2013.10.07 - Chimera of Souls

Spiderfeast. Wormbone. Rotbrow.

The Chimera of Souls has been eating whatever it can find as it dragged itself through the Earth. Subterranean creatures mostly, and occasionally animals and people who stood upon the ground.

Deathspeech. Carrionbreather.

The magic that let the terrible monster exist in this world was weakening. Taking bits and pieces from its victims was a stop-gap measure, not a solution.

Bileblood.

Words of Power from a Necromantic language invented and spoken by a deathless sorceress to kill the capacity for the Things from that awful Other realm to sustain themselves on Earth remained in force. Whether she hadn't bothered to consider they might try to stave off their impending deaths or just hadn't cared, the Chimera knew not and comprehended not. It was a native of that Other place, and any capacity for thought it possessed was closer to a beast's than a person's. And even that was twisted.

Maggotfingers.

It is night in Charon, North Gotham. In desperation, the Chimera -- now a massive centipede-like creature composed of numerous body parts, due to its diet of late -- has come across Memorial Cemetery and decided to consume the dead rather than those it has slain. As it digs up the corpses with hundreds of hands, claws, horns, and mouths, and then eats them, its power increases. The impressions of the dead are absorbed into its warped body -- but not their life essence, which is what the Chimera is really after.

Moldgums.

Thus, even as its power rises, sending out waves of energy detectable on a number of levels, and even as its roars and screams and bleating and chittering and all the rest echo louder and louder until they carry in every direction, echoing off buildings, across the water, howling between the trees, and making everyone in a considerable radius aware there's a monster on the loose... Said monster is already dying.

The night is cold, the wind barely there, and the air is filled with the cries of many many many people and creatures all melded together in an unholy conglomeration of incomplete fragments. Somewhere in all the infinite planes, Things from a certain Other realm can hear the death cries of one of their own. And they start trying to force their way through.

Martin Kavanaghwas done playing games, and certainly done dancing around with anything civilian that could mask it's presence aganist them. Though, there were some benefits. There were few FAA controllers to worry about the transponders on helicopters, at this point; even if someone did catch them, he'd at least taken the precaution of dressing them up in an electronic and physical livery of the New Jersey National Guard. Few people would wonder why /they/ had two military utility transport helicopter flying about, skimming the treetops.

They might question the fact that the 'wings' of the UH-60 types were strapped down with something other than fuel tanks. Rocket and minigun pods weren't normally seen on training manuevers. But as Martin had told himself again and again, sitting with the well-armed combat unit he had scoruged together from every avalible agent in Gotham (and a handful from Metropolis, for good measure). He was done playing games.

Martin keyed in on the radio, linking him into the pilots of the two birds. "It's here. We've heard it, we're getting reports, and the drones have it locked down. I don't want it melting into the goddamn ether again. The Police aren't handling this, the territorials aren't being mobilized, and Superman doesn't cross the fucking river, so this is up to us. It's midnight at a cemetary, so we shouldn't have to worry about civilian casualities. Everyone down there is already dead, and whatever damage that creature is doing will cover ours. No half measures. We're killing this thing tonight."

Some things aren't exactly... subtle. Some are crazy subtle. Sure, folks can hear wails for miles. But some people who tend to stick themselves in a forge where the only thing they can hear is the roaring of the fire, and the banging of hammer on steel... wouldn't hear a grenade going off just outside the front door. However, when a latent psionic is consumed by the entity, the energetic cry pierced into Brynn's head and made her crumple to her knees. In moments, she has a duffel bag packed, and is out the door. Once outside, she levitates right up into the air to soar unerringly towards the source of the scream. Some folks arrive dramatically, but others... like Brynn, simply descend from the sky, psi-illusions cloaking her from the senses of others while she recconoiters the area, her duffel bag silently landing on the ground beside her.

Princess Amethyst saw a great many things in Hell. She saw things that were too absurd to be fearful of. She saw the Devil who might just be A Devil and still feels anxious when what he said comes to mind. She saw people come together to help her and accomplish the impossible.

She saw Rain look terrified.

The witch had done well. She pulled her weight and was never a burden. Her pistols may have made her look like an action star, but she was really just a person. What's a normal person to do in Hell?

Amethyst is sure she's projecting--she was scared too. Watching the people she called together doing so well against such odds was weirdly fulfilling, but it's not how she wanted to spend her Friday night. Maybe Rain is more familiar with this stuff than she let on and is handling it just fine.

If it were Amethyst, though, she'd be glad if someone else took care of things for her. She'd love it.

The chimera is even sending out its own little sidequest beacon. Ping, ping, I'm here. Come take care of me before you move on. I might expire soon.

The princess steps through a portal, an oblong rift in the air right in the middle of the cemetery, between rows of disturbed tombstones. She wrinkles her nose before her foot even hits the ground. "Ugh. Corpse chimera. Maybe I should have--" no, don't think that. It sounds wounded. Maybe this won't be difficult.

The Chimera's spiritual 'flesh' festers. As more is added to the already-rotten amalgam body, it only intensifies the speed at which it all rots and falls apart. Insects, mammals, it didn't matter. Hundreds of spider legs twitched in their death throes, countless eyes turned grey and glassy, many more mouths fell slack even as blood poured from said maws. It barely seemed to be aware of those closing in on it. Or, if it was aware, it wasn't responding to them with the same ferocity it had before. When Amaya arrives, however, the entire 30 foot long behemoth turns, flinging tombstones without intending to, ploughing up grave dirt, trampling tall grass and weeds and scarring iron fences with acid blood. It turns to face her in particular. Maybe it is having a hard time focusing on the incoming helicopters, maybe it is blind to the psychic illusions being employed by Brynn, but this Chimera still has a keen sense for the one thing that can save it, and not just forestall its demise.

Magic.

Suddenly, the dying thing is thundering towards the magical princess with an energy and intensity that most dying things don't tend to have. Alligator maws, bear paws, eagle eyes, snake tails, and roach legs.

And somehow, in the midst of all this, the dull sound of something banging in the background, like there's a door somewhere nearby and someone is trying to force it open, wars with the cacophony of animal noises and human screams.

Martin Kavanagh didn't know that there were superheroes on the ground; certainly, if he'd know that there /was/ an interdimensional Princess on the ground of that cemetary, he might have pulled back enough for a more conservative approach. Then again... maybe he wouldn't have. This thing had already killed a number of people, and he didn't care if it seemed to be in it's final moments. He was going to make sure it was dead, and... really, if possible, burnned. This would be incredibly hard to cover up, but things had come to this.

The helicopters skirt over the tree tops, over buildings, and pop into the cemetary. One of them, the one with Martin, hovers off to the side as the ropes stream down from it, and SHIELD agents rapell down. That would take a minute or two.

The other helicopter wasn't waiting. It moved it's collective, angled itself down, adjusted it's rocket pods, and started firing a long, long salvo. The rockets themselves were 70 millimeter, set to detonate in blazing flashes of white phosphourous. If the creature was /living/, it probably didn't appreciate being burned.

The sheer magnitude of the creature, the utter alienness of it causes Brynn to mutter aloud, "Would that the Valkyr were here to fight by my side...." And as she speaks, the bag opens there on the ground, pieces of gleaming almost chrome appearing armor floating up to afix themselves about her body. Back and breast, right sleeve of scales and chain, greaves, thigh plates, a skullcap helm, as well as a small shield for the left arm. Then she opens her hand and a sword... well made, not overly ornate or decorative... floats up into her grip as well as a belt with a pair of short swords for backup which fastens about her waist. So it is that she starts to step forward, to let the glamor fade, when the strafing run begins. She stutter steps to a stop and lifts her shield. Normal steel would not so much as slow down the power of those weapons... but her steel is anything but normal. So she is moving quickly as she charges in with her sword in the lead, and phosphorous rounds deflecting from her shield and armor pieces, a few hitting -her- but not really burning so much as just leaving burn marks. They likely don't feel good, no, but... she's determined and she attempts to ... cut to the heart of the matter... the hard way.

"Dude," Amethyst says, unable to hear herself over the cacophony. It's impossible to tell how close the thing is. Magically, this entire place is saturated. The roars and shrieks and screams seem to come from every direction at once and from no particular range. It's definitely been through here.

The ground rumbles and doesn't stop. It's still around. The sudden rush of fetid air is a hint--the princess whirls on her heel, already stepping backward and away while conjuring a glittering blade with a sweeping gesture. The beast comes!

It is definitely the worst thing Amethyst has ever seen. Ever. She backpedals a few more steps, choking on her attempts to not vomit. When that's under control, her retreat becomes more graceful. When her feet leave the ground, the wind catches her and carries her further away. Enough space to summon up something really nasty--

--or white phosphorus. The terrible thing about monsters screaming with a thousand mouths is that it makes it really hard to hear helicopters rolling in. "THIS SUCKS," the princess laments, gesturing toward the ground. It writhes and coils underneath her, snakelike, bearing her into the air on a pillar of stone and soil.

Up here, there's no risk of splash back. It also affords Amethyst a great view of SHIELD agents swarming like someone kicked their nest. "Really sucks," she confirms.

The bad thing about being a half-dead monster screaming with a thousand mouths is you can't hear the helicopters over your own voice any better than the person you're attacking. The monster endures a severe pummeling from the missiles, practically being cut in half by the detonations alone. As flames spread up and down its foetid tissue, an awful black... SOMETHING bleeds out of the injuries. It doesn't spill like liquid, drift like gas, or otherwise act in a manner consistent with known states of matter. It hurts the eyes just to look at it. The half that was charging at Amaya continues its forward motion -- albeit much less quickly, much more awkwardly, and on a haphazard path that tries to take it towers the tower with the meandering of something that's navigating by something other than sight -- even as it burns. Then it inverts itself. The flesh just rearranges, melds into each other, turns inside-out, and smothers the burning beneath a dozen feet of overlapping rot and pustulent ooze.

The stump where half its body has been cut away continues to bleed that strange energy or whatever it is. If it were healthier, it might be able to close up the wound by rearranging itself. As it is, its only hope is to eat the magic user. Then it can heal. And still on fire, the remaining less-than-half of the monster that was seperated from the other half continues to writhe and scream on the ground, and then turn its attention on its attackers, and anyone else nearby -- like the one with the shiny metal equipment that stands out thanks to the glow of the flames that covers the creature. The woman who plans to fight in melee with it. Well, that's fine. It doesn't have the presence of mind to worry about the fact she has a sword or really anything. Danger. Prey. Kill.

It staggers, dozens of human feet enlarged beyond the proportions of their original owners -- some fat, some thin, some muscular adults, some clearly the underdeveloped appendages of children -- all rise and fall near-mechanically as this squashed and burning segment of the Chimera attacks those on the ground, snapping mouths, slashing with claws, squirting corrosive toxins from eyes, and breathing out the most rank miasma imaginable. It's clearly injured. These attacks are NOT ineffective.

But neither half are quite ready to die.

Somewhere nearby, the air goes a bit convex. It's like there's a dent in reality. In the dark, and amidst all this chaos, it'd be easy to overlook. Something bangs from the Other side of that dent, and the indentation becomes more pronounced.

Brynn's blade cuts through the layers of flesh and muscle and fat and chitin, though because of just how MANY layers there are, and the apparent lack of vital organs, it doesn't seem a fatal injury has been inflicted quite yet. But any pieces cut away from the main body -- or this half of it, anyway -- do not continue moving around. They smoke with a ghostly vapor and gradually disappear, bit by bit, infact. So as the forge worker carves into the creature, no matter how much or how little, she's reducing it to a more manageable size.

The troops on one helicopter had been disgorged, now, moving across to the fence of the cemetary. It doesn't take long for the trained agents to make their way over, around, or /through/ it (thank you, shapped explosives), and take cover behind larger monuments to Gotham's dead. Martin, of course, is near the center, peering from around it... and noticing some very... very peciular things. "Mortis 1, this is Geiger. I see that we now have two targets to worry about, and I see one unknown metahuman in scene. Confirm and issue a warn off."

There's a brief pause, and a broadband, shortrange message goes over a number of radio signals; it would probably be hard pressed to go 200 yards away. "Any and all forces operating in Gotham Memorial Cemetary. This is an offical operation. Withdraw immediatly to a safe distance and follow the orders of all uniformed personel." No word on /who/ was running it, of course, before the helicopter switches back to an encrypted band. "Mortis 1, boss. I see two unknown combatants from my vantage point. Facial recognition is giving us nil right now."

As the helicopter falls back, there's a scream on the net, as one of the agents on the outer edge gets splaced with acid, body smoking and burning in an acrid stench. "Fire at will!" Martin yells, into the comm, as the th-THUNK of grenade launchers and the varrible beam of fire of continious incendaries fire at the half of the creature coming for them and Brynn. The first helicopter breaks off, the second moving to take it's place, but there's a brief window where no fire is heard. At least the helicopter that was taking positon was empty... The pounding, unfortunatly, can't be heard over the gunfire or the focused troops. SHIELD was prepared for a lot, but Gotham station didn't have any mages on hand. They were fighting something the only way they knew how... and it may not be the best way.

Okay, she's cut her way into the thing but... it's not a living being. She punched her hand and sword into a mass of the flesh and tried to get a feel for its lifeforce so she could tweak it and make it weaker but... this thing isn't -really- alive. No life signs. That confused Brynn for a moment. But only for a moment. Perhaps the mortal had the right idea. Now that she is -inside- the creature, she pulls her arms in close and charges up. Anyone who could see her would see a corona of golden energy starting to emenate from her exposed flesh, her eyes, fingertips... and then she then throws her arms out and virtually explodes. Rather than a focused beam of heat from hands or eyes, the energy is spewing omnidirectionally.... she's trying to vaporize as much of the creature as possible, as fast as possible. She's going to need some downtime after -this- one, that's for sure... Here and there, golden beams of light looking almost like the sun breaking through a cloudy day, can be seen streaming out from where the body melts out of the way... it would be beautiful were it not so... grotesque.

Amethyst continues to weave her tower. It lurches away precariously when the half still searching for her gets too close, but something this size can't evade that many feet for long. Luckily, the chimeralette is busy outdoing itself in being the grossest thing and isn't immediately climbing after her.

The princess' sword fades with a sparkle, leaving her hands free. No way she's getting in melee. That other figure--another SHIELD agent?--seems to be doing just fine and great for her. No need to squeeze another combatant in, even if it's a completely different section. Yeah. Good reason.

"By the Amethyst Tower of Nilaa, I am gonna mess you up," she mutters, leaning over the edge and leading with her hands.

She weaves a graceful but invisible web. The ground splits and tears, disgorging fantastic structures of purple crystal. Gemstone fingers curl upward from the ground, attempting to seize the half-beast, trapping it in widening domes and walls.

They are not gentle. If that doesn't work, the claws come out. Spikes and skewers, hooks and blades, ripping and tearing and pulling and dissecting.

Half again, half again. The half-monster is cut to pieces by the stream of bullets and exploding grenades, but it keeps thrashing and fighting. The lack of vital organs really makes it hard to kill it, but the half-monster has been reduced to three 1/6th monsters too incomplete to really be effective threats except at close range. Which no one is dumb enough to enter into. Well, Brynn carved her way into the creature's body while the deluge of firepower was being poured on, but even as the walls of rot and blood surrounding her form new mouths on the inside of its body to try to bite her, she's already unleashing a powerful heat-based attack that makes teeth crack and shatter, flesh burn, the few bones isolated to appendages char, chitin grey and rupture, scales roast, and fur and feathers just combust outright. The flames spread to the fragments that were cut into the three smaller, mostly-immobile monsters, and the whole thing just starts vanishing into wisps of that same rapidly-disappearing vapor that obeys no natural air currents.

Soon, the half of the Chimera attacking the SHIELD agent and Asgardian, as well said Chimera's sub-parts and all other bits and pieces, have been completely destroyed.

The air smells like a mix of death, dense smoke, and cooked meat.

Eyes start to form on the original Chimera's inverted flesh, veins growing centipede-like legs, pink-hued tissue splitting into feral displays of teeth and fangs, and as it starts applying its weight to the tower that Amaya is perched atop, purple crystal erupts from the ground and grasps the monster, impaling it and forcing its rotted husk to spill more stolen flesh and that awful black... Whatever that is. That not-energy that corrodes everything it touches. Even the purple crystal might seem stained by it -- sullied by contact with something so foul. But then the crystal produces blades and hooks and skewers and tears it apart until much like its other half, there's just not enough holding it together that it can continue to exist. The flesh all turns to ghost-vapor -- pieces torn from the souls of people and animals warped beyond recognition. Maybe they're going to their original owners, wherever they may be. Maybe they'll find peace. Or maybe they've been changed so much that they can't find their way home on their own.

Whatever the case, they're no longer the problem of those gathered here. But that black energy hasn't gone away. And that IS a problem still. It floats in the air, a ball -- or maybe a hole? It's really unclear, since eyes sting just LOOKING at it. The Thing, whatever it is, is still here. The core of the Chimera. And right before everyone's eyes, it diminishes as it tries and fails to escape. It wavers like a pool of blood that has been disturbed. Then it collapses into itself and is gone.

The sounds don't stop though.

The sounds like something clawing at the walls of reality. The banging as that odd distortion in the air some distance away becomes more prominent.

There's something Outside. A tear opens just a little bit. And the most hideous pale light that seems to diminish the life and color of all it touches rather than illuminating it escapes. And on the other side of the tear, there is an Eye. An Eye ringed with Teeth.

The Thing, and several others jockeying for position as they try to force open the tear a bit more, make sounds not unlike the Chimera did. A tongue made of oil tries to slip through the opening, tracking unerringly towards Amaya. Half-way to her, the tongue starts sloughing off of itself and disintegrating not unlike that mote of corruption that had been the core holding the Chimera together. What's left of the tongue retreats into the hole. More growls and screams of animals and beings that have never ever ever set foot in this universe or any other echo for awhile.

The display is surreal, and coming right after a fight of this nature, worrisome. But then the creatures on the Other side seem to become quieter, and more distant. And the air slowly closes, and stitches itself shut.

The awful smells of the felled monster remain.

Martin's people on the ground continue firing, of course. As it burns, and splits, and burns, and burns more with the massive burst of energy from the woman that wasn't on a giant pillar of crystal. The immediate threat was dying quickly, losing offensive power even as the second helicopter brought it's rockets to bear. Martin took some time to get on the radio. "Team 2 remains embarked! If this thing runs again, I need someone to chase it down!" He says, before whistling and pointing at an Agent, then at the creature. The agent's one of the ones with a rocket launcher of course, and it's charge is an advanced one; mini-thermobarics that detonate in a wisp of fuel and then a large explosion, a shockwave felt nearby as they burn another one, and another one... And then, finally, those enemy's seem to melt away. Including the one after the monster on the pillar.

But the sound was still there, as Martin turnned around... and saw reality just making a hole in itself. "Jesus!" He said, as the helicopter pulling back with it's crew turned toward it, it's pilot swearing a panicked explative, before Martin could yell desperately through the radio. "Hold your fire! HOLD YOUR FIRE! Those rockets will over fly! Let it get out here and engage-"

But that was enough, it seemed, as the monster inside that slice of Hell screamed in pain, and that hole, that damned hole, stictched itself shut.

As Martin turned to look at the others who had just killed the creature, most of his mind working on damage control, he couldn't help but ask himself how long that hole would remain sealed.

Well, the Asgardian isn't from Asgard. She's just been mistaken for an Asgardian many times. Her power is not magical at all, it's pure genetics... well genetics combined with what some have called a minor portion of the 'power cosmic'. She just expelled a goodly portion of her energy reserves... and when the half she was inside vaporized, she's standing there, a sillhouette against the brillaince of her expelling energy. (anyone seen The Matrix? When Agnt Smith explodes and Neo is standing there as just a shape in the light?) The whole she-bang, so to speak... and when the energy stops emitting, it's suddenly evident that she has been screaming the whole time she emitted it... but she points her hands, and energy flows from eyes, mouth, and hands in a focused stream towards that tear in space. A single pulse... then she is spent, done, finito, and she falls to her knees.... exhausted.

Princess Amethyst turns her head. She can feel the thing writhing in the gemstone prison. She doesn't have to look at it. The bladed embrace the creature is trapped in tightens as its creator closes her fist.

She closes her eyes and squeezes her fingers tight. The screams are horrifying.

Yet, they stop at some point. The princess inspects her gruesome handiwork, and then that of the SHIELD contingent. Though touching the beast in any way is an abhorrent idea, its 'blood' is something that begs inspection. She squints. It makes looking at it slightly less painful.

Reaching out, physically with her hands and magically with her gestures, Amethyst mystically challenges the chimeric phenomenon in small, ethereal ways, hoping to learn something about it from its behavior. When it disappears, well, that's one kind of behavior.

"--oh."

The princess steps backward, retreating to the other side of her tower top. She feels sick again, in an entirely different way. Her skin flushes hot, but the air seems to feel suddenly cold. This is familiar. This is stronger, far stronger than anything else, but it's familiar.

There is a light inside Amethyst. A light of order, yes, but the order of useful patterns arisen from chaotic mutation, the order of creation, of birth, of life. The Eye and the Teeth may have once been a part of this order, but it is the fate of all patterns to be undone.

To become corrupt. Amethyst takes a step forward toward the probing tongue, eyes wide and breathing shallow. Does it feel her, too? Is it trying to crush a source of pain, or is it offering the embrace of entropy? The princess is almost glowing.

The tongue decays and recedes. With it goes the touch of a place where the light of order has long since gone out, if it shined at all. There is an odd emptiness that accompanies its disappearance.

Amethyst shudders. She doesn't notice the other people anymore.