1963-11-24 - As The World Falls Down
Summary: Mordo takes the Enchantress across dimensions… to a masquerade, with a dastardly plan in mind…
Related: Indecent Proposals
Theme Song: - "As the World Falls Down" David Bowie
amora mordo 

Fade in…

A portal of dark-green water, ringed in stone, closes — leaving its travellers dry and well, standing before… a palace. Unlike palaces found on Earth, here it has floating wings — East, West, etc… not that there are poles in this place. There is no discernable way up to the palace, but a path that forms under the very feet of the guests as they walk from the courtyard (on a lower, floating 'island') to the main doors.

There, they are greeted by a human-hydra being — in a tuxedo — checking the invitations of all present. Mordo, standing beside the Enchantress, Amora, smiles at her. He looks nothing like himself at the moment. He is younger, Caucasian and debonair…

(For the purpose of this roleplay, Mordo will be played by Jude Law)

…and he carries a silver-pommelled cane. Turning from Amora to gaze at the spires reaching into the amethyst sky, he remarks: "Absolutely exquisite… the castle is rather comely as well." Then he gives Amora a sly smirk; he'd been complimenting her. "We are a little early, it would appear my dear…" says he with a light frown. "There will be time for mingling — and dancing."

He gaze lingers on her, his eyes lighting up.

"Shall we?"

Amora grinned, having allows her mortal guise to fade away into nothing as they stepped through the portal. The Goddess looked every inch the Enchantress that the tales regaled her as. Diaphanous silks of impossible weight covered her arms in ribbons that exposed flesh in scandalous ways. Gold hugged her ample curves and heels of glimmering material clicked with each sway of her hips.

It wasn't so much that she was more beautiful in this form, merely it was more, her. No mortal veil to dull or dampen the effects of her beauty. No magic to draw in her presence. It was impossible to not note her every movement and she flashed disguised Mordo a white toothed grin.

"Yes, it is quite comely darling." She murmured, eyes glittering with heat and amusement that was so uniquely her. A delicately manicured hand wrapped around his arm as he escorted her inside.

"Oh yes, we shall." Laughter in her voice.

Each guest hands his, her — its — invitation to the three-headed hydrabeing at the foot of the path, who then takes a bite out of the slip of paper… and lets them through. That is, until the couple in front of Mordo and Amora.

One head bites the invitation, frowns.

The second head also takes a bite — and the couple begin to sweat.

The third head takes a bite… and suddenly the vanishing path… vanishes beneath the guests' feet. With a scream, they fall into vast nothingness… only to be seen flying off to Amora's left — for this is the Dimension of Iln, and 'down' may not always mean 'down'. Mordo bobs his eyebrows at this, smiling over at Amora.

They should have naught to fear, shouldn't they?

"Your invi-tation. Pleassse," says the hydra-butler — each head taking a different syllable or two.

"Of course," the baron replies, handing it over. Two of the three heads focus entirely upon Amora, eyeing her up and down…hissing. It is not quite jealousy of her beauty, but definitely awe. The first head bites the invitation, considers the takes of it — and then, very slowly bites it again, his own eyes now focusing on Amora.

"En-joy the fesssti-vitie-sss," they reply, motioning to the gates as they open.

"Charming reception," Mordo comments drily. "The disappearing path is something of a novelty, I must admit. Perhaps I should try that at the castle…"

As the couple before them drops, Amora arched a brow upwards, amusement flickering through her gaze. Then, a flirtatious wink was offered to the hydra's face that offered a gaze toward her, and she smiled, wiggling her fingers as he bit their invitation and motioned them inside.

"I can't say that I've seen that as a means of keeping out untoward guests, but it certainly is effective.." She murmured, leaning in closer as they entered the palace. She slid a hand over Mordo's arm, a laugh escaping her full lips.

At an 'old fashioned' masquerade, one might expect the guests to be lavishly dressed — as they are here — and wearing ornate, and oft unnerving masks — as they are here. The difference lies in the people behind the masks.

Whereas a human might wear a mask with a long nose, or slanted ears — here, such masks fit the contours of the faces behind them. The music can only be described as…


With a hint of glam-rock.

There are dancers swirling and twirling upon the floor… the walls… and even in the air. Baron Mordo pauses by the archway as the butler announces them:

"His Royal Highness, the Prince of Oz — and Her Magnificence, the Incomparable, Amora the Enchantress!"

Mordo bows, but does not take his eyes from the gathering. Few turn to regard him — he is, after all a 'nobody prince' from 'nowhere' — but Amora they turn to 'ooh' and 'ahh' appropriately.

The men in particular.

There is, at this time, no sign of their host — the demon-lord who oversees this little Dimension of Iln.

Amora soaked up the attention like the prima-donna she was. A toss of golden curls and intricate braids follows her announcement and she smiles lavashiously at the male gazes that lingered over her person. She winked, wiggled her fingers in a grand wave and crooned greetings as they stepped further inside after their announced presence.

Perfectly manicured hands swept her skirts out before her in a bellowing grace as they walked, and she did her part to draw the eyes of everyone she could. Her mere presence enough to do that, and she merely encouraged it. She leaned toward Mordo's person, a smile still painted on her lips.

"Fascinating party, wouldn't you say, darling?"

Mordo lays a hand upon Amora's and smiles into her eyes.

"Exactly the word I would use, my dear. And look, your glory seems to have preceded you…" It's true. And here come a veritable bevy of couples to greet her, pressing through the crowd while delays them somewhat. Mordo smiles disarmingly.

"Be watchful for His Eminence, First-Prince Hayzn'adar. Our host will be anxious to meet you — doubtless he already knows you are here. The trophy-horn is of course in the Trophy Room, in the East Wing. The necklace will be on display at the hall behind the ballroom. And the diary… is in the First-Prince's bedchambers. Ah, visitors to see you, Your Radiance!"

Mordo bows shallowly to the approaching guests, wondering how the Enchantress will deal with them, to get to the person in charge of all this…

Amora grins at Mordo, "That's quite easy to handle, darling. Quite easy indeed." She whispered into the shell of his ear. She patted the hand on her other, she tugged at her neckline.

With a smooth step forward she offered her hand to the various courtiers, coo'ing greetings and various compliments to the men. Charming her way through the crowd with a twinkle in her eye.

"Oh, but I do hope I'll get a chance to thank our lovely host for preparing such a grand ball." She murmured toward one of the men, fluttering her dark lashes.

"Innndeed!" the man replies, speaking behind his wide-faced mask. Yes, it too matches his features, and he accents certain consonants whenever he speaks. "The First-Prinnnce has outdonnne himmmself this time, Your… Your…Beautifulness."

He immediately coughs, silently cursing for his apparent lack of charm. The woman accompanying him does not seem to mind that her man faltered. She is just as enamored of the Enchantress, and does not want her man oggling her.

"May onnne ask how you did your hair, Enchantress?" inquires another lady in a ballgown of glowing… yellow. So far, they are all ignoring Mordo.

He smiles inwardly.

"The lady asked a question, you daft bipeds," snaps another female — one walking upon tentacles rather than legs. "Milady Dlllurpa at your eternal service," she introduces herself. "The First-Prince will be along shortly. He always arrives fashionably late. Would you care for some punch?"

For her part, Amora does not seem in the least bit overwhelmed with the attention, nor the fact that she'd drawn male and female eyes, and those in between. She flashed another grin, tossing her shoulders back. Each party goer was greeted with an expertise of grace and polite conversation as they approached her in turn. She was charming, which would have been a shock for nearly anyone in the Asgardian assembly back on Midgard.

Not one person could possibly feel bereft or forgotten in her presence as she alternated between each with a skilled hand.

"Thank you, how kind of you to say so,"

"Oh, my hair? Tis an ancient spell, truly it's best to keep to the traditional spells for hair. Anything new is just likely to cause a frizz."

"Oh, he arrives fashionably late? How simply glorious, I love a man that knows how to keep his guests on their toes,"

"Of course I'd simply love some punch, thank you darling."

As Lady Dlllurpa leads Amora over to the punch bowls — floating calmly above tables with foods from multiple dimensions (including Earth) upon them — Mordo goes to mingle with some the 'gentlemen' in the room, just across the hall.

The air is rich with the 'scent' and sound of magic — twisted and woven together to make the pleasure of the evening almost a tangible thing. So too, do the relics and amulets — items of power — resonate from the heads, bosoms and hands of several of the guests.

The words 'drunk with power' might spring to mind.

At the punch-bowls, Lady Dlllurpa casually inquires, "We have never before been graced by your presence, Enchantress. Why now? It has been a long time coming."

Amora parted from Mordo without pause, slinking with a sway of her hips toward the table as the Lady in question escorts her. The magic in the air was inhaled and twisted as the Enchantress desired, mostly, she added it to her manner of dress. Enhancing her person, her hair, her gaze— to be the exact image of beauty that the majority of the room vauled. (Within reason that was subtle enough)

"Well, my dear, I have been enjoying visits to various alternative realms than that of the more famous Nine. I figure, since I am well within my third thousand year or so, 'tis well past time." She grinned, helping herself to the punch.

"And I must say that I am utterly pleased by my choice."

Dlllurpa beams — or, what for her species passes for 'beaming'. She is clearly pleased, and orders punch for herself. "We have been diminished by your absence," says she, raising the drinking bulb, "and raised by your presence. To you, Enchantress."

"Would the guests please turn their sensory organs to the balcony over the ballroom!" calls the three-headed butler. "We present, His Eminence, First-Prince of this realm and the Many…Akulatraxus!"

All heads turns as bidden to see… what appears to be a draconic man — reptilian of features, winged and horned, with wisps of fire escaping from between his teeth.

"Welcome!" the First-Prince booms. "Welcome one and all, to this, my five-thousand, two-hundred and forty-fifth birthday celebration! Do enjoy yourselves! Eat! Drink! Converse! Dance! Dally in whatsoever manner you desire…"

As he says that last word, 'desire', he looks across at Amora, and instantly releases flames from his lips as he chuckles throatily. "My, my…" the draconian man murmurs, and he glides down to the dance-floor — clearing it of people in moments.

"My dear, long-sought Enchantress… how GOOD of you to come!"

A sip of the punch and Amora grinned at Dlllurpa over the rim of the goblet. "You're simply too kind, darling. I can only say that being present in such an ornate affair has brightened my otherwise abysmal day to new heights otherwise unknown.." She fluttered her eyelashes, making a show of looking shyly down at her drink as if at a loss for words.

And then the Prince enters and she keeps her emerald eyed gaze firmly upon him. As if she were fascinated by his presence and stature. She was not Loki with a fascination for bedding the odd, but she still had the reputation for ..strange.. bedfellows.

As the Prince approached her, she made a show of lowering her drink, dipping her head politely and lowering her gaze to peer up at him through thick eyelashes. She smirked, lifting up a delicately manicured hand toward him. "It would terribly rude of me to not come for your birthday, darling. Would you do me the honor of a dance?" Her voice every soft promise made between lovers. Of silken sheets. Of wine and heady sweets. Of temptation.

"Yours is a hand Akulatraxus has longed to touch…" the First-Prince replies, reaching forth a scaled and clawed hand of his own. As soon as the Enchantress obliges, he leads her to the dance-floor, where ALL eyes are upon them, projecting a kalaedoscope of emotions:





Lust… Jealousy… Awe. Lust. Jealousy. Indignation. Awe… And so the atmosphere intensifies, producing reactions in the guests that humans could not fathom even if they had been here to witness it. The orchestra plays, the First-Prince bows.

The dance begins.

And Baron Mordo… disappears from the room. Unmarked. Unwitnessed. Forgotten. Exactly as planned.

"You smell even better in person, Enchantress," says the First-Prince. "May I call you Amora?"

The Enchantress didn't so much as lift her gaze to find where Mordo had vanished to. That would give away the game. So, rather, she smiled and batted her eyes as the Prince took her hand and led her to the dance floor. Her skirts sparkling with light both arcane and spun into the weave of her fabric, unearthly in its hue and beauty as she was.

She fed off the emotions much as Fandral did, and it only boosted her power as all eyes in the room fell on her. To be in a realm other than Midgard? The realm that chewed away at her natural magic stores? Oh it was simply delicious and she practically glowed.

"Please do, I'd be horribly put out if you did not address me so, your majesty." She leaned in briefly as they turned and spun. "I'm flattered by your attentions.."

"Akul," the draconian replies with a flame-wreathed smile. "Please, it is only fair we share the same familiarity." And thus the dance continues around the room, then into the air… Gravity appears to bend to the whims of those among it, allowing them to dance upon the walls and even the ceiling without spilling a drop of punch, or losing a single item.

Meanwhile, Mordo ducks down a hall and up a flight of stairs — heading for the First-Prince's bedchambers. For the most part, he remains completely undetected — keeping his use of magic to a minimum, so as to not attract attention…

Until a sentry standing by the stairs to the main bedroom spots him…

In the dance-hall, Akulatraxus inquires while carrying the Enchantress about the room: "There is more to Iln than this palace — more to the First-Prince of Iln as well — would you… care to see it? It is my birthday after all? I do not have to linger here if it would please you to accompany me…"

There is a murmur of mixed indignation, admiration, sycophantism throughout the guests.

A flutter of thick eyelashes follows his response, and she seems to look down demurely as they danced. She seemed perfectly at ease with the odd angles and floating dances that happened around them. She smiles, she preens, she graciously dances with the grace of the most practiced ladies of any court.

"Akul, it is then." She murmured, lifting her gaze to flutter over him.

His offer was clear, and she grinned, turning into a delicate twist as they spun and she returned to him. "And leave your birthday party? Oh darling, I'm flattered, you've just arrived and are willing to leave so many of your adoring audience alone just for me?" Her voice breathless in tone, a whispery intonation of flirtation.

The First-Prince's head-frilled (not unlike a frill-necked lizard) fan out in pleasure at the Enchantress' doting upon him. To the murmuring of the crowd, he guides them both over toward the rear of the room…

Where they alight upon the floor, near the archway into the other hall. "Come," says he in a warm tone of voice — warm indeed, for he is still breathing fire — and one hand slides down Amora's back…

In full view of the guests behind them.

The murmuring intensifies, especially as Akul's clawed fingers just begin to ghost over the curvature of her buttocks.

He leads her to a magical casing of pure, transparent crystal around a necklace of brilliant gems that glow in shades of white-gold and flame. "Do you like them?" He asks of her softly. "These are the Sunstones Galy'yn — priceless. They change colour depending upon whomever is fortunate enough to wear them…"

Amora had been to a great many courts in her time, she'd toyed with the dark elves, light elves, dwarves, and plenty of other assorted creatures had desired her over the years. A fire breathing lizard prince? She didn't even bat an eye. Though doubtlessly Mordo would hear about it later.

Instead she smiled, leaned into his figure as he escorted her across the room to the back. She tilted her head back, brows shooting upwards as she glanced over the necklace in the display. "Oh darling, they're exquisite. Why am I not surprised to see you hold such a thing of beauty and elegance? They suit your.. refined.. tastes." She purred, trailing a hand over his arm.

The draconian's hand pinches (the one rather low, scandalously low, down the Enchantress' back) and he chuckles. Letting go of her, he reaches toward the case and begins chanting a curse-reversal spell upon it. The crystal fades as if it had never been there, and the dragon-man reaches in to grasp the necklace of sunstones.

They immediately turn a deep obsidian, with fires burning in their depths if one looks closely enough. "These, I think, should grace the neck of the most beautiful woman I have seen…" says Akul as he clasps the precious necklace about Amora's throat.

The gems flare to life!

The stones turn a deep emerald… wreathed in verdant fire, although without burning. They speak in Amora's mind — a chorus of voices — bidding her greetings, as she would then realise the truth:

Each Sunstone… is a living being.

In captive.

The First-Prince leans in as though to kiss Amora… while, upstairs, Mordo confronts the sentry. After moments of pleading ignorance — looking for the toilet (which only confuses the nonhuman guard) and other excuses — he suddenly attacks with the Living Staff in his hands, wrapping it around the guard's throat like a garrotte-wire… and chokes the man to death.

Let it never be said that Amora does not have patience.. nor question how far the woman was willing to go for a necklace. There had been much she was willing to do in the past for necklaces of various enchantments. Handling a lizard prince that grope her, was low on the scale of things. He earned no reaction other than a small, almost teasing pat of her hand. "Darling, you're such a tease!"

Then as he drew the necklace free, settling it around her neck she smirked, hands settling over the limelight of the gem stones. The living beings trapped within earned no sympathy from the woman. She herself owned too many trapped souls to feel for the souls within.

As the Prince leans in to kiss her, Amora smirks, wrapping her arms around the his shoulders. Clearly, the first-Prince had no inkling to the weapon that Amora's lips were. The spells laid upon the ruby temptations were enough to make Loki wary. He would be under her command.

If The Enchantress could be bothered with rolling her eyes, she would have at the mental words. As her lips brushed over the lizard prince, her will slammed down over him. The spell upon her lips was the strongest enchanted item she controlled, thousands of years spent upon the magicks therein.

"Now, darling," She purred, patting a hand against his cheek, or what passed as his cheek. "What other lovely secrets do you have laying around here?"

The First-Prince….

…soon to be Last-Prince…

…of Iln stiffens (pun intended) at the oh-so-deadly kiss of the Enchantress. Such a kiss has turned even the strongest of minds (reputedly) in the multiverse to Amora's will, and Akul of Iln is no exception… His eyes glaze over, his neck frills flutter and fall flat, and his shoulders slump as a sigh escapes his lips.

Never again shall he be burdened by individual thought, reason or desire. His would… is now Amora, and only Amora. Without her… his body will fail and die as surely as it would without light, food and air.

"As… you wish," says he, leading Amora from the hall — ignoring his guests entirely — and into the room in which he displays most of his collections. In this room, on a stand inside a similar crystal case, rests a large horn — taken from a horrendous and almost-impossible to kill abomination of boar and man…

A Boarwartz.

The last item.

Mordo appears at the top of the stairs, smiling. The dairy is already upon his person, and soon he and his queen shall have all that they came to take… and more besides if they so wish.

"What… shall I show you?" the First-Prince inquires in a dead, colourless voice.

Amora stalks along beside him, a hand on her hip as she grins viciously. Her gaze sharp and predatory in turn as she sauntered along side. She seemed utterly in her element. A male to torment and toy with, and treasures just in reach. She gestured to the horn, commanding him to release it, just as Mordo appeared.

"Darling, what do you desire? Anything else?" Her fingers fluttered over the necklace over her collarbone, a white toothed grin that had made men fall to their knees in pleading, in fear, pulled her lips wide.

This was Amora The Enchantress, Witch of Asgard. One of the most powerful practitioners in her generation, rivaled by only a Queen in her own right and Loki the Prince. And it showed.

"Of course, my Queen…"

Akul, now nothing more than a thrall, performs a similar ritual about the crystal casing and frees the Boarwartz horn from its confinement. Mordo, beaming with awe and pride at she who… rather hold his head, if not his mind (since where would be the fun in that? one hopes…), approaches down the stairs as if he owns them.

"My dear," he says to Amora as he comes closer. His form shifts from his (Jude Law) illusion to his usual swarthy complexion and emerald tunic — completing the transformation just as he lays his hand upon the Horn.

"This belongs somewhere far more fitting for old relics of great power but little purpose…" says he, quite possibly referring to Stephen Strange as well, since he is also speaking of the Sanctum.

"Balance must be maintained, after all. Now…" Turning to Last-Prince and Only-Enchantress, the baron sheathes the Living Staff at his back, places the horn into a satchel under his arm, and looks at Amora.

"I think this calls for a dance — if you are quite finished with… this." And he motions dismissively to Akulatraxus.

A shrug, and Amora rolled her shoulders back, dragging a hand through her glorious corona of golden locks as she approached Mordo. She slunk around him not unlike a shark circling prey, and she slid her hands over his shoulders. "You owe me more than a dance, darling. I allowed that thing to touch me." She whispered into the shell of his ear.

A green eyed gaze flicked back to the lizard prince, her lips peeling backward in a silent snarl. "Shall I have him fall upon his own sword? Or cast his person off the edge of his domain into nothing?" She practically curled herself over Mordo, leveraging a leg over him.

Mordo gestures to the palace around them, the guests, the other relics, gems and 'shinies' in the place… and smiles. "As it pleases you, my dear, so should you do… Iln will find another prince, a Second-Prince — you could name yourself 'First-Queen' — although it would mean keeping the… dracolyth (Akul) alive. The magic here is tied to him. Or…"

And he walks brazenly out into the ballroom, surrounded by silent and staring guests, musicians and guards. They dare not make a move for fear of the repercussions, given that Akul controls everything here…

And Amora controls Akul.

"You could bid him dissolve all of this, and everyone in it," Mordo calls back. "There is not one innocent soul in this place — even those in your necklace are tainted. Beautiful, but tainted. These people have come to power on claims that they are truly worthy of it — even compared to you."

The swarthy sorcerer smiles again, this time with his eyes glinting in the light. "What does the Enchantress do to those who believe they compare to Her. Singular. Beauty?"

Amora stepped forward on heels, her courtly garb vanishing into a fade of magical green light as her Asgardian armor replaces it. Limelight of energy rings her fingers and she brushes a hand through her hair, the other settling on her hip.

"Oh, I do not plan to leave a single soul alive here to speak of what we've done." She smirks, and with a whispered word to the lizard prince commands just that, the guests dissolving into nothingness instantly.

"For you, though, darling First-Prince," She glanced at Mordo, pausing. "Do you mind if I set him loose on Midgard? I think it'd be fascinating.."

Mordo considers.

The people shrink away.

Some even start running for the doors.

Unfortunately, the magic holding all this together is dependent upon the will of the First-Prince, and he is… indisposed presently. "There are, after all, too many sorcerers in the Middle Plane… too many pretenders… balance must be maintained. By all means let the First-Prince loose upon them — for, there must always be Shadow, wherever there is Light."

He pauses and withdraws the Living Staff, and begins twirling it. A vertical wheel of emerald water forms in the air, which then descends to the floor — distorting it into a ring of stone around a wide pool.

Their means home — well, at least to Earth.

A pair of guests — actually the first ones to greet them at the door — make a mad dash for the portal… only to dissolve into puddles the moment they touch it. "I'm sorry," Mordo tells the rest of the guests. "Without a ticket I'm afraid you cannot board this flight." To Amora he says, "Shall we?" holding out his hand.

Another order was whispered to the enslaved prince, a wicked smile of delight and amusement playing over the Enchantress' lips as she returned to Mordo's side. A delicate hand slipped over his arm, hooking her hand through his as he opened the portal and offered her a hand.

"Oh aye, let us depart.." She cared little for traditional baubles and the alike, having plenty in her own palace tucked behind wards and walls of Asgard's finest. What need did she have for lesser items of magic?

A kiss was pressed to the Baron's cheek, "Thank you for the wonderful time out, darling." She whispered.

Mordo smiles at the kiss.

Mordo has almost always drawn most his power from (or at least expressed it through) the elements of water and earth, unlike Doctor Strange who appears to identify more with fire and wind — and as the Enchantress and her new 'pet' step inside the pool of darkwater, the baron points the Staff in a near-circle at the terrified guests.

Their world is already crumbling without the First-Prince to hold it together.

"It has been a pleasure meeting you all," says he with a smile. "This has been a ball 'to end all balls'." Then the darkwater rises up from the pool, enveloping the trio entirely. As they disappear, and the portal fades, they will not hear — not will they care about — the screams of the guests as their world dissolves… taking them with it.

Only one figure in the dissolving ballroom does not cower in fear… Lady Dlllurpa. She… smiles.

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