xp_logs | Fenrisulfr

The jet lands, the assorted rescuers charge into the clearing, only to find that the ritual to bring about Ragnarok has already begun.

The pilot had touched the jet down only a short distance from a clearing, a few minutes walk from the GPS coordinates that Doug had provided - barely a minute's run. That minute gave the cultists, and their leader, enough time to drag a struggling and kicking Marie-Ange, and a dazed and frightened Amanda to the stone table, and tie them down. A quick cut to both of the girls - one to fuel the ritual, the other seemingly to frighten Doug. Where a tiny portal had once been, now a giant one opened. It started the same size as the first, barely a mote, and then widened, gaping open.

As the mixed group of X-Men and X-Force ran into the clearing, a thing - what could have been called a hound, if it hadn't been the size of a large truck came through the portal. It stopped, locked eyes with the robed cult leader, and bayed at the sky.

"I've got the dog," Cain said.

There was a pause of mutual disbelief and then a charge towards the cultists.

Shiro comes to Marie-Ange's rescue. And then gets shot.

The scene before Shiro was messy. Loki's cult was falling to the combined might of the X-Men and X-Force even as it strove to complete whatever twisted ritual it had planned. Shiro easily blocked an attack from one of the cultists, a young man not much older than him, and with an irritated look shoved him aside into the path of another cultist. He heard the familiar wet sound of a blade piercing flesh, and saw that second cultist was aiming to attack him with a knife, but the young man had fallen onto it. Shiro just shook his head and kicked the first cultist hard, knocking them to the floor and lodging the knife even deeper.

Marie-Ange had managed to get one of her feet free from the ropes tying her to the stone table, and was trying to use the free foot to undo the ropes on the other, but it was just knotted too tightly, and she was barefoot. Which was just annoying, since they were ninety dollar shoes that she had lost the first time oversized obviously steroid-using guard had dragged her out of the shed where she and Amanda has been stowed away.

Distracting her from the efforts to get herself free were the sounds of fights - at least, she thought, she wouldn't be tied up too long. Either Angelo would free her once he had Amanda freed, she could just see him out of the corner of her eye, or else... She saw Shiro kick one of the cultists between the legs, laughed despite herself, and made muffled grunting noises, trying to get his attention.

The sounds were muted under the noise of battle, but Shiro saw Marie-Ange's movement out the corner of his eye, and quickly pivoted to face a perceived attacker, fireball at the ready. He managed to look slightly taken aback when he saw who it was, but the fireball didn't extinguish. "Stay down," he called to her, then pitched the burning sphere like a baseball, knocking down another knife-wielding maniac who'd been planning to carve Marie-Ange during the confusion. "The duct tape is a good look," he commented, grabbing handfuls of rope and burning right through them. "You should consider making it permanent."

Once her hands were free, and even before her other leg was, Marie-Ange ripped the tape off her mouth, swearing loudly in French as soon as her mouth was free. Tape being pulled off her face -hurt-. "I was going to buy you lunch for rescuing me, but now I will never tell you where the new sushi restaurant by my office is." She said dryly, wriggling her leg out from under the few remaining ropes. "The duct tape..." She began to explain, paused to pull a staff from the air and then continued. "Was because I bit one of our 'hosts' on the arm. He did not seem to enjoy it." She scanned the fight, obviously looking for the cultist in question. "I owe him several bruises, and a ruined pair of pants."

"Whatever," Shiro shrugged. "I tried to kill you in Asgard, so I think that we are even now, ne?" Fists aflame, he turned with her to face melee. "We should tell Marko and the others to leave now so I can simply burn everyone else. I have been in an even more foul mood than normal, and I have been exploring for a proper target for my frustration."

'Her' cultist still wasn't visible, for all she knew, someone else was doing him great bodily harm, and while Marie-Ange would've preferred to do it personally, as long as he got stomped on a few times, she wouldn't complain. "Yes, but is fairness a good reason to turn down a new sushi restaurant?" She asked. "And... Cain ... is.. chasing a giant dog." It wasn't what she'd intended to say, but the giant dog was somewhat of a distraction.

Shiro threw up his hands in frustration. "Fine, I give up. As if my existence were not already surreal." He blasted cultist who looked like she was planning on fleeing, throwing her underfoot another cultist who tripped and collapsed on top of her. "There is a jet outside. Somewhere. I do not care, honestly. At this point, I am ready to just do what everyone else wants and see what happens next."

A soft rustle of cloth was heard over a sudden pause in the ruckus that was going on around them and from behind, Edvard suddenly appeared. He was dressed in the same robes as the rest but he looked slightly more worse for wear thanks to the injuries on his face. He was sporting burns on the one side of his face from Shiro's punches and on the other, it looked as if he had been taught a lesson for his failure. In his hands he was carrying a heavy looking mace as he advanced on the pair.

"You and the red-haired harlot will not escape the wrath of our gods," he snarled.

Marie-Ange rolled her eyes. "Harlot?" She -had- been going down on Doug in the library, but this man hadn't even been there! And calling someone a harlot was just rude, besides. She retreated, snapping the staff out in front of her and taking a step back to steady herself. "Shiro, I think this man wants you to set him on fire again." She gestured with the quarterstaff, and nodded at Shiro. "I want you to set him on fire again."

"I don't know. I kind of like him now." Not that that would prevent Shiro from lighting him up like a Memorial Day barbecue. The flames in his hands grew bigger as if to emphasize that thought. "Is he carrying a morning star? What century is he from?"

"The same century where they still use harlot to insult women!" Marie-Ange turned, using the staff to trip another robed cultist who had been trying to sneak up on them while they 'discussed' Edvard and his choice of weapons and insults. "If you set him on fire, you can take the morning star home and keep it on your dresser." She was tired, needed a shower and was sorely unamused by this whole situation, and yet, banter with Shiro somehow made it much less stressful.

All the talk of being set on fire, again, was making Edvard rather uncomfortable. He cast an uncertain eye on the two former victims (if it would please those he worshipped, he was bound and determined to put in a suggestion that they seek out easier human sacrifices. Ones that would not pull objects out of nowhere or would set people on fire. For instance, babies.) before deciding another tactic entirely was called for.

The mace was suddenly sent flying towards their heads as he scrambled to pull out the gun from under his garments. No one would notice a few holes...

Shiro uttered a curse and shoved Marie-Ange aside, falling down with her. Without so much as an apology, he ignited his fire form and dashed forward to tackle Edvard. His eyes widened under the fiery veil as the gun appeared. Well, shit.

There wasn't much time to aim but he laughed in delight when the gun went off and the unnatural man went down. That was one. All he had to do now was to deal with the little biter and he could put this irritating mess behind him.

In a slurry of ectoplasm, Marie-Ange's staff dissolved. And then she advanced on Edvard, looking for all the world like she could - and would - do him great bodily harm with her bare hands. Luckily - for Marie-Ange, not for the already injured cultist - a sword appeared in her hand as she moved in, and she slashed at the hand holding the still smoking gun, slicing deeply into his arm.

Edvard screamed as the blade bit into his skin and he jerked back, scrambling to get out of the way of the sword. The cut was deep enough that he could see bone and there nearly not enough strength to keep holding the gun. He nearly dropped the weapon but managed to fumble it over to his other arm, though he almost sat down and gave up out of sheer pain. But the thought that he would be punished worse than a simple sword cut for giving up and letting them escape forced him to try and take aim at the advancing woman.

"~Perhaps I need to become an atheist,~" he whimpered, drawing aim once more. A torrent of fire came forth, missing Marie-Ange by inches but striking Edvard's gun-bearing hand. Shiro, on his feet, held one flaming hand out while the other rubbed his head gingerly. "Even though I can melt metal, that still hurts. I am going to have a bump on my head, asshole."

Again, high pitched screams of pain ripped through the air as Edvard's gun, and his hand, melted from the intense heat. A look of shock came over his face right before he dropped, his body obviously taking the hint by blacking out. After all, if he blacked out, he couldn't be responsible for anything the heathens did and if he wasn't awake, no one could set him on fire.

"Always, you are melting people's weapons..." Marie-Ange said, letting her imaged sword dissolve and looking down at the now unconscious cultist. "Are you hurt, besides the bump on your head?" She looked Shiro over carefully, determined that as far as she could tell, he wasn't about to drop dead, and nodded, almost to herself.

"People who do not know how to use their weapons properly do not deserve them," Shiro replied simply. He kicked Edvard in the gut for good measure, satisfied that he received no response. "I have had worse. I want to leave now, I'm bored with all this."

"I think perhaps we should make sure Cain has dealt with the dog?"

Amanda is rescued - she is not doing well at all.

Chaos raged around her, but it was nothing compared to the chaos in Amanda's head. Images layered themselves over one another - an ordinary-looking man with sandy hair and dead eyes, a blonde woman caressing her cheek and picking up a chisel from a tray, the bite of cold air on her naked back clashing with the warm stickiness of blood as a portal to hell opened beneath her and her very life was sucked away to fuel a resurrection spell... Amanda strained at the ropes holding her wrists, not even aware of the keening noise she was making between clenched teeth.

Angelo was more or less ignoring the other rescues going on, having eyes only for Amanda as he smashed cultists out of the way to get to her side and started working on the ropes.

She didn't even seem to register he was there, eyes wide and unseeing. The touch of his hand on the rope around one wrist made her jerk, yanking at her bonds to try and get away. But before he could utter any kind of reassurance, a hand fell on his shoulder and spun him around, a fist suddenly filling his field of vision.

"No-one touches the Vessels," snarled the large blonde man in the cowled robe. ""Their blood brings our Lord."

"Yeah?" Angelo growled back at him once he'd recovered from the punch, giving no ground. "Well, if you don't back off, we're gonna find out how well your blood works instead."

Another thin, wailing scream from Amanda, sounding like a hurt child. The cultist punched at his face, at the same time pulling a long-bladed dirk out of his belt.

He ducked that punch, his focus on the knife, and he reached to pin the cultist's arms with all the skin he could spare.

The man strained against the skin, finding himself pinned, but a smile still crossed his face. "I do not need to defeat you, monster. I simply need to delay you. The longer the Vessels bleed, the wider the gate opens." He glanced at Amanda and the grin widened. "The Enchantress' daughter will find Loki is most unforgiving."

The temptation was strong to break the bastard's neck - but instead, Angelo just freed a strip of skin to steal his knife, then hoisted him up and threw him across the room.

Amanda didn't register the combat, or Angelo slicing through her bonds. It was only when she took in the form bending over her that she reacted, swinging wildly at the form she barely saw. "I won't let you hurt me again!" she cried, voice raw.

Angelo didn't try to stop her hitting him, deciding it wasn't the best way to break her out of the state she was in. "'Manda, it's me. Angelo. I'm not one of them."

A face looking up at her from the floor while she hung in the frame, back burning under the light gauze... She paused in the action of hitting him again - one blow had already glanced off his jaw - and shuddered, closing her eyes. "There's blood," she whispered, even though the cut the cultists had made was only small, a thin trickle from the line across her heart. "So much blood. It won't stop, it never stops..."

He was already moving to wipe away the blood and stem the trickle the moment she mentioned it. "Sssh, querida. It's gonna be okay."

"It won't, it never is. They take you, they bleed you dry, make you theirs..." She shuddered again and opened her eyes, locking them on his face, seeing him for the first time. "Ange?"

"I'm here", he said quietly. "An' there's other people with me an' we're gonna get you all out of here. Come on." Finished with the ropes, he held out a hand to help her up.

She grabbed onto it as if she were drowning, which in a way she was. She glanced around, as if seeing things for the first time, and shuddered again. "Get me home," she said, voice pleading. "Please."

"Count on it", Angelo answered firmly, squeezing her hand as if he'd never let go.

Jubilee and Wanda start to clean up the mess.

Jubilee aimed a kick at the knee of a cultist headed for Wanda, listening for the crunch and scream that would tell her she'd connected to the point she was aiming for. He went down with a satisfying bellow, curling up against the pain.

"We have so got to get some kind of frequent flyer miles for mystical cultists or somethin'." she noted to the other woman. "Or, you know, rewards program. Barbecue tongs or a set of steak knives would be nice."

Wanda grunted as she backhanded a cultist away from her. The other woman went down in a tangle of robes and cowered on the floor. "Behave and you might find something interesting in your stocking come Christmas bonus time," she called back. She paused and pointed in the distance. "I need to get to the runes, let's clear a path, shall we?"

"I like the cut of your jib...if I knew what a jib actually was." Jubilee noted, punching the cultist who'd just tried rushing her in the face, and then stomping him in the stomach as he staggered backward. "As to Christmas, knowing our lot it'll end in Pete in a Santa costume with Remy as his 'little helper elf' and no one needs that."

About to answer, Wanda stumbled forward as a weight landed on her back. She almost went down before she righted herself, her hands reaching back...only to encounter arms wrapping around her neck from behind and legs around her waist. "Whatever it is," she gasped, "it's in my hair..." And part of it was at least as it attempted to strangle her.

Jubilee ducked as another cultist aimed a staff jab at her head and she aimed a burst of plasma at the woman's hands, sending a punch to the woman's head as she let go of the length of wood with a yelp. "Bad cultist, no cookie." She turned her head, and her eyes widened as she got a good look at the thing now attached to Wanda's back. "Um, don't look now but you've got a case of midget. Nasty one too, a red head, they're probably the worst kind."

All she could do was make a strangling noise as the arms clenched even tighter. The person had one hell of a grip, Wanda thought vaguely, as she stumbled around. From the position, she was finding it increasingly difficult to even get a hold of the guy, let alone toss him off.

Grunting, she spun around and dropped backwards onto her back hard. There was a curse in another language as they hit the ground, sandwiching him in between the rock surface and Wanda. For a moment, his hold increased and she backwards head butted him until the grip loosened as her attacker went unconscious.

"Brutal, yet effective." Jubilee noted, dropping down into a crouch as she kicked a cultist's legs out from under him. "I like it."

Rubbing at her neck, Wanda glanced down at the ground and scowled. "I didn't even know they made cultists robes in that size," she coughed, feeling rather uncharitable at the moment. She tapped Jubilee on the shoulder. "This is where we split up, actually. I need to go muck about with the..." She stared. "Is Cain running away like a little girl from the giant dog from the portal?" Wanda asked, looking stunned.

Jubilee stared as the big man ran past them, followed a second later by said giant dog. "Wait a second...is that my chicken? Dude! Cain stole my bucket! Come back here with my chicken, you rat!"

Wanda prepares to shut down the portal, but has a problem. The -dog-.

Wanda and Jubilee had split up - mainly because the older woman was planning on attacking the runes and she had no idea what the end result would be once she messed with the Norse magic. Her powers were a wild card anyway and the magic was even more so - especially since from the looks of it, the wielders weren't exactly proficient with it.

They were spread out in a rough circle around the portal and some of the runes were being held while others were resting on the ground. Those cultists were distracted, paying attention to nothing but the magic they were trying to hold onto. It made them easier marks but there had to be an easier way then going after each person individually. That would draw even more attention to herself and there was a chance they could easily replace someone she felled.

She watched as Cain ran around with the giant dog chasing after him. It was a sight that was distracting a number of their attackers and those that weren't distracted were either tangling with the others or involved in the rune magic. It gave Wanda a breather and a chance to see what her options were.

Crouching a safe distance away, Wanda stared at the runes with the red lines of her powers overlapping it. Runic magic was not something they had come across all that often but even she could see that there were lines connecting all of them.

Wanda did a quick count and realized that there were an even number of stones - half were being held and half were on the ground, interspaced between the cultists. The one nearest to her was unguarded, the nearest person several feet away. But with the huge dog still trying to use Cain like some sort of living chew toy, she realized it would be really stupid to mess with the magic that held the gate up. She was going to have to wait until they dog was taken care of. ~~

Cain versus Fenris, Hound of Ragnarok.

"I've got the dog," Cain said again to himself. It sounded a lot better before the animal's size became obvious. And it was beginning to sound a lot worse as the truck-sized canine plowed right into Cain, dragging him through the clearing. and crashing through a copse of trees.

Hands scrabbling for leverage, Cain could hear one of the cultists from the clearing shout "Fenris, hound of Ragnarok! Smite the unbelievers!" He knew the language wasn't English, but it made sense somehow in his head. Have to ask Amanda about that sometime... Cain thought to himself before tucking his legs up and kicking out, flipping the shaggy beast over his head into another large tree.

Landing on all four paws, Fenris shook its massive head, spittle flying from its slavering jaws. Letting loose a howl that shook the entire countryside, the scion of the gods pounced, massive jaws wide for a deadly attack. Cain barely got his arms up in time to slam into the dog's lower jaw, slamming its teeth together only inches from his head. Claws tore up the ground as the Juggernaut found himself once more pinned under the beast's bulk.

"This ain't a dog, it's a monster," Cain muttered to himself, one hand closing around a large rock. Swiftly, he brought the rock up to club Fenris on the side of the head, only to watch the rock crumble into dust in his hand. He looked at the handful of pebbles and let out a small whimper of his own. "Invulnerable dog. Well, shit."

His bemusement was short-lived, as Fenris reached down to fasten its large jaws around Cain's shoulder, then braced its feet and began thrashing its head back and forth, shaking Cain like a rag doll before releasing him to be flung into another large tree. Swearing like a Marine, Cain rolled to a knee, grabbing the tree and ripping it out of the ground. "Come on!" he bellowed, spinning in a circle and throwing the tree at the gigantic dog.

Fenris hunched low, letting the tree pass over its head. Then, surprisingly, it turned and ran after the tree - which happened to be spinning its way towards Cain's less-invulnerable comrades. Before he could shout a warning, however, Fenris leaped into the air and caught the tree in its teeth, reducing the forty-foot long pine into splinters with one bite. As Cain watched, wide-eyed, Fenris landed with paws splayed, kicking up a spray of rubble before turning around and charging at Cain again.

"It's not a monster," Cain corrected himself. "Just a big puppy. A big, invulnerable, spawn-of-gods puppy."

Steeling himself, he braced his feet as Fenris collided with him, sending the both of them tumbling down an incline as the huge dog's teeth snapped by his face. "Down, boy! Heel! Stay! Dammit, you are a bad dog!" he shouted, trying to force the great beast away from him. A few punches to the side of the animal's thick muzzle proved to get his point through, as Fenris reared up, shaking its head and growling. The dark eyes glowed red and Fenris sprang again, this time getting a firm grim on one of Cain's arms with its teeth.

Cain howled in pain; while the creature's teeth weren't breaking his skin, the pressure alone felt like his arm was about to break. "Bad dog!" he shouted again. "That's a! Bad! Dog!"

It felt somehow wrong, but Cain stood, dragging the huge canine with him, then spun in a circle until the beast let go, skidding away into a small creek. Righting itself and shaking like an avalanche to dry off, Fenris loped forward again with jaws spread.

This time, Cain tried a trick that he'd never used before. He ran away.

With the snapping jaws of the Hound of Hel on his very heels, Cain crested the incline, leaping into the air and hurdling over a number of bearded cultists. They glanced up in surprise, only to be bowled aside like tenpins as Fenris charged after Cain. "Bad puppy! Bad puppy!" Cain called, uprooting trees and large boulders in his flight. But as unstoppable as he was, Fenris was faster.

Leaping, the beast landed on Cain's upper back, driving him face-down into the ground. Momentum carried Fenris over Cain, tumbling nose-over-tail in a cloud of dirt and dust. Pulling himself out of the dirt, Cain glanced over and saw the plane - and got an idea.

Fenris shook its skull as it scampered back to its feet, turning around in rapid circles before lifting its nose and sniffing. There was a new smell in the air - not frightened humans, not the burned-stone smell of the Big Red Man, not the tickling crackle of the Hole In The World That Went Home. This was like the scent that accompanied the warriors of Valhalla as they strode through the five hundred doors of the great meadhall, a smell that set Fenris's tongue lolling out of its mouth as the great wolf sprang towards the source.

Cain ran away from the plane, brandishing Jubilee's bucket of chicken in one hand. "Here, boy! Who wants a treat? Is it you? You want a treat, boy? Come and get it! Come on, you son of a hellbitch, come and get it!"

It's just a big puppy, he repeated to himself, running for the glowing portal and using his free hand to knock cultists aside while he kept the bucket outstretched in the other

Fenris snapped at Cain's heels, spittle flying as it fixed all its senses on the scent that emanated from the bucket in the Big Red Man's hand.

With one final burst of speed as he felt the beast's hot breath on the back of his neck, Cain cranked his arm back and threw the bucket of chicken directly through the rainbow-glowing portal, then dove forward face-down onto the ground. As expected, Fenris leaped into the air, mouth closing over the feast of deep-fried poultry - its momentum carrying it back completely through the portal and away from this dimension.

"Good dog," Cain said, picking himself up and brushing his chest off. "Good dog."