El has been with the site for nearly two years now and has continued to prove her value. Currently, she is heading up our site event, Battle for Liberterram, on top of keeping up with her own personal plots.
Lux's posts are all wonderful to read. She has done a wonderful job of grasping the new universe and incorporating Peggy into it.
It's good to see Spidey back on the site. Watching him deal with the universe shift in his own snarky way has been nothing short of entertaining.
Eight O'Clock on the Dot!
El and Lux are making magic in this thread. Straight up fireworks, and the way they've played with drawing out the reveal is top class.
There's not much time to clean up. It's all of a day before the skies cloud over with even more of the attacking aliens, in larger bulk this time. Exhausted and worn as they are, the heroes of the city band together to fight yet again...
The SHIELD Agents on are armed with bullets that contain nanites that should be able to shut down both the biological and electronic systems of the Chitauri at once, they are more prepared for that threat than before, but the Chitauri have brought with them beasts that Earth has not seen before. These have been shared, at this point, with anyone else on the ground with weapons that can utilize them.
A thunderstorm has come in with the arrival of the Atlanteans, filling the air with rain and lightning. The unearthed Reaver ship is in orbit at this point, brought by the Svartalfar on Earth, and battling the enemy ships in orbit.
You are allowed to control as many enemies, allies, and civilians in your posts as you need to.
Event thread should take priority over other threads.
You will have three days to post once its your turn. If you are late, you automatically forfeit your turn that round. If you miss twice, your character may receive a more serious injury that will disqualify them from further phases. Please note:The Admin are keeping a close watch on this Phase, as it is a time-sensitive one.
Some of you will want to injure your characters too badly for them to continue fighting during this phase. Simply make note at the end of the post in which they do so that they're dropping from the line-up.
Leviathan: Large, flying, whale-like creatures built for destruction, the nanites are not effective on them due to their size. Armed with teeth and size. (Approx. 3)
Chitlian: Bulked-up Chitauri soldiers that are more machine than biological. The nanites will take them down for brief periods, but they do reboot the system. Stronger than regular Chitauri and exempt from the hive-mind. Armed with Chitauri guns and spears. (Approx. 150)
Svartalfar: The Dark Elves are superhumanly strong and excellently trained. They will sometimes have various kinetic abilities in addition and carry weapons similar to the Chitauri. (Approx. 100)
SHIELD Medics: Deployed to assist with the civilians more than anything, they are not particularly useful for fighting.
SHIELD Field Agents: Deployed to help take down the aliens, they are armed with the weapon in their favorite gun, in addition to a close-quarters weapon.
SHIELD Snipers: Deployed to buildings and surrounding areas or in choppers and planes above the battle with long-range weapons, they function as eyes in the sky and long-range gunmen.
Brotherhood Mutants: Morrigan brings with her some of the members of the Brotherhood, who jump into action as protection for their own kind.
New York Police: Armed only with their issued weapons, the police will mainly handle crowd control.
Atlantean Soldiers: Strong physical fighters, they are good at what they do. Atlanteans have ranged energy weapons.
Atlantean Elite: Armored, the Atlantean Elite represent the Empire's best, and they are skilled in a wide array of weapons, from several types of ranged energy weapons to melee weapons. Their armoring makes them considerably more durable than the average soldier, and their experience and skill is unmatched.
Asgardian Warriors: Superhumanly strong and with the occasional magical ability, these are highly-trained warriors with centuries of battle under their belt. Only a small group have made their way to Midgard for this battle, but they have spread throughout the city.
There's thunder in the sky that has been brought along by the arrival of the Atlantean army. Rain is coming at a steady beat, although not a heavy one. SHIELD is all over the area, and they've handed out their nanite-filled bullets to those in the area that prefer such weaponry. The NYPD is on-hand, helping to escort civilians to safety as people are still being dug out of the rubble of the first attack. The flash of the Bifrost was seen in the early pre-dawn hours over Manhattan, heralding the arrival of the Asgardians to the city, at their head travelling Thor and Baldr behind their Father, Odin, who many are in awe of though he does not seem pleased to be there.
It is still early when sirens breach the air, leviathans breaking through the clouds to deliver Chitauri to the ground in another attack, in larger numbers than before. With them are strange creatures of blue and purple skin; the Asgardians identify them as Svartalfar. There are occasional flashes in the sky that one would have to look closely at to discover they are not lightning; the Chitauri motherships are being fired upon by an ancient ship of Svartalfar make.
Behind these alien attackers, and not yet having reached the planet's surface, Thanos comes. His eminent arrival spreads a feeling of doom in the air that cannot quite be pinpointed by those on the ground - yet.
Harlem took little damage in the original attack, but the army that comes down on it now is focused on the area surrounding City College. As there was little damage to the area itself, many have been helping with relief efforts elsewhere, but there are still plenty of civilians around.
Post by z inactive dorma on Mar 29, 2016 2:20:36 GMT
Rain fell steadily from the sky but Dorma barely even noticed it. Being a water born creature herself the surface suddenly became that much more bearable, no longer feeling like a barren wasteland. Generally Dorma prefered not to visit the surface; she’d much rather spend her time in the ocean. Because of this she had not managed to acclimate herself quite yet to the difference in atmosphere and every time she visited she felt as if her skin was suddenly devoid of any moisture. It was irritating to say the least.
Dorma had heard about the Chitauri attacks around the globe of course but had had no desire to involve herself in the affairs of humans. She’d no doubt that they had done something to provoke the beasts and had been content to let the humans deal with the mess they had made. But then they had invaded her home, had attacked the very people she cared about, and had done their best to take down her King. That she could not forgive.
When Dorma had caught wind that Namor would be heading to the surface to fulfill a promise he had made she had chosen to accompany him. The Chitauri had proven to be no match for an Atlantean yet she had still planned to remain by her King’s side to do what she could to keep him safe. But he had ordered her another area of the city. Making her displeasure known she had stormed off to follow his bidding. At least he had conceded to use the Atlantean sorcerers to open up a telepathic field between those of them he'd placed around the city allowing them to remain in communication. It was a handy little spell, and should prove to be quite useful.
Compared to the human police officers rushing about the place Dorma had come very underdressed for the party. Granted she was wearing a lot more than she usually did, though she was fairly certain she was scantily clad by human standards. Her red top did nothing to cover her shoulders and barely even covered her chest, a small golden pendant was clasped where the fabric met just under her breasts, holding a gold gilded chain that was connected to her belt which sat low on her hips. Trailing from the belt were two long swaths of fabric forming a makeshift shirt.
She’d adorned herself from head to toe in jewels, completing the image of Atlantean royalty. Golden combs did their best to tame her fiery red curls and large bejeweled cuffs were wrapped around her wrists. Even the sword she held before her was guilded to the hilt. She swung the sword easily cutting down as many of the Chitauri as she could reach. She wouldn’t rest until every last one of them was lying at her feet.
The rain made his hood heavier than usual - wet cloth clung to what little of his face was showing, and the sheen of the damp cloth helped him blend in with the wall he was sitting against. A kitchen supply store had taken some damage in the initial attack, and Jackson decided there would be no harm in "borrowing" a whetstone to make sure his katana was sharpened. Did he even need to sharpen the sword? He'd never needed to before, and it always cut just as well. Maybe it was just good to keep his hands busy - as he'd moved back into the city, all the commotion of people who setting up made one thing clear: this was far from over.
Where Deadpool or Copycat were, he wasn't sure, but maybe that was a good thing - those two were good in a fight, but Deadpool was definitely a bit... Unhinged. Jackson wouldn't want to get on his bad side, and somehow he felt like that got more difficult to avoid the more time you spent with the guy. Plus he'd lost his sword, and Jackson knew how important a swordsman's weapon was to him. It was better that Jackson move through the city, and eventually he'd wound up at Harlem - that was when the Atlanteans showed up, which probably meant this would be a good place to stop moving. The aliens would be back soon, or else why would Namor bring an army?
When the aliens showed up again, Jackson tossed the whetstone away, and felt a bit of a... Numbness. For the first time since he'd started wearing a uniform, he didn't have anything "smart" to say. No quip about the rain, or the aliens, or even the purple elf-looking things. People were getting hurt, and Jackson had to do whatever he could to save as many people as possible.
Jackson pushed up off of the curb, and turned to a Chitauri that was charging him already - one duck to avoid the hit, then Jackson stepped around pressed the edge of his sword against the back of the Chitauri's knee, slashing the muscle to bring the alien down. Now that its head was low enough, Jackson sent a kick to the back of the Chitauri's head; it wouldn't be a quick knockout because of the armor, but it did send its face into the street. Luckily for Jackson these aliens didn't seem too keen on full-body armor, so he was able to plunge his sword through this one's back to keep it down for the count.
It was good that he had a day to rest; he'd been tired when the fighting in Queens was done, and he couldn't even imagine going straight into another fight after that. Still, he was only human, and there were a lot of aliens out there in the city. He wasn't Atlantean, he wasn't a Mutant, he was just a guy with a sword against a lot of taller guys with spears and guns, and now some more guys with swords.
It was just going to be one of those weeks. Wasn't it?
Rogue stood on top of one of the city’s buildings, staring up at the sky through squinted eyes. The rain was soft, but it was still somewhat of a nuisance. Her new uniform, however, was no such thing. Perhaps to others, it was an eyesore, but she loved it to bits. The Professor had done well in its design, merging two of her favorite colors in a way that clashed in the best way green and yellow could. That, and it fit like a glove.
She’d tossed one of her most comfortable bomber jackets on over the suit before loading up into the X-Jet headed for the city proper. The day’s forecast called for rain, so a bit of an extra layer wouldn’t hurt. Just so long as she could move easily when the battle began. Theirs was the first team to be dropped off, something for which she was immensely grateful for. Already she could see the chariots soaring down through the clouds, and hear the roars of the Leviathan breaking the surface behind them.
At a nod from Rogue, the mutants around her all leapt from the side of the building. Some unfurled wings to fly themselves and others down, while another simply teleported himself and two others to the ground. The mutant beside her - the one whose abilities she’d absorbed - did neither, and the pair of them slammed into the pavement below with a resounding crash. Standing back to their feet, the two mutants brushed themselves off, with not a scratch between them.
“Lee, you keep tabs on the air,” she called out, pointing to one of the young men with wings. “Cassandra, you’ve got his back. Y’all try’ta keep it cool up there, an’ keep an eye on all the civilians. Looks like they ain’t evacuated here much yet.” The pair nodded and launched back up into the air, ready to tag-team the first chariot that came close. They evacuated the airspace just in time to miss a Leviathan as it came writhing down the thoroughfare, its Chitauri and Chitlian occupants disboarding to either side. “Time fer the fun’ta start…”
Keeping to the center of the street, Rogue and her band of X-Men tried their best to entertain as many Chitauri as possible so that the civilians still stuck in this area had some escape routes to either side. There was no guarantee they wouldn’t run smack dab into another horde of Chitauri another block down, but so long as they were alive until they made it out of her sight, she was good. The strength of Hunter continued to boil through her veins as she plowed through the aliens, and for once she actually wished she were wearing gloves. Wiping her fists off on her jacket, she finally picked up one of the spears and dove back into the fray. The blade sliced cleanly through Chitauri and Chitlian alike, in a considerably less messy fashion.
By the time she felt Hunter’s strength beginning to fade, they’d cut through a decent swathe of enemies. At a subtle motion, Rogue’s hand found that of another mutant. In order to keep from pulling too much from one person, they’d decided to take turns letting her feed off of their abilities so that they each had time to recuperate between her fill ups. Fire flew from her fingertips now as she led the team towards what seemed to be a group of Atlanteans. Sure as shit, Rogue recognized the woman leading the mostly naked group of ocean-dwelling soldiers.
“Lady Dorma!” she called out, a mixture of excitement and relief in her voice. There had been a bit of tension during their meeting at Namor’s hundredth birthday celebration, but it could honestly have just been her imagination. She’d been like a fish out of water there, and then Clint had shown up, and - whoa there.
Stop it, Rogue.
Save the world, then hyper-analyze your life.
“Boy am Ah glad t’ see you!” she grinned, turning to hurl a fireball up at a chariot Cass and Lee had missed. The flames hit the engine and in moments, the whole thing crashed down into a parked car halfway down the block. Rogue cringed as the explosion hit a pair of Chitauri, but her concern was for the young man holding a sword just outside the blast radius whom they’d been attempting to get the drop on. “Mah bad!” she called out, waving to the hooded guy, a bashful grin on her face.
Post by z inactive marcspector on Apr 5, 2016 7:10:52 GMT
For the first time in many years, Marc Spector prayed.
Not to the Judeo-Christian God, or the Greek or Roman pantheon, or even the Norse Gods- some of which seemed to be present in New York- but to a God of his own. Just when the first Chitauri had begun to pour from the sky and chaos had started anew, Marc had sat down in a quiet, dark place, and sunk through the foremost layer of reality into the astral plane, to see his benefactor.
Khonshu, god of those who travel at night, god of vengeance, had made a special out-of-jurisdiction appearance to aid his wounded Avatar in the wake of the second invasion of New York. Bloodshed and the desperate struggle of the city’s protectors against the incoming aliens had wet the gutters with as much blood as rain; Khonshu did not discriminate between Chitauri and human. The deep clouds had made the sky as night, and thus, Khonshu had taken the opportunity to step beyond his ordinarily quite rigid terms of service.
”This is no time for petty squabbling.” Marc knelt, bowed with stiff, peremptory faith before a tall, unearthly being of moonlight gossamer and clinking bones. Khonshu had long since foregone a mortal form, but the silver-robed spirit-god still fed off the blood and violence the city had erupted in like a skeletal leech. Marc remembered a time, very early into his time as Moon Knight, that Khonshu had appeared to him in the visage of the ancient statue that now resided in the American Museum of Natural History; now there was only the god’s monstrous, bird-headed true form, a hollow and deathly thing that was more terrifying at twelve feet tall and swathed in robes, as opposed to the short and well-dressed phantom Marc had grown accustomed to. ”The Chitauran invaders, and their master, must not take this world. In this, my son, you and I are in perfect agreement… Just this once, my assistance comes free of charge.” After all, Marc thought bitterly, he would be getting all the offerings he could handle during the battle.
That had been nearly an hour ago already. Regrouping with his small swarm of drones and retrieving his Carbonadium armor had taken time the city didn’t have. But now, the Moon Knight was here, and the remaining four Angel Wing VTOLs and thirty-four-odd hunter-killers scrambled silently into the incoming mess of Chitauri airships and landing craft.
Marc had been shot plenty of times in his life, but never had he once been shot by an alien laser weapon. The injury, some would say, had been ‘severe’; even after a night of rest and healing Marc’s entire side ached whenever he moved too much, and he couldn’t breathe too deeply without pain. He was lucky that the energy weaponry touted by the Chitauri seemed to burn just as quickly as it excised, otherwise Marc reckoned he’d have succumbed to fluid in his nicked lung a long time ago. As it was, the rather risky nature of his injury and the limited amount of time he’d lent himself to heal made it so that Marc was fighting through pain.
”Wings 2, 3, and 5, scramble to intercept vectors.” Marc swung his own aircraft around, engines straining against the wind and rain, and deployed the miniguns hidden in the wing fuselage. ”Pack mentality. Assess threats according to individual loadout. Focus on landing craft and light fighters.” Harlem was taking a pounding, although it seemed like the first wave had hit the area lightly; Marc noted that the evacuations were still in swing, which meant that it hadn’t been a necessity in the first place. ”Drones 1-15, retrieval mode. Target stranded civilians and move them to designated safe-zone Alpha, Beta, or Foxtrot. Remaining drones, enter kamikaze mode. Target incumbent aerial forces, extreme prejudice.” Marc’s Wing sank lower and opened fire on an advancing line of Chitauri soldiers, the heavy gunfire chewing through them like paper as Marc swept down College Avenue. At the end of the street a larger, meatier Chitauri turned to the incoming threat with a howl of fury; Marc concentrated both guns on the monster, but before it finally went down under the sustained high-caliber fire it had shredded one of the steering ailerons and Marc bit out a curse. He wrestled the controls; the aircraft skipped like a stone across the ground twice, flattening a car and bisecting two Chitauri too slow to evade, before he managed to arc the VTOL abruptly skyward. A Leviathan turned the corner with a weighty rumble, and Marc dove free of his restraints just before the creature’s jaws crashed down on the white fuselage and crumpled his vehicle like a tin can.
He fell for about ten feet before he managed to get the crescent-shaped cape at his back untangled enough to be cast out enough for him to glide. Clumsy, he thought to himself. The added weight the full Carbonadium armor put on him was not what he was used to. He’d fallen out of practice. But hopefully the damn-near indestructible material would prove effective against Chitauri weaponry. Well, effective enough to keep him from being ventilated like a screen door. He drifted down towards the foremost line of Chitauri, energy fire strafing from the enemy forces to punch holes in his cape. He plummeted the final twenty feet to street level and landed with a wet crunch atop one of the burlier Chitauri soldiers, shredding its throat with his crescent darts before he flung them at two of the incoming Chit soldiers. He rolled as the hulking creature fell and came up on his feet; his side twinged painfully as he pulled the two submachine guns at his waist from their holsters and opened fire on the incoming enemies, backing up towards the line of human resistance. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a sword cleaving through the foremost Chit invaders; an Atlantean (And a clothed one, at that). It seemed that the conflict had made its way beneath the sea, which shouldn’t have surprised Marc as much as it did.
The first SMG clicked empty, and Marc used it as a club to split the skull of the next Chit in line. Despite the pain in his side, Marc felt amazing. He was vaguely aware of Khonshu watching them from above, alighting on the roof like a giant vulture to watch the battle below. ”Mutants to your left. Atlanteans to your right. And I believe that is a ninja. I do so love you humans and the strange bedfellows you keep.” Marc turned to gauge who exactly was in charge; his gaze lingered for a few moments on the Atlantean as he threw away the now-broken SMG and reloaded the other one. Faint memories of his first encounter with one of their kind flickered through his head, and with an invisible grimace he turned to the-
”Oh dear.” Khonshu said. ”What, pray tell, is she wearing?” The striped yellow-and-green… jumpsuit?... that the foremost mutant wore beneath her bomber jacket surprised Marc until she threw a fireball from her palm; with a power like that, Marc supposed she could wear anything she wanted. He turned, firing blind into another Chitauri’s chest as he appraised the situation. He decided that maybe the mutant was the best bet in this situation and jogged over to her, mumbling to himself.
”Wing 2, relocate to my position. 3 and 5, concentrate fire on the… big… flying… crocodile.” His eyes narrowed slightly, lacking the proper nomenclature. By the time he reached the jacket-bearing mutant at the head of her small collection of fellows, he’d already lowered his hand and turned to surveying the enemy force and trying to figure out how in any of several possible hells they were going to shut down this many enemies. A chariot came down in a blossom of heated fire and metal, but Marc barely flinched. A second chariot shrieked over head, tailed silently by a pair of all-white crescent-shaped hunter-killer drones; one of them caught up to the Chitauri air vehicle and barreled into the driver, causing the chariot to detonate and careen wildly into the side of the nearest building.
”Are you in charge, here?” He asked, voice raspy and slightly hoarse. He gestured behind her at the collection of mutants and the… ninja… standing by the wreckage of the first downed chariot. ”Or should I be talking to the Atlanteans?”
Few actually relished battle; Especially those from Midgard most of their Champions would prefer to live happily ever after and spare themselves from violence. Sif however was not of Midgard and few thrived on going into battle more than Sif. Waging war and defending those whom can not defend themselves gave Sif a sense of purpose she did not have during times of peace. When peace loomed Sif lead a boring and lonely life. Her only love had been dead for centuries and her prospective replacement had turned a blind eye to her for longer than she would want to care to admit to.
However Odin did not seemed to please to render his aid in the form of the Asgardian Warriors to Midgard during their time of need. Although it had been a long standing agreement that Asgard would stand to protect Midgard during their times of need. Sif believed Odin's saltiness on the matter steamed from Midgard stealing the heart of his heir Thor. A sentiment Sif could not help but share nevertheless she still supported the rendering of aid to Midgard and fighting back the forces of the Mad Titan Thanos and helping to restore order to the 9 Realms.
When the Asgardians took the Bi-Frost to Sif split up from the Allfather and the Odinson's as they marched on Manhattan. Sif took to Harlem with some of the other Asgardian Warriors to dispatch the invading Chitauri and The Dark Elves. Sif and the other Asgardians were not alone however as they were joined by X-Men, Atlanteans and other Champions of Midgard. “Tis a glorious day for battle!” Sif cried out to no one in-particular as the skies filled with their arriving enemies. This was not the first time the Chitauri had come to attack Midgard, Thor and the Avengers had vanquished them once before and Sif expected nothing different this time with the added sport even with the Mad Titan Thanos impending arrival, Sif knew he was out matched.
Whilst the enemies drew nearer Sif's immediate focus was on that of those who hailed from Svartalfheim who had been attempting to threaten Asgard in their own right. So Sif knew the more of them that she trounced on this day would ease the suffering of Asgard in the future. “For Glory, For Asgard!” Sif cried once again to no one in particular but signaled to her enemies whom it was she fought for as she engaged a battalion of Dark Elves with the Asgardian Sentries on her flank as she began cutting through the Dark Elf line.
Post by z inactive dorma on Apr 8, 2016 2:33:31 GMT
If the Chitauri had been out of their element when they had tried to invade Atlantis the opposite was very much true here. Their numbers also seemed to have grown quite a bit as well. No matter, there was no doubt in Dorma’s mind that they would not come out of this battle victorious. She simply would not have it any other way. The Atlanteans under her command had just begin engaging the Chitauri when a group of surfacers threw themselves into the fray. As… distasteful as Dorma could find surfacers in general she wasn’t about to chase them off. While she did not like how they treated the land they lived on, they were known to be a war loving species, often invading another territory for a perceived slight. Further examination of the surfacers who threw themselves into the fray showed them to have abilities outside the norm for humans. Perhaps they could come in handy in this fight.
A roar filled the air causing Dorma to look up. A large Leviathan flew just above the buildings. Dorma narrowed her eyes at the creature. It was going to be a lot harder to take down the beast on land then it had been in the water. For one thing she had not been born with the ability to fly like Namor or Aquaria had been. The few times she traipsed onto the surface when flying had been necessary she’d usually accompanied one of the two other members of the royal family. They were simply going to have to think of some other way of reaching the Leviathan.
To bad Victoria had been assigned elsewhere. Her skill set could come quite in handy. No matter, there would be other ways to take it down. It may take some trial and error but they would figure it out in the end.
A hand wrapped in her thick, red hair, yanking her head back, exposing her throat. Baring her sharp pointed teeth she spun her sword in her hand and plunged it into whoever was standing behind her. Her blade struck true. The hand unclenched from her tresses as life fled from from it releasing her. Dorma spun around to wretch her sword from the carcass. She hated being manhandled.
Hearing her name, Dorma looked around until she spotted a familiar young woman with a shock of white hair coursing through her rich brown locks. It took a moment for her to place the face with a name. Rogue. That’s what she had called herself right? She was one of Victoria’s friends. ”Rogue,” She greeted striding over to the other woman. ”I hope you are well,” The middle of a fight was probably not the best time to exchange pleasantries but what else did you say to a woman you had only met one time before?
They were approached by another man who asked if Rogue was the one in charge. Dorma had no problems if Rogue picked up the mantle of leader of the surfacers. She certainly had no desire to do so. Work alongside them, sure, but be the one responsible for their well being? She probably was not the best one for that. Surfacers were so much more fragile than Atlanteans were and Dorma wasn’t exactly sure as to where their limitations were.
Jackson watched the life fade from one of the Chitauri, whose throat he'd thrust his katana through. Or, at least, whatever the Chitauri had where humans had throats - he wasn't exactly taking the time to figure out how their anatomy worked. It was a strange sight, to watch something that had just been fighting with so much passion just... Stop fighting. But somehow, Jackson couldn't help but feel numb about that - as he pulled his sword from the monster's throat and let it fall to the ground, he thought of how many people had died because of the invaders already. How many soldiers had lost their lives at the blockade in Queens? Jackson's parents were in the city, and for all he knew they could already be victims. So why try so hard not to take the lives of the invaders? This was a war, after all - and wars had casualties. He'd just have to get readjusted to non-lethal methods once this was over... Or not; cross that bridge when he came to it.
Besides, there were bigger concerns at the moment - namely the Chariot that had just been shot out of the sky, and was heading in his direction. Again, Jackson felt a sort of numbness about the situation - he was contemplating for a moment whether or not he should move. But that moment was only a split second - soon enough he decided he should probably get out of the Chariot's way. Although, at the rate it was falling, it'd touch ground a bit of a ways away - Jackson had seen a gas tanker explode from about the distance the chariot would land at. It couldn't possibly have a bigger blast radius than the truck had, so there wasn't a lot of urgency for him to move.
When the chariot did hit ground, and explode, Jackson just turned away, lifting an arm to shield his eyes from whatever light he could have seen. A quick sidestep after that was all it took to avoid any debris from the crash from flying into him. Someone was calling, talking about "their bad" in relation to the crash, and Jackson's eyes looked up to see... damn. In all his time as a quote-unquote 'superhero,' he'd never really seen anyone in the stereotypical jumpsuit of most comic book characters. For a few seconds he stared, before shaking himself back to reality - alien invasion, people dying, he should pay attention. He watched the crescent-shaped drones fly overhead, watching one crash into one of the chariots, before he spotted... Something on one of the rooftops. It could've just been a gargoyle, but there weren't any other gargoyles, and... Well, Jackson was new to the city, but Harlem didn't seem like a 'Gargoyle' type district.
Whatever, again, more important things - namely the gathering of similarly colorful characters as him over yonder. Lemon-lime Jumpsuit Woman, an Atlantean, and what Jackson would swear was an Anti-Him if he were at all important; all of them were standing together, talking, and Jackson decided they were the people to be coordinating with. He sauntered over, shaking his sword to get some of the blood off before bringing it up, grabbing the blade by the blunt side and pulling his hand along to get rid of the rest. Once that was done, he sheathed the blade, looking between everyone gathered, before his eyes settled on the Mr. Clean version of him. "If your drones have weapons, might want to turn those on instead of just having them crash into the pilots. I'm pretty sure there's more aliens than you have drones for... Oh, and if you're going to play coy, please don't - Batman isn't as obsessive about his whole "theme" as you are."
He spoke differently - he could hear it in his own voice, that he was getting tense, more critical of others. He didn't mean to be so biting towards whoever this Moon-guy was, but he was worried; he wanted to get this done, send these aliens packing, so they could get back to making sure people were alive. He looked between the Atlantean and the woman in the bomber jacket - while the Atlantean was the default in-charge person to look to, because of how strong they were, and how easily they could probably clear the aliens out, the other woman commanded a sort of authority. Jackson recognized the people with her as mutants, and they all looked to her like she was in charge - X-Men, maybe? He'd heard something about them overseas.
One of them was bound to be in charge, but before he could ask who, another roar sounded overhead - the big space-whale was getting a lot closer now. The Atlantean would probably be able to tear a hole through it, but the way Jackson figured, if she could fly like Namor did, she would've gone and taken care of the whale already. So maybe that was just a King power that Namor got for being King. Jackson gestured to the giant mass of flesh in the sky, held up probably by sheer will power for all he could tell. "So, does anyone have a plan for that? I can start stabbing if someone can get me up there - sword can go through the armor on these ones down here just fine, but I doubt it'll get deep enough to do any real damage to that..."
Post by Z inactive alisonblaire on Apr 13, 2016 7:25:21 GMT
She'd sworn up and down to Jay that'd it'd be fine. Slapped an arm on his shoulder, gave it a little squeeze, looked him in the eye and said "Relax, babe. I'll only be gone five minutes, maybe ten, dependin' on traffic." She'd given him a reassuring wink and went on her way. And really, that was about how long she was expecting. Maybe a tiny bit longer on the round trip, but really. She was just gonna cut across town a couple blocks, pop by her place, grab a few necessities and take a look. She'd seriously lucked out at every other end of the world occasion, and now that she was back in town she wanted to take a gander at some of her vintage posters and try to remember the wall of Alice Cooper she had going for her. Just in case everything went to hell and some spiteful Chitauri decided to slash up the joint.
And man did everything go to shit. She'd had the radio flicked on while she packed up some clothes and the announcement came. Chitauri converging. Chitauri everywhere. Snatching her hair up into a loose ponytail, she decided it was time to go and kissed her poster of Queen Elizabeth I for good luck. On it was one of the long-past Queen's most famous quotes. Though the sex which I belong to is considered weak, you will nevertheless find me a rock that bends to no wind.
She took a deep breath and threw open the window of her apartment, letting the sound stream in. Alright, Al. They're countin' on ya. Give 'em hell, kid. She let her form soak it up, all the sounds. Sirens blaring in the distance declaring the city in a state of emergency, voice flickering in on the radio behind her, police and EMT sirens shrieking, already some distant shell fire, blasts of energy. It was a regular sound buffet, with energy flowing around and through her, pooling and stockpiling until she was glowing, and in more ways than one. With as much juice as she had, she was pretty sure she was going to overcome the oh, god, I'm gonna fuckin' die like she had last time, and her identity was concealed. Again. Both of which were good enough cause for her to dive out the window like a stock broker gone bankrupt.
For a few moments, the second sun was in free-fall--a meteorite of pure light, plummeting toward the earth, throwing its own shadows. But this lasted a moment (and one moment too fucking long, in Al's opinion!) before a barrier of light wrapped around her. Then she shot up like a climbing rocking, body propelling faster and faster as the light she generated was so bright that she almost rivaled the sun. And this was when the adrenaline and the juice outweighed the natural caution and she started feeling like she could kick some serious ass! Still glittering through the air like a solarflare with an extra relentless destructive streak, she took to taking Chitauri from the sky. With one hand, she formed a spectral and monstrous hand which swat the aliens in her way. With the other, she fired off laser beams from her fingertip like a gunslinger, shooting falling invaders without a second thought.
A tank's shell fired off into the sky only a brief way's away, and the rocketing sound pulsed through her like a shot of espresso straight to the bloodstream. Throwing a wide grin, Al redirected that sounded, focusing it into a clap of her hands that sent a line of chariots barreling over in the sky. And, okay. This was kinda threatening to turn addictive, and she wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.
Continuing through the streets, she'd been headed back to Jay's position when she caught a group of supers and... holy hell! were those Atlanteans?!... in the street, with a Leviathan closing in. Zipping down and deciding she could afford the pit-stop on her way to Jay, she closed the distance enough to catch sight of a couple familiar people. Soucom, looking the fiercest she'd ever seen her, a guy in a different getup but with enough moons and white all over him to be Mr. Knight, and a bunch of people she didn't know. At this point the perfect hearing wasn't muddled by too many additional sounds and she picked up on the conversation before she passed overhead.
"Space worm? Got it!" Her voice carried somehow, the resonance sounding unnatural but being pretty easily understood all the same. Damn, did she love being superpowered sometime! Rocketing forward, she pulled her hand from her side out in a wide sweep, gathering a ball of light as she did so. By the time her hand reached the edge of its arc, it was straight ahead of her, the brilliant ball of light as bright as the rest of her. Then, all at once, the orange-sized sphere emptied, shooting a laser that sheered through the Leviathan's armored plating at the Chitauri on top of it. Pulling up, she darted back up into the air and then pulled light around her, forming many smaller spheres which she fired downward in a penetrating shotgun effect.
Anna Marie tag! up to you how effective the shotgunning is on the Leviathan.
Rogue was pleasantly surprised to note that the Lady Dorma remembered her name. It had been nearly six months since their first and only meeting, but it was nice (or perhaps worrisome) that she’d made a decent enough impression on the Atlantean Spymaster to be recalled in the middle of a battle. Then again, maybe it was just the hair. People tended to remember her white streaks more than they remembered anything else about the Southern Belle.
“Oh, Ah’m good. Sweeter’n a glass’a gran’s tea,” she grinned, her Southern drawl coming out in full force. She’d never grown up with a gran, of course. And she doubted Dorma had either. Shit. Did the Atlanteans even have tea? God, that metaphor probably just went straight over the sorceress’ head. Grinning awkwardly, Rogue cleared her throat and let out a quiet chuckle. “Er… How ‘bout you? Enjoyin’ yer trip’ta our lovely surface?” she asked, waving a hand out, palm up, inviting Dorma to take a look at the scenery. “We’re kinda goin’ through a bit’f a renovation phase right now…”
Rogue’s attention shifted to the free falling chariot as she managed to knock it out of the sky, but more importantly, to the… man… person… ninja?... near the flames. He didn’t offer any kind of response, to her apology. Instead, she could feel his eyes on her, even from half a block away. Without any way to see his expression more clearly, she wasn’t certain if he was glaring or not, so she made a mental note to try and keep an ear out in that direction just in case he didn’t consider the accidental fire too terribly friendly.
It wasn’t hard to miss Moon Knight when he arrived on the scene. There were whispers throughout the city of a man dressed in white who doled out vengeance to wrong-doers, but up until this point, Rogue had always assumed they were nothing more than urban legends. Watching the man descend - cape outstretched elegantly like a crescent moon - she knew the rumors weren’t just ghost stories meant to frighten the more weak hearted individuals with criminal intent. Not only was he a sight to behold, he was a force to be reckoned with.
Rogue watched him land, wincing instinctively at the crunch of the Chitlian’s body being crushed beneath the weight of what seemed to be pale white plate armor. Dear god, the man (myth?) was well and truly a Knight. Well… A Knight who wielded submachine guns… But still… Damn. Color her impressed.
An excited battle cry filled the air and, after hurling a few more balls of flame into the mess of surrounding Chitauri, Rogue turned to catch a glimpse. It wasn’t hard to pick Lady Sif out of the crowd. Rogue had never met the shieldmaiden, but she’d heard stories about her from Clint (who’d heard them from Thor). Granted, with her luck, she’d probably end up hating the woman. Although, the Asgardian women seemed to be the only ones who hadn’t utterly pissed her off thus far…
No. She was getting too caught up in this line of thinking for now. Just as Lady Sif had exclaimed, there was a battle to be had. Unfortunately, she didn’t have time to watch the woman in action, as the arrival of a Leviathan added a surge of new enemies to contend with. And some new allies, it seemed…
“Ah, uhh…” Rogue glanced around at the gaggle of mutants and Atlanteans around her. Dorma seemed disinterested in the prospect, so Rogue sucked in a large breath and turned back to the urban legend. “Well, Ah can’t speak fer Lady Dorma or the Atlanteans, but Ah’m the leader’a this unit’a X-Men,” she explained, stepping forward and offering out one hand. “Name’s Rogue. ‘S good’ta meet ya. Moon Knight, Ah presume, judgin’ by the outfit an’ all them ghost stories Ah’ve been hearin’.”
The sound of an unfamiliar voice caught Rogue’s attention and both brunette and stark white locks tumbled down her shoulder as she whipped her head in that direction. Damn! She’d forgotten about the possibly irate ninja! He was already in close quarters by the time she realized he’d been allowed past the defenses with no questions asked due to his clearly human (or at least Midgardian - there wasn’t any way to really tell if he was Asgardian under the black cloth, but he was considerably more compact than his brethren if so). As she summoned a bit of the fading fire to her fingertips defensively, she finally registered what he was saying, and thus, realized he wasn’t even speaking to her.
He sounded angry, nonetheless, and Rogue couldn’t help the sheepish expression that crossed her face as he snipped at Moon Knight.
Not wanting to look like a fool, she amped up the power of the fire and hurled a fireball at a pair of approaching Chitauri. The ball sailed just below a… dear god, what the fuck was that?!... shining brightly as it coursed through the sky. Before she had time to figure out what it was, a voice reverberated down from the… mutant? It had to be! Shielding her eyes with one hand, Rogue squinted up at the bright (female?) super, watching in awe as she/it peppered the Leviathan with a rather hefty laser.
As the newcomer followed up their first attack with a slew of more, smaller lasers, Rogue’s mind traveled to a mutant with similarly rad powers. God, she hoped Ali was okay. And Jay. And the rest of the band. And Jesus, were they in town right now? Maybe there were off in BFE Kansas, playing a show for a crowd full of hicks, and had stayed put in order to remain safe from the carnage here and on the West Coast.
Rogue didn’t have long to ponder over the well-being of her friends, unfortunately (or perhaps, fortunately), as the Leviathan screeched its displeasure at the wounds inflicted on it. It began to drop in altitude, and after a few hard hits from some of her aerial combatants, it finally hit the ground on the other side of the barricade. There was no stopping it from careening into the side of a building. Oh well. Damage Control would have to take care of that later.
For now, she needed to focus on getting herself another hit of something - anything. The majority of her team were preoccupied with Chitauri for the time being; time to do things the old fashioned way, she supposed. Grabbing a discarded glaive, Rogue waded back into the fray. Close quarters combat was something she’d learned in the Danger Room, and as someone whose abilities relied on being around other mutants, she’d paid close attention to those lessons. A spear wasn’t her weapon of choice, but it was better than her bare fists.
She could hear another Leviathan approaching, but there was nothing she could do about it for the time being. “Anytime one’a y’all’re free, Ah could use a bit’a juice over here!” she called out, hoping one of the nearby mutants came to her aid soon.
Post by z inactive marcspector on Apr 17, 2016 9:03:26 GMT
The battlecries and thunder that heralded the arrival of the Asgardians made Marc’s teeth grind slightly; everything was noise, noise and aggression. He questioned whether or not flinging a battle-hungry war-god headfirst into an already-messy battlefield was good tactics- but then again, they seemed to be shredding the enemy lines and taking care of the weird grey-skinned non-aliens that had been skirting the battle. As his question of leadership positions was answered he turned his head back to the meeting of bizarre individuals directly in front of him.
Marc’s head tilted slightly as this ‘Rogue’ explained her position, and her unit. X-men. Good. He ducked his head momentarily to ‘Lady Dorma’ as she was mentioned, but the general consensus seemed to be… nobody was in charge. That was sloppy. He narrowed his eyes slightly beneath his hood and cowl as he was addressed by name; at the proffered hand, he did nothing to return the gesture, instead shifting a bit to let his peripheral vision encompass both them and the battlefield behind. ”Yes,” was the only confirmation as to his identity that she got. ”If neither of you are really in charge here, may I suggest you-“
Before Marc got the chance to dispense his tactical advice, he was interrupted- the ninja had made his way over, it seemed. He bristled in response to the strange swordsman’s words, giving him a flat and perhaps exasperated look that could probably be read through the mask. ”If the drones had weapons,” He started sharply, ”Don’t you think I’d be using them?” He turned back to Rogue, one hand lifting from beneath his cloak to gesture at the ninja. ”Is this four-year-old with you?”
Whatever answer may have been forthcoming for the white-clad warrior was lost to a howling torrent of noise and energy that preceded the arrival of a ball of light and fire, and Marc’s eyes widened slightly. Avenger? No. The yell that caught Marc’s hearing over the din seemed too unprofessional for that, although he could hardly say that he knew the Avengers personally. It wasn’t Natalia, that was for sure.
”Well well, if it isn't our favorite rock star,” Khonshu murmured, a deep chuckle following his cryptic declaration. ”What a peculiar stage for a show. Do you think she prefers the Friends of Humanity?” It took Marc a moment to realize what, precisely, he was talking about- but when he did, his eyes narrowed once again.
”Alison Blaire!” He hissed in understanding as the supercharged mutant cleaved through the Leviathan’s plated armor with a beam of light. The beast let out a resonant, whale-like groan and listed slightly in the air, grinding against a nearby apartment complex as Ali peppered it with bursts of light. Marc started forwards towards the giant creature as it started to turn, jaws wide, towards its new attacker.
”Wing 5, suicide run. Initiate kamikaze protocols,” He said into the communicator at his wrist. He turned to watch the skies, spotting the fifth helicopter-sized VTOL swing around the corner; the miniguns, already deployed, began spitting bullets down the lane at the monstrous flying beast, hammering across the ruined plating on its back and forcing a wounded squeal from its bloodied maw. ”Blaire, if you can hear this; might want to move back.”
Marc watched the Wing empty its last reserves of bullets into the creature, which drifted lazily away from the building, and then turned to Dorma and the others. The VTOL veered towards the Leviathan, picked up speed, and blew out its engines; with a hideous grinding noise, the Wing reached maximum speed and course-corrected until it was on a collision course with the giant beast. ”So, as I was saying,” He began, gesturing to Dorma. ”You might want to have your forces spread out a bit to hold the line.” He paused, just in time for the Angel Wing to crash full-force into the wounded Leviathan’s back. The craft’s pointed wings screeched as they punctured the already-weakened metal, and the entire VTOL went up in flames, a sharp detonation rocking the already-weakened Leviathan. Whatever was keeping it in the air seemed to have failed, the massive beast twisting like a fish going belly-up, twisted fragments of white fuselage protruding from its spine.
The creature collapsed into the middle of the street, flattening an entire column of Chitauri, the disgusting head crashing to a halt not ten feet from where Rogue stood with her liberated glaive. Marc turned back to Jackson, racking the bolt on his remaining submachine gun. ”Maybe you can stab it, make sure it’s dead.” With that snide parting shot he dove back into battle, SMG barking out the staccato crack of a rapid-fire weapon. He fought his way through the Chitauri line to Rogue, ejecting a spent clip and throwing the empty weapon into the crowd. ”Watch your right flank!” He shouted over the din of scrambling aliens. A thrown spear slammed into his shoulder and spun him around in a circle; the carbonadium armor didn’t suffer so much as a dent, but it still sent lances of white-hot pain shooting through his side as his body jerked sharply at the waist. You’re fighting injured, Spector. Don’t forget that.
”Take your own advice, my boy,” Khonshu shifted on the rooftop, and Marc spun back around with his teeth grinding, whipping a pistol from the holster at his belt and unloading half his clip into the offending Chitauri. ”We could really use some of that fire right about now!” He snapped at Rogue, kicking a Chit in the chest and sending it airborne.
As the battle rages on, a murmur starts up amongst the Dark Elves, spurred by the arrival of a lone warrior. The squadron retreats from combat with their current foe as the word spreads throughout the ranks. Just when it seems they’ve stopped fighting for good, one warrior bursts forward, sword raised “For the Princess!” he shouts, the Allspeak letting his words ring clearly for everyone in the area. “Down with the Mad Titan!” His voice is joined by others as the squadron charges back into the fray, viciously hacking down the Chitauri in the area.
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Post by z inactive dorma on Apr 23, 2016 16:16:18 GMT
Dorma had absolutely no idea what Rogue was talking about. She understood the words but not in the context they were used. Gran was most likely a slang derivative of grandmother and tea was a beverage made from tea leaves but she was not sure what it meant when the two were put together. Dorma decided to just focus on her first statement. ”I am glad you are doing well,’ She said with a regal inclination of her head.
”I must say this is not nearly as enjoyable as my last visit to the surface.” Which she found humorous considering the fact she had been even more reluctant to go topside at that time; and that had been for a party. She had grumbled far less when she had decided to return to the surface to assist Namor in the deal he had made with SHIELD. ”I cannot say I like the new decor however,” Dorma commented lightly surveying the scenery Rogue had pointed out. ”And you see to have developed a bit of a pest problem.” Pest was to mild of a word for the Chitauri in Dorma’s opinion but it went with the imagery.
The gentleman in white who joined them seemed rather unhappy with their responses but before he could say anymore their small party grew even more. Much to Dorma’s amusement they were joined by a disgruntled man in black. Black, white, red, green, they were a veritable study in contrast. Then, as surfacers were wont to do, they began bickering amongst themselves rather than actually worry about the problem at hand.
Dorma was itching to be back in the fight; standing here talking was not accomplishing anything and she wanted to introduce as many Chitauri as possible to her point of her blade. That was the whole reason for her visit to the surface. She had just been about to excuse herself when a flash of light caught her attention. She watched interestedly as the light flying through the sky took down one of the leviathan. ”Handy,” She murmured to herself.
Turning to regard the one Rogue had called Moon Night, Dorma eyed him speculatively for a brief moment a brief moment before nodding sharply. Raising her voice to be heard over the commotion she called out in her native tongue directing her people to fan out and hold the line. She’d had enough talk, it was well past the time for action. Raising her sword before her, she hurried to where a spot had opened up in their formation. Sliding into the hole she jabbed her sword into an exposed spot of oncoming Chitauri, using her considerable strength to drive the blade home.
Yanking her sword back out she went to swing at the next oncoming chitauri when she was suddenly struck by a searing pain. It felt as if her whole body was on fire but her eyes told her otherwise. Shouting out in pain she doubled over briefly. This moment of weakness cost her however. Distracted by the sudden pain she had not been prepared to dodge the blast a chitauri sent her and the hot blast grazed her shoulder. While the wound hurt it also served to clear her mind, and she came to the realization that the burning sensation she had felt had not came from her. It had come down the mental link that had been set up between the Atlantean generals on the surface and their King.
Namor? She asked through the mental link, unable to keep the feelings of worry and anger from accompanying it. The link had not snapped so whatever had happened had not killed him but the idea that he had been injured only served to fuel the rage she already felt towards the Chitauri. Had they not caused enough pain to her people already?
Hissing in pain Dorma straightened, pulling herself to her full height, waiving off the worried Atlanteans that had closed in on her. Taking a deep breath she raised her sword once more and gritting her teeth, ran directly a trio Chitauri approaching. She swung her blade with quick, graceful movements, easily cutting them down where they stood.