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Gwen has arrived.
*
New York freezes and yet it burns. From high above the winter landscape is grim as portions of the city are without power during the onset of a chill evening. Smoke continues to mar the city's skyline, obscuring the stars in the few places where the heavy grey clouds part just enough for the night's sky to be faintly visible. The sirens that sounded throughout the city as the emergency vehicles rushed from one point to another have fallen off. Some of them have been destroyed, damaged, others are realizing that the traffic is so sparse that the sirens are unneeded, and even others had found that such loud noises would draw the attention of an incursion should one be near.
Yet the threat of the invaders does not cease. The end of the first full day brings with it the steady threat, the steady assault. Many of the city's heroes have been running themselves ragged with conflict after conflict. The news is filled with reports, imagery of selfless actions. Not just the powered individuals doing the fighting, there are images of people digging through rubble, homes being opened to those who have been trapped at points of the city. Homeless shelters and soup kitchens have all opened their doors for the displaced during such a time of hardship.
And yet they keep coming.
It's off of Brighton Beach where the roaring tumult of crackling ice and shattering concrete is heard. The latest appearance of upthrusting icicles that climb towards the sky in the manifestation of glacial eldritch power. For those who have seen such before, it seems louder, stronger… and as those great sweeping pieces of an almost ethereal glacier climb to several stories in height… it's definitely the biggest.
Nearby a news team on a rooftop turns and starts filming, flashing their spotlight onto it as they inform their viewers of what is just now passing.
*
Being a reporter means a lot of things. Sometimes it means hanging out with gorgeous disgraced athletes and asking them questions in the comfort of one's own home. And then it can also mean freezing your ass off in the dreariest of winter days while hoping to cross paths with some giants…or whatever else is raining down on Earth since the assassination of the Asgardian, Loki. And, for Sinjin, it means crossing paths with what looks like the biggest event to date.
"You getting this?" There's not one but two photographers from the Bulletin with him. And, yes, Sinjin usually does investigative reporting. The difference today is that he stands a chance in hell of surviving actually showing up to and observing — maybe even taking part in — one of these assaults on Earth.
*
David North had been out here investigating a lead in a missing person's case when the first of the breaches erupted, and no sooner had it been closed than another opened. He has been stranded out here since this all began, and it is beginning to annoy him.
At least he knows Heather's all right. She's too good at her job not to be.
David leans against the hood of a destroyed car as he peers out towards the growing mass of ice off the beach, and his expression flattens. Of course. With a tired sigh, he straightens up, tugs the lapels of his suit jacket into place, and begins to walk towards the beach itself — taking care to sharply pound his fist into each and any available hard surface he can along the way.
He's gonna need a charge. Again.
*
It's not Gwen's New York that's in trouble— she's figured that out by now, come to terms with it. But she *is* kind of stuck here for an unknown lngth of time, so it may as well be. She's just as screwed as anyone else if the place goes down like this, and sitting the fight out wouldn't sit well with her, anyway.
Besides, it keeps her mind occupied and off her own troubles, like where exactly she's staying long-term.
The extra-dimensional Spider-Woman moves, swings, flips, leaps, runs and tumbles through the city. And.. you know… that huge ice structure looks like it's calling her name.
Her path comes to a stop perched on a wall near the reporters, and her mask doesn't quite hide the gesture of her rolling her eyes a little. "Hey, I know you press guys take the job seriously and all, but is this really the right time to stand on principle?"
*
This is not right: this is forbidden. The Laws of the Realms say that these giants are not allowed to cross into Midgard. Then again, it really isn't Anduvin's duty to enforce Odin's will: he's also not really a protector of this realm. Yet, he finds he can't simply stand and wait and watch while the giants rampage. After all, they're giants and he's a dwarf: they're natural enemies.
And so, Anduvin Eitrison marches into the Brighton Beach area, and regards the environment gravely. He looks like a simple, tall man with a suit, though that is an illusion— he is armored in Anduvinaunt, his fabled armor, and as he reaches his hand out… Space sort of folds in on itself, and then folds again, and again, and when it unfolds, he bears a strange sword that seems to be constantly in motion, bending and folding and turning inside out in defiance of the natural fabric of space.
*
Crystal has been in need of a good fight for the last few days. Most of the people who know the Inhuman princess would be surprised by the temper that lies just beneath the surface, but it's been a rough week. This…was a little bit more than she was looking for when she wished for an opportunity to vent her frustrations, but there's no sense in letting a perfectly good giant invasion go to waste.
Since the attacks began, she's been lending a hand where she can, dressed in a yellow and black jumpsuit and with the aid of Lockjaw to get her quickly from one place to another. With the news reports talking about another assault here, she blinks into view with the giant bulldog, already looking a little scuffed and scraped herself but ready for a fight.
*
That gleaming crystaline span reaches up higher and higher, limbs of the icy tree-like substance reaching out and then firing with a crackling /CRASH/, tendrils smashing into the ice-covered ground even as snow begins to fall across the city. Whether that snowfall now is created by the creatures that seek to attain a foothold on this reality… or if it is a natural occurence, doesn't matter now. Yet the temperature drops steadily, causing the mist off the river to grow heavier.
Slowly that giant arc of ice seems to fold over and thrusts out yet more spans, piercing the hotels nearby, bracing itself into the superstructure of the tall buildings and shattering walls as well as smashing glass. A long spined barb the size of a bus smashes into the skylight of the Manhattan Aquarium just off the beach and then a heavy wind picks up off of the water, washing the streets with the utter chill.
It's only then that the mirror-like shimmering substance appears in the tangled limbs of that arcane creation, the gateway manifesting in full as a mammoth bursts forth, its trunk lifting as it roars its challenge to this world, three more stomp through the gateway, emerging in all their glory with Jotun riders astride each. The great spears in their hands gleaming with the unbridled hatred they hold for any who would dare oppose them.
*
"Actually, yes," Sinjin says to Spider-Woman. "But you guys get to some safe ground. Make sure you get clear if it goes bad."
"You're not…"
"Going." Sinjin finds his lighter in his pocket and starts walking toward the beach. He recognizes David's lanky figure even at a distance. The wind snaps at his long, leather coat — he's learned not to wear flammables since the run-in with Akihiro — and tries to pull his hair out of his braid.
Ice. Well, he has fire. No waiting. He pitches a handful of flame at a wooden pavillion and it catches fire with his thoughts. That way he won't run out any time soon. The feel of heat gnawing wood is almost soothing.
*
The realization that he is not alone on the beach comforts David for about a half-second before all hell breaks loose. As the ice gives shape to a portal, he stops in his tracks and just tilts his head to the side, his expression incredulous.
He can't help but ask the question aloud. "…are those mammoths?" Of course they are. Why wouldn't they be. Fine. This is fine.
With a tired sigh, David plants his feet and raises both hands. A rosy-pink light flashes in his eyes and bursts into being around his fists, crackling 'round the edges — and he launches his first salvo towards one of the Jotun riders, hoping to at least disarm it with the concussive blast of light if not knock it out of the fight entirely.
He does not get out of the mammoths' paths. He's going to need to rebuild his charge. They might as well help him do it.
*
"Of course," Gwen sighs in response to Sinjin as he walks off. "Why wouldn't you?" She watches him go briefly, tilting her head. "Okay, so maybe he'll be fine. Meanwhile, here I am by myself… talking to myself. Cool."
She hates fighting on beaches. there's nowhere to swing from, the sand gets in her costume… she could go on.
"Great power blah blah," she mutters, and flicks her wrist out to shoot a line. She may as well get as much distance swinging as she can before she's got to hoof it—
"…is that a mammoth? Weirrrrrrrrrd."
*
Narrowing his eyes, Anduvin stares at the mammoths for a long moment, and then if the mammoth is going to charge? Well, the dwarf is going to charge right back at the beast and their giant riders. Only, his intent is at the last moment to brace himself and hold, and let the mammoth meet the son of the mountain.
*
Crystal has some small knowledge of Asgard, though not nearly so much as its denizens. Enough, though, to be suspicious of the towers of ice that burst from the ground more than the giants and mammoths that come out of it. Singing's fire draws a glance from the Inhuman, the power marked even as she calls a growing ball of flame between her hands.
As David, Gwen, and Anduvin charge the mammoths, Crystal rises into the air on a swirl of wind, aiming a column of fire at the center of one of the thicker columns of ice, even as the earth beneath it begins to rumble.
*
The four Jotun Cavalry spread out along the entire breadth of the street, the creatures trumpeting their arrival and their defiance. They had been ready to face the army of Asgard, ready to face the challenges of the great warriors this realm had to offer. One can almost see the scowl of annoyance flicker over the frozen faces as they're confronted by naught save two mortals? In suits? Bah!
Yet they make no show of slowing down. The lead rider brandishes his spear as the woolly monsters rush towards Maverick and in turn Anduvin. The wickedly curved tip seems crafted to rend and disembowel its victim and that next victims look to be them. Only for that flash of light to blast out, slashing across the distance and smashing into the grip of that spear. The weapon is sent flying, impaling an old car into the ice. In turn those mammoths crush forward, one rears over David… seeming to hang there for a moment. Then tries to come crashing down and crush him under foot.
But it is when the other mammoth chooses to swing towards Anduvin, when it sets foot to crash into him. It's then that the earth remembers. The ground beneath Anduvin's feet remembers when it was last trod by one of his ilk and it serves him well now. He braces, strength chambered and stored, and this realm welcomes just such a defender.
There is a loud crash of impact as the mammoth finds itself colliding with an immovable object, its knee slams hard into the side of the Dwarven warrior and promptly collapses from the impact. The great beast goes end over end, the rider thrown free and smashing into the side of a building to break through the wall into the lobby of a seasonal hotel. The wounded mammoth bellows a cry of pain and panic as it flails on its side, trying to gain its feet. Its comrades twisting to round upon him, seeking revenge for such an insult.
And during the chaos of that clash of arms, a brilliant burning column of fire flares to life, casting brilliant light and deep shadows that dance across the whirl of conflict. It's enough to limn Gwen's silhouette as she flashes across the distance towards the fray… only for the steam created by the blaze to obscure her once again.
*
Sinjin pulls a handful of fire and throws it skyward, where it expands into the same great fire-crow that he used to fight vampires. This time, though, there's no walls or ceiling to constrain the size, only Sinjin's limits, which he has yet to fully exhaust. The crow has a wingspan over thirty feet, spanning the street, and it is substantial, heavy and real, and yet still made of fire.
Claws extended, it dives, screaming, for one of the Jotun. Sinjin holds its form in his mind even as he throws a second ball of fire skyward and lets it flower into yet another bird. The second follows the first, raging and burning as it dives for another rider. Sinjin has to stop where he stands, though, unable to do more than focus on his creatures while they fight.
*
As mundane a figure as David appears to be, he is surprisingly spry. The moment the mammoth spends collecting its balance when it rears up in front of him is enough for him to dive forward, twisting around to land flat on his back beneath the beast. He is pretty sure he could survive being kicked by a mammoth, but stomped? He doesn't want to find out.
To encourage the mammoth above him and its rider to move on, David simply points both fists up at its belly and releases the rest of his charge in a single blast. He probably should not be smiling while he does this. But he is.
*
Ah, back to buildings. Natural playground of the spider. Still not ideal, but… wishes, fishes, and so on. Gwen doesn't bear much delusion that her webbing could trip up a mammoth— it's strong, but not that strong in the amount of time she'd have to layer it.
So instead, she shoots a line, swinging low to the ground and angles for the rear of the nearest mammoth.
Landing is easy. Running up the thing's back, also pretty easy. Reaching a rider without being spotted? Harder. Grabbing hold and using not-inconsiderable spidey-strenght to try and throw him from the mammoth? Hardest. For all other things there's… eh, nevermind.
It occurs to Gwen, once commited that she has no idea if this is remotely viable. It might fail hilariously, in keeping with most of the rest of her life. No, she really doesn't have a plan for that. Dammit.
*
The stoneborn withstands the titanic crash with barely a grunt, but for a moment the force of that impact causes his entire body to shimmer and glow as the illusion partially fails: and beneath the trick of light one can see that what stands there immobile is in fact a beautiful clockwork machine, gears twisting, turning, sliding in constant motion, and occassionally glimpses of the much smaller man within can be seen between the mechanisms. Still, the armor is as much a part of Anduvin as his beard, and so he stands firmly in place.
At the cry of pain from the mammoth he twists and swings, intending to cleanly send his shifting sword through the beast's neck and sever its head with one fell swoop. He bellows, "I am Anduvin of Nidavellir, Master Runesmith and Son of King Eitri! In the name of my father and our leige the High King Odin, I command you to return to Jotunheim or we will kill you all."
He swings the twisting blade about him, even as the illusion coalesces about him once more and he just looks like a crazy man in a suit with a weird sword. Reaching behind him with his free hand, he pulls out a thin, flat metal sheet and throws it into the air. It quickly folds itself until it is a golden hummingbird, hovering right above him. That can't possibly be dangerous, right?
*
Crystal so rarely lets loose with her powers. She's had them for her entire life, for as long as she can remember, been tutored in their use. They've grown as she has, ever under her control. So when she sets her mind on the towering incursion of ice? It's more than her mind she sets to it.
The earth beneath the columns bucks and waves, suddenly as liquid as the sea itself, no fit place to place any foundation, and yet the ground where others fight remains still and steady in support. The flames eat at the ice, but only enough to give her the feeling of the water it's made of. Water, too, is hers.
Massive cracks and creaks sound from super-heated ice, and above it all Crystal hovers held aloft by the wind, her eyes blazing with fire and light as she seeks to tear it all part.
*
The fire summoned seems to dance with such a life against such foes. It seems to exult in the purity of its existence as it manifests into such shapes and forms. Great wings, wickedly curved beak and talons, all composed of such heat that is unleashed when it is set upon the riders. The one who had been emerging from the shattered hotel escapes the impact of the first of the raptor with claws extended.
Fur bursts into flames as those two mammoths roar in rage, their normally chilled flesh and icy aura enough to resist such an aggression, yet living flame given power and form from the mind of such beings as Sinjin and Crystal is not what they were warned of when lashing out at this world. The two riders abandon their mounts, though one screams as the fire takes to the furs he wears, the iron helmet blazes as he staggers back, glowing red from the heat. He pulls it free and throws it aside, even as the fire grows around him. It only takes a few moments for his screaming to stop as he falls, ashen.
Yet even as the fire plays such havoc over the riders, David's own assault does not go unnoticed. The shock blast from his twinned hands lancing up into the abdomen of the great beast even as it crashes down to try and crush him. It trumpets its anger and pain to the night as that blast smashes into it, and with no preamble it roughly disgorges its last meal from the intensity of that impact. For a moment Maverick might have a moment to exult in the strike… but that moment may well be short lived as the point of a spear stabs downwards for him, seeking to silence his silent smiling mockery.
Only for that rider to not notice the landing of the lithe young woman on the back of his wounded mammoth. She's able to get her hands upon him, grasping… wall-clinging pads on her fingers aiding her grip. Then with a twist she's able to /throw/ him to the side and off of his mount, causing him to tumble to the ground with the spear in his hand lost from grip.
Abruptly, in that moment, the crying of the crippled mammoth is cut short by the clean slice of Anduvin's sword. The creature's throat is lain open and its blood boils against the surface of the ice underneath their feet. A quiet whisper of exhalation accompanies its passing even as the rider that had been thrown gains his feet fully, bellowing his challenge. "Anduvin. Accursed of Eitri! I, Ragavid of the Broken Hoof clan shall taste your heart!" That spear spins in the giant's hand as he brings it around and braces it against his side. Three great ground-shattering steps are taken as he moves forwards and brings the weapon forward, seeking to impale the dwarf upon its end and avenge his mount.
The burning column of fire continues to cast dancing shadows as the steam roils rising upwards like a jetting column. The ground rumbles and shifts, ice crackling with the intensity of an errant glacier striking the earth with rage manifest. The superstructure seems to shift, to warp within itself for a bare moment, only for the next instant for the steam to part.
A great foreboding is felt. Then it's as if a great hand had brushed the wind aside. A great wind that reveals the silhouette of a crippled giant with only one arm and a ragged twisted gnarl stance that makes it barely stand above eight feet compared to its taller brethren. Wizened of feature, garbed in naught save the bones and skeletons of hundreds of lesser creatures, it seems to emerge from the gateway and focuses its attention on crystal. Tarqa, the Bonedancer, announces his arrival with a toothless cackle even as he lifts his one good hand to gesture in Crystal's direction. The bones click and clatter as another outrush of wind is felt, depriving flames of the oxygen it needs and the chill of such an absence being felt with the shift of pressure.
Yet Tarqa's arrival is not the source of that foreboding feeling. That is reserved for the silhouette of something yet still within the confines of the gate, a shape that somehow dwarfs the entirety of it… despite being contained within it. Something
*
Sinjin pulls the fire crows back when the portal reveals more 'guests'. He steps forward, merging the birds into something larger. This time, it's sinuous and strange, a kind of dragon-bird with white-hot eyes. No time for fancy shapes that look like real creatures, this is the plain manifestation of how the fire feels. Hungry. Furious. Flaming wings and gaping mouth and lashing tail.
Now, Sinjin can keep advancing and he drives the fire-beast down at the figures stepping into his world, pushing his anger into his creature to make it burn hotter still.
*
David will have to reflect on how badly mammoth vomit smells some other time. It didn't land on him, so it is not an immediate concern. Not like the giant spear rushing towards him is.
Mouth pulled into a tight line, he rolls quickly to the side to allow the spear to slam into the ground next to him, one hand vanishing into his jacket as he does. Before the rider can pull their spear back up, David's on his back again, one arm thrown around the shaft of the spear as he tries to get a grip on it.
When his other hand comes up to aim upwards at the rider's face, there's no rosy pink energy crackling around it. Just your run of the mill Midgardian handgun, recently liberated from Weapon X. David has no idea if these guys are bulletproof or not, but he figures dispassionately squeezing the trigger twice is as good an idea as any. Bang bang.
He is probably about to have a Bad Time. What else is new? David North being miserable means the Earth's still turning.
*
"I just got a really interesting idea," Gwen announces, to absolutely noone but herself. She, honestly, has no idea how to do this properly. But what the hell, how often do you get the chance for a story like this, anyway?
Witht he rider thrown, Gwen take the last few steps to the mammoth's massive skull, and flicks her wrists. Thwip, thwip, look mah, I's got mammoth reins.
For lack of a better idea, she anchored to the tusks, and haul back on one of the lines in an attempt to wheel the critter around.
It would not be the first terrible idea she's made work in the last thirty seconds.
*
As the spear slams into the braced Anduvin, it comes to a complete halt: once again the illusion falters, and around where he is hit it is revealed to be that armor… Armor which is revealed to be fabled uru, covered in thousands of glowing runes. Uru, inlaid with so many spells that the metal itself is neigh unto invincible. Yet, the armor is not perfect: the tip of the spear slides between one mechanism and another, and does spear the dwarf… but the spearhead is large enough that it can not penetrate deeply. Grunting, Anduvin pulls away as droplets of dvergr blood touch Midgard soil for the first time in thousands of years. He is wounded, but it is by no means as grave as the giant may have expected.
Anduvin swings his blade up, attempting to slice the spear in two even as he growls deeply, "Ragavid of the Broken Hoof Clan, I know you! Your mother is a goat and your father a beardless coward! You dare say my honored father's name when your father cries like a child when he drinks!" He swings his blade in readiness, even if the spear did not break or the giant was too fast: he stands ready.
Then Anduvin notices the silhouette, the figure, and his blood runs cold: "Tarqa." He doesn't sound afraid so much as very, very wary.
*
Wind? That, too, can be Crystal's to command.
"You walk in lands where you are not welcome, giant," she calls back toward the portal, drawing the wind he sends to herself only to scatter it around her. "This earth is mine." As Sinjin wields the fire, she lets her own flames die. Why bother, when she can take control of something else entirely.
Ice and air twist and weave across the portal, plucking at the fabric of the elements to build her own barrier across it, rebuilding anything that's already been formed at different angles. She knows so little of magic, but she knows that most require order. And if there's an order to this portal, then she intends to destroy it entirely.
*
Such fury. Such rage. Such control. The flaming creature morphs and roils, then leaps to the attack. At first Tarqa's smile remains a crooked thing as he holds up that withered arm, fingers splaying as if reaching out and grasping for the fabric of the flame creatures existence. The giant necromancer's thoughts flit through the myriad of spells this caster must be using, the powers he must be invoking…
Only to find that it is not so.
The giant's spellcaster's eyes widen at first with surprise that the brush of his conjured wind and controlled atmosphere does not snuff it, indeed it seems entirely independent. The elderly Jotun turns his head to the side slightly, eyes shifting from the flames… the their wielder. Then those eyes narrow as the hand closes and suddenly it becomes very hard to breathe for Sinjin. The next moment he will feel a telekinetic pull trying to /yank/ him off his feet and pull him towards the gateway itself.
In time for that giant's charge at David to spear the ground with a heavy impact. The rider's weapon buries a foot into the ground, engulfing the chipped spearhead. It leans into the strike, face but a small distance from Maverick's. The monster leers, its bent and twisted teeth snapping at the Weapon X alumni. Only for his head to snap back as a string of bullets dig into the thick flesh of his face. There's a /CRACK-CRACK-CRACK/ of sound, a spatter of blood that causes the otherworlder to roar and cover its injured eye with one hand, the butt of the spear spinning around to try and keep his attacker away.
Gwen can feel the creature resist as she gains control, its tusk twisting and turning trying to foul her grip. It doesn't exactly work as she expects, for she is not able to guide it to where she may wish… yet what she does gain is a wild berserker mammoth that is suddenly whirling in place like a mechanical bull in a honky tonk down south. It trumpets its anger and defiance, lifting up its fore legs, then smashing down and /kicking/ with its hind legs as it tries to buck her free.
Ragavid of the Broken Hoof Clan laughs as he tries to press what advantage he gains, spurred on by the faint spatter of blood from his enemy. He licks his lips and brings the spear around to try and lash out again at the Dwarven warrior. "Your bones will adorn our hall, I shall wield your sword. The crows will-" And abruptly Ragavid's words are cut off as suddenly two heavy hooves /SMASH/ into his spine and send him flying forwards, straight at the mystical blade in Anduvin's hands.
Tarqa… at the least has a good sense of humor. A rough guffaw of laughter, a cackle really, is torn from him as his own soldier is sent sprawling by the mammoth. He turns his ancient head to the side and giggles to himself, titters even as he tries to draw Sinjin towards him, only to affix Crystal with his gaze.
"Oh it is yours, is it girl?" His words are understood but not English, "Oh do forgive me. Do do forgive me. Assuredly we shall leave soon." Yet as he speaks she is able to draw and strength her own barrier in front of the portal, for the giant takes no action of magic against her.
*
The breath goes out of Sinjin's lungs, as though someone stole it right out of him even as something crushes his chest, traps him, drags him forward. The firebird screams soundlessly, rages at the shadows and the old giant, writhing as Sinjin panics.
The sense of dying is too familiar, rips him out of the present, throws him back into hot places where he was dying in pain and terror. The bird-thing turns in the sky and races back toward him, burning hotter and hotter as it dives at him. It seems about to immolate him — as if he's trying to draw it into him — but then the pressure and the airlessness and the fear is too much and he loses control.
Fire rains around him without burning anything, then it's out and he's limp in the grip of whatever holds him.
*
The good news for the rider David shot is, he is successful at keeping his attacker away. That is bad news for David, because he catches the butt of the flailing giant's spear right in the ribs, and flailing giants are… kind of strong.
There is a very undignified noise that accompanies David North's flight across the beach. When he lands, momentum carries him tumbling end over end for a dozen feet more before he lands in a face-down sprawl, his breaths coming in short, pained hisses.
He can't do much more than lift his head and peer out into the fray while his ribs knit back together.
This is a very unfortunate moment to finally notice Sinjin on the scene. David grits his teeth and tries to raise his gun in a shaking hand, trying to get a bead on Tarqa. That one is talking, that one has to be a problem. But in this state, even though he gets a few shots off, it's doubtful he'll manage to actually hit anything vulnerable.
*
"Oh give me land, lots of land and a starry sky above— don't fence meeeeeEEEEEEEE IIIIINNNNNN—"
For a moment Gwen things she's got it and she starts chirping a song prematurely. Then the ride gets wild.
Still, it's… almost kind of what she was looking for? A huge mammoth thrashing about wildly was… close… to the goal. Ish. Kinda.
Okay, no, not at all, to be honest. She tries to get a sense for timing the way it's bucking her, trying to catch it roughly in line with the gateway when she gets around to bailing out, running down the creature's spine. She flicks a webline into the air at nothing in particular, swinging her arm to coil it, then uses the line as a whip across the great beast's hindquarters as she leaps off, yelling a flippant "Rawhide! Whi-pshhhh!" It didn't need the sound effect Gwen.
It totally did, tho.
*
Anduvin takes no satisfaction in killing Ragavid, but he is not sorry for it either: the jotunn are no friends to the dvergr. Pulling his sword from the giant's body, he swings it to take the head— just in case.
But his attention is upon Tarqa. "That is Tarqa the Bonedancer. The Nine Realms have never seen a necromancer of his equal: his every whim is in direct defiance of the Goddess of Death's will and mandate, and she— Hela— stands beneath only High King Odin Borson in power." Anduvin calls this out to Crystal, and the others, though Crystal is the only one he knows, "Be cautious. Do not underestimate him. Do not be overconfident." In fact, his voice suggests that they might not be beardless cowards if they did a tactical retreat and drank a lot of mead.
*
"Oh, go to hell," Crystal snarls at the giant. Sometimes it's just not worth being polite. Ice and earth gnaw at his portal, growing across it and building a barrier of her own.
Sinjin's plight doesn't go unnoticed, though. She sees the firebird die, extending her senses to the air around the man. Even as she attacks the portal with raw power, she uses precise control to pump air into the man's lungs, to sweep him into a funnel of air to hold him away from the giant.
"Fee fi fo fum this." With the barrier half built, Crystal pauses just for a moment. Just long enough to punch a burning column of flame through it directly at Tarqa, screaming wordlessly. Powerful she may be, but she's been fighting all day and throwing around a great deal of power and finesse. The toll will come due.
*
With feet still dragging over the ice and rime upon the ground, Sinjin is /pulled/ straight into Tarqa's grip. The ancient Jotun eyes him with such open curiousity, with such an open appreciation, one might almost label it infatuation. For in that moment a decision is made. With a gesture of his head his eyes gleam for a moment and then he motions back towards the gateway with its icing over surface. Perhaps he is stirred momentarily by the pressure and fighting of breath spurred on by Crystal matching her powers against Tarqa, long enough to realize his plight. No, Sinjin isn't hurled towards the gateway, however, he is sent floating in that direction with such care. It's as if the necromancer had found a curious thing and considered it a pearl beyond price. Treating him with such delicacy.
Yet while all this is going on, the news crew continues to film, continues to record… and one of the men who knows Sinjin gasps with dismay.
Yet such a thing cannot go unanswered. Bullets ping and whing towards the ancient necromancer. One even looks as if it would hit were it not for the energy of the weapon's momentum seemingly sucked out of its speed, slowing it… slooowing it, until it hangs just a foot away from the spine of the crippled giant, then drops to the ground. Maverick is not spared a glance from the caster, though his now one-eyed dance partner tries to wipe the blood from his eyes, seeking the fallen foe. It hefts its spear and bellows as it stomps towards the fallen figure of the man.
Only for a wild and whipped mammoth to rage across the street and slam straight into him before he can cast his spear at the fallen Maverick. There is a wild roar and cry from each of the creatures as they crash to the ground in a tangle of over-sized limbs. Bone splinters as the elephantine monster crushes its former comrade in arms, even as the giant tries to frantically stab it in the abdomen to keep it away. Their battle is brutal. And short, ending with the two bleeding out upon the ground.
Ragavid meets his end in silence, the clean sword strokes executed with such precision by Anduvin end his life, and satisfy what demands of honor had been made in their challenge even as the giant's head falls free of his body and rolls to a halt beside a lamp post.
It is Anduvin's words, however, not his actions that draw Tarqa's attention. The manic old Jotun's smile is a crazed thing as he whispers, "Oh so good to be remembered. So good to be."
But then Crystal… Crystal has his attention then and his eyes widen oh so happily. "Not but one, but two. Not but one. But two!" His last word goes up in a trill of laughter as his massive hand goes through such an elaborate series of gestures, the knuckles bending one way and then the other as he dances from one foot to the other. The flames /wash/ over him, breaking like the tide behind them even as the snow continues to fall. But whatever spell-weaving is not aimed at her, no.
It is aimed at the thing behind the gateway. The thing that hammers massive fists against the built up barriers created by the Inhuman woman. The ice she had woven in its path crackles. The earth seems to crumble from the heavy impacts. And then on the third strike the entirety of it shatters, smashing outwards with such speed that it peppers one of the remaining giant with shrapnel, tearing his flesh from his bones and sending him spinning to the ground dead.
There, somehow no longer within the confines of the gateway is a creature of such size that it dwarfs the buildings around it. A being so massive, composed of dead flesh, rotting and splintered bones, icy skin, and with long braids of patchwork hair. It is the father of all giants, the giant whose life was taken by Odin himself at the creation of the world's legends. Ymir, alive in undeath, empowered by the very shards of his existence that gives this world its own bones.
*
Thank God for out-of-control mammoths. David probably couldn't have moved quickly enough to dodge the rider's spear, especially not with his focus on Tarqa the way that it is. He unloads the entire handgun's worth of ammunition to no effect, and manages to rasp out a single, very heartfelt curse as he sees Sinjin's body drifting towards the portal: "Scheisse!"
David's barely managed to push himself up onto his knees when that… thing comes through. Ymir. David has to crane his neck to stare up at it, ending up falling over backwards in the process. Something finally manages to crack the dispassionate professionalism of his expression, leaving him somewhere between fear and awe.
*
Gwen woops as her friend the mammoth wrecks havoc. "Go Shaggy go!" At least part of it went vaguely right. She does a little mid-air twirl, lands lightly next to David. "You know, they're not going to believe that one, I wish they made cameras smaller—" and then she falls silent, craning her neck up at Ymir.
"Yeah, okay so that's WAYYYY above my pay scale," she notes. It doesn't stop her lobbing several web shots at the giant's face before turning tail to get some distance, though. Later, David. Lift them knees.
*
"No. You could not do this abomination." Anduvin's voice is at first soft but it grows as he stares and he recognizes what that creature is: though he was not alive long enough to truly know Ymir, how could any child of the Nine Realms not know the stories, and how could anyone look at that and not know what it is. "Ymir. The Father of All Giants." And, truth be told, the father to the dwarves as well (in a slightly creepy fashion): this is a particularly sticky point for his people. "It took the Three Sons of Bor to kill him. Consider that: Odin Borson alone could not defeat him, ODIN ALL-FATHER needed his brothers to do it." The first time. Hopefully, Undead-Ymir is not as formidable— after all, in theory, they used a lot of his body to you know make the world. Maybe he's not all there. Hopefully. "We are not equal to this task. We must get Thor Odinson and gather the forces of Asgard and Midgard to our aide or Midgard is lost."
*
Crystal falls from the air in a sudden drop, all of her attention fixed in a split second on protecting the people around her from the shrapnel of the shattered barrier. She cries out, but a hurricane gale of wind explodes out of her, enough to at least slow the shrapnel to less deadly speeds, though not enough to stop all of it.
And then there's an extra-giant ancient giant. Awesome. Why did she leave Attilan again?
Head hanging, panting, she looks back to Anduvin. For a moment, it looks like she might try anyhow. The Inhumans aren't without their pride, and she's still got some temper left. But…That is a very large giant.
"Fine," she growls reluctantly, pushing up and floating Sinjin to the dwarf on a cushion of air. "I'll cover the retreat." The earth cracks again, bedrock surfacing to shield the heroes in a floating shield that retreats with them. Crystal is stumbling now, sweat dripping from her brow.
*
The gigantic being seems utterly unmindful of the small creatures beneath it, even as the ageless Tarqa dances and cavorts around his rotting feet. The clouds seem to swirl and gather around the immense monster even as it slowly turns its head, each slow movement crackling like a hundred icebergs competing to grind each other into oblivion. Glowing blue eyelids taller than a man slowly blink and with another low grating sound it raises its arms upwards.
Even as the heroes run far below, even as they rush away, it brings those massive forearms up… and up… out of view into the clouds. Then with such an air of inevitability it begins to bring them down. They'll have time to see this monolith of ice and dead flesh bringing its fists down. Down down with growing speed that has the mist visibly rushing over the surface of its skin. Crashing downwards even while it seems to move with no true care or emotion.
And then the fists strike the ground. The earthquake like shock would be enough. Buildings shake and twist, one of the older motels almost immediately collapses under the sudden shift. But it is not just the cry of the earth that endangers the world. It's the sudden explosion of a great conjuration of ice that seems to burst into being with the strength of that impact. At first it lifts up and curls around like a gigantic dome that encompasses the gateway, the bonedancer, and Ymir himself, enclosing upon them in such impenetrable ice. But the ice continues to be conjured forth, to flow forward as if it were water if only it weren't so hard and sharp. It races after the heroes, covering the island surrounding the newly created ice dome, rising up like a tidal wave of frost that seeks to engulf the slowest amongst them.
*
And the slowest amongst them? That would most definitely be David. His ribs may have finally knit back together, and he may be in excellent physical condition… but he's not a speedster. He's not a flier, or a web-slinger.
He can sure as hell run when he puts his mind to it, though, and this is one occasion where David feels precisely zero shame about turning tail and moving at a dead sprint away from the bad guys. He does not look back, but he doesn't need to to know that he really, really needs to move faster —
Which is about when the pavement comes rippling upwards in a wave from the impact of Ymir's fists, sending David up into the air with a startled yelp. Oh dear. It's hard to run when your feet aren't on the ground. All he can think to do is twist around, aim his fists at the ground, and fire off what charge he picked up from the impact of the spear, using the blast to propel himself that little bit faster away.
*
There are times Gwen debates her decision to dedicate herself to being a more serious force for good. This is one of them. It was a lot easy back in the old days when this was mostly still a lark. She's mid-swing when David's blast carries him briefly past her and— rather awkwardly— manages to snag his ankle. Which at least means he's gonna get away. But.
Hold on, this is gonna suck!"
Yeah, one-handed web-slinging with an awkward load is the. Worst. For all involved. Especially the dismount when they're far enough away. Since this involves flipping David up in the air as she drops off the line, then backpedalling like mad to catch him. "IgottitIgottit— OOF." Right on her ass with a grown man in her lap. Awesome.
"…yep. Sucked."
*
The sword of the Anduvinanunt is released, and it folds into tiself, halving, halving, and then it is nothing. Crouching, he feels the earth and communes with it: after all, both the earth and dwarves were first made from the flesh of Ymir, they are kin. Tensing, focusing his strength, letting the Anduvinanunt amplify it, he leaps into the air in a masssive jump.
He lands with a grunt, the road cracking, but then he leaps again. Its not flying, and it would kill him without the armor's strength, and even with it, it is deeply painful, but its fast in an emergency. Ymir is an emergency. Retreat! Anduvin in armor is extraordinarily strong, but not especially fast: so he takes advantage of the strength and leapfrogs away.
Were it possible for his bones to break, they would break with the fall, but, the sons of stone have some advantages.
But to say this escape hurts Anduvin is an understatement.
*
"Lockjaw!" Crystal cries out for her Inhuman companion, running and staggering away from the giant with the others. She can't match this control of the elements. Not in her current state, and not alone. All she can do is use it, ride the wave.
She borrows just a little of the ice growing out of the chaos, mixing it with earth draw the fleeing heroes together and wrap a protective cocoon around them…and, it seems, one extra-large Inhuman bulldog.
As soon as everyone is in reach, Lockjaw teleports them all to a safe distance. Which is for the best, because that's right when Crystal passes out.
*
The ice washes behind them as the heroes make their escape, then slowly falters creating the outline of a great circle of ice upon a large portion of Brighton Beach. Suddenly the ice dome dominates the skyline, gleaming with the heavy spotlights aimed at it from the city, the ice crystals surrounding it giving the recreational neighborhood of Manhattan the look of a winter wonderland. Snow continues to fall, the waves continue to wash up on the remains of the beach… and slowly freeze. And once again peace returns for now, though within the established barrier of the Jotun… who knows what evil is being worked?