Emergence Day pt. 1


corgan_icon.jpg enrique_icon.jpg Percy_icon.jpg Vitorrio_icon.jpg Zander_icon.jpg

Scene Title Emergence Day pt. 1
Synopsis A massive Verneshot-like hole opens in the earth near Scarsdale out of which a horde of enemies emerge. A group of heroes show up to save the day.


Throughout New York and the surrounding area low, rumbling thunder can be heard. As if distant thunder were cracking the air miles away, or the earth itself was turning in its sleep. Radio and local television news stations pick up on this activity after it persists for an hour or so. A thunderous blast that shakes, cracks and (in some cases) shatters windows and knocks books off shelves. A huge column of smoke rises off to the north of the five New York boroughs, maybe an hour out of the city. Now the joint is jumping.

Within twenty minutes a news helicopter is circling the ascending cloud of smoke boiling out of a massive crater that has been excavated via explosion. Soil and rock debris paints the landscape in one of the few unpaved areas on the east coast. The reporter narrating the scene immediately jumps to the conclusion that it was a terrorist attack—this of course, ignores the fact that there is nothing to attack here but trees and grass.

Enrique is walking with Vittorio when he hears the noise and raises his brow. "Hey…hope you dont mind man but im going to check that out real quick." he says as he flicks the safety off his gun and begins to head over. "Come along if you want man.. we might need you. Just keep your cool if things go to shit."

Corgan's alone, probably just leaving his bandmates somewhere to investigate the explosion. He's riding his motorcycle in the direction of it, adjusting the sheath that's strapped to the side of the bike, touching the hilt of the blade thoughtfully. He keeps one hand on the handlebars to keep the engine going at the same fast speed and zips in and out of traffic, reaching behind him to check for the desert eagle behind his back. Lowering his head to avoid wind resistance, he tears out along the highway towards the crater.

Vittorio raises an eyebrow as he nods over to Enrique. He hefts the rather tacky looking spear over his shoulder. It looks like it came from the natural history museum, or something- a repo for hanging on someone's walls. "I come with you. I think you need my help." he offers over to Enrique. He is dressed in bullet proof armor, and a badge with a star on it hangs from his belt. Otherwise, he seems to be more in the style of desperato than anything else- sans sleeves and jacket.

Enrique nods to the other man. "Yeah, I hope I dont mano." he says as he begins to jog over towards the crater…moving decently fast but keeping steady pace. No use getting to where you need a fight all out of wind and tired. Then your just rushing to get your ass kicked. While running he reaches towards his suitcase, ready to open it and grabs what he needs if things get bad.

Zander says, "Shit, this town doesn't mess around." He points to Enrique and Vittorio "So you guy's locals? Want to turn your duo into a trio?"

Vittorio looks over to Zander. "More local than you, Whitey." he offers to Zander as he takes a deep breath and begins to look over towards the crater himself. "You are good with firing a gun, no?" he wonders back to Enrique in his native tongue. "Because I think you may need to shot whatever we find." he says, with a quiet grin.

Zander pulls out a hand gun, which then morphs into a shotgun.

Enrique jogs up to the scene when he is greated by Zander. He raises his brow then nods. "Yes… me Muy Chingon. This my shaman Chile Largo. We here because loud boom sound." he says in faux indian voice before he nods to Vittorino. "I can hit things sometimes if thats what your asking. Its not just for show." he says before he gestures. "But sure kid, just be carefull and sta…the fuck? Ok…I guess you can take care of yourself." he says with a raised brow, looking worridly around. "You see anything weird. Let me talk first. THEN shoot."

The punk rocker kid twists the bike and screeches it to a halt with one fluid, dexterous motion near the edge of the group surrounding the crater. Corgan slips off the bike, grabs the sword strapped to it and tugs up his shirt to attach the scabbard to the studded leather belt that's strapped around his waist. His boots clomp against the loosened soil as he runs quickly towards … the only person he recognizes, which is Enrique. Skidding to a halt nearby, he says, "'ey, boyo. I heard there was somethin' like a boom or loud explosion, like rockin' the dead from their graves." He eyes the man with the badge quietly, then glances towards Zander before turning his attention back towards the scene at hand, scanning the destruction.

Zander "Hey, who's road warrior?" his head jerks over towards this 'punk rocker.'

Some of the smoke from the crater begins to clear. Whether you're watching it on the news on your fancy 2011 cellphone or are listening to a radio broadcast on your new iPod nano, the narration from the reporter takes on a decidedly confused tone, "The smoke's beginning to clear," and in fact, judging from the column of smoke in the sky, this is true, "and I can see something. There's something moving inside the hole. Lots of things. I think I can see people moving inside, or climbing out." There's another loud, thunderous sound that can be heard for, again, miles around. The news narration is silenced.

Enrique frowns as he tries to peer through the forest to the source of the noise then turns to Corgan. "Maybe you should stay back, whatever is here means….ooh hey. You got a sword. Fair enough." he says before he reaches into his breifcase…and pulls out a wooden stick with bristles and feathers on the large end. "Alright. Lets find out what the hell this is…and quiet kid. Road warrior is a freind. With a sword. Its always best to make people with swords your freinds."

Those close enough to the explosion would see the news chopper swatted out of the sky by something explosive that detonates a few meters from it. The whirlybird tumbles to its doom on the ground, while the news casters declare a loss of contact with the Action News reporter (guess he got a little more Action than he expected).

Vittorio's got a spear. And as they grow closer to the forest it seems a lot less fake and a lot more real. Something about the obsidian. The dark brown stains on the wood. "I think someone has died. We are wasting time." he states, as he looks back at the others. He notices Corgan's sword. "We work together then, as warriors. If we die, we die fighting." he states to Corgan- offering the other man an open arm. This is all the greeting Vittorio needs.

Zander "I concur, sword are an exellent condition for friends", then he pulls in tight to the bcak of the group, shotgun being held onehanded across his shoulder. "You warriors with dying honourably shtick, just don't make that plan A."

"And a gun, but I'm better with Brionac's sliver," Corgan admits, looking towards Zander again. He allows Enrique to explain for him, then pulls out his phone, flicking through the newscast. "Right-o. I'd rather die fightin' than die in any other manner, by the blood of old Eire." He reaches a hand forward and grabs Vittorio's hand as the man's arm is extended and shakes it, releases it and smacks his fist against the leather jacket over his chest. "Let's go," he nods.

Zander throws an arm over Corgan and Vittorio's shoulders, and leans in over the hand shake "Let's get to it then, I have to say I'm kind of intrigued."

Enrique sighs lightly. "I suppose you are right, no talking out of this one..shame." he says before he nods to Corgan. "I can think of a few better ways I would like to die." he says before he shakes the broom. "You who have dishonored your country and lived and died in sin…come back to repay your debt. Come back and earn paridise in battle." he calls out as….5 jaguar warriors with spiky clubs and sheilds seem to apear around them. They nod to Enrique before he puts his own hand in. "Lets do this then."

Long, keening cries echo across the landscape, breaking the silence that follows the second explosion. As if a mountainous whale has beached itself upon the earth, to begin singing in agony as the weight of its body crushes itself, no longer supported by the maternal embrace of the ocean.

Zander then pulls away from the pair and cantinues forward toward the pit, streching his arms out, look back over his shoulder, "By the way, Name's Zander, plesure I'm sure."

"Corgan O'Connor," he quirks a brow at the jaguar warriors. Seems the introduction of the Aztec warriors has earned another admission: "Son of Lugh." He follows up with, "Nice effect there. Come in handy. An'.. that doesn't sound t'good, so.." Raising up from the ground, the punk takes to the air and hovers overhead. He spirals up into the sky and looks out over the horizon; hovering up in the sky, the punk's hair whips around him as he catches the air. His eyes narrow slightly and he begins zipping off quickly towards the sound of the keening.

Zander pumps his shotgun, to chamber a round, fascinces up his vest and dart forward after the speedsters

Enrique nods lightly. "Enrique Victorino…trial lawyer." he says before he closes his eyes. "Dammed boy… alright… lets just get there and figure out what we do then." he says before he calls out to the aztecs. "Keep them safe.. im going ahead." and he takes off running much faster then he should be able to run.

Vittorio begins to run with the 5 Aztec warriors after Zander and Corgan. "We take the left flank!" he shouts up to Enrique- hoping he hears.

Zander two finger salutes the aztec now fallowing him and Vittorio, nods "I'll stay wide!" then pulling on his gun streches it, it is now a rifle

Zander pulls up the rear behind Vitt and the aztecs, deftly jumping the last of the debris as he comes out of whats left of the surrounding foest, rifle held half way in on hand after he stops running he stands up straight, showing thin he is and runs his free hans through his hair to remove what ever leave there are'

Vittorio's looking like some bridge between the Aztec warriors and himself- all carrying weapons much like his own as he trots along and sets the pace. They begin to spread out in typical mezoamerican combat fashion and make a line of single men who will attack when the time comes. They move quickly.

Zander with his free hand, take a garrotte wire out of his pockckt, hook one end on thumb and with a swift fick gets it to swing around his arm, then readies his rifle aiming it at the crator, getting ready for whatever is comming

Enrique is running swiftly along, having left the suitcase behind he now has his gun in one hand and his broom in in the off hand. He leans over to the gun and whispers as softly as he can while running. "The aliens die if they touch water." he cocks the gun which has suddenly reloaded and looks up to the sky to see if he can spot Corgan, hoping the group behind is as close as it sounds.

As the Scions approach, another low, mournful keen reverberates through the landscape. As the warriors approach, a low drumming can be heard, as if a battalion of soldiers were psyching themselves up for a fight. A chant begins to float through the trees, wordless, full of energy and anger.

As Corgan surveys the scene, he spirals around the crater in mid-air to take an accurate count, avoiding the clouds of smoke. Darting up and then twisting around, he slips back along the direction in which he came, going low to ground but flying above it to ignore the terrain. When he reaches Enrique, he continues at the speed that the lawyer's running to explain, "There's a larger creature that's makin' th'noises like a beached whale, surrounded by some others, mostly smaller, hairless, grey. The large humanoid's like a giant, smaller ones are grey, wit' rock-like skin, comin' our way."

Zander says, "maybe its jus an impromtu music festival?…"

Enrique gives a small nod before he begins to slow down, to allow the others to catch up. "Hmm alright… I will work on the little guys..you guys need to work on big boy." he says before he begins slowing down a bit. "Let them catch up."

"Right, my thoughts exactly. We're gonna need everyone fer all this; 'specially what with the big fellah that seems intent on crushin' his way through th'core of Danu's blessed earth." His feet touch down against the soil and his hand goes down to the pommel of his sword. It stays there, his fingers drumming against the hilt softly, like he's itching to pull it but hesitating for some reason. He waits with Enrique for the others.

Vittorio approaches, soon after what is said- the warriors behind him- in protective mode. Some with Zander, as well. "What do we have?" he asks quietly- spear held in one hand for the moment as he looks out towards the crater upon approaching.

When all scions are close enough to the mess of armed humanoids in a distance, they can also see a long, spindly arm reach out of the crater. Sparkling bits of metal along the forearm's length glitter in the sun as it emerges from the thinning cloud of smoke. It ends with a vicious claw, and is attached to something large and indistinct, still obscured by thicker smoke.

Vittorio stares through the smoke, as if it was nothing. "It has a gun. We will need to keep moving. The thing is huge, as near as I can tell. But we will survive and we will win." he says simply, as he stares at it- there is no sense of them not surviving or winning, strangely enough.

Taking to the air a bit to allow his voice to carry after Vittorio makes his pronouncement, Corgan states in a loud voice so that all present can hear him: "By th'blood of the Tuatha will our blades find their mark in the flesh of th'enemy. Our victory will be sung by th'bards in the halls of the Seelie courts; our strength will be lauded by the voice of the Dagda who will raise a clarion call t'the heavens and scream our glory in all th'halls of our noble ancestors!" Energized by his own proclamation, he draws the iron blade at his belt and points it skyward to allow the sun to gleam off of it, then raises high into the sky, twisting the sword in his hand and pulling himself into a hovering offensive stance.

Enrique blinks slightly as he nods. "Thats right…mother…BIG heart coming your way. Maybe even a giant dick." he says with a smirk before he gestures. "Lets go." and once more he begins to charge, slower so that the others keep pace with him but moving foward.

As the long arm slams down on the terrain, hulking the body attached to it out of the crater, the humanoids who have gathered around the gaping hole in the earth roar with delight. Chanting louder and louder. There's maybe fifty of them to be seen, but they could be numbered in the thousands judging by their volume.

Zander stays to the outside edge of the crator, finding whatever cover he can, vaulting over lower obsticals to get a better view "hrm, bard indeed."

As Corgan delivers his rousing speech, however, a few of the humanoid figures point to the spot on the terrain where the scions have gathered. The shouting starts to slowly die down as the soldiers call amongst themselves and, by apparent democratic choice, a group of three splits off and heads in the direction of Corgan's shouting.

Vittorio moves, keeping close to COrgan. He's already said he has the man's back. "Lets kick this metal-man's ass back to its prison."

It was -not- easy to get here. He had to bribe one of his team mates with a great deal of booze in order to get a ride out this way, and his friend doesn't even bother waiting. He takes back off after dropping Percy off on the side of the road. Seeing the smoke, it took him many minutes of jogging to get him within eye-shot of the crater. Noting the rocky formed people, he keeps his position low as possible, looking around for a few moments for something, finding a downed tree, he quietly moves to stand in the middle and cracks his knuckles before bending down and tucking his hands under the and with a soft grunt of concentrations, his bracers crackle with a little electricity and he hefts the fallen tree up and over his head. He then takes a few heavy steps towards the group of rock skin bastards and then with a loud 'Nnuuuugh!" He launches the tree up and at group of the baddies…as it is dark, by the time the tree enters the view of the creatures…it is perhaps too late.

The massive trunk, blown free of most smaller branches, flies relatively straight, given the heave behind it. Landing across all three scouts, they're bowled over by the bulk of wood that smashes into them, leaving them crumpled on the dirt-and-rock-scattered earth as the tree tumbles a few feet behind them. The rest of the humanoids surrounding the crater roar with anger and turn towards the group of their compatriots that were crushed by a tree. Bursts of automatic gunfire can be heard from the crowd.

Vittorio looks around- through the haze to grab at a near-by boulder that's easily the size of himself and then some- it likely ways a ton or more. But he just grabs it with a single hand and squeezes and lifts without apparent strain of effort at all kneeling behind it as he nods to the others. "I have our cover."

It's obvious that the punk doesn't mind calling attention to himself or anyone nearby. With a free hand, he twists in mid-air, grabs his gun out from behind his back and pulls it free of his waistband. With a muttered curse in Gaelic, he fires three shots into the air to catch the attention of the enemies and screams with all the rage of the Unseelie court, "Spawn of the hated corruptors and destroyers of the World!" His voice full of conviction and power, "The battle is joined! You will fall before the might of the sons of the gods and we will send you back from whence you came!"

As Corgan shouts out the group of craggy-skinned warriors on the blasted field seem to shunt backwards with shock. After a moment's hesitation, they call between each other and, again, without much additional discussion or argument, split into various groups. Some rush forward, others seek out cover. The monstrous form in the background reaches further outside of the hole now, a large cannon-like apparatus can clearly be seen as an arm presses onto the lip of the hole in the earth to force the bulk of its body into the sunlight.

Enrique curses lightly under his breath before he steps out from his cover with a smile. "You there…yeah you. You handsome man. Just look at you with that big old gun…just ready to go off." he says with a deep husky tone to his regular olive voice as he licks his finger then moves to pop the top few buttons of his nice shirt. "Help me and my freinds defend ourselves and I will let you have your way with me all night long." The response is a confused look and a few points from the armed and armored monsters approaching the group.

Tree thrown, Percy has announced his presence in the only way he truly way he knows…which is violence and destruction. However, three down and about a million to go. So, he lifts his right hand to the sky and extends it as if reaching for something. His ring flashes and a bolt of electricity appears in his hand only to solidify into the form of a long sterling javelin of greek origins…a Pilum. He points with one finger towards one of the rock baddies with a gun and then plants a foot, whips his hand back and launches the Pilum through the air where it hits a 'golem' and impales him, carrying him up and off his feet and into a tree on the opposite side of the crater, sticking him to it…where he falls limp. A moment later he snaps his fingers and the bolt dissipates into a flash of lightning and then reappears in his outstretched hand. "4." He calls.

Vittorio drops the stone with out a care, the thing rumbling as it rolls to a stop near-by. He shouts again his battle cry and begins to run forward towards one of the gun-toting creatures. The Obsidian blade on the side of his spear flashes in the light as it falls towards the enemy of the gods. "Die!"

Zander's back is against a rock, pointing the rifle back over his shoulder, "3…" takes aim at a big 'baddie', "2…" flicks & adjust his sights "1. Fire!" takes a shot all that is seen is a small glint going off the barrel, and a small click sounds clear, BANG, the bullet flies true cutting straight through on of the stone mans heads with ease, looking to where the shot originated all the remaining ones see it a spent cartridge flipout from behind a stone

The stoney-skinned enemies on the field charge forward nearly into melee range to create a form of 'cover-to-cover' combat that resembles a muddy melee, but with guns. A group remains behind to lay down short bursts of covering fire for their allies, as well as grazing fire to interfere with their enemies. Short staccato snaps of gunfire fill the air. Da-ta-tat, da-ta-tat, da-ta-tat.

A select number of enemies in melee range unleash a burst of bullets towards Vittorio and Percy. The two get peppered with a spray of bullets that certainly ruins clothing, but either bounce off or ricochet away harmlessly.

Enrique takes a deep breath. "Hey! You… y….you know what fuck it. I can't do this. I can't." he says softly before he looks down. "My mother is a whore… I…I never really was loved by my family. I… I never had anyone to love but..but YOU." he says pointing to another one. "You look like you understand me… I just.. please." he says putting all of his effort into it. "I need you to love me. Kill your freinds…and we will run off together." he says sounding on the verge of tears.

The Aztec warriors converge on one of the men…each of them swinging as they surround him…most of them are easily dodged but the one behind manages to get through his gaurd and land a hit with his spiked club. Lets just hope it does some damage.

The target of Enrique's "affection" turns to face him, heavily-muscled, stony body draws up with a breath. Yellow, beady eyes seem to soften, and the automatic weapon in its hands drops to the ground. The armor plating that seems to be welded to its body glints in the sunlight. In a way that can only be seen in armor plating welded to bodies of stony-fleshed muscle-piles who are suddenly in love can do.

The warriors under Enrique's command rip a nasty wound open on the chest of one of the other maruaders, but leave him still standing (and very angry with them).

Vittorio's obsidian sharded spear flashes by the Rock man, missing before Vittorio spins to bring the blade down again with a sickening crunch against stone-skin. The Obsidian doesn't break despite the great crack from the force of great strength of stone hitting stone. Sparks, however, do fly.

Zander shouts "chatch you on the flip side!" and does a handstand flip over his cover, at the apex of the vault, he takes a shot at the nearest baddie, landing the vault goes into a slide finishing with throwing his back up against a new set of cover as another soldier drops from the bullet.

Bullets fly and tear apart chunks of fabric on Percy. His shirt is torn to bit and his jeans are left with little more than modesty. However, once the hail of bullets cease, the young man stands, and his body seems to flex….perhaps to show that is isn't hit….isn't hurt….and is officially pissed. He holds the Pilum in his hands for a moment as his eyes narrow for a moment, taking in the area. There is a sudden flash in his eyes. "Hive mind!" He calls before he plants a single bare foot, the other still in the remnants of a shoe. He picks one of the bad guys at random and once again sucks in a breath, aims, and lets the spear fly…hopefully straight and true.

Like a soldier during D-Day, Corgan weaves back and forth away from the covering fire of the bullets. The chaos of the melee unfolds around him and he glances towards the creatures assaulting both Vittorio and the heretofore unknown Percy. With another vicious cry, Corgan sets himself on an aerial course for impact with one of the creatures, stopping short in mid-air and twisting to spiral, swinging the alloyed blade — iron with the tint of red from the bloody spear of Lugh — towards the throat of the creature. His form is a blurred cyclone of carnage, filled with the warrior spirit of his ancestors. Like the warrior bards of old Ireland, Corgan sings out an oath in the language of his father: "By the fury of the Morrigan, I will end you!" The sliver of Brionac nearly sings with him as it whistles through the air, eager to imbed itself in the flesh of the enemy.

Percy adds, as if he was in some sort of competition…."Five."

Vittorio continues and presses the attack against the same creature with the same roar as he did before. The Obsidian barbed spear flicks through the dappled light able to get through the smoke. Swick. Swick. Two quick attacks. A fake followed by a downward slice in an attempt to bisect the creature.

Despite the fact that many of them have been pummeled and shot and pierced, the small horde of marauders seem strangely focused on Enrique. A few of them begin to 'sing' as it were, towards him. Similar to the sound the large beast in the crater keened a few minutes past. Even the gunners hiding behind cover furhter away have come out to gaze upon the glorious Aztlanti paragon of beauty. A chorus of whale-song floats up, the opposite of their war-chant that was interrupted by Corgan's battle cry. Beauty and love, not aggression and hate.

But just as the small army of marauders begins to move towards Enrique to worship his radiance, the giant that has been clawing its way from the emergence hole slams down on the rubble-strewn field with both claws. Guns pepper the length of its arms, and on each shoulder is a masssive, barreled contraption. A cannon extends from the center of it's armored forehead, and a bestial, fanged mouth distends several yards from it's upper jaw. A long, bloated purple tongue lolls out of its mouth and it lets out a hideous shriek of ear-piercing sound and wet spittle. Eyes focused on Enrique. A blast of flame erupts from the device on it's left shoulder, immolating several of it's companions with a single blast of liquid fire.

Enrique just sort of smiles as the creatures begin worshiping him and then…BOOM…the sound hits and he corvers his ears before he points towards the creature that did it and shouts out….unusualy loudly. "KILL THAT! ANYONE WHO LOVES ME OR WORKS FOR ME KILL THAT" before with a scream he BAM BAM…lets off two rounds of his gun towards it.

"What's that?" Zander says, "My phone's ringing! Yes what no you'll have to speak up! What this wendseday, oh mr wendseday! I can't just leave. It'd be rude!" He shoots gun at near by baddie "No don't magic mist me away!"

That scream certainly gets his attention. The hovering son of Lugh turns his attention towards the larger creature and speeds off in its direction with the darting speed of a Seeing as his last attack falter slightly against the flinty skin of the humanoid creature, Corgan places more oomph into the next one, especially considering the target. With a flurry of strikes, his blade continues to try to find purchase within the enemy's body; though not able to take on the fury of the Riastradh, he does his best to emulate the courage of the warrior ideal. His eyes burn and his face shines as though glowing, pregnant with the battle-lust. The scream serves not to deter Corgan from his quarry. His enemy shall fall, and the young-punk-turned-warrior-bard means to ensure this.

The Australian is caught in the blast of fire, and he holds his hands over his face to shield him….but there is no purpose to it. He stands there, remnants of clothes being burned away…leaving him in little more than a bluejean loincloth….-if- that. He however smirks a little and offers in a very thick Australian accent. "Now there she is…." He extends a hand to the Pilum that is currently pinning yet another rock-creature through the chest and it evaporates in a clap of lightning, reappearing in his hand as a bolt and then once again as the spear made manifest. He takes a few jogging steps toward, and lets the javelin go at the apex of his swing, aiming for the open mouth of the creature.

The heavy blow from Corgan tears into the beast's hide, ichor surging in his body sending momentum slicing through the beast with a cut too large for any sword wielded by a mortal hand. Black blood erupts from the wound, fountaining into the air in thick, oily bursts. The spear hurled by Percy gouges into its open mouth, slicing through the long, oily tongue dangling from its open maw, cutting through an artery and sending another burst of black blood spraying forward onto the battlefield.

The cannon on its right shoulder erupts as the two scions bite into it. A massive mortar falls lazily do the center of the field of battle, exploding with a concussive wave that roars through the battlefield, tumbling over the horde of combatants save for Vittorio, Percy and Corgan.

Vittorio runs up towards the monster who's appeared- huge creature. He shouts, as he once more swings that mighty spear towards it- trying to rend the monster's flesh.

As Vittorio drives his spear into the belly of the monster, undaunted by the concussive blast from the mortar dropped on the field of battle, a spray of blood erupts from the wound, coating the Aztlanti in black ichor (both literal and figurative, it seems!). The beast keens a mournful song that rises in pitch until it fades into the supersonic frequency, kissed with a hint of static, as if it were transmitting a fax message via audio. It collapses in a heap of blood and metal and torn flesh. The soldiers it knocked over just prior spasm, as a group, and fall still, halting as they try to stand again and collapsing into much smaller, more numerous heaps.

Enrique sighs lightly as he strides foward..gesturing as his men vanish. "You fought well today." he says then looks around to the others with a smile. 'Well.. that went well. Anyone injured? Or naked?"

Percy raises a hand at that, wearing the tattered remnants of his blue-jeans and briefs. He however moves over to the large creature and plants a pair of hands on one of the shoulder cannons the creature has. He plants a bare foot against the flesh of the monster and then makes a loud grunting noise as he starts to tear it free.

Vittorio stands, in still silence a moment as he pulls his spear back. The slashing weapon having opened the belly of the beast as it was designed. "Good." he states quietly, as he looks over to Percy and his pulling the shoulder cannon off. He seems a touch interested- at least a moment. "We should find its heart and sacrifice it to our Gods." he says over towards Enrique quietly, as he kneels down.

Enrique nods to Vittorino. "Hmm that we should… anyone mind if we get dibs on the heart? No no? Ok.." he says before he gestures. "You have the sharp thing… I just have the gun. You should get it."

Giving another brutal, bloodcurdling scream, Corgan draws his blade out of the creature and holds it up towards the sky. A light shiver goes through his body and he lowers back to the ground, sliding the blade back into its sheath, coated in blood. Brionac's sliver will drink heartily tonight. His eyes continue to watch the corpse of the monster, staring at it with a mixture of awe and solemnity. His voice breaks his silence and his reverie as he begins reciting something to himself in another language.

Shortly after the entire conflagration comes to a bloody conclusion, the dull thuk-thuk-thuk of another news helicopter flying in can be heard. It starts to slowly orbit the scene, hovering a few hundred feet in the air.

Following the intonation of his Gaelic prayer, Corgan weaves a hand in the air over the corpse and turns back towards the others. "We have fought well today," he's still shivering a little from the adrenaline rush. Towards Enrique, he nods, "So, now you know my secret, eh?" After that, he wonders towards Percy, "And who're you, who can throw trees an' lightin' bolt spears with th'flick of th'wrist?" His accent settles back into place as he starts to calm down a little; idly, his eyes pan up to catch the news chopper flying above them. Brightly, he waves towards the newscasters, then makes a flexing muscle arm, pointing towards the monster.

The chopper runs a few lower buzzes past the battle field, strewn with bodies and blood before pulling up for a wide-field view again. It hovers in place, cameras focused on the scar in the earth.

Enrique gives a small grin. "And you know mine too.. though lets get out of the view of the camera's eh?" he says as he steps back towards the wood, trying to keep out of view.

Percy regards Corgan the same way an athlete does when he comes off the field…which is with an absence of emotion or attention. It's just the work at the moment and his body is in that mode. He slings the giant torn cannon over his shoulder and then moves over to pick up one of the bodies of the rock-warriors and then looks back to Corgan. "Can you give me a ride, Mate? We can talk on the way or once we are out of the lime light, but I don't want to be plastered on the news….So…" He offers, starting towards the tree-line again and keeping his face down.

Corgan's face will probably get plastered all over the news, considering he's looking straight up at the camera, unlike the others. With a slight clearing of his throat, he nods towards Percy, "Y-yeah, sure, man. I needta check up on m'friend anyhow. Elin's probably gettin' herself into all kindsa trouble without me 'round t'stop 'er." He turns away from the camera and begins heading back towards the tree-line and out of sight.

Enrique gives a small nod before he gestures. "Well lets get out of here man..news is bad. News gets you killed and stops you from doing work. Mother I give the blood of that creature and the souls of the lesser creatures to you."

Another thuk-thuk-thuk joins the beating of the news chopper's fan. A second helicopter hovers around the scene, this one emblazoned with the letters NYPD. Fashionably late, as usual.

Percy steps into the tree-line safe of the group and with his arm loads, waits in an almost patient expectant manner and then goes to follow behind Corgan, having no idea where the guy parked, but certainly going to follow him as he doesn't envy a ride back with the cops, the media or a 3 hour walk back home with no shoes and barely any clothes.

Cops are obviously something that Corgan does /not/ want to see. As the police helicopter moves into view, he hurriedly heads into the woods, not making a move to run at full speed, but just getting the hell out of sight. "Shit, cops!" He calls out, then gets the two of them back to his bike, with Percy riding pinion, then driving him back to town.

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