to be. It squeals in pain as the spot where Forge touched it contiues to burn hot and brighter than ecpected by the metallic hero.

Righting himself, Forge starts swinging at his squid-like opponent. Forge's palm strikes fly wildly, trying to ignite any bit of bare flesh on the timespace horror. And then he makes contact and there is a brilliant white flash of fire and light as the thermite takes effect on the monster. Startled by the explosive ignition, Forge bobs back a step or two as he eyeballs Squilliam's flaming tendrils!

Gabrielle's tendrils yank back and pull away from the fire, not wanting to get burned. It doesn't seem to be affected by some of her shadows. And it hates the ground. How can she do this without touching it? As Gabrielle tries to focus on a solution, her dark aura starts to spread and her eyes become pure black without her realizing it. She isn't exactly sure what's happening, and she's more than a little surprised as shadowy limbs rise up from the ground beneath the squid horror and try to grab onto some of its many tentacles. The squid-like horror is slammed back to the ground by the shadowy tentacles that grabe it from beneath. While the sound is impressive from its impact, it seems that the slver flames that reupt once again when it hits the concrete sidewalk cause it more pain Gabrielle's pleasantly surprised as the Horror is slammed into the ground. She's managed to float soda cans and food along, but she hasn't tried something on such a big scale without using her tendrils. "I think I've got him pinned for you!" she calls to Forge, trying to restrain it so that Forge can give it a good old fashioned beatdown.

The squid-like horror roils upon the ground, squirming as it continues to burn. As its burning form starts to twist in a nauseous manner as it squirms/flies/burrows away from this Reality, an image inserts itself into Gabrielle's mind: it is a voluptuous female from obscured by an almost completely sheet of cloth, that you know is not cloth, but Reality itself. The scene expands out to reveal a blasted scrubland taht you realize is a vast inhumanly non-Euclidean maze with a forlorn and ruined castle perched on an enormous abhuman skull in its center. The female froms beckons to you the doorway to the castle. Then the veil of cloth starts to slip aside... The creature fades from Reality with a last bellowing rage/pain scream/trill. But Grimm seems stunned.

Forge watches the squid turn tail and exit reality by making a new crack in the veil, his arms extinguishing themselves over the course of several seconds. He gasps and drops to his knees, driving his still smoking, cherry red metal hands into the pavement; have no doubt, the asphalt under his hands is bubbling and sizzling and smoking too now.

Slowly, Forge looks over at Grimm and calls, "You okay, beautiful? It didn't hurt you, did it?"

Grimm is staring off at nothing in particular, as if seeing something that isn't there. "N-no..." Gabrielle murmurs as she starts to backpedal from the vision, but it doesn't seem to be in answer to Forge's question. Her hands are held up to shield her eyes from the female form as the veil of reality slips away from her.

"That's... Not a good sign, is it?" inquires Forge of no one in particular. He tugs his hands free of the molten asphalt as he staggers back to his feet. No rest for the wicked, Malcolm thinks as he starts moving toward Grimm. There is probably still an audible sizzle from both the asphalt on his hands and his steaming, smoking metal limbs. "Gabrielle?"

Grimm gets this horrible feeling that if she sees what's behind that veil, terrible things will happen. The vision loops back to the beginning again. She sees the woman in her castle, beckoning Gabrielle to come. To free her. Just like in the prophecy Sasha told her. She longs to go to the woman in the veil, but Gabrielle knows if she does, it will unleash something more terrible on this plane.

Physically, Gabrielle keeps reeling, trying to avert her gaze like Indiana Jones looking away from the arc, abject fear written across her face.

Forge moves toward Grimm, frowning slightly as he looks at his metal-covered body. He draws in a deep breath and closes his eyes for a moment as he wills himself to suck in the biometal covering his body. Malcolm strangles his own yelp as the cherry red biometal sinks into his flesh, leaving behind nasty welts and horrific looking burns - nothing a trip to the Starguard infirmary won't fix - as he staggers toward Gabrielle.

Malcolm presses up against Grimm and wraps her in his arms, protectively cradling her body as he murmurs into her ear. The tall man tries everything he can think of to try luring Grimm back from whatever horrific place her mind is trapped in at the moment.

Grimm is trembling as she's wrapped up into Malcolm's arms. The vision of the possible dark fate that lies ahead as her wanting to flee as far as she can. But the vision has such a terrifying grip on her, she feels like she's in a nightmare without her powers, unable to flee.

There's a momentary struggle from Gabrielle as she tries to pull free of the tall man's muscular arms, but there's nothing her normal strength can do against his super strength. She's easily cradled for her own protection, breathing rapidly in a panic as she feels like she's caught.

But...something feels familiar. Safe. It's Malcolm's sweet murmurings and familiar embrace that causes Gabrielle's body to slacken, the prophetic vision clearing away. Brought back to her senses, she sinks against Malcolm and wraps her arms around his shoulders. "Mal...I...you're here. This isn't...we didn't leave earth, did we...?" she asks as she looks around, disoriented as her mind tries to readjust to reality.

Malcolm looks around slowly at Grimm's question. He looks back at her and smiles gently, shaking his head, "No. Not that I've noticed at any rate," he replies in a gentle, reassuring tone. The tall man strokes the back of Grimm's head with one hand, his other arm carefully wrapped about her waist to hold her secure against him. "S'ok, Gabrielle. You're safe. I've got you."

And Malcolm definitely isn't a voluptuous woman wearing nothing but a body-length veil of reality, trying to lure Gabrielle into a freaky castle perched atop a giant/non-gigantic human skull.

Grimm's breathing begins to ramp down as she realizes she's safe, and that Mal has her. She's still trembling from the shock and adrenaline of seeing the Pale Lady. All this time, she chalked that prophecy up to Sasha trying to scare her into being good, or that he was just plain mistaken. Gabrielle is clammy to the touch, and she's broken out into a cold sweat during her brief time hearing the dark call of the voluptuous woman who, when uncovered, drives people mad with what they cannot unsee.

"Thank goodness...Handsome, I--" Gabrielle starts to pull back enough to she can gaze up at him, but she cuts off her words when she sees Malcolm with clear vision.

"What happened to you?! You're hurt!" she says in a panic as she spies Malcolm's burns. She was already shakened by the visions. Now seeing Mal hurt just causes her uncontrolled trembling to renew. "W-we need to get you help. Get you to the hospital!"

"I'm fine. It's minor," protests Malcolm.

The hospital has so many forms and his hands are lightly burned! Why would he want to go there?!

Malcolm holds onto Grimm, kissing her gently on the cheek. He smiles warmly at her and rolls his shoulders, quietly he murmurs, "I kinda need a minute or two to cool down after I use Thermite Palm. You kinda froze up on me. I couldn't wait and I wasn't going to burn you, Gabrielle. Are you okay? What happened to you? It didn't hurt you, did it?"

"You burned yourself, because of me?" Gabrielle murmurs numbly as she gazes up at Malcolm, her eyes flooding with tears. That's practically as bad as having hurt him herself. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry..." she repeats in a small, pleading voice.

Trembling again, she (carefully) rests her head against Malcolm's chest. "I-I'm alright. It didn't hurt me. It did something to my mind. It felt like I was somewhere else. Like something found me. Like something awful is going to happen. And it's going to be my fault."

Her voice is filled with dread. She squeezes her eyes shut. With the welling of tears, that just forces them out, causing the tears to run down her cheeks.

Malcolm winces as he squeezes Grimm tighter in his arms. Burns, even minor ones are no fun, kids! He starts murmuring sweet nothings to Grimm again, stroking the back of her head with one hand - the one that's least burned - whilst he cradles her body against his own.

"Shh. Shh. It's alright, Gabrielle. You're going to be fine, beautiful. Nothing's going to hurt you, nothing's found you, nothing's going to happen. Nothing is your fault. You're safe and sound and loved."

The tall man kisses the top of Grimm's head as he keeps murmuring, keeps stroking her hair and squeezing her in his arms. Malcolm just holds Grimm tight and tries to let her cry herself out.

"You're one of the best people I know, Gabrielle. You're not just going to let something awful happen. You're going to do everything in your power to keep awful things at bay because you're amazing. You're strong and you're smart and you're a compassionate person, you're going to save the world one day, beautiful."

Grimm mumbles against Malcolm's chest as she tries to hide away from the world there. "You're really the best, Mal. I'm the luckiest girl to have someone so amazing in my life." She's silent for a little and lets out a tired sigh as she finishes crying. She's comforted, but still somewhat troubled. "But...if I'm supposed to save the world...why do mystics and magical beings keep telling me I'm going to be the key to ending it...?" she sniffles.

"It keeps happening. At first, I chalked it up to the rantings of mad men. But then it kept recurring. The same warning from different people. The same name spoken. The Pale Lady. The Lady of Pale Night. There's been a few variations, but the description fits what I saw. A friend had a vision about it. They said I'd be a key to unleashing her."

She turns her head so her cheek is what's resting against Malcolm's chest. It allows her to lift her gaze up to him. She's cried herself out, and is now in that tired, post-crying state. "How did that thing know...?" Gabrielle asks hoarsely.

"Take it from me, Gabrielle," murmurs Malcolm, cradling Grimm in his arms, "Sometimes bad things happen because you're trying to do the right thing. As long as you're up front and honest about what happened, about why bad things played out, you'll be judged by how you react to those bad things."

Malcolm offers a gentle, warm smile as he strokes the back of Grimm's head with one hand. She may need to take a long shower later to get the singed Malcolm glop out of her hair. He sighs gently and shakes his head a little bit.

"I can't guarantee you won't unleash something. I can't guarantee you won't release this... Pale Lady? But I know - look me in the eyes, beautiful, I /KNOW/ - you would never do that just because. You wouldn't do that for evil reasons. And you'll do everything in your power to beat her down and lock her away again."

Smiling brightly at Grimm, Malcolm makes sure his grey gaze is locked on her blue eyes. A thumb and forefinger gently cup her chin, making sure they share that deep gaze into one another's eyes as he continues to reassure her.

"I believe in you, Gabrielle Grimm, like I haven't believed in anyone else in this world. You'll save this place from whatever horror, whatever destruction this Pale Lady has in store. You're the better lady. You're the stronger lady. You're the lady that's going to win because you've got two things on your side that this Fading Lady doesn't."

Malcolm's words encourage and inspire Gabrielle as she listens. It's a good thing she doesn't see the Malcolm glop and bits in her hair due to the tunnel vision she gets when he's being heroically inspiring and sweet. A very long, scalding hot shower may be required when she does finally see it.

It doesn't take much for Malcolm to hold her attention, her eyes sparkling as they remain fixated on his. She isn't just comforted by Malcolm's unwavering faith in her. She starts to believe it. Is bolstered by it.

"What's that, Handsome...?" she asks softly. Her tears have finally dried as she listens to his hopeful words.

"What's that?" asks an incredulous Malcolm. He's incredulous! INCREDULOUS!

"Gabrielle, you've got the POWER OF ROCK and the POWER OF LOVE on your side. Fading Lady don't got jack squat compared to all of that awesome pumping through your soul and your veins."

If the desired effect was to cheer Gabrielle up and make her laugh, it works. Her shoulders hunch up and shake for a moment before she explodes with laughter. "I sure do, Handsome," she says between laughing and tears, giving him a gentle squeeze. "I sure do," she beams up at him.

"We...should probably get your burns looked at..."

"Aww c'mon, do we have to? I have silverdyne at home," whines Malcolm.

Grimm lifts her pierced brow at Malcolm skeptically. "These look...really bad. But if you think that'll do it...then I guess that's alright."