The Deconstruction

[Molly Quincannon] [[Okay, starting again, from the top. Early Warning System a la Nate. Coincidental, -1 practiced, -1 focus so diff 3. 1 success for activation, 1 for duration, others for added oomph (if I get any). Dice, away!]]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 3, 10 (Success x 2 at target 3)
to Arcanum

[Molly Quincannon] [[And again, just to shore it up. +1 extension, -1 time taken.]]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 3)
to Arcanum

[Molly Quincannon] [[*ahem* Not pressing my luck, so on to Forces shielding! Vulgar w/out witnesses, so diff 6, -1 practiced, -1 focus, -1 time taken so diff 3. 1 success for activation, 1 for duration, anything else is gravy; let's go!]]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 4, 10 (Success x 2 at target 3)
to Arcanum

[Molly Quincannon] [[Again, +1 extension so diff 4.]]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 3 (Botch x 1 at target 4)
to Arcanum

[Molly Quincannon] [[*sigh* Spending WP to ignore that, +1, trying again.]]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 5)
to Arcanum

[Arcanum] Yesterday morning - Friday the 15th - the National Guard officially pulled out of the north side of West Town, following Governor Quinn's calling off the limited state of martial law that's existed in the area for about a month now. Siting that the whole of the devastated block and neighbourhoods immediately surrounding were now safe, though the area with the most damage from freak weather and seismic activity was still roped off. Workers no longer worked round the clock though. Now it was simply a matter of fixing utility lines and inspecting the remaining buildings to judge whether repairs were possible or if the whole would have to be demolished and built up again.

Which is to say that, tonight, Saturday night, the long block is empty and seems surreal for Chicago. Oh, there are plenty of slums and lots of empty homes even in the nicer parts of the city. But this looks like the still quiet aftermath of a war zone. Like stepping from the El and finding yourself in Bosnia in the 90s. Or much of the Middle East on any day ending in 'y'.

The building Lucien chose was central: It was also where Tom remembers previously standing before Tornado touched down behind his fleeing form. This was once an up and coming restaurant. Now it's a ruins: Only 2 walls still stand with any noted sturdiness. The windows are all blown out. A third wall is only half there. The fourth - at the rear - is almost utterly wrecked, jagged bits little higher than a low hedge.

Lucien stands on a small stage: Largely intact. A few cracks in the wood where tables and chairs were flung around but it hasn't broken through on him yet, nor is it likely to. He has his ways to prevent accidents, of course. Tonight his garb is... simple, really. Jeans. A black long sleeved shirt, sleeves pushed up revealing black ink among pasty white skin on skinny arms. Thinning, whispy hair half laying flat, half on end. When they arrived he'd been focused on that stage drawing lines in Ash and then washing them away with something white as milk. With something like a paste from the two substances he carefully and thinly marks the outer border of the stage: That much he doesn't wash away.

Before anything else he moves to talk to Elizabeth and Regina. Regina: Ten-years-old, skinny, wide-eyed, sunken-eyed. Scared. And apparently with no intention whatsoever of leaving Elizabeth's side. She presses close to the small Asian woman and at first regards Lucien with shyness and uncertainty. Between the two of them, Liz and Lucien manage to sooth her. Make her comfortable. Whatever his flaws the man manages to come off as almost grandfatherly. And soon there is a sense of potency without discernable Resonance: He's laying Blessings and Shields on the young girl.
He had promises to keep.

When it's done, he turns to the others.
"I'll be summoning it soon. When it gets here it'll be bound in the Circle," he indicates the stage. "Anyone using Mind to amplify these Resonances," he lifts up a statuette in alabaster. A woman at a spring. "Start it as soon as I begin the summoning. Make it strong. Strong as you can - mute your own Res, so it's not confusing." He's gaze slips to Regina and Elizabeth. "You'll know when to come forward, honey," again, a marked switch to gruff gentleness, for all of the slight wheeze at the end. "Liz is gonna be with you. Molly, too. And these burly bastards too." Indicating Nathan, Tom and Solomon... none of whom are 'burly' but oh well.

Then, "I'll have to start the ritual to Deconstruct her immediately after. It's not gonna be fast and I don't think we'll be alone here for all of it so keep a sharp look out, eh? Fortify what you can while I work. Don't let anything stop me from what I'm doing unless your sure it's all gone tits up. Sure of it. That happens we break - I get Reggie out and you all do the same."

Flicking the ash from one of those ever present cigarettes, "Questions? Ya'll ready for this?"

[Elizabeth Zhao] She keeps her hands on Regina's shoulders, staying as a comforting presence to the girl. She listens, and she nods. "I can and will amplify the Resonances," she says simply. She looks around to the others...Molly and Thomas she knows, though the latter she has not seen since their last big mission.

She's not wearing a brain facial. So that's good. Her stance over Regina is much like a mother would to a daughter, despite the obvious fact that Regina holds no Asian ancestry in her. She stays calm, as ever, and lets that feeling sooth the young girl.

[Molly Quincannon] Molly, too, is dressed simply - she's got at least a fair idea of how to dress for battle. Sturdy leather neck to toe, hair tied in the tightest, hardest-to-grab bun she can manage, contact lenses (plain, clear, no bright colours this time; nothing that's going to interfere with her field of vision)... It's function over form all the way, but it beats the alternative.

She always has questions, and now is no different. What is different, however, is her. She wants to ask what he's laid on Regina, protection-wise; she wants to ask what the paste is. She wants to know everything. But there are things she wants more. So the first thing she does is step over to Regina, crouch so they're eye-to-eye, and hug her if she's receptive to such a thing. Whether or not that's accepted, she says, "We're here. We will keep you safe. It's going to be okay." She's (over)confident. She believes this. She'll certainly give everything she has to make it so.

Then, though, she pulls her sonic screwdriver out of a pocket and says, "I'd do a cheer for Team Anders, but I forgot my pompoms, rah-rah skirt and bimbo hat at home." Because there has to be smart-arsery, at least a little. But there's serious behind it, and the smart-mouth act stops there, leaving purpose (Frantic purpose, but it's there) and letting the seriousness take the fore. "I'm ready."

[Thomas Black] Extended, still only diff 3
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 3)

[Nathan Spriggs] Despite an abscense in recent days from the team, so to speak, Nathan shows up on time with Solomon if they went together and someway or another if not. Call him two-dimensional but his choice of apparel is the exact same as every other night they tried to take over the worl--stop the forces of evil and stagnation from taking over the world... A long, black trenchcoat with intricately stitched symbols on the insides and a white shirt with black mortician-style tie, matching black leather gloves, black trousers of the style used in business apparel more than casual-use and clean, well-polished leather shoes.

Hidden under the trenchcoat... well, did anyone really have to ask?

He was a Guardian and in training under Solomon fuckin' Ward.

"Roger."

[Thomas Black] [Shoves that to pm lol]

[Molly Quincannon] [[*sigh* Dox lumps, ahoy. Highest Sphere 2 +1 so 3]]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 5, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
to Arcanum

[Molly Quincannon] [[Soak!]]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 4, 5 (Failure at target 6)
to Arcanum

[Solomon Ward] Solomon doesn't have much to say. He hadn't quite been keeping up with any one lately, aside from occasional points of contact to make sure all of this was happening. The what was needed was being taken care of.

His apparel isn't too far from Nathan's. Stern black suit jacket, black slacks. Crisp white shirt. Black tie. Polished leather shoes, with the rubber 'cop' sole. The uniform of morticians, IRS agents, broke federal agents, and humorless busy bodies the world over.

The key difference was the bag. A large gym style bag long enough to carry ball bats, golf clubs, and who knows what other sort of bric-a-brac considering it wasn't full of shorts and sweaty towels.

No, this was the Big Black Bag.

Anything Nathan didn't have under the coat was in here, as well as the usual things Solomon carried when trouble was expected. One could tell he didn't like this. The presence of the young girl. The calling off of cops from real, legitimate issues, should they occur, because of their own personal needs or desires.

Still, Solomon refused to abandon any one to a thing, a creature. A construct. It's the principle behind the day he and Nathan went to get Molly. It's the principle why he would do this even if it didn't have Israel.

...but it does.

So Solomon is somber. Quiet. Tense. Short of nervous; ready. And like the second mein beneath his skin, the primal marks that forever mark him as a crusader, a soldier or person willing to do what needs done for a cause, no matter how far gone or lost... Solomon is a hair trigger away from violence.

[Thomas Black] Thomas showed up on time, though at the back of the pack, cigarette held between thin lips the smoke pouring from his nose. It was simple tonight, black hoodie (Hood up) with big white letters on the back "I fucked your mom and she paid me!", blue jeans, black steel toe capped boots and black gloved hands. His skin was still that pale white, and the few glimpses of his eyes showed those blue orbs hollowed out by blackness. The jhor was still riding him hard, not that anyone here knew it. He just looked like another darkling with no questions.

He looks around and remembers that day, when he was left behind to run from a force of nature.

As Elizabeth glances his way he nods slightly but doesn't look at the child, he can smell it from her though ever present on the wind...

Fear...

He forces himself past the sensation, it wasn't after all normal. He had no bags unlike when he broke into Vinnies, he has a gun under his hoodie just in case but he was mainly relying on just his shazam in play and his fists.

[Arcanum] The older man - older still than Solomon, uglier still for all that the Choristers scarred up face attempts to rival it - lets those watery, buggy, light-blue eyes slide over everyone present.
You use the tools you have.
Well, at least all of the adult Magi present were here of their own volition.

For Liz there is a nod - minute but it holds appreciation - when she indicates that she'll be helping to amplify the Resonance [faint, but there. Majesty is chief. Veracious, Dwindling and Sensuous linger.]. For Molly there is a tweak of his lips, a faint underscoring of fondness though it is tonight certainly overwhelmed by a keener focus on somber matters at hand, more intensity than the man has previously shown. To the men there is assessment. Solomon and Tom each a moment longer than Nathan. [each may be wild cards]

"Let's do this." Simple.

He moves to stand before the stage, reaching into the pocket of his jeans and withdrawing a velvet pouch, the same pouch that he'd drawn ashes from earlier. It's done again: Ashes held in his palm as he focuses. And for the first time there is a sense of Resonance.
And yes... it is powerful.
Penetrating.
Those with Sensory sight of Prime magic and an understanding of Mind can watch as layers of shielding are peeled away to expose the Oscillations of his Mystical Signature.
Sinuous.
Dogged.
Contradicting.
Beloved.
Solomon can follow what he sees better than Nathan, for Solomon is practiced in the art of Summoning. Even so he sees here added depth and layers of complexity and strength he himself has yet to achieve in this art.

And those who cannot see?
They feel it.

Lucien hurls the palmful of ash at the stage and breathes a word under his breath in Greek no one uses in this day and age.

[Elizabeth Zhao] She nods a little bit, shutting her eyes to focus. Her power focuses as she starts a slow, semi-melodic repetition of words. Mandarin words, associated with power. The repetition allows her to focus her mind on the concepts behind those words, energize herself and direct her Arts toward enhancing the Resonance of the items while masking her own.

[[Mind 2; Resonance boost. -1 quint for diff]]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 5 (Success x 1 at target 4) [WP]

[Molly Quincannon] Of the four shreds of Resonance available, it's voracious that Molly knows best; the other three don't even come close to fitting her own, and she knows a Resonance like that, one of Hunger; has had it around her, closed over her own Resonance like a Venus flytrap, masking it...

At least she doesn't have to dick around too much with the settings on her screwdriver to make it work. She remembers the approximate bandwidth and makes a few tweaks for the difference between Hunger and outright Voraciousness. The noise that comes out of the little pen-like device is a little ear-splitting, and wavers up and down the scale until she finds what she's looking for ... and then she amplifies it, the sound of the screwdriver fading down as it lends power (hers; always her power; the tool is simply the conduit, the shorthand) to the Resonance she's trying to amplify.

[[Mind 2; -1 focus]]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 3, 6 (Success x 1 at target 4)

[Nathan Spriggs] Wordlessly, Nathan closes his eyes and concentrates, shuts off contact with the external world save that Mystical sense all around him. Magic, in forms much more complex and... undiluted, in some ways, than he'd ever found himself face-to-face with. The sensations wash over him beyond just his Sight as he focuses on that Sensuous part and tries to pull at it, twisting it up and hiding his own Resonance in the midst of it, with barely-audible mutters in Latin, more of a soft call to something than a chant or prayer.

[Mind 2; Resonance boost, diff 5; (-1 focus, -1 Quint, +1 Resonance)]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 4, 5 (Success x 3 at target 4) [WP]

[Solomon Ward] Solomon Ward doesn't require the full out use of a tool for this. At least not a physical one. For any one not astute, he appears to do nothing at all for long moments. Moments spent in quiet concentration, struggling against and finally overcoming the ear piercing shriek of Molly's hellish little focus.

Concentration on an image, the representation of an idea. Focusing on the pattern of the Sepiroth and it's emanations, the correspondences between the base of humanity and the divine crown. Each emanation is whispered quietly in patterns traced by the minds eye as the lowest branches reach for the crown. An oversimplified concept, really, but one whos mental envisioning serves to illustrate the the divine gift of the human mind, of self will, free willed, sentience and that it may, or may not, impose on the world around it.

Righteousness, subdued.
Evolving, some thing new, smothered.
Archaic, eclipsed
Unyielding, diminished.

Majesty... Magnified.

[Mind 2, - Resonance copy / Amplification. Coincidental 3 + Highest Sphere 2 = 5. -1 rote, -1 foci = Diff 3.
Sux = 1 to cast, 1 to hide native resonances, 1 to target. All others to Potency.]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 3) [WP]

[Thomas Black] He drops the cigarette on the floor stepping on it as he pulls out another one and puts it to his lips. He finally pulls down the hood exposing his face, though thankfully because of arcane most will not notice the hollowed out eyes, the white skin the veins that you can see pulsing beneath that 'English Pale'.

He sniffs the air... everyone was working there shazam, everyone but him. He shrugs brings a zippo out and places it to his lips and lights it taking a big long drag as he cringes at the screwdriver noise. He goes into his hoodie and pulls out a hip flask taking the top off and having a 'tiddley' while everyone got that shazam going on. Cigarette held in between fingers as he wipes any fluid from his lips and puts it back in.

Still give the hollow one this he turns and starts walking around the interior of the building keeping a watch over them, whether they think that is a good or bad thing however smoke wandering from his mouth and nose.

[Arcanum] There is pause. A lull. A long break where nothing happens -- just long enough for the others to begin to wonder. To worry? To Doubt? At the very least four out of five of them have some ready work to occupy them, to distract them from the quiet of the wait that seems to drag on... in reality it's a bare few breathes.
That Sensuous feeling is building already and so too is Majesty.

A bare few breathes where Luciens face looks merely intent: You have to focus closely to notice that he's starting to sweat, beads of it collecting on his brow, darkening his lank hair with dampness. Those with Prime Sight, again, can see the magnitude of what he is controlling. Upon which he is imposing his Will.

A vibration in the debris strewn broken tile floor beneath their feet. A shifting of the wind: Warmer than it should be this wet, cool Early Spring night.

Need.
Desire
Longing
Wishes

Regina whimpers slightly and presses closer to Liz's legs.

Anger.
The Sending does not come Willingly and when she manifests - glorious to behold as ever, her flesh dark and sensual, draped in splendor of iridescent Grecian draped cloth. Golden eyes narrowed but softly glowing. Alluring. All your dreams to come true. All your wishes fulfilled. The curve of her full lips is as evocative of warmth and delight as it is defensive and suspicious and... eager?

You are a fool, Lucien Anders.
Sibilant. Purring. Stern. Laughing.
The woman-form the Sending takes - the Black Madonna as Elizabeth once called her - is larger than life. A goddess among them or such is how she presents herself there upon the Stage. Once more, those who can Watch such Weavings witness as the boundaries of the intricately interlaced Circle rise up around the Spirit Construct, barring her in. The woman-form certainly notices it... and laughs, musical. Whimsical.

Her voice this time shifts: A voice that is far less earthy and tantalizing. A voice somewhat higher, its accent faintly Southern.
"But I never knew how much a fool."
That voice has an effect on Lucien. He stiffens: His face distorts briefly with eloquent distress. Grief. Rage. It is with distinctive effort that he controls himself and rasps out:

"Construct and Creation of Jolie Marcelle, Master of the Cult of Ecstasy. For deviant breaking from the pacts with which you were forged you are condemned. For the cruel forced Awakening of innocents you are condemned." He lifts a hand towards Liz and Regina, beckoning. "Witness now... see what you've fuckin' wrought."
Well, he almost made it without swearing.

[they can feel a sense around them: Like a pushing or a prodding against the connection they hold with their Avatars.
But not - so far - a severing.]

When Regina and anyone else step forward ["Press her," Lucien would have told them before. "Force It to face what it has done. Appeal to that within it that holds the core of its creator. Ecstatic's don't hold with the shit it's been pulling. Facing it will freeze it."], Lucien moves away, aside...
Center stage no longer: He has his own work to dive into.

[Molly Quincannon] Molly's been in this ... thing's face before, but at least now she's too busy concentrating to crack wise to it. She knows the Sending's here, more or less, and...
Ecstatics don't hold with the shit it's been pulling.
Damn fucking right, they don't.

Not a word, no. Her focus is on the statue, on the Resonance thereof; on the voraciousness, on the feel of it as translated through sound and code and the blending of hoodoo and tech that is her Will... And now it's all fuelled by sheer determination. Emotion fuels Will. It can be used, if focused right.

[[Extending, +1 for extension, -1 for Quint, and a WP spent.]]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 6, 7 (Success x 3 at target 4) [WP]

[Arcanum] [[Rolling for Iggy]]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 4, 5, 9 (Success x 3 at target 5) [WP]

[Solomon Ward] "How it must hurt," he says, his voiced a terse edged rasp. Partially due to nature, to the damage dealt to his larynx some time ago. It adds a rough quality to his voice, whether he intends it or not. The rest? The rest is in confrontation with this thing that has taken away what is his. "How it must hurt, to know you aren't even real... ."

"That the very core of what you are is stolen. Warped. An answering machine with a body. A body with out its own soul. A lie so intricate that you violate the tenets of who and what founded and birthed you. You sow seeds of loss and pain, taking and taking and taking simply to survive. All that you give is a lie. It isn't even an illusion, to wile your followers. Its an illusion you make to convince yourself... flawed almost enough to be human, selfish enough indeed, but you know the truth. Look at this girl, and know the truth."

He doesn't move. Doesn't shout. Simply says his piece, attempting to force it to consider what it has done. To anger it to the point it lacks coherent thought. To enrage the shards of souls with which it has assimilated, against itself.

[Thomas Black] Thomas doesn't sense that connection being pushed or prodded, I mean who believes in all that avatar bullshit anyhow. His shazam will either work or it won't, he knows that much. When she appears he turns and looks at the Sending, his eyes trail that body an eyebrow raises and once more he considers it such a waste his lips felt dry, and then the damned thing speaks...

The eyebrow lowers, she did try and drop a tornado on him...

Still, Thomas was told very little about this, about what would be happening at the ritual, if anything he was sure in this (As expressed by Lucien) his role would be 'crowd control'. They would be coming, there god has descended on the material plane and will no doubt shine like a beacon to her faithful, calling for them to save her from her would be entrappers (Because let's face it, gods don't admit to their worshippers they can be killed, but trapped, legends are full of that and as we know belief equals reality)

It's Solomon that speaks first, this was Thomas' real first meeting with the man accept that meeting so long ago. He lays it on thick, then again the old timer had a personnel stake in this, Israel was taken, the lil' blind bint been whisked to never never land with a chance of being made into spirit stew. Thomas had concern for Israel, but in the end with the jhor as it was...well he just wasn't that nice. He showed up today which is more than most would have got not that anyone here knows how he knows Luicen, or that he was even involved.

To be honest It was all a bit Cosmic for the Hollower, he had nothing to say to the sending but he does give her two fingers as he smokes and waits for a point he could be useful, or at least be the first out of the door if it all goes up shit creek without a paddle.

Thomas Law 26 - 'When in doubt, get the hell out.'

[Elizabeth Zhao] She steels herself, puts her hands comfortingly on Regina's shoulders and steps forward. She looks up at the sending, what she called (and still does, in her head) the Black Madonna. This mystical messenger gone horribly, horribly wrong. It is now just a fragment of consciousness in the midst of something much larger…and she can understand that. She has her own fragments, though hers are part of her, not collected like sleet on a car's windshield while passing through a storm. Those fragments get a slight tug, but she keeps herself calm.

"You were once an Ecstatic. I have never known a Tradition who has been more about freedom, personal choice. Who has been about knowing when the time is right. Look at this girl. Look at how you have taken her Avatar's freedom from her. You have Awakened her before her time, and you push her to the edge of something she is not ready for."

She looks at the Sending, jaw setting. She is angry, yes. But she is also resolute, and that shines through more than anger.

"You did this. To a girl who deserved better than to be your pawn."

[Elizabeth Zhao] [[Oh, yeah. Rolling, and shit]]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 4) [WP]

[Arcanum] At Solomon's rebukes the Sending turns her attention his way, golden eyes narrowing, full wide lips pressing into a firm line.
[she shivers. her body tremours. a ghost reflection of discomfort marks her features like a veil laid over the face she presents.]

"I bring what your weakness never allowed. I bring change. I whip Sleeping apathy into a Frenzy of Belief."
Her eyes roll slightly, the whites of them more striking than even the gold irises and this Construct - who will act to preserve its own existence as is the nature of anything that has become self aware - switches tactics, trying to avoid looking at the girl...
...the girl.
It speaks like oleander towards the scarred man,
"--destroy me and you destroy her. Do you believe Lucien's lies? Will you risk so much? I could give her back. It is what you desire, yes?"
Her eyes dart to Nathan, "And you."
To Molly, "And you - and the man, too. Yes. I feel it. I know it. I know all that you need: Release me. I alone have the power to release them."

Then Elizabeth has stepped forward, speaking up. And her words have an even stronger effect that Solomon's: Just as they are words that would lift Molly's heart to hear, so to do they ring deep in the depth of this Construct origins.
[again the wraith veil of different expression: a writhing now. brief but brutal.]
"They choose! They choose! They all choose I only provide!"

Regina's lower lip trembles: Eyes darting from the Sending [she's long since gone pale looking upon the Goddess her own father flung her to] to Solomon when he speaks, then chin lifting slightly when Elizabeth takes it up, feeling the small weight - the warm weight - of the Asian woman's hands on her narrow shoulders. Her eyes are wide: She knows that this is supposed to help. This is supposed to help make her better or, at least, help to keep this from happening to someone else...
...but she is terribly young and terribly uncertain. Her fear is pungent. Swallowing hard she speaks up in her small voice...

"I d-d-din... I didn't w-wa-want this." It is heartbreaking to hear, really. Amazingly she squares her shoulders. Tries again. Tears leak down her face, "I didn't want this! You hurt me! You hurt me and now I see it all the time! Bleeding and hurting and I try to fix it but it always comes back. You hurt me you... you... you witch!" Witch, not Bitch -- and yet spoken with all the vehemence she can muster.

The Sending shuts its eyes and seems ready to move, to lunge. Away. To hurl itself against the barriers that hold it, but now the Resonances from the periapt fills the crumbled ruins of the broken building they occupy and the Construct shudders anew, rippling, fading, intensifying.
Destabilizing.

"I didn't-- I.. I gave you a Gift. A--"
With a sense of flailing it casts for another avenue: Tom. Tom who must certainly be agonizing himself so near to Regina's open fear. "I could give you release." A purr; a sonata in speech; a bedroom embrace. "I could free you of what will break you."

[Molly Quincannon] With everything set up and running, Molly pockets the sonic screwdriver. She looks at the Sending, and she speaks. It's not wisecracks, no; no Star Wars references or anything with a shred of humour. Of everyone here, Molly's the representative of the thing they're trying to flag up to this ... this thing - the Code.

"Do you remember the Code of your Creator? Do you remember what it says about this? 'Some minds rest best asleep. Do not disturb those who would not Waken otherwise', it says. You didn't. Even. Check. I would ask why, but ... there is no reason that would suffice. Do not disturb those who would not Waken otherwise. That was the core of the Will that created you. And you violated it. Look at what you've done. Look at what your violation and blasphemy has wrought."

Yes, she needs her friends back. But mostly? Mostly she is a Cultist of Ecstasy and she needs this blasphemy to end. Israel, Atlas ... they would not want their lives bought at this price, and she knows it.

[Nathan Spriggs] Nate looked at the Construct and shrugged. Or something equally dismissive and cool.

Then he just waited for stuff to happen.

[Solomon Ward] To the Sending's offer there is only a sad smile in response. Oh how he would rage and anger if it would do any good. A thousand possible choices held at bay by their infinite repercussions; or just the one where he doesn't get Israel back. His is a disciplined mind, a nearly ascetic life in a world of easy solutions, instant gratification and ready made decisions. Waiting a little while longer, after all the waiting he has done already... . It's possible. He stays his hand, and his tongue, from betrayal.

A memory, then.
Callidus Ferro, tired and weary and aching on the Judean sun. Battered, bleeding, hungry, and dehydrated. A 'heretic' by regional standards of this out post, a member of a rapidly growing monotheistic cult despised by both Empire and Jews.
The soft, almost fearful smile of the woman that hides him, and gives him bread with olive oil, and water. A caring soul, when others wouldn't have... .

A memory of another time, another life.
The Sending doesn't know the depths of what the man believes in, or is willing to do for those beliefs.
Doesn't know that she has been taken away from him before, and him from her.

"We'll see... only the End of Time is final... "

[Thomas Black] Fear he can feel it

His eyes find Regina, eyes staring into her back next to Elizabeth, none of them know how hollow he is, how his emotions are so dull, how he is a man without fear, his throat feels parched, his lips become so very dry and the cigarette hangs limply from his lips

FEAR he can taste it

His eyes flutter closed, so young, so sweet that fear so pure so un-tasted, plucked ripe for the taking. He couldn't even hear anyone speaking anymore just his own heart beat increasing, thundering in his chest. He see's Molly step forward knows she is saying words, can see the passion eched on her face and form but he can't hear her, can't feel her.

Beat, beat, beat...

So when she looks at him, when her sweet words reach his ears his eyes open and he looks at her, it's an agonising few seconds of silence from the Hollow One. Hollow words he tells himself, just another Henry, just another soul sucker after a bit of Tommy...

He remembers being a boy locked away.

Teeth come together, was it suddenly hot here, was that his breaths coming so fast. He remembers being in the Halo, of speaking to Lara and what he said there lies true here. "No children." it was muttered to himself more than anyone. He was an immoral man, he was a sinner, he was many things but he had his own code, his own laws. So for the first time during this meeting he speaks up. Israel always thought he was the chivalrous sort deep down, perhaps this was for her.

"Pet, yer just a jumped up piece of cosmic insignificance, looks at ya leechin' power off others, borrowed power no less, yer wat 'appens wen sumone leaves a tap on an goes away on holiday. It stains the carpet, blows the electrics and encourages rats to move in, rats pet. The arse ache then is cleanin' it all up wen you get hat to the pope. I don't give a toss 'bout who's peepers ya opened, you can look at it two ways, you forced them open, or this was destined, I ain't splitin' 'airs, but kids...really? Ain't that a lil' low for a wud be god pet, but thats the bottom line ain't it 'wud be' Yer a shell, yer the echo of sumthin' an you copied it pete." He pauses "Maybe it will break me, but it will be a damn sight better than bein' yer bitch, spirits offerin' me shit....been there done that. I will leave ya with sum sound advice though pet, Thomas Law Six -'Everythin' that 'as a beginnin' 'as an end'". He grins, the smoke still pouring from his lungs, each breath a small death. "Ta ta luv." He waves.

[Elizabeth Zhao] Somewhere, in the back of her mind, a seventeenth-century Frenchman smirks at the fact that Elizabeth is the only one the Sending doesn't try to bargain with. Likely, it is just that it knows it has nothing she wants. Those trapped, of course. She wants them freed. But she would not sacrifice this world, the needs of the many, for the needs of the few.

She smiles when Thomas refutes it. When Solomon says that only the End of Time is final.

"You have no power here. Your crimes are laid bare." No more calling it the Black Madonna. Names have power, and she will not empower it. Or give it the chance to smile like it did when she first mentioned it.

"Think of Arthur Simmons. You gave him a gift…one that he was not ready for. One he did not understand. And he nearly killed himself. Your gifts are not gifts. They are curses. There is an Accounting for everyone for the harm they cause, the pain they inflict upon those who did not deserve it. People like Arthur…people like Regina." She squeezes the girl's shoulders comforting.

"And that Accounting applies to all…including you. That time is now."

[Arcanum] Molly speaks of the Code and the Sendings form alters: From the ebony beauty - earth goddess, fertile promises - to someone of equally rich, cocoa flesh but thinner, more athletic. Lean muscled and a scar like an elongated diamond on the cheek just beneath her right eye. There is a look of horror. Of guilt.
It lasts but a moment and then shifts back to the visage they've all seen before those shades of horror and guilt and panic remain. The most obvious display so far that their words are indeed having the intended effect.

Solomon speaks of her end: She attempts to rally alien coolness. Features becoming snakelike, the wealth of rich dark hair the cobras hood. "I'll feed on her Essence. For her it will be Final."
To Tom, then, "[b]Oh? I should be punished for harming a child? Should I? Look to your own house then, Pretender. You are already sold!"
Vehemence. Poison.

And Elizabeth isn't free of its scorn either, "Hypocrites and fools! Petty little creatures. You could have saved her!" Pointing to Regina now... which was a mistake. Making eye contact there the Sending finds itself unable to break the gaze and its word become fainter... "...you could have saved her before they ever passed her to my arms...."

To the back of the stage, Lucien Anders hasn't spoken up all this time. To the back of the stage, Solomon and Nathan can see the first real change in the brilliance of Quintessential Weaving around him. Something like multiple thick threads all the brilliance of Prime and Spirit and Entropy connecting themselves to the Sending and beginning to turn, slowly to turn, like taking a tight spindle of yarn and unwrapping its threads... Bit. By. Bit.

Regina half turns to look to Molly and then up to Elizabeth... "I believe you now... she's crazy. I won't be like that. And she won't hurt me anymore." Looking back to the Sending is still difficult - there's no doubt about it - but with a fortitude uncanny for her age she speaks with a voice of defiance for all that it trembles, "You can't hurt me anymore."

Progress.
Abundance of progress, really.
But it is not over yet, not by far. The true Deconstruction has only now begun...

...and Molly and Nathan can both feel, each in their own way, the nauseating clench that speaks of trouble - danger - looming. Not immediate. Not yet. Theirs is a precognition: But soon.

Someone.
Something.
Danger is growing.

[Molly Quincannon] Molly feels the ... whatever it is (bring it, bitch) coming, but that doesn't stop her. It stiffens her spine, has her reaching for her staff - not on the offensive, not yet, but to have it to hand, to tap it on the broken ground as if in emphasis ... but Lucien said to press the Sending, and press she shall. Anyone looking at her will know she senses something coming; that she is on her guard.

"How many pieces of the Code of Ananda - your creator's Code - have you broken, now? Three? More? There's the bit about not stirring minds that would not Waken otherwise. There's the bit about 'Let each Seer account his own deeds and if those deeds should want for wisdom or kindness, let him be put forth to weep alone'. Where is the wisdom and kindness in clawing minds and souls with what they are not ready for; in cracking them with surfeit? Max. Regina. The girl who you sent wandering worlds. The violinist. You made their passions jagged-edged things, made them bleed. And passions are the seat of the soul. And if they bleed, so to does the soul. You know what the Code says about those who rend another's Passions. Let them be torn apart as if by wild dogs."

Tap. Tap. Tap of the staff on the ground. Tension of the shoulders. She telegraphs Something is coming; be ready.

[Spriggs Nathan] When isn't shit coming should be the real thought here, danger is acknowledged and understood but it doesn't send a shiver up his spine like it used to in the old days. The sensation of potential death and/or dismemberment that washes over him is little more than a condition reflex now in many ways. Solomon might recognize the little tells from being around him so long, they've probably figured out an unspoken code as his stance shifts just slightly. A minute thing, but enough warning even before the whisper escapes his gritter teeth, "Get ready, something's up."

Then he concentrates outward, not quite on the conversation at hand so much as their surroundings. Someone had to stand guard while they were poking the Sending with angry-sticks.

[Solomon Ward] Solomon spits. It's a phlegmatic sound in the making, followed by a gob of who knows what from who knows where (well, he has traded the pipe for those God awful cigarette of late, so one can guess after all...). Entirely uncharacteristic, which in and of itself speaks worlds given the man's typical level of propriety. He spits it at the feet of the manifestation of the Sending.

After that he turns to Nathan and nods, moving over to The Big Black bag. His coat jacket is removed and, despite the amount of haste one might expect given circumstances, he takes the time to fold it as neatly as possible before setting it down next to the bag.

Body armor. Military grade, for those with an eye for such things. No what most people expect in the kit bag of an entrepreneur, book store keeper, and ex-priest. It has a combat knife affixed to one side, a collapsible asp on the other. Small pouches affixed to it hold various foci and paraphernalia that would have other wise gone into costumed coat or jacket pockets; costumed pockets that is. His suits are tailored, if not flashy. One can never have too many secret pockets how ever.

After that the gun belt. A heavy, modern affair of nylon and clips that go over hips and waist, just under the line of the armor. Thigh sheathed drop holsters. Dual heavy revolvers. Speed loaders.

There are many things Solomon is good at, just as there are a great many thing he is not.

Sadly, violence is one of them.

"One man can hold the hallway. The danger is the open windows and the damaged doors and corner. Nathan... see which will be worse, if you can."

[Thomas Black] Thomas pulls the cigarette from his mouth, the smoke coiling from his nose. He understand getting the sending to feel remorse, but they had their big rant, was this bit not over yet. Well it was motor mouth Infoslut if anyone was going to have the last word it would be her. He puts the cigarette back in his mouth, sods law he won't get to finish it, but perhaps he would.

He takes a few more lungs fulls as he checks his sap gloves making sure there on tight, he wasn't going to lie if no-one showed now he would be a little disappointed, he has not had chance to beat the crap out of anyone in quite some time and at least he'd have a channel for all that jhor.

He takes a second from looking around to take in that black bag of Solomons, odds are it was full of guns and that this was going to turn into a massacre. In which case did he really want to put himself in the line of fire, he was sure the old timer didn't like him, and he did threaten to cut of Nathan bollocks.

He watches Solomon turn into the punisher and looks at his gloves he can't help but chuckle. He looks to Molly as she also wasn't being ordered about. He didn't go into group tactics much, but it was obvious he did not have the firepower or the actual gun training to be holding the main room.

"I'll hold the hallway." He wanders over that way, the smoke following him as it did.

[Arcanum] Towards Molly the response is a shift: From the accusations of something that considers itself a goddess, to something far more human. Vulnerable. A startling change and if it is blatant manipulation or misdirection it doesn't show: Golden eyes soften and Its feminine face takes on a visage of its own longings, its own hopes, its own sorrows...
"Those are the lies we've built. The convenient laws to keep us from the Dream. How simple, how easy, how suffocating the subtle path, the singular interest. My passion is the World. I offer it freely. What then of my passions? What then of my dreams?"

The last a whisper, fading away. Its face contorts into a grimace of sublime pain and again it seems to fade, to grow blurry around the edges... then strengthens. A cadence that continues as the rubble and ruin of the building echoes with the sound of a mournful keening: A mothers distress; a lovers weeping.

Lucien speaks up for the first time since this all started: His voice is rasping, his countenance utterly tied up to what he is Working. "Liz - bring Regina here. Stick close, whatever happens, 'less I give the word." He'd sworn, after all, that he'd see to the girls safety first and foremost: And it also enables the three of them to continue working over the Sending while the others face... whatever there is to face.

[Molly Quincannon] Molly has not been ordered around, no. She's not entirely sure why. Doesn't much care, either, though if asked (if there was time to ask), she might guess it had something to do with the fact that her words seem to be having the most direct effect. Perhaps it's not surprising. She is, after all, the Cultist of Ecstasy. She understands the rules by which this Sending was originally constructed better than the others. She believes in it. If anyone is going to press this thing, make it see the truth of what it's done, it will be her.

Plus, she's not exactly combat-goddess, even if she does insist that she can hold her own.

So, waiting for whatever orders might come her way, she keeps pressing. "No. The Code is not convenient. The Code is necessary, to keep our dreams from turning into their nightmares. Your Passion is the world? Look at what you've done. To the people you gave your poisonous 'gifts'. To this building, that once was someone's passion and purpose. To the city that is a part of this world. You've rent the world and made it bleed. If your passion is the world, you've rent your own Passion, and that of she who shaped you. Is that less a crime than the rest? I think it's more. What would Jolie Marcelle say to what she made? Would she weep? Would she destroy you? Would she help us? I think she would. As a member of her Tradition, I think she'd stand with us."

[Nathan Spriggs] There's a great deal of information that Nathan would like to get out if he could, but it just isn't a possibility. The great evil Spirit-construct-thing (...fuckin' spirits...) eavesdropping factor notwithstanding, there might be more confusion if he did than not. So he restraint himself to the absolute necessary, his voice just barely rises from the whisper it was before, to as much as the group as he can without getting the spirit's attention. "Mob. Three sides. Front, distraction. Back, real."

With those words, his own coat is unbuttoned to allow more flexibility to the rifle hidden under it, much as Solomon's own preparations save the knives or visible body armor.

[Solomon Ward] Solomon nodded, first to Thomas... .

He didn't know Thomas. had never fought beside him. He's been in places with Nathan that sane men don't go. They carried Molly out of a Nephandic liar together. They holed up in a cabin and gunned down every thing that tried to kill them that night. They've been, side by side, in a Labyrinth and come out (more or less whole...) again.

So he trusts Nathan. Thomas? Well, some things are a matter of faith. Some things you can't go on to do alone, no matter how much you might want to. McGowen's new lapdog had that much right, even if he didn't understand the context as to why Solomon won't work with some people.

Trust. In ability. In character. In competency.

So Thomas picks his place to take his stand and Solomon simply nods, before looking over Nathan's own preparations and giving another nod, more appreciation than acceptance in the gesture.

"&+1492;&+1505;&+1514;&+1499;&+1500; &+1489;&+1493;. &+1511;&+1495; &+1502;&+1492; &+1513;&+1488;&+1497; &+1508;&+1506;&+1501; &+1502;&+1488;&+1497;&+1497;&+1501; &+1506;&+1500; &+1500;&+1506;&+1489;&+1493;&+1512; &+1488;&+1493;&+1514;&+1497;."

[Thomas Black] He pushes open the swing doors and looks down the corridor admiring the major wall damage on either side, given enough time and will that could be repaired but he had neither, not now. He lets the door swing shut again as he opens it once more...three abreast tops, that was good, they couldn't mob him and also would limit gun fire past the initial charge. He hopes his shazam does get blocked by the sending, he hopes they don't have those bloody guns...He hopes he lives to have some lil' Tommy time later.

Three, maybe four abreast at a push, he could do that till the cows came home. He takes off the hoodie and drops it to the floor kicking it to the side "No need to get me smokes fucked" he had a black vest top on that was it, no armour. He needed to make sure he had less on to be grabbed. The cigarette was nearly burnt away as he cracks knuckles and tenses muscle. Thomas was a well built man. He keeps his handle on the swing door loose, if they busted in with guns he could swing it shut to make himself a harder target, and also use it as a weapon itself. He pulls a cigarette from the back of his ear (Did he have one there?) and then pulls his zippo from his pocket and lights up another, the last one dropped before him and left to carry on burning like it had a purpose.

Beware the hollow one and his fire sticks.

[Arcanum] "My creator? My creator?" Vehemence slips into the words again; anger through weeping. The burning golden gaze had wandered towards Lucien: It keeps going there now to the known source of that which is forcing its way inside of its Essence and pulling the threads apart therein. One by one. One by one. "What cared she but for her own misery? Her own sorrow? Her own pain? What of the scope of the Promise? What of the souls shattered because none of us," 'Us' - it says - as if It was, indeed, kin and comrade to those It has tormented among the rest. "None of us had the Vision to know the Cost for a Dream. What shallow dreamers, the Awakened. What selfish hoarders."

The unraveling is continuing and with its progress the Sendings form becomes more and more mercurial: Shifting strongest between the visage it prefers and that of the thinner, more athletic looking woman, with smile lines and crows feet and touches of dove white in ebony hair in a multitude of fine small braids. There are faces and appearances and genders inbetween but these are more fleeting.

But then... but then...
...the Sending rouses up and wails. "My children! My children! My beloved! Bring me my beloved!"

Shadows move: Figures in the darkness outside rushing now for the wreckage of the building in which they stand. The crush of glass and debris beneath many feet towards the front of the building where a whole corner and what was once the front doorway were blown down. In the back: A clatter clang of metal on tile floor - someone or something moving through the pitch darkness of the wrecked kitchens, towards the hallway.

[Molly Quincannon] Everyone else is scrambling. They're the combattants. And still no one's given her anything else to do but talk to this thing. And she's getting a little fed up with it. Because it is frankly nuts. But then again, Molly's dealt with worse trolls on the internet, so she perseveres unless and until someone tells her different. "If they're so beloved to you, why are you calling them into something that's going to get them hurt or worse? We're selfish? What about you? No aftercare for those you've thrown power at. No thought for the hurt you could cause. No guiding hand. Someone opened my eyes, long enough ago, and they stayed with me to make sure I was okay. It's not selfishness or hoarding; it's taking the time to do it right, you vacuous, impatient piece of Umbral spam!"

[Nathan Spriggs] Moving quickly, Nathan tries to stick the biggest pipe he can get in whatever door he can manage to, before attempt to reinforce it into a harder, less likely to snap material through some quick magical effort. Every little bit helped, especially with his current orders.

[Nathan Spriggs] [Matter 2, transmutation; diff 5 (-2 Resonance)]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 3)

[Solomon Ward] "Ms. Quincannon" he calls, almost casually. There's a certain etiquette to his larynx damaged voice, a tone of polite urgency as if calling her away from some thing important in order to do some thing else for the moment.

"Ms. Quincannon... in my bag, if you would. Side pouch, interior, facing you. There are several stone vials with cork stoppers. If you could, each of us could use one of those. They're of Israel's make. I believe you're familiar with them? Also, are you familiar with pistol ma'am?"

The vials would be exactly where he said they'd be. Other small pouches contain vials of oil, sea salt, shale chalk, a ruler, and various odds and ends required for ritual magic. There's also a hammer, a crow bar, screw driver, hack saw, two rolls of duct tape, three road flares, a sawed off shot gun of the two barrel variety, and a two liter bottle who's screw on top was taped and sealed rather crudely but effectively. It gives off a faint scent of gasoline.

But the stone vials are right where he said they'd be.

[Thomas Black] Thomas waits, smoking...thats what he does

[Arcanum] There's no response from the Sending this time: She cannot spare the effort. Yes: Anyone still looking at her can see that the Spirit Construct is mustering up the force of its Power to extend its Charms beyond the barriers that hold it contained: The magical barriers, the barriers engrained in the very creation it is. Lucien utters a low snarl of vulgarities that has Regina darting a look at him with something like awe and fascination even as the girl blushes.

They can feel it: The push and pull; the tug, the attempt of violation. Familiar - too familiar - to how it felt when this Construct severed their connections to their Avatars. For a moment, do they sweat?
What if it's all gone horribly, horribly wrong?
What if this wasn't enough?

A moments possible horror:
But it holds. At least, their connections hold.

Something else is building and brewing though. Something.

And from the front of the building the first of the mob.
Yes, a small mob, come to the defense of their mother. Their goddess. The shaven heads give them away: Men and women alike. Mostly men, but here and there feminine features. Some armed with knives, some with baseball bats, a crowbar... one even has, of all things, a pitch fork. The opening at the corner isn't large enough to allow them all entrance and they have to scramble over the jagged remnants of foundation stone. These aren't warriors.
These are true zealots.
The shout curses and threats; they scream like berserkers caught up int he frenzy of their task, their goal.

[Molly Quincannon] [[Initiative - +5]]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6

[Thomas Black] [Init + 6]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 7

[Nathan Spriggs] [Nate: 6]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1

[Solomon Ward] [Init +8]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9

[Arcanum] GI: +4
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 10

[Arcanum] G2: +6
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5

[Arcanum] G3: +8
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5

[Arcanum] [[Initiative:
Sol
G1
Tom
G3
Molly
Nate

[Arcanum] SOL, G1, TOM, G3, MOLLY, G2, NATE

[Nathan Spriggs] [Throwin' down a Holy Stroke targeting all 3 members of mob 2]

[Arcanum] G2: Not inside yet!

[Arcanum] G2: Attack Sol
Attack Nate

[Molly Quincannon] Molly's handed out healing charms before all this went down before moving to a reasonably clear area. She turned down the pistol - she's better with the weapon she has - and has moved to a clear spot because frankly, she needs room to use it. She faces the oncoming mob, mutters something under her breath ("ForceFeed - DA2 protocol - TB") and slams her staff hard on the ground. The point is to amplify the kinetic force of the blow out towards the three oncoming zealots, to at least knock them off-balance.

[[Slam and Forces 2 - amplify kinetic energy]]

[Arcanum] G3: Not visible.

[Thomas Black] [Carrying on trying to make the corridor full of smoke to give him the advantage]

[Arcanum] G1: Not visible!

[Solomon Ward] Free: "Gun's wont work"
Holster pistols.
Draw baton / knife (multi action?)
Wade into whatever comes at him.

[Solomon Ward] Attack 1: Baton, targeted strike (solar plexus) = +2 Diff, +2 Damage. Full pool (thank you ambidexterity)
Action x: 1 Action lost to weapons draw, highest dice pool (ambidexterity aside)
Attack 2 : knife, 7 = 2 actions = 5 (spent drawing), -1 for action =4 dice, dif 6.

Attack 1, baton.
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6 (Failure at target 8)

[Solomon Ward] (Figures)

Attack 2, Knife
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 6 (Failure at target 6)

[Thomas Black] This was like every football match he went too, every firm he ran with, find a place gold up and take on the enemy, it all works the same even if there coming for a would be god "COME AN 'AVE A GO IF YOU THINK YER 'ARD E'NUFF!" Thomas howls to the crowds, perhaps they might halt, perhaps not but he feels that old feeling coming back, his heart pounding, his blood pumping but that sensation...he feels it, just a spark but holds on to it as he also works his effect.

Extended Diff 5]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 4, 6 (Success x 1 at target 5)

[Molly Quincannon] [[Vulgar (damndamndamn) -1 practiced, -1 focus, -1 quint so diff 3, blowing a WP - hail Kasheeno!]]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 4 (Success x 1 at target 3) [WP]

[Nathan Spriggs] With Solomon's well-timed comment and his own senses, Nathan has given up on the rifle long before there's any real time spent on aiming or even drawing it out. Instead, using the sigils carved into the inside of his gloves and coat, his concentration shifts to a channeling of primordial energy, pure Quintessence at his finger tips. Not his first choice of weaponry but effective no less... Nothing like a bolt of pure divine energy to clean this mindless rabble.

[Holy Stroke; diff 6 (vulgar); (Resonance -1, rote -1, focus -1, Resonance +1); 1 for effect, 3 to target, rest for dam, extending as needed]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 5, 5, 8 (Success x 4 at target 4) [WP]

[Arcanum] G1: Attack Sol -
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 5, 6, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Arcanum] Damage:
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 3, 4, 6, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)

[Solomon Ward] Soak [3 Stam + 3 armor + 3 from force shield hahahahahaha.... hahahahaha... hahaha... dont jinx this ok]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Arcanum] Attack Nate:
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 2, 5, 5, 6, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Arcanum] Damage:
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 5, 5, 5, 5 (Botch x 2 at target 6)

[Nathan Spriggs] [Dox]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 4, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Nathan Spriggs] [Soak]

[Holy Stroke again]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 6 (Failure at target 6)

[Arcanum] The first three through the wall... don't fair well. That much is clear once Nathan's Holy Stroke slams through them. Their bodies are slowed, they register the shock of the force in their eyes... but it barely slows them down even though it's clear the damage is proficient. Bleeding in flesh and Pattern both, they still push on, ignoring pain and serious injury: Obviously their potency and tolerance for pain has been amplified though whether through mystical means, drugs or simply the voracity of their maddened belief is unclear.

With a baseball bat, a crowbar and a cast iron skillet [the woman wielding it middle aged, muscular of the arms, more vehement in her ire than even the men with her] they continue wailing on Solomon and Nathan.

[Molly Quincannon] It's taken hold, but it's not enough. So if at first you don't succeed ... Well, if you're the Little Search Engine That Could, you try, try again.
I think I can, I think I can, I think I can...
"Hey! Pick on someone your own species!"

[[Extending]]

[Arcanum] The opening at the corner cleared by the group ahead, the second wave enters. Two men and two women this 'pack' of four. One with a machete, the other three with knives in each hands of various build and length. With the first wave concentrating on the men, this one swarms like angry ants, taking in Solomon at the edge and Molly at the other.

[[Attack Sol. Attack Molly]]

[Thomas Black] 1a) Hit the first person through the smoke in the head
2a) Hit the second person through the smoke in the head
Ambidextrous
All head shots so plus 1 diff but therefore damage is lethal

[Arcanum] The smallest group - a duo - moves through the kitchens...
Thomas is no doubt expecting adults, of course. Adults rampage and war, yes?
The two forms moving through the smoke are not adults.
Maybe midgets?
Will Tom notice in time to adjust the arch of his attack?

Whether he notices or not they stand there where the smoke clears. A boy and a girl. The boy is, what? Twelve? The Girl... slightly older? Lithe and not yet showing any signs of puberty fully kicking in. In street clothes, grimy hair, dirtied faces and hands. Dark smudges. Wide eyed and small smiles, limpid and serene.

"We've come for our mother."

[[Action: Give Tom a surprise.]]

[Thomas Black] (Per & alert)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 6, 8 (Failure at target 7)

[Solomon Ward] Solomon gets the weapons out in a fashion most hasty and takes a few swings, though admittedly they're mostly to cause panic and doubt than any thing else. Nothing really connects, including a strike towards a man's chest and a random slash with the knife.

He's buying time. Blocking the area with his body and the threat of himself more than doing any actual damage, yet.

"Seriah!"

Not the shout will make much sense to any one else.
An Angel. An Avatar. A guide. The reflection of ones own idealizations, or some thing more complex.
Whatever it is, it has been with him for a long time. More centuries and more lives than he can remember with clarity. More certain deaths than he wants to remember with clarity. He's come to terms with that. That the Heaven the Church teaches may not be the Heaven that exists, or his destiny.

It gives him life times to draw on. Literally.

[Past Lives, Melee]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 7, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 8) [WP]

[Thomas Black] [WP spent]
He was going to go for the head, he awaits and then the vertically challenged step through...
They want there mum...but she is not there mother, she is a sending.
There only kids...but if he is too gentle they will get past him, nimble lil' things...
It echos back to what he said to the sending, but if they get past they could break the circle, break the seal. He remembers being there age, the beatings.

"If you 'member this later in life, know I 'ad no choice." He falls to one knee hands come out as he punches them both, one with each hand in the chest.

"Wen I go to 'ell I'll burn fuckin' well."

(- 1 diff on each child....come on, I have to use my rote....)

[Thomas Black] Child a
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 6, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 5 at target 5)

[Thomas Black] Crap reroll 10's
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5 (Success x 1 at target 5)

[Thomas Black] Child b
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1

[Thomas Black] Child a Damage...don't die
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 5, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Thomas Black] Child b Damage, shit I think the first one might die
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 7, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Arcanum] [[Soak]]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 6, 6, 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Arcanum] [[Soak]]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Arcanum] G3: Attack Sol.
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 9, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Molly Quincannon] [[Extending, diff up to 4]]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 7 (Failure at target 4)

[Arcanum] G3: Damage for Sol
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 6, 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Solomon Ward] [Imma chargin' my lazor! - Soak lethal 3 armor + 2 rote]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Arcanum] G3: Attack Molly.
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 4, 6, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Arcanum] G3: Damage for Molly.
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Molly Quincannon] [[Soak, +1 for Forces shield. Come on, Kasheeno, you OWE me.]]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 3, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Molly Quincannon] [[Okay, in actual order this time. C'mon, Kasheeno. Make the lethal worth something!]]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 4, 7 (Success x 2 at target 4)

[Molly Quincannon] [[And 'Dox... Highest Sphere + 1 for vulgar + 1 for 1 extension...]]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 6, 7, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Molly Quincannon] [[...Ow... Soak.]]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 6, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Nathan Spriggs] WP to change actions...

Whipping around to the second group of mindless wastes of flesh known as cultists (without the capital C), Nathan began preparing to unleash a second slam of primordial energy upon their frail, fleshy bodies. Teach 'em a good lesson or two about idol worship...

[Holy Stroke; diff 6 (vulgar), (-2 total)]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 8, 10 (Success x 1 at target 4)

[Nathan Spriggs] [Extending Holy Stroke]

[Nathan Spriggs] ['dox]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 3, 5 (Failure at target 6)

[Molly Quincannon] It's a little hard to focus when someone's whaling on you with something (probably) sharp. So now that the first wave's dealt with, she can deal with her actual attacker. First move you learn in bojutsu classes? Quarterstaff to the head.

[[Hitting the person hitting her.]

[Arcanum] The four wielding various sharp objects press on. If there is any concern for the ones fallen around them it doesn't show in the slightest. Everyone is in the thick of it now and they are not picky with where their blows land....

[[G3: Attack Solomon, Molly and Nathan]]

[Thomas Black] "Stay down..." There not down, not normal children, they are just empowered, but still kids. for once he is thankful he has jhor, makes the guilt easier to deal with....
Daddy's giving a beating

1A: Hit the boy
2A: hit the girl
(-1 on the boy
-2 on the girl...well it is my rote)

[Arcanum] They feel the blows, there's no doubt about it. There's sucked in breathes and eyes that go all the wider, mouths agape. At first there is innocent hurt in those eyes...
...then the inky, oily black flecks surge over the whites and the irises.
Then the mouths stretch wider, jaws opening beyond the normal human limits of intact joints.
Hands raise: Not to shield themselves but to curl up like rakes, talons sprouting in place of nails, blood gushing out with each tearing wound.

They attack as one.

-----------
[[Attack: Bite/claw at Tom.
Spending 1 Power each to activate Paralyzing touch. Successful attack means Tom is paralyzed for 1round]]

[Solomon Ward] Some times...

Some times I wish, just a little, that there were enough decent people in the world that this wouldn't be necessary. How many of these people are in it for the tangible power? And how many because there is so little to believe in in this world... that they'll believe in anything with more substance than faith?

I'd care, perhaps, if they weren't standing between me and Israel... .

He takes blows. Blows that rebound from body armor or the shield interwoven into it, around it. None do enough to stagger him. It's a violent whirlwhind of feints and strikes and blows that come after. He doesn't bother picking targets distinctly. There's too many with too wide an array of make shift weapons and hand held objects to prioritize.

A man gets to close and Solomon takes a swing for his head.
A woman in the crowd edges in, and he reverses the baton into her midriff.
The knife? The knife is less picky, defensive almost. Underhand slashes that reach out to cut and stab and tear at indiscriminate limbs and bodies of indiscriminate people.
The baton offers a little reach, but the potential to over extend, to leave a gap, the potential to push in, where he one of them... so he fills it with the blade for ever tries.

[Atk 1, full dice (Thank you ambidexterity - Targeted head, +2 Diff,]
[Attk 2, Baton, 11-3 = 8
Attk 3 = Knife, 7
Attack 4, knife, 6]

Attack 1 Roll
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 5, 8, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 8)

[Solomon Ward] Attk 1 Damage Str 2 + 1 (club)+ head +1 + 2 extra sux =
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 4, 6, 6 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Solomon Ward] Atk 2 (Bashing this time)
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Solomon Ward] Str2 + 1 Club + 5 extra sux
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Solomon Ward] Knife 1 attack
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Solomon Ward] Knife damage Str 2 + 1 knife + 3 extra
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 6, 6, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Solomon Ward] Knife 2 attack
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 6 (Failure at target 6)

[Arcanum] [[Kids Attack Tom. -1 Diff, close range.]]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 4, 7, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 5)

[Arcanum] [[Damage - Lethal]]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 4, 4, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Thomas Black] [Block, rote minus -3 so diff 5]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 4, 7, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 5) [WP] Re-rolls: 1

[Thomas Black] [Rerolling above]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 6, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 7) [WP]

[Nathan Spriggs] [Holy Stroke; diff 6 - 2, y'know the drill]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 6, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 4)

[Arcanum] Once Solomon truly enters the fray he makes impressive [gruesome?] work of the four attacks still hurling themselves at himself, Nathan and Molly. A matter settled when Nathan polishes off another Holy Stroke, taking down the last of them. It leaves the three of them able to turn and take in what is going on on Tom's end of the deal. At first glance it would seem the Hollow One is doing his level best to pummel panicked children to death. Soon enough, though, it's clear that the preteens are nothing at all normal. They won't go down, as much as Tom wails on them, though their bodies become broken and mangled. They froth spittle and blood and noxious green ooze, forcing Tom to spend his effort blocking their teeth and talons...
...but he's doing it. He's holding them off and that is worth something.

Nathan and Solomon can see what is 'wrong' with them. The viscous, repugnant, malignant spirits riding these once-children like the worst parasites. Nathan may only see it as a nightmare. Solomon knows it has a name beyond simple possession: Fomori. Fomori happen by happenstance, of course.
Sometimes, though... sometimes - too often - they are created.

With the four of them concentrating their efforts they'll manage to take the monstrous once-children down.

Leaving them free to once more survey what is going on with the Sending, with Lucien and Elizabeth and Regina. Regina is asleep or unconscious, one of the two. Perhaps Lucien spared a precious moment to spare the ten-year-old from the horrors going on. Lucien himself is drenched with sweat and pale as death. He is supported by Elizabeth by now. It's been too damned long since he's worked Magic this fucking powerful. It's been too damned long and done too damned rapidly all things considered and Reality is sapping the life out of him for it. But he's managing...

...and the Sending? Diminished now to the point of being see-through, to the point of being less than half her usual manifested size. She is prostrate now within the barrier of the Circle, waning and broken down. Less the pseudo-Indian goddess now and far more a replica of the Cultist who created her. And then not even that: Formless light and spiritual ephemera. Broken down to what she was supposed to be. A spiritual construct. A messenger service, built to move rapidly from the Horizon realms to the real world. And in the last moments of Its unmaking it Remembers...

"A message for Aoife McNamarra." the voice is reedy and thin now. Ethereal and barely-there. "The last message from Jolie: My Beloved..." fading out.. just when they think the message will not be given in full though, it continues. "She betrayed us all. For years. Rebecca Wheldon plays three sides. I don't know which is more impressive: That she tricked us or the 'Crats. I just don't know. It's on you to let it be known, now. I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry..."

"I'm so sorry..."

Alien and detached is the last: As if it wonders what those words might be. Might really mean.

It fades to near nothingness.
Lucien breathes a haggard: "Watch out!"
He is fumbling open a page to pull out a vase that Tom will recognize.

A surge, a bar, a massive column of light erupts from the middle of the stage. From it spews forth forms of light and darkness and all shades and hues in between. Forms that shift from one human look to another, from one gender to another. A Thousand lives played out in over a dozen shards that fly skyward through the damaged room, filling the night air with an awesome force that churns against Reality, forcing out a shock wave that topples the gathered over, a tantrum but not quite the Paradox they might expect. Not fully at least. Lucien manages to keep hold of the vase though...
...the same forms of lights cascade back down and rush to flow into the opening the vase that glows and hums with creations energy.

"Safe." Lucien says.
"She's safe." He seems.. numb for a moment. And then he sags, as if all of the energy just drains out of him. For all of it they can soon make out that the wheezing sound.. is soft laughter.
"They're safe."

[Molly Quincannon] She wants to ask what those names mean, but she can look them up later. For now, despite the bruising and the cut on one arm and having to pick herself up out of debris, there's one thing Molly has to do, because she doesn't think anyone else is going to do it.

She picks herself up, dusts herself off as she walks over to Lucien, and gives him a hug. "Thou art miraculous," she says, very quietly. Then, with a look up at the assembled - Regina included - she finishes it. "So are we all."

[Thomas Black] Thomas took little satisfaction of using his well honed boxing skills on children, but when they became demon children that changed, he hammered and smashed until someone told him they could be saved or he saved them himself by ending it.

As for the rest, he remembers the names spoken and the message, this was a piece of history he was hearing, there was something to be said for that. When Lucien pulls out the vase he turns to the person next to him about to tell them he got that when he is knocked off his feet.

From whatever spot he rises up from, to hear that it is over, that everyone is saved that would include Israel. He moves back over to the hallway he picks up his hoodie, he pulls out a cigarette and lights it and then without a word to anyone he wanders away like he never really belonged here.

[Solomon Ward] Solomon is a man that is always some what pensive after excessive violence. Not quite morose, but all the same, its only in the moments of hindsight and reflection afterwords that one can sit back and judge whether or not what they did was right or wrong. Violence is always the easy answer, and so often the permanent answer.

But this? Spirit melded children... it happens. But to Children? What would they have to have gone through for it to be coincidental? The mention of a betrayer settles it... Some where in the middle of all of this, some one has been played.

He lifts an arm, the one holding the baton, to shield his eyes at the release of the shards of souls that the Sending had held. His Second Sight still active, it creates a nearly acetic burn in his vision. Too much, too quickly.

And some thing else... A sense of connection to some one some where else. A person who, through bonds of sorcery and trust and love, is an extension of himself. A sense of direction, a sense of mental state. Still umbral, but free.

He holsters the weapons and glances about. First over the bodies. Then to the child that was bait. Lucien. Molly. The stranger he doesn't know. Nathan, and Thomas who leaves with out a word.

"They're free. Israel is alive.. The others... I can't say from here, but I don't detect any severe anguish from her... . There are things that need doing. I'll contact you in three days."

He hurries for the bag, not quit rushing to remove the armor and gun belt and hide the sweat and blood stained shirt with his coat, but close enough.

Israel is alive. They will require a beacon.