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Mid-January, 2008
RCMP/Ministry of Extraordinary Threats Emergency Hangar
Alert, Nunavut, CA

Even in times of the highest tension and most danger, people find ways to keep themselves busy, and neither the Ghostbusters nor the men and women of the world's northern watch bureaus were any great exception. "Ray? Ray! Ray, check it out." Venkman shook his friend's shoulder. "Egon's in a fight with one of the Inquanok guys."

Ray opened an eye and glanced sideways. Several of the Danish contingent and a couple of the Pohjola Project's Sami members were gathered in a semicircle centered on Egon and a broad-faced, dark-eyed man in Danish uniform. "Wow. Spengs is looking kinda..."

"Green," Winston finished for both of them. "That's freaky. What are they fighting about?"

"The worst thing they've ever eaten," said Venkman. "Eske's winning."

Ray and Winston exchanged glances. They both knew Egon's eating habits. "How?" Ray finally asked.

"That's not food," Egon suddenly said, loud enough to be heard over the snickering Greenlanders. "That's biological waste. You can't consider anything with that level of ammonia in it to qualify as edible."

"This from the man who admits to eating casu marzu," said his opponent with the serene smile of a man who knows he's won. "Hákarl is nothing-"

Winston shook his head. Ray gave up on the possibility of a nap and stood up. "Has anyone seen where Captain Korpan went?" he asked, and one of the Finns pointed. "Thank you."

He found the Canadian in the tiny office attached to the hangar, one hand pressing his headset against his ear and the other taking frantic notes. As Ray walked in Korpan lifted his eyes, winced, and held up a piece of paper that read:

Magnetic fields flaring
Deep ones report Russian helicopter near 82.7° N 114.4° W
Radio comms dorppinng like brick

A moment later Korpan scribbled one last line:

Dammit, I can spell. Marines on the way. Tell the others. We're going in.

Ray shuddered, nodded, and went in search of a better door.

[OOC: Assume everyone will be arriving from Milliways within five minutes of each other. Also, don't click on the food links above if you have a weak stomach.]

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The Men in Black don't have any problem with collateral damage.

"If the man could get it done, then I'd say get on with it. But if you want to give the packs a go, well..."

K ponders. Then unclips the Series 4 Deatomizer and hands it to Venkman. "Here you go, Doc. Thing has a kick, but nothing like a thrower. Pulls to the left a little, so watch for that. Otherwise, just aim and blast the shit out of everything you see coming at us."

Then to Ray: "Give Venkman's a try first. If it works, I'll give you the cover you need to finish the rest."

Edited 2008-02-01 04:36 (UTC)

"Ooooh," says Peter. "Papa like. Ray, get busy, okay?"

Ray grins, produces a screwdriver from somewhere in the furs he's wearing, and snatches the pack up as Venkman shrugs it off.

The next wave is heading straight for them, and it's a big one. K has just enough time to recharge the XT-17, so he's taking it.

He sets the business end of the gun down on the top of his shoe and punches a complex code into the command keypad on a back panel. There's a hiss as a tray--looking a lot like the kind on a dvd player--slides out to reveal a metallic disc so bright it's hard to look at. His eyes safely behind his shades, K holds a slim boxy object right above the tray, and a moment later the disc flies up into the box and is replaced a moment later by another disc that shimmers with promise of mayhem to come.

K pockets the box...somewhere...and taps the command panel. By the time the tray is back in the gun, the XT-17 is back up on K's shoulder.

And not a moment too soon. Here they come.

It's a big wave, all right. Not just because the spider-things and the fungoid crustaceans with wings are attacking (and attacking they are; there's screaming coming from up the line, where Danes are bleeding in earnest and Canadians are tending to wounds edged in smoke and char). But because looming in the background is something tall and terrible, nearly the size of a house, and the monstrosities of the servitor races are fleeing its evident wrath.

The first thing that pushes its way into the arctic dusk has a mouthful of needle-sharp teeth and too-long arms with much-too-long fingers tipped in bright, metallic-looking claws. It has the musculature of something almost apish and a face that can't quite decide whether to be human or to take after something from the time when snows covered all the Earth. Its mouth is moving in a constant droning chant of some kind, and its skin is a slaty grey hue- but for all that, the beings that are starting to shimmer into existence as it snatches up one of the Marines and brutally flings the man aside give the sensation of being far, far vaster.

Another one of the Marines, wiser perhaps than his counterparts, holds up a fistful of some kind of powder and starts shouting. "Ithaqua Cthulhu Node- AAAARGH!"

Possibly he should've thrown the powder of Ibn Ghazi before the half-blooded thing (summoning more of its less-human kin) leapt at him with its claws out.

*I promise you'll get another break after this.*
Oh shut up.

At the appearance of this creature, the Orb blazes anew and the flames of the sword are almost too bright.

This one is his.

There's a sound, much like a wolf's howl, and then Garion is moving, heading straight for the massive, house-sized monstrosity with his sword held high. Behind him, a massive shadow spreads from the brightness of it.

The thing rears up at the sound, bloody froth flying from its mouth as it snarls a response to the challenger. As the lesser beings clear the way, its eyes widen; whatever it was expecting to find in this world, this was not it.

(Two of the Marines scramble forward to drag their comrade out of the way, since the monstrosity's attention is elsewhere.)

The snarl becomes a bellow, the rear becomes a crouch, and it lunges at Garion with an almost palpable fury.

(And Venkman, who's been making it rain Mi-Go, can be heard to yell, "... your ass with melted butter! Ray, you almost done with that pack yet?"

"Just about, Pete! Egon, you're next!")

And he's really getting very good with this bit. The bit where he slides the sword into the chest of someone lunging at him in fury.

He doesn't stop there, though, pulling it out and twisting to go and slice the things head off.

It's a demon. It needs a lot of killing.

As blood both human and very distinctly not flies sizzling through the air (and other things sizzle- Venkman's got his proton pack back on and Egon is displaying a truly disturbing competency with the Deatomizer, woe unto the children of Yig), the ice shakes underfoot.

The Canadian forces pause in mid-strike. There is another tremor.

The Finns hesitate, and the Danes... Well, the Danes are of the Inquanok Patrol, and perhaps more than any of the other uniformed types present, they're equipped to sense what's going on. They start shouting and pointing to a spot some distance away over the ice, towards the trail Kirk and Tsybenko took over the ice.

Towards the epicenter of the shake and the rumble and the unbelievably LOUD noise of aeons-old Arctic ice cracking as something the size of a blue whale shoves its way free into the daylight...

"... okay," says Winston, "that's new. Who the hell is that?"

Ray, who's just a little busy with his screwdrivers at the moment, manages to mumble, "Dagon- HOLY SCHLAMOLY!"

Possibly the nicest thing being said right now, considering that the monstrous being just flung something huge, metallic, and jagged on one end viciously past the gathered forces' heads. It's not until it starts shaking the other metallic object it carries furiously up and down that the humans realize that the thrown object was half of the Sukhoy Nos- and that Dagon is apparently disappointed that the submarine's ~~chewy caramel center~~ crew complement is long since missing.

And Dark Schneider is laughing.

He's hovering there, about twenty feet up, and laughing.

"A huge FISH GUY? Against the might and power of I, Dark Schneider, who has battled demons and gods and sent them back home crying? THAT'S YOUR SUPERWEAPON?!" And then suddenly, he's serious. "I'm not impressed."

He draws himself up. Red and black energies start to crackle around him, swirling in almost painful ways. He moves his hands and begins to chant.

"KAIZARD ALZARD KISUKU ... KANSEI CROSS-SILK!"

The energies thicken, becoming fire and black lightning, singeing the uniform.

"The Power of the Gods of Thunder and WIND!"

His clothes start to burn, and he is apparently unharmed.

"I call upon the two sages of Hades!! With your two keys, open up the gates of Hell!"

The clothes are almost gone as he hovers there, his entire body enshrouded in black fire and red lightning.

"HELLOWEEN!"

All that magical energy, with Dark Schneider guiding it, flies STRAIGHT for Dagon. And over the sounds of power, he can be heard laughing.

"Uh, Ray?" says Egon, staring.

"Busy, Egon."

"Ray, I really think that you need to-"

"Busy, Egon."

"Ray, bro, your heavy artillery's lost his freaking mind," Winston snaps.

Meanwhile, the Marines are falling apart. They’ve been trained for some extraordinary shit, but they’re taking losses, and they don’t really have the gear they need to do anything about it. As their formation begins to break, they start edging toward their personnel carrier.

K squints. He’s not having this. Not now.

Without a word he draws the Noisy Cricket again, and a moment later, the personnel carrier explodes in a burst of metal and flame.

When the Marines recover from the blast and try to see what just happened to their only way out, all they see is a Man in Black in shades. Hefting that gun that makes all of theirs look like toys. And a ramrod posture even their Parris Island boot camp sergeants couldn’t have managed on their best days.

“I trust I have your attention, gentlemen?” K growls in a normal speaking voice that has no trouble cutting through all the Chaos and Doom, wraps a steel hand around their Fear, and starts squeezing the very life out of it.

K points at the wreckage. “You won’t be needing that. You are Marines.”

“You will not be losing your shit, gentlemen. Marines do not lose their shit. They make the other guy lose his shit, even if he’s some hell-spawned monstrosity from the very worst dimension you can imagine and then some.”

“And that is bearing down on us right now, gentlemen, and no mistake. Hell itself and worse.”

“And if you don’t stop it here, Hell’s next stop is each and every one of your homes. Where everyone you care about is sitting right now, waiting for you to do your jobs and send every one of these nightmares to the Nameless Abyss that unleashed it .”

“So I suggest you get about doing that. Now, gentlemen.”

And then K grins. “Because I don’t know about you, but I’ve got one hell of a lot of high-powered, plasma ammunition left, and I’m damned if I’m going to see it all go to waste in a target-rich environment like this!”

It starts with a low growl, but it builds fast to a shout and then full-on ROAR of fury. And then the men charge.

They are Marines.

They may be running to their Doom.

But those unspeakable sons-of-bitches are going DOWN.

The Exploder Wizard, wrapped in the blackest of black magic energies, slams into the chest of Father Dagon, and all that power is released in a single tremendous burst of white light and heat.

Ice cracks. Floes ripple. The thundering sound is nearly deafening.

And globs of horrid flesh rain from the sky. Where Father Dagon once stood is nothing but a naked wizard, laughing his ass off.

There is precedent for what happened just now. That precedent may be found here, and we strongly suggest the use of the 2002 high quality video if at all possible.

That being said, Venkman very briefly makes this face and then starts doing the "Eew eew eew eew EEEEEW!" dance as chunks of Dagon start raining down again.

For some reason most of them seem to be headed directly for him.

"Gross."

And mysteriously, the globs seem to be sliding off of something transparent and vaguely blue.

...he would be having a discussion with Mr. Naked Mc Splodey sometime over the next week. Something about warning. Also about maniacal laughter, because it's annoying.

*Very good.*
Very good?
*You can't do everything. You're support here.*
Oh. And you were going to inform me of this--
*Why speak up if you're actually getting it right for once?*
...

And then Garion turns to deal with the battle which had started again after the moment of silent awe.

The Marines are thundering forward against the things from the first rift, and while they're taking heavy damage, there's an awful lot of Children of Yig who aren't going to be seeing Valusia ever again. And a lot of Mi-go will be keeping them company in whatever passes for an afterlife for servitor races of these monstrosities. The Danes and the Finns are forming the backbone of the arcane response now, diverting and disrupting the efforts the Children of Yig are making to summon more of those house-sized things- several of which are fighting over who gets to either flee from or gut Garion. The Canadians are circling around to pick up stragglers on the sides and cut down any of the enemy wounded, and believe us, there is very little more frightening than seeing people dressed in an adaptation of the Mountie uniform doing the Fremen job of dispatching enemy wounded before they can rise again. And the Ghostbusters? Well, Peter and Egon are back in action with their packs, and Ray's kneeling over Winston's, and Winston's old 82nd Airborne training is coming back to him as he becomes the fourth person today to wield the De-Atomizer.

And over amongst the shattered ice floes, chunks of pearlescent stuff float to the surface. Several humanoid forms, bluegrey and greyish-green and pale, haul themselves up onto the ice; as several dozen more follow, the tallest of the bunch turns and scans the vicinity. "Who," Lua'al-rei says hoarsely, and then begins again. "Who did that? Who had that kind of power?"

Dark Schneider, hanging in the air like a man really shouldn't, grins.

"I did that! I, Dark Schneider, whose godlike power and awesome beauty stun my lessers into submission! Whose grasp of knowledge of sorcery is unmatched! Whose ability to talk about himself is also unmatched! .....heeeeeeey."

In the back of his head, Luche Renlen giggles.

Fortunately, Dark Schneider is dealing with a pearlship's worth of shellshocked Deep Ones who've just been a few meters shy of Ground Zero when the ancestral God of all their kind was destroyed. They don't really notice that last part.

("Okay, Winston! Yours is done! Cover me!" Ray calls out as he tosses the pack back to Winston to put on.)

"There is something yet to-" Lua'al-rei's gills flare widely; he grimaces and puts his hand on a smaller Deep One's shoulder. "Yet to be done."

("Set the packs on wide dispersal and maximum overload and aim for the center of the central rift!": Ray's still working on his own pack. "I don't have time to explain how it works, but we should be able to disrupt the PKE matrix holding that hole open and collapse it- and the others up here will follow suit!")

"The rift below the surface is still open. And growing wider."

(As Ray sets his screwdrivers down, the largest of the dog-sized spidercrab things charges at him. Ray's lightsaber is out and the snap-hiss barely has time to die away before Ray brings the weapon up, without looking, in an iaido move John Preston would envy. The parasitical thing falls to the ice with two entirely separate squelchy thuds.)

"Can you stop it?"

"I can," he says with utter confidence. "But it requires sacrifice. The blood of three need to be spilled to power the spell. And their souls will be trapped in the spell, used to power and guide it, unless it is broken again." He looks down at them, still hovering. "Virgins are best for it, too. And volunteers make it better - adds power to the spell." He can be serious.

"But we don't have a lot of time, so..."

Lua'al-rei looks at the nearest chunk of Dagon.

(There are three proton streams now- no, four. Ray's back on his feet. Unfortunately they're not aimed at the rifts, because things not-quite-perceptible have started coming through, and if someone doesn't take the Space Eaters down at least temporarily, no one will be left even after the rifts are closed.)

"Four hundred thousand years," he suddenly says. "Four hundred thousand years we've lived here, in this world, in these oceans. Without him. Three thousand generations and more we've been born and lived and died here, without him. We are our own people and this- this-" He kicks at the chunk, and it quivers vilely. "This would have snuffed out every last one of our lives from here to the Middle Waters for being lacking in his eyes! Well, to the cesspits with you, humanfucker! Never again!"

Pause.

"No offense meant by the 'humanfucker' thing... but give me a moment, I'll go get two more volunteers."

"None taken," he assures Lua'al-rei. "I've banged some mermaids and fishwomen in my time. As long as they're sexy, I don't care where they came from."

Because that's how things go with Dark Schneider, his cloak falls out of the sky onto his shoulders, fixing that nudity thing through comedy.

"I'll start preparing. It's not an easy spell to cast and I need to focus." He puts his hands together in front of his chest, fingers intertwined, and starts his focusing technique. Behind him, the Red Sword of the Efreet fades into view, hovering behind him.

There are some things that are beautiful.

A tree in the light of a rising sun. A beach, tranquil and empty. A litter of kittens curled against their mother. A newborn child.

All poetic tripe aside, there was nothing about the pissed off, irritated, blood-lusting Alorn king who has just noticed that there's some more things that the Universe has provided for him to vent his irritation on that was 'beautiful'. But on the other hand, the veritable dance as said Alorn king dove into the frey in the midst of beserker rage?

That was damn pretty.

If only for the dive and swoop and slash and spin of the massive blue-flamed sword.

The ground troops would be having a much worse time of it if there wasn't a Man in Black unleashing a constant barrage of white-hot plasma in what seems three directions at once.

K has finally found something more entertaining than a demon-bunny hunt. The Yuggoth back in his dimension is going to be getting one hell of a visit sometime soon.

Meanwhile, he's doing his level best to depopulate the one in this dimension. And blasting a few Children of Yig when one of the Marines gets himself in a bind.

"Ray! How long before you gents plan on closing that damn rift?"

Shame, really. But all good things...

"Wait for it," Ray calls, aiming for one of the faster and nastier things diving towards Garion's head. "Wait for it..."

"I'm getting a little tired of waiting, Ray!" answers Egon, who at this point is not only firing enough protons to make Edward Teller go 'oh, I say, do that again' but has taken to kicking the parasitic spider things that come too near.

"... and... now."

Four purple-orange-white streams of atomic fire smash into the central rift all at once, and space in the immediate vicinity begins to ripple furiously. The air itself suddenly seems to pucker as the spell matrices involved reach the point of overload and start to come apart.

Dark Schneider, however, has met the other two willing sacrifices. After a brief discussio, they took their places and waited. He began to chant, loud enough to be heard over the wind, the monsters, and the weaponry.

And suddenly, louder than all of them, came three sounds in quick succession, like someone chopping an apple in half with a single blow.

Brilliant light sprang up into the air, three streams, that intertwined and then lanced back down, into the ice without leaving a trace.

Those who are closest can see the three streams of light as three Deep Ones; at the top of the arc, before diving down, they flip Father Dagon's world the bird, and drop down to seal the largest of the rifts.

And Dark Schneider drops to his knees, and then his face as he passes out from exhaustion.

The battle goes on, even as the spells fly to pieces and the rifts snap shut- first one, then the next, then the next. There are still monstrosities on this side, but there are no reinforcements now and no avenue of retreat. Just the endless polar ice, and a lot of very angry humans, both arcane and mundane, with very long distance weaponry.

As things start to lose their nerve and break and run (and a couple of the Deep Ones get the fallen Exploder Wizard off the ice and over to the nearest Scandinavian contingent), Ray takes a moment to push back his hood and wipe his brow on his sleeve. "Looks like I owe Ecto that raise in her allowance after all," he says to no one in particular.

Re: Action Time: Team Boom

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Re: Action Time: Team Boom

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