Plotlogs
Fire Power Sr Isaiah 240828
In the shadowed labyrinth of catacombs beneath the Reegan castle in Belfast, Ireland, an unlikely band of allies —Elias, a magician with eyes blue as the deep sea; Juniper, a-warrior woman with a heart as bold as her hair is blonde; and Dean, a formidable shifter with the spirit of a wolf— converge on a mission fraught with danger. Their endeavor: to reclaim a powerful artifact, while their redheaded compatriot, JR, scouted ahead, only to find himself in dire straits.
Throughout these ancient corridors, ensnared in a family feud soaked in blood and magic, JR's attempts at stealth lead to an explosive distraction, drawing the enemies' attention away from his comrades. His action set the sky alight, signaling to his friends below and offering a beacon of misdirection. Yet, amidst the chaos, JR falls into the clutches of his father's wrath, beaten and bloodied, his life hanging by a thread.
Elias, caught between the lure of the eldritch artifact and the urgent necessity of their mission, nearly succumbs to the artifact's whisperings of grandeur and dominance. However, an abrupt intervention by Dean, utilizing his telekinetic prowess, reroutes their focus towards escape as a river of molten rock, unleashed by their disturbance, threatens to consume them.
Through tight corridors, driven by desperation and the primal instinct for survival, they flee. The air thickens with the heat of pursuit, the liquid fire nipping at their heels, until, at last, they burst forth from the crypt's mouth, gasping for the cold night's embrace. Their path home is woven hastily by Elias, a gateway through reality itself, back to a place of relative safety.
Yet, as they step through the threshold, a chilling realization dawns: they were but a breath away from disaster. The closing portal snips at the grasp of a sinister figure—a would-be captor foiled by time's narrow margin. Safe for the moment, they carry with them not just the artifact of immense power but also the heavy burden of JR's battered state and the knowledge that their actions have attracted the malevolent gaze of something far more dangerous than mere flames.
Thus, the adventure concludes with them stepping into the unknown, their bonds tested, their spirits weary, but their resolve unbroken. The night may have enveloped their escape, but the dawn of reckoning looms large on the horizon, promising challenges anew.
(Fire Power(SRIsaiah):SRIsaiah)
[Sat Aug 10 2024]
In catacombs beneath the Reegan castle in Belfast, Ireland
These catacombs are a labyrinth of shadowed passageways, carved deep into the ancient bedrock. The walls are cold, damp stone, covered in patches of moss and slick with the moisture that seeps in from above. Narrow tunnels twist and turn unpredictably, their low ceilings forcing even the tallest to stoop. The air is thick and stale, carrying the faint scent of earth and decay, with a coldness that seeps into one's bones. Occasionally, the path opens into wider chambers where stone coffins lie undisturbed, their lids engraved with the worn insignias of long-forgotten ancestors.
Flickering torches mounted sporadically on the walls provide the only light, casting long, eerie shadows that dance across the uneven surfaces. The silence is oppressive, broken only by the distant drip of water echoing through the passages. In some sections, the catacombs give way to subterranean lakes or pools, their still waters reflecting the flickering torchlight like dark, bottomless mirrors. The deeper one ventures, the more the atmosphere thickens, carrying with it the sense of being watched by unseen eyes, and the ancient, restless spirits that haunt these depths.
It is about 75F(23C) degrees.
SRIsaiah says "l "
One by one, and occasionally two by two, tears in reality ripple into existence along the rolling Kelly green hills of Belfast, Ireland. The sounds of oceanic waves striking against rocky shores pools around, creating an intense backdrop of natural ambiance. The first to step through their constructed Path is the duo of Elias and Juniper, who are greeted with a cool sea breeze and the scent of the salty sea. In the distance, down the hill they stand atop, is a partially rundown castle. It hails from the Medieval ages, judging by its construction- or lack thereof, considering half of it is caved in upon itself.
Dean arrives soon after the couple, tires hefted on broad shoulders as his towering form appears. It offers him an optimal view of all that is ahead of them. Faint movement can be seen withing the ruins: men in trench coats and dusters scouring the place; armed, and dangerous.
And yet, there is a fourth that should be here, oddly missing. A certain redheaded fellow.
Stepping out of the dark forest and back into the world that he has lived in all of his life, Elias looks over to Juniper to make sure he is still with her. He offers a small smile to her and then shifts his attention over to Dean as he too appears, giving him a nod.
The nightly, serene darkness is illuminated briefly in a spread of the veil as a thick stream of mist gathers. It's silvery, like a ray of moonlight tearing through the suspended droplets of gathering perspiration - just for the reality to ripple - but Dean doesn't come out carrying the tires. They come out before he does, a pair that rolls downhill, hitch up against a rock and bop all the way down, until they're out of sight. Dean's appearance afterwards is a lot less perplexing. He's simply there, stepping out of his path, attaching and fixing armor on his person and binding his torso with leather and chain. A large sword hangs between his shoulderblades, with a pistol-grip crossbow affixed to his belt at his side. Elias, when he's noted, get a return nod that is just as serious, Juniper, gets a small smile, onee that fades quickly while his eyes search for that one elusive redhead.
Juniper is notably staring at Dean's weapons with a small covetous look, even despite the views around them. She catches eyes with the distant man and gives him a small, appreciative nod with a twitch of her mouth before she gives Elias's a hand a return squeeze of confirmation. Next, she too is searching the horizon, not for its current beauty but for what it lacks - their own beautiful redheaded companion. "Dean!?" she looks to him first, as if he shirked on babysitting duties or something. The question in her face while she goes back to pan the horizon is obvious. "Where the hell is JR?"
Past the greener pastures that makes one want to throw their normalcy to the wind and take off running, Dean slowly sets those green eyes out onto the vista of the lake adjacent castle. He doesn't say anything to Juniper initially, but does note, in the far, far down-hill, now, those two tires have managed to find their way off a high slope and arched straight out into the water. "He texted me something like he's going to.." His phone is pulled out to remember, clearly he hardly read it, "Scout ahead in Belfast to get some intel."
The age-old question, truly. Where the Hell /is/ JR?
He should be here. He agreed on the time with everyone present- 8 o'clock pm, Reegan Castle, Belfast, Ireland. And yet, everyone seems to be here but him. How peculiar. It's soon while the trio search for their wayward companion that those with rather acute senses of perception might notice a strange buzz and hubbub within the beehive of the castle- those Tommy Gun-wielding goons moving a little faster, and all in the same direction with their shouts audible in the distance, but incoherent. Indecipherable.
"So tell me. How stealthy is JR anyway. Like is he a ghost among the shadows or is he more likely to knock something over and make all those guards aware of his presence?" Elias asks Juniper as he gestures down at the activity in the castle, sighing, "Really, if I we are going to have to crash our way in there, I am not much of a brawler today, which is why I am glad you two are at least."
Juniper casts another look over to Dean, looking like she is coiled, tense, ready to move now when the wind caresses past them. She won't move without Dean though, this much is clear. "He's... well. JR can do anything he wants to. But I just don't have a handle on whether he /wants/ to be make an entrance or not," she tells Elias distractedly, attempting to fill him in and giving him... next to nothing.
"We saw him try to organize his wardrobe." Dean speaks with some slight distraction, without looking at Juniper or Elias, because he's unhooking the crossbow at his side. It's held down, string pulled taut single-handedly, before a bolt is placed right there ready for to go between someone's eyes. "He probably has as much coordination as a rabbit on cocaine." Another glance to the two, but he doesn't speak this time. Perhaps the idle chatter is just in case his voice is what carries. Two digits rise, point at his eyes while facing Juniper and Elias to convey a message, then they point down the direction his tires have went. "I hear footsteps." Then? Then he's glancing around, either looking for the optimal path down, or somewhere to sneak around in this vast, expansive painting-esque vista.
While Dean and Juniper seem to be armed to the teeth in armor and weaponry, Elias himself reaches to his belt and pulls out a bowie knife. He crouches down and follows along behind Dean though, but he keeps looking over to Juniper, keeping an eye on her as well. The dark haired man, usually a man of a million words does indeed to take the prompt from Dean to shut up and follow.
Contemplation, conversation, half of the dilapidated castle clears entirely of goons as they all rush to one single area, searching, shouting, calling orders and commands, breaking off into squads. Those footsteps that had drawn Dean's attention are still, and for a moment, all is silent.
*BOOM*
*BOOM* *BOOM*
the sound of explosives rings out from the distance in the castle square, and soon it becomes apparent just what is going on as thugs and peons scatter, screaming for cover as sparks fizzle, then fly into the air. Fireworks explode into the sky from deep within the estate, sending the goons scrambling for cover and disorienting their ranks. From directly below, where the Bastards are, they may look like a random display, but from up on that hill where Dean, Juniper, and Elias have converged, they can all see the same thing: A big old sparkly thumbs-up.
But if there is joy or merriment, it doesn't last long, for deep within the catacombs below the destroyed manor, a Brummie, Birmingham-based English accent echoes forth will all of the fury of a raging inferno.
"JUUUUNIORR!! YOU SNEAKY LI'L RAT!!"
Dean is a tall enough man to cast quite the shadow, but in this situation, that shadow is Juniper.
Juniper has to clap a hand over her mouth to stifle the laugh that tries to bark out of her when she realizes her initial line of thinking was correct. Gunpowder and JR? There's no way they weren't getting a display. "That's our cue, huh?" she finally says in the appropriate lower covert tones. "And by the sounds of it - we gotta move."
"Well, I am just going to assume you two know what is going on and I am just going to follow the plan.... Whatever that is." Elias says to Dean and Juniper with a grin creeping across his face, "But JR is one flashy guy I can see. I am not sure that would have been my entrance style, but you know, it works and hopefully we can get in without being noticed... If that is the plan I guess."
Juniper makes a gesture to Elias between him and then herself with raised brows as if to say 'did I not tell you?' that is punctuated by a begrudgingly amused grin.
That sounds are enough to still Dean's initial advance. The sight of disoriented goons are taken in stride, with a small bit of a smirk no less that displays his canids however minor the stretch of his lips, but then, it is the sight of explosive fireworks that reflect in the predatory glow of his eyes that catch and refract the light. It already may have been akin to daylight for Dean, and now, its even brighter. Despite Juniper's stifled laughter, Dean offers none of his own merriment audibly.
He does, however, offer a quiet, "Let's go." even if it is also done with a stop, and then a step back with an almost mischievous attitude that he nudges Elias' arm using the side of his crossbow's stock to do it. It denotes the man as the leader of the bunch, clearly, "I got a feeling you'd stumble on more goons on accident," And he wants that, clearly, "Lead on, we're going for the castle." That said, he offers some explanation in regards to what they're currently here for where the castle is concerned, burning with a grandiose display. "We're here to steal an artifact from Jr's old man. Bit of a race, so we better be there first."
"Wait, we want to draw their attention?" Elias asks Dean with a raised eyebrow and then shrugs as he is instructed to go forward without much complaint, "Ah well, lets just get going before they regroup." He says with a grunt, moving forward, probably not as stealthy as the pair of wolves he is traveling with though.
Catching the cue that the time is now, Juniper's joy for the series of events unfolding only matches and uplifts the glorious display that has been put on. Pyromancer, Pyromaniac, Pyrotechnics. It seems JR is a multitalented ne'er-do-well, at the very least. His methods may be crude, but at least in this very moment, they are effective. Who knows how long that will last, considering Dear Old Dad seems to be a couple of steps ahead of the motley crew that has been assembled here tonight.
The grassy slope of the hill is slippery with dew in the pitch black of night- it's nearly two in the morning here, the perfect time for a gang of unruly British fucks to perform a raid on their own home turf; though they likely weren't expecting Team U.S.A. to come kick the door down and start taking names. Perhaps that is to the advantage of Elias, Juniper, and Dean.
Juniper is just here for the party it seems. Following behind her alpha who then switches off to throwing her beau on the coals - she simply follows behind as a not so stealthy glowing blonde head in the Irish night. She hasn't got slappy heeled flip-flops on at least, but she's certainly no shadowed assassin.
While they're descending down the hills, heading to catch up, catch hands, as it were, Dean seems too nonchalant in his non-answer answer to Elias. A low smirk, just that, nothing more. He's not jinxing it, but, his attention is split three-ways. One upon his comrades in the turmoil ahead, another, ahead - in their surroundings, and a third that he addresses without looking, but violently. His crossbow-bearing hand lifts, points directly at the tall-grass first before his eyes turn to stare down that direction as well.
The tip of a bolt follows along whatever it is he's seeing in the distance -- yet he murmurs witha wry bit of a smirk, repeating what the booming voice, in a more questioning manner. "Sneaky rat, huh.." He breaks away from the pair, but only lowers his crossbow, doesn't unwield it when he's also now walking with a slightly more cautious pep to his step avoiding accidental footfalls on any twigs or branches in his path. His hand over his shoulder beckons Juniper and Elias to follow him along. "Let's go this way, I think there might be a way."
And so, with a shrug of complete non chalance at whatever it is that Dean has seen in the grass, Juniper moves to follow the man and possibly the ripple in the grass in this new direction.
It doesn't take much prompting by Dean for Elias to just change direction and go back to following the large-wolfish man. He squints his eyes against the darkness, looking back to the crumbling medieval fortress and the movements of the men there. There isn't time to spent on doing too much inspecting, the disruption that JR worked so hard on won't buy cover for the entire night.
Dean fires a bolt into the tall grass in the dead of night, and a dark object starts to tumble down the hillside. At first, it is little more than the death cry of a large rat, but as it tumbles, it grows and grows and grows and grows until it is the size of a small-ish man with a surprisingly rat-like face. "Eugh!!" he cries, rolling down and down the hill until he comes to a stop at the water's edge, face down in the muck and the sand. He's dead, whoever the fuck he was, his creeping and sneaking days cut undeniably short by a crossbow bolt right between his eyes.
It doesn't take long for the trio to reach the base of the castle walls, those pyrotechnics doing their final blasts into the sky just in time for the group to assemble in the shadows. The little ecosystem of gangsters within the castle has had its pH balance thrown off. Mercury is in retrograde, and even those in charge screaming orders and firing shots into the air in an attempt to get some organization around here are left with little more than hoarse voices and raspy throats until the fire show finally ends in a fountain of sparks and one final middle finger-shaped blast that goes up into the air. It's now or never.
Pointing the blade off his knife towards the iron portcullis at the base of the castle walls, Elias keeping his voice low, asks, "Do you see that. I think that there is a passage way that we are looking for." He says as he slowly edges along towards the said portcullis, but his gaze looks to the rat-ish man as he crosses the body, but doesn't dwell on it, getting closer before he confirms, "I do think this is the way."
Now or never, their newfound path to the portcullis is a welcome boon. Dean, without reloading after his recent kill, only speaks without looking over his shoulder. "Glad that wasn't JR. It'd have been funny," Dean muses, smirks, "But the eyes, you know." All in all, Dean is extremely casual, here, in enemy territory. The cascade of fire from above, its light, the giant middle-finger, Dean nods towards Elias. "I see it." And with his hands free, he's kneeling down next to the iron bars, grabbing them from below, with the clear intention of lifting the gate open by sheer force over his head, if he can manage it. "At least we know he isn't caught - June and I can start tracking for a scent when we're down below. Can't miss that smell of oil."
There's something about watching a shifter go from animal to man in his dying throes that makes Juniper show a flicker of emotion in distaste and discomfort. Once at the portcullis, Juniper keeps low and nods to Dean then while he strains against the metal. "It'll be hard, with all this gunpowder reek Dean," she admits in a low voice. "But I did lay in his laundry the other day so... that's kinda fresh." It's jovial teasing, but there's more of a seriousness set to her now that they're closer to the action and putting themselves to work. First body rolling will do that to you.
"As much of oil and smoke there is, I don't really think it takes a wolf to smell the path down there." Elias says with a touch of amusement at the suggestion, but the raw strength of Dean just ripping his way through the iron, he just watches quietly all of the sudden.
The portcullis gives way with a groaning creak; loud, but easily masked by the noises of shouting and other rubble falling, assumed to be just another casualty of this miniature war. It enables the group of three to stealth their way into the grounds proper, over to the chasm created by what looks to have been a fallen black of stone, and inside at their leisure.
Once they are inside, if they do go, they are greeted by the dank smell of a millennium-or-more old crypt that has been collecting Reegan bodies for generations upon generations all throughout its labyrinthine halls. Some sarcophagi look recently-inhabited, while others are sealed shut with moss and buildup from centuries down below. The sound of water dripping down from above plays in a few directions. Plop plop into pools. Splash splash onto stone.
The symbolism here isn't hard to find: for those, if any, familiar with Irish folklore, they'd find images, Celtic drawings and knots, and various other depictions of a Cyclopsian Demon wearing the garb of Saint Patrick as its singular eye cries a river of lava. Balor of the Fomorians: the progenitor of the Reegan bloodline, it seems.
And that voice from before. Stronger now. Louder. Followed by an echoing boom that causes rubble and stones to fall lightly from above like rain.
"YOU'RE ME OWN FLESH AN' BLOOD, BOY. YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW ALL O' YOUR FUCKIN' TRICKS?!"
They pass through, or at least, someone and Elias does. Dean waits for them to do it - powerlifting the whole portcullis up above their heads, and when his comrades are through, he drops it heavily to slip inside himself with an agitated rolling of a shoulder and a hand above it as if regretting that he didn't stretch from that. Not that it is any deterrent, he's walking forward now, walking it off to be exact and sshrugging off the /brief/ exertion that didn't wind him at all.
The opening that he goes ahead of both someone and Elias makes him pause, even while he offers help to them both to helpthem drop into it after he did - "Tight spaces. I'm probably going to be hard pressed to shift anywhere in here without getting stuck," Dean informs - and then, his brows are knitting. The twitch to his nose makes it clear that he notes more than the scent of decayed old wood and the groan of stone, the generational coffer of corpses. He stares north, and again, his crossbow is pulled from his side. Cranked taught and bolt-filled, pointing ahead, straight north down the decrepit passageways. "I smell blood. Fresh." It probably doesn't need an extra mention of who it may belong to, given the booming voice that shakes the walls in its descending echo towards them. He moves, at any rate.
They pass through, or at least, Juniper and Elias does. Dean waits for them to do it - powerlifting the whole portcullis up above their heads, and when his comrades are through, he drops it heavily to slip inside himself with an agitated rolling of a shoulder and a hand above it as if regretting that he didn't stretch from that. Not that it is any deterrent, he's walking forward now, walking it off to be exact and sshrugging off the /brief/ exertion that didn't wind him at all.
The opening that he goes ahead of both someone and Elias makes him pause, even while he offers help to them both to helpthem drop into it after he did - "Tight spaces. I'm probably going to be hard pressed to shift anywhere in here without getting stuck," Dean informs - and then, his brows are knitting. The twitch to his nose makes it clear that he notes more than the scent of decayed old wood and the groan of stone, the generational coffer of corpses. He stares north, and again, his crossbow is pulled from his side. Cranked taught and bolt-filled, pointing ahead, straight north down the decrepit passageways. "I smell blood. Fresh." It probably doesn't need an extra mention of who it may belong to, given the booming voice that shakes the walls in its descending echo towards them. He moves, at any rate.
They pass through, or at least, Juniper and Elias does. Dean waits for them to do it - powerlifting the whole portcullis up above their heads, and when his comrades are through, he drops it heavily to slip inside himself with an agitated rolling of a shoulder and a hand above it as if regretting that he didn't stretch from that. Not that it is any deterrent, he's walking forward now, walking it off to be exact and sshrugging off the /brief/ exertion that didn't wind him at all.
The opening that he goes ahead of them all now makes him pause, even while he offers help to them both to drop into the chasm after he did - "Tight spaces. I'm probably going to be hard pressed to shift anywhere in here without getting stuck," Dean informs - and then, his brows are knitting. The twitch to his nose makes it clear that he notes more than the scent of decayed old wood and the groan of stone, the generational coffer of corpses. He stares north, and again, his crossbow is pulled from his side. Cranked taught and bolt-filled, pointing ahead, straight north down the decrepit passageways. "I smell blood. Fresh." It probably doesn't need an extra mention of who it may belong to, given the booming voice that shakes the walls in its descending echo towards them. He moves, at any rate.
Moving forward with Dean and Juniper as the approach the angry voice in the distance. Elias looks down at his watch, but it doesn't actually appear he is trying to tell what time it is, but more perhaps just confirming it is actually on his wrist at the moment. He clenches his knife tightly and without hesitation, he progresses with the two wolves.
Apparently, Juniper smells it too, because she's already set her jaw and started walking north towards the source of it, though it seems painfully obvious that her walk is a barely restrained run. "I'll be fine in here," she states through gritted teeth to Dean, as if he needed confirmation of it, but for now, they remain as they are in their current forms, following the sounds of daddy issues and the smell of the clock running out.
North. West. North. East. South, then east, then north twice the distance. The catacombs go on and on, deeper and deeper underground with slippery slopes and thigh-burning inclines that seem to go on forever. All the while, the pungent smell of blood becomes thicker, heavier, an ambiance of aroma at this point, rather than a simple waft on the breeze.
"DO YOU KNOW WHY I NAMED YOU ISAIAH JUNIOR INSTEAD O' ISAIAH THE SECOND??" wonders that voice, a guiding light in what now feels like a heavy mist of blood that gives no real rhyme or reason in the way of direction.
"IT'S BECAUSE YOU CAN NEVER BE A SECOND ME. JUS' A CHEAP, WEAK IMITATION!!"
Another slam, more dust and pebbles falling from overhead, and eventually the party comes upon a fork in the road; left, or right? which way to go? There's no signs, no riddles, no catchy poems warning which one is the right room, and which one will spell doom. It's just a fork, and each passageway goes on so deep that you cannot see the end through the darkness.
"Can you feel that?" Elias asks, but no one in particular as he heads to the magical draw the radiates from ahead. Before, so cautious, but now it seems like the mission is a bit more urgent for the dark haired man as he moves towards the source of the demonic energies.
This is what she was waiting for, already turning to Elias for his input on all things arcane, Juniper listens and watches him move forward, following directly in line with him with no doubts or questions asked. "I can't," she tells him quietly. "But I'm here. Go." Indeed, the blonde stays right behind him in close quarters, her pupils dilated widely in the dark to take in all the light she can and keep her vision sharp.
Perhaps the mood begins to dim among the company of 'heroes' of questionable morals as they traverse. The sickening increase of the scent of blood, possibly to some at least, doesn't appear to do the same for Dean. His nostrils flare, his eyes glow perpetual, they pierce the darkness, but it appears even he even with his eyes can't seem to see through the veil of it upon their eventual reach to the bottom of the well so to speak. Before Dean can say anything, it is Elias that steps forward - and in turn, Dean steps back, next to Juniper.
"I did say he'd lead us into goons." But perhaps it isn't th goons that they will be heading for, now. Even with his dryly attempted mirth, there is intensity to his eyes, worry that creases his brows together as the crossbow remains hefted, aligned forward - tip pointedly pointed away from Elias in trigger safety. "That guy sounds majorly punchable." It's a tame comment, all things considered, but Dean's jaw shifting idly in agitation ready to break out speaks volumes more than that, a penchant of violence and thirst for it in ground teth and slightly bared, sharp cuspids.
All through the journey in the catacombs thus far, there had been gleaming eyes watching the party- some golden, some red, some inky black; the eyes of rats that observed, that watched, but often skittered away before anyone got too close, disappearing into cracks, holes, and grates to avoid any potential danger. If the group so fancied, perhaps they would pick off a few here or there for sport, or for the sake of feeling a touch more secure in their travels.
There is a saying: There are no snakes in Ireland. The folktale being that good ol' Saint Patrick ran them all out into the seas, never to be seen again. Traveling deeper into the crypt proves that this rumor simply isn't true. This hall seems unending, a No Man's Land for the rats, because every single inch of it is covered in living serpentine bodies. The eyes that glint in the darkness now are all red and reptilian, and the sound of slithering forms and hissing mouths echoes all around as the stench of Hell itself overpowers the scent of blood, and the sounds of violence grow eerily silent.
Eventually the corridor opens into a wide, round chamber, snakes falling from the ceiling and writhing along the floor as they all seem to move not against, nor towards the group, but with them; watching, urging, yearning, beckoning, even. A large pile of bones serves as the makeshift dais on which a massive skeletal hand grasps something in its palm, a single shaft of light beaming down on it from above: an ever-burning brazier of some sort, the flame black and green rather than red or orange. The stench of magic is sickening to those who are already averse to it, but for those who embrace it? It smells like pure, unadulterated power.
Juniper lifts her arm to cover her nose and half her face when they reach the chamber. "JR's not here," she says, muffled into her elbow - as if the other two can't see for themselves. She holds no vested interest in the brazier herself, still letting the smell of JR's blood be her driving motivator.
The dark haired man's gray-blue eyes seem fixated on the relic before him. If it had any more influence over him, he would probably be drooling over the artifact before him, but something seems to hold him back in the end. Elias takes a deep breath, sliding his blade into his belt sheath before he mentions to the others, "Well, that is." He says, to the two wolves with a touch of doubt in his mind, "Well, now the question is, is it cursed or trapped?" And the fit man starts to approach the medical device, looking over the dais which it sits for any signs of warding or other such medical protections.
"Fucking.." Dean doesn't finish his sentence. No, he's grown relatively quiet in their descent heralded by a gatheering of rats that peek out from whichever inch they find opportune to inpect them all. His disinterested displeasure of the rodent population ends when they're past it, further below, deeper in the belly of the beast while he's growing agitated no doubt. Nose twitching in intervals yet more often than it had before. And in the corridor that they trudge on in within, Dean ops to stay behind, too. Behind Elias like Juniper and at her side. Inspection of his own gaze now skips over the whole of where they've ended up in - but, JR is not here, Juniper is right. "Let's find out if it is." He's dry in his tone. Some inkling of ssomething on his expression speaks of small worry, the unsaid fact that clock does tick, and who knows how long JR hs with all the blood he's pinning. Before Elias can trvere the distace to the staff, Dean's hand moves, wrist twists and open palm beckons towards the skeletal hand and its weapon of choice. The telekinetic pull doesn't seek to focus only upon the staff - but the whole arm on the dais itself, and since Elias is ahead of them, it makes a midair .
And since Elias is ahead of them, it would, if it even budged at all, would take a straight path for the other man in a set-to-fail endeavor trying to jump to Dean. *
Maybe Dean made a mistake and misread something, retcon as necessary!
Juniper is not going anywhere near that thing, pacing impatiently now in a semi circle near the exit to the tunnel they came from much like her wolf self keeping a perimeter with a tense focus on the potential dangerous thing within.
"... Eliasssss.."
An eerie, serpentine voice whispers in a hiss as Elias approaches the dais, the magic of the room seeming to vibrate and hum in reaction to some magical force within the man.
"Eliasss"
It's more clear now, more hungry, threatening to swallow the man whole and hold him hostage in its belly. Perhaps, if given time, Elias could have deciphered a code, or even made a horrible choice in being guided by a lust for power. Maybe. Maybe not. But as the dark-haired, blue-eyed man begins his search, Dean is yanking open that skeletal hand with telekinetic force, the bones crunching, cracking, and then shattering as an odd, lumpy bowling ball looking... Thing... Rolls out of the palm and across the bone-and-snake strewn ground. A rumble echoes from deep below, the ground vibrating as a statue behind the dais becomes visible in the glow of... Lava.
It is that Cyclopsian Saint Patrick with arms outstretched that takes center stage now, a live mating ball of snakes in each hand as it slowly begins to twist and rise up from the ground, the eerie sound of too-hot, too-thick bubbles gurgling from below.
Just in time, too, because crashing through the ceiling comes the form of what was probably a handsome young redhead, now bathed in his own blood and choking on it too. One eye is crushed shut, an arm is broken in several places, and he lays on his back right in front of Elias on the altar, staring upwards with likely unseeing eyes as he shudders.
Stepping back from the dais when the redheaded man crashes through the ceiling and Dean's telekinetic efforts seems to snap him out of any of the draw he was feeling from the unholy creation and whatever temptations he was feeling over it. Elias takes a deep breath, looking around to take in the surroundings for a moment like he is seeing them for the first time.
"Oh fuck, JR!" Juniper calls out immediately following the crash of the man through the ceiling. Her ambitions and cares about bowling balls on daises and rising statues are extremely limited when it comes to seeing the redhead in his crumpled up state. She books it to where the redhead has fallen from where she was keeping a wide berth before.
The blonde nearly collides with Elias up by that altar and uses a strong grip on his arm to check in with him that's he still with them while looking him in the eye. With a tiny, satisfied nod, she's dropping her attentions to someone, trying to brace his upper body a little and roll him to his side into the recovery position to keep that blood choking at bay. "JR? JR," she repeats the name sternly, trying to get a flicker of recognition from him. "I've got bandages in my duffel, Elias," she says over her shoulder while she holds the redhead.
"Oh fuck, JR!" Juniper calls out immediately following the crash of the man through the ceiling. Her ambitions and cares about bowling balls on daises and rising statues are extremely limited when it comes to seeing the redhead in his crumpled up state. She books it to where the redhead has fallen from where she was keeping a wide berth before.
The blonde nearly collides with Elias up by that altar and uses a strong grip on his arm to check in with him that's he still with them while looking him in the eye. With a tiny, satisfied nod, she's dropping her attentions to JR, trying to brace his upper body a little and roll him to his side into the recovery position to keep that blood choking at bay. "JR? JR," she repeats the name sternly, trying to get a flicker of recognition from him. "I've got bandages in my duffel, Elias," she says over her shoulder while she holds the redhead.
With the allure of the artifact fading away from his mind for whatever reason, perhaps it is just the raw distraction of the man or perhaps the artifact has given up. Whatever the reason maybe, Elias nods to Juniper and starts rummaging through the duffel bag for the said bandages. After a moment of searching, he returns to Juniper with the bandages.
"Oh, shi-" The rest of his expletives are drowned out by the sound of bones shattering and the gurgling lava - and of course, of the broken body falling through the ceiling. "Juniper!" No time to waste, but time for full-name's to convey severity, he takes off at once. Rapid, and visibly undaunted by the sight of that towering statue, more worried of what it could do to its closest prey. He twists midmotion, kicks that ball of whatever that he is most definitely not inspecting right now, alongside all the snakes that coil beneath it, straight on and at Elias.
What he wants from Juniper is made clear after how he nods to her, after they've reached the wounded in question, while he moves to assist, takeover from her. "You grab Elias," And hopefully before that looming statue of snake-hands does anything, Dean seeks to cradle the man closer up in his arms, with the intention of a swift retreat back the way they came.
Government name's been used, Juniper snaps to attention as Dean does a 'bend it like beckham' and hucks the relic at Elias. He swoops in for their redheaded and bloodied friend and Juniper turns to Elias with an expression of apology before she just does as ordered and chucks her raven-haired man onto her shoulder in a fireman carry like the blonde amazonian she is and books it for the exit with Dean.
Juniper does this only AFTER Elias makes the save of course...
The statue twists, and turns, and rises bit by bit as the below-ground pillar it had rested on becomes, well, no longer subterranean. Like something out of an Indiana Jones movie, it ascends into the air until it unplugs itself from the earth like a cork- and the champagne that spills forth is molten rock, oozing over the ground like a tub of slime that has spilled over. The heat is unbearable, along with the stench, and just as Dean kicks that ball to Elias, the red-hot stone begins to ooze towards the group.
From above, the shadow of a man- average, maybe even short, in stature- looms, gazing down that hole in the ceiling that had been created by JRs body. For now, the figure is little more than shadow- highlighted by the glowing cherry of a Cuban cigar between their lips, the light reflecting off of Devil-red eyes that watch the party with glowering hatred as they make for the exit.
"He... Found... Me.." says JR quietly to Dean as he's carried, each word a strain on his lungs, especially that blood-gurgled chuckle he tries to echo towards the larger man, only to go a touch more limp during their escape. "Fucked.. Up.. Again..."
Catching the relic shortly before he gets slammed into and apparently carried off by Juniper. Elias doesn't really struggle to the events that are happening to him, but just largely looks more puzzled than anything else from how they are unfolding. Talk about everything getting carried away... literally.
The way Dean's expression is cross, jaw a hard line of vehement severity, no doubt a plethora of curses are swimming at the back of his mind. Threatening to spill over - though, it is less of a threat than the swirling, molten rock that spills over now. Just briefly, just for a second, green eyes angle up to the ceiling, to the hole from which JR dropped with the same intensity harbored in his own gaze, one of glowering hatred -- but he's fleeing already. Pace is kept beside Juniper - she, with her fireman carry, and him, with his princess, whatever poor snake slated for death by fire daring to slither their way ends up crushed underfoot by a deceptive weight that far more than what Dean appears.
"You said you were going to /scout/, dipshit!" Finally some of that expletive is growled out, and he takes a bend, and another - its a lot of turns in this place, each familiar to the last. "Not throw a fireworks show." However good that was, admittedly. At least they have their own scent to run along and retrace for Juniper and Dean to find their paths, and maybe Dean keeps an intentionally slower pace as not to jostle anything broken of JR too much. "It's alright, we got you, that's what matters. We get to highground, and I'll path us out of here."
"It was a good show, Dean," Juniper barks out tensely, in support of JR, somehow trying to balance the light and dark as they both rush through the writhing labyrinth with their precious cargo in tow. Juniper keeps pace with Dean only because he's slowed himself for his passenger, and likely her, who isn't quite up to snuff as the man leading them.
"So, why are we running at this point?" Elias says to Juniper as he is still being carried along with a grunt, "Can't we just path out of here, we have both of the things we were looking for."
Entire chunks of ceiling fall around the trio-turned-quartet at last as they run through the ruins (which are becoming more ruined by the second). Quite literally hot on their tails is a rushing river of lava which collides with and rolls off of the walls like a burst dam, chasing them like the Devil itself. What was that pattern? South twice, west, north, west again, south, east, south, west, south, south, south, south, all the way until they reached the crypts once more.
It was a /magnificent/ show, JR would say himself if he could, but he's out of the precious energy required to speak after that last expulsion of words, and Elias's question is answered in the form of a crashing wave of lava shooting high over all of their heads, about to crash down as they come upon the exit leading to freedom, fresh air, and Bailey's Irish Cream.
"LAVA!" Juniper shouts back at Elias over the rumble of the chambers behind them that would surely catch up to them before any pathing were complete.
Dean turns to stare at Elias at once, and barks, simply; "Lava!" The thing that they're really running from, the bubbling molten rock growing -- he seem to shout in unison at the poor man with Juniper.
"Bah, Lava. I have the relic and ice magic." Elias says as he eyes the orb in his hand with a small grin as he is still being carried off, "I am betting we can stop it."
"Save your bravado for another day, Elias," Juniper chirps out in clipped sounds, though there's a smirk on her face as she does so. "Have a pissing contest with JR later."
A simple leap propels Dean straight outside, up the exit they came from - crashing through the stone and rock to make the exit bigger by the inclusion of his shoulder upon it. Good for someone, maybe not so for him, but JR is kept out of harm's way even if he has to endure rock dust for some. The lack of heat is bliss, certainly, and he's so coated in perspiration that it drips from the edge of his jaw and down the incline of his throat where beads meet the line of his armor. His slick, wet hair is a mess upon him, sweaty and clinging. Whether there is any safety or not, Dean turns to the couple duo at their side, after they themselves have presumbly leapt out after. "Bet on opening a path fast, right now."
A simple leap propels Dean straight outside, up the exit they came from - crashing through the stone and rock to make the exit bigger by the inclusion of his shoulder upon it. Good for Juniper, maybe not so for him, but JR is kept out of harm's way even if he has to endure rock dust for some. The lack of heat is bliss, certainly, and he's so coated in perspiration that it drips from the edge of his jaw and down the incline of his throat where beads meet the line of his armor. His slick, wet hair is a mess upon him, sweaty and clinging. Whether there is any safety or not, Dean turns to the couple duo at their side, after they themselves have presumbly leapt out after. "Bet on opening a path fast, right now."
Juniper is already letting Elias free to his own machinations the moment they burst free through the exit created by brickhouse Dean's sheer determination.
And once Elias is free, he looks over the relic once more, but then looks back to JR with some thought. He turns his gaze back to Juniper, "Well, I guess we are pathing now then." He says as he holds his hand out to her, giving her a small smile
The floor is lava!
Luckily for Elias, Dean, and Juniper, lava can't path. The way topside is cleared by Dean blowing a secondary hole into the already-existing one, leaving no room for error- no time to squeeze through. It is a time for brute force and ignorance, and God dammit, Dean has enough of that to go around. He's the Juggernaut, bitch.
Bet on making a path? If they wish it, it is so, Elias and Dean clearing paths for themselves as they bolt away from the heat into fresh, cold air that has likely never felt so crisp and refreshing, an ocean mist spraying against them to help soothe the blistering heat that steams from their flesh.
JR is nestled quietly in Dean's arms- safe and sound, but likely with wounded pride among other things. But he's alive, physically anyways. Emotionally? Getting beaten half to death by your own father not once, but twice, can really do a number on the spirit. Surely he'll bounce back though, right? Like a ball, with all of that usual golden retriever energy he has.
Quiet or not, Dean keeps JR safe. Dust, stone, and no doubt some small, charred bits here and there on him are flaring at the hems of his attire. Thankfully they aren't ambushed by the classic villain trick of a bunch of goons waiting right outside between them and the portcullis - Dean already looks on edge enough, and he's already taken a life. All the more eager for more. He steps in by Elias and Juniper when it appears like they're going to open a path, and without any necessity to expel his own energy, or really, empty his hands of JR, Dean waits for the opening of that misty gate to leap in after them.
Juniper slips her hand into Elias's, a far more delicate motion from the woman than was exhibited earlier. She's not untouched by the chaos - also sweaty, likely haggard - and concern for JR dripping out of her while Dean is the one to carry him to safety. She draws tight to Elias, ready to follow with him to the dark forest. "I'm with you, Elias," she says thickly before casting another look back to the chaos they leave behind.
"Alright, lets head home." Elias says to Juniper as he gives her hand a firm squeeze, "I am exhausted. All this being carried really wears me out." He says with a a small grin crossing his face.
Homeward bound, and home free, or so it seems. Dean carries JR, and he follows after Juniper and Elias, their respective path pulled open, and then entered- but something raises the hairs on the backs of everyone's neck, and a quick glance behind them would show the portal to the path closing on the leather gloved hand of a red-eyed, tawny-skinned man who was a hair's breadth from snatching that unconscious redhead right out of Dean's grip. They're safe now, walking through that magical forest, but it makes one wonder what might have happened if they had left a mere moment later.
FIN- for now.
Throughout these ancient corridors, ensnared in a family feud soaked in blood and magic, JR's attempts at stealth lead to an explosive distraction, drawing the enemies' attention away from his comrades. His action set the sky alight, signaling to his friends below and offering a beacon of misdirection. Yet, amidst the chaos, JR falls into the clutches of his father's wrath, beaten and bloodied, his life hanging by a thread.
Elias, caught between the lure of the eldritch artifact and the urgent necessity of their mission, nearly succumbs to the artifact's whisperings of grandeur and dominance. However, an abrupt intervention by Dean, utilizing his telekinetic prowess, reroutes their focus towards escape as a river of molten rock, unleashed by their disturbance, threatens to consume them.
Through tight corridors, driven by desperation and the primal instinct for survival, they flee. The air thickens with the heat of pursuit, the liquid fire nipping at their heels, until, at last, they burst forth from the crypt's mouth, gasping for the cold night's embrace. Their path home is woven hastily by Elias, a gateway through reality itself, back to a place of relative safety.
Yet, as they step through the threshold, a chilling realization dawns: they were but a breath away from disaster. The closing portal snips at the grasp of a sinister figure—a would-be captor foiled by time's narrow margin. Safe for the moment, they carry with them not just the artifact of immense power but also the heavy burden of JR's battered state and the knowledge that their actions have attracted the malevolent gaze of something far more dangerous than mere flames.
Thus, the adventure concludes with them stepping into the unknown, their bonds tested, their spirits weary, but their resolve unbroken. The night may have enveloped their escape, but the dawn of reckoning looms large on the horizon, promising challenges anew.
(Fire Power(SRIsaiah):SRIsaiah)
[Sat Aug 10 2024]
In catacombs beneath the Reegan castle in Belfast, Ireland
These catacombs are a labyrinth of shadowed passageways, carved deep into the ancient bedrock. The walls are cold, damp stone, covered in patches of moss and slick with the moisture that seeps in from above. Narrow tunnels twist and turn unpredictably, their low ceilings forcing even the tallest to stoop. The air is thick and stale, carrying the faint scent of earth and decay, with a coldness that seeps into one's bones. Occasionally, the path opens into wider chambers where stone coffins lie undisturbed, their lids engraved with the worn insignias of long-forgotten ancestors.
Flickering torches mounted sporadically on the walls provide the only light, casting long, eerie shadows that dance across the uneven surfaces. The silence is oppressive, broken only by the distant drip of water echoing through the passages. In some sections, the catacombs give way to subterranean lakes or pools, their still waters reflecting the flickering torchlight like dark, bottomless mirrors. The deeper one ventures, the more the atmosphere thickens, carrying with it the sense of being watched by unseen eyes, and the ancient, restless spirits that haunt these depths.
It is about 75F(23C) degrees.
SRIsaiah says "l "
One by one, and occasionally two by two, tears in reality ripple into existence along the rolling Kelly green hills of Belfast, Ireland. The sounds of oceanic waves striking against rocky shores pools around, creating an intense backdrop of natural ambiance. The first to step through their constructed Path is the duo of Elias and Juniper, who are greeted with a cool sea breeze and the scent of the salty sea. In the distance, down the hill they stand atop, is a partially rundown castle. It hails from the Medieval ages, judging by its construction- or lack thereof, considering half of it is caved in upon itself.
Dean arrives soon after the couple, tires hefted on broad shoulders as his towering form appears. It offers him an optimal view of all that is ahead of them. Faint movement can be seen withing the ruins: men in trench coats and dusters scouring the place; armed, and dangerous.
And yet, there is a fourth that should be here, oddly missing. A certain redheaded fellow.
Stepping out of the dark forest and back into the world that he has lived in all of his life, Elias looks over to Juniper to make sure he is still with her. He offers a small smile to her and then shifts his attention over to Dean as he too appears, giving him a nod.
The nightly, serene darkness is illuminated briefly in a spread of the veil as a thick stream of mist gathers. It's silvery, like a ray of moonlight tearing through the suspended droplets of gathering perspiration - just for the reality to ripple - but Dean doesn't come out carrying the tires. They come out before he does, a pair that rolls downhill, hitch up against a rock and bop all the way down, until they're out of sight. Dean's appearance afterwards is a lot less perplexing. He's simply there, stepping out of his path, attaching and fixing armor on his person and binding his torso with leather and chain. A large sword hangs between his shoulderblades, with a pistol-grip crossbow affixed to his belt at his side. Elias, when he's noted, get a return nod that is just as serious, Juniper, gets a small smile, onee that fades quickly while his eyes search for that one elusive redhead.
Juniper is notably staring at Dean's weapons with a small covetous look, even despite the views around them. She catches eyes with the distant man and gives him a small, appreciative nod with a twitch of her mouth before she gives Elias's a hand a return squeeze of confirmation. Next, she too is searching the horizon, not for its current beauty but for what it lacks - their own beautiful redheaded companion. "Dean!?" she looks to him first, as if he shirked on babysitting duties or something. The question in her face while she goes back to pan the horizon is obvious. "Where the hell is JR?"
Past the greener pastures that makes one want to throw their normalcy to the wind and take off running, Dean slowly sets those green eyes out onto the vista of the lake adjacent castle. He doesn't say anything to Juniper initially, but does note, in the far, far down-hill, now, those two tires have managed to find their way off a high slope and arched straight out into the water. "He texted me something like he's going to.." His phone is pulled out to remember, clearly he hardly read it, "Scout ahead in Belfast to get some intel."
The age-old question, truly. Where the Hell /is/ JR?
He should be here. He agreed on the time with everyone present- 8 o'clock pm, Reegan Castle, Belfast, Ireland. And yet, everyone seems to be here but him. How peculiar. It's soon while the trio search for their wayward companion that those with rather acute senses of perception might notice a strange buzz and hubbub within the beehive of the castle- those Tommy Gun-wielding goons moving a little faster, and all in the same direction with their shouts audible in the distance, but incoherent. Indecipherable.
"So tell me. How stealthy is JR anyway. Like is he a ghost among the shadows or is he more likely to knock something over and make all those guards aware of his presence?" Elias asks Juniper as he gestures down at the activity in the castle, sighing, "Really, if I we are going to have to crash our way in there, I am not much of a brawler today, which is why I am glad you two are at least."
Juniper casts another look over to Dean, looking like she is coiled, tense, ready to move now when the wind caresses past them. She won't move without Dean though, this much is clear. "He's... well. JR can do anything he wants to. But I just don't have a handle on whether he /wants/ to be make an entrance or not," she tells Elias distractedly, attempting to fill him in and giving him... next to nothing.
"We saw him try to organize his wardrobe." Dean speaks with some slight distraction, without looking at Juniper or Elias, because he's unhooking the crossbow at his side. It's held down, string pulled taut single-handedly, before a bolt is placed right there ready for to go between someone's eyes. "He probably has as much coordination as a rabbit on cocaine." Another glance to the two, but he doesn't speak this time. Perhaps the idle chatter is just in case his voice is what carries. Two digits rise, point at his eyes while facing Juniper and Elias to convey a message, then they point down the direction his tires have went. "I hear footsteps." Then? Then he's glancing around, either looking for the optimal path down, or somewhere to sneak around in this vast, expansive painting-esque vista.
While Dean and Juniper seem to be armed to the teeth in armor and weaponry, Elias himself reaches to his belt and pulls out a bowie knife. He crouches down and follows along behind Dean though, but he keeps looking over to Juniper, keeping an eye on her as well. The dark haired man, usually a man of a million words does indeed to take the prompt from Dean to shut up and follow.
Contemplation, conversation, half of the dilapidated castle clears entirely of goons as they all rush to one single area, searching, shouting, calling orders and commands, breaking off into squads. Those footsteps that had drawn Dean's attention are still, and for a moment, all is silent.
*BOOM*
*BOOM* *BOOM*
the sound of explosives rings out from the distance in the castle square, and soon it becomes apparent just what is going on as thugs and peons scatter, screaming for cover as sparks fizzle, then fly into the air. Fireworks explode into the sky from deep within the estate, sending the goons scrambling for cover and disorienting their ranks. From directly below, where the Bastards are, they may look like a random display, but from up on that hill where Dean, Juniper, and Elias have converged, they can all see the same thing: A big old sparkly thumbs-up.
But if there is joy or merriment, it doesn't last long, for deep within the catacombs below the destroyed manor, a Brummie, Birmingham-based English accent echoes forth will all of the fury of a raging inferno.
"JUUUUNIORR!! YOU SNEAKY LI'L RAT!!"
Dean is a tall enough man to cast quite the shadow, but in this situation, that shadow is Juniper.
Juniper has to clap a hand over her mouth to stifle the laugh that tries to bark out of her when she realizes her initial line of thinking was correct. Gunpowder and JR? There's no way they weren't getting a display. "That's our cue, huh?" she finally says in the appropriate lower covert tones. "And by the sounds of it - we gotta move."
"Well, I am just going to assume you two know what is going on and I am just going to follow the plan.... Whatever that is." Elias says to Dean and Juniper with a grin creeping across his face, "But JR is one flashy guy I can see. I am not sure that would have been my entrance style, but you know, it works and hopefully we can get in without being noticed... If that is the plan I guess."
Juniper makes a gesture to Elias between him and then herself with raised brows as if to say 'did I not tell you?' that is punctuated by a begrudgingly amused grin.
That sounds are enough to still Dean's initial advance. The sight of disoriented goons are taken in stride, with a small bit of a smirk no less that displays his canids however minor the stretch of his lips, but then, it is the sight of explosive fireworks that reflect in the predatory glow of his eyes that catch and refract the light. It already may have been akin to daylight for Dean, and now, its even brighter. Despite Juniper's stifled laughter, Dean offers none of his own merriment audibly.
He does, however, offer a quiet, "Let's go." even if it is also done with a stop, and then a step back with an almost mischievous attitude that he nudges Elias' arm using the side of his crossbow's stock to do it. It denotes the man as the leader of the bunch, clearly, "I got a feeling you'd stumble on more goons on accident," And he wants that, clearly, "Lead on, we're going for the castle." That said, he offers some explanation in regards to what they're currently here for where the castle is concerned, burning with a grandiose display. "We're here to steal an artifact from Jr's old man. Bit of a race, so we better be there first."
"Wait, we want to draw their attention?" Elias asks Dean with a raised eyebrow and then shrugs as he is instructed to go forward without much complaint, "Ah well, lets just get going before they regroup." He says with a grunt, moving forward, probably not as stealthy as the pair of wolves he is traveling with though.
Catching the cue that the time is now, Juniper's joy for the series of events unfolding only matches and uplifts the glorious display that has been put on. Pyromancer, Pyromaniac, Pyrotechnics. It seems JR is a multitalented ne'er-do-well, at the very least. His methods may be crude, but at least in this very moment, they are effective. Who knows how long that will last, considering Dear Old Dad seems to be a couple of steps ahead of the motley crew that has been assembled here tonight.
The grassy slope of the hill is slippery with dew in the pitch black of night- it's nearly two in the morning here, the perfect time for a gang of unruly British fucks to perform a raid on their own home turf; though they likely weren't expecting Team U.S.A. to come kick the door down and start taking names. Perhaps that is to the advantage of Elias, Juniper, and Dean.
Juniper is just here for the party it seems. Following behind her alpha who then switches off to throwing her beau on the coals - she simply follows behind as a not so stealthy glowing blonde head in the Irish night. She hasn't got slappy heeled flip-flops on at least, but she's certainly no shadowed assassin.
While they're descending down the hills, heading to catch up, catch hands, as it were, Dean seems too nonchalant in his non-answer answer to Elias. A low smirk, just that, nothing more. He's not jinxing it, but, his attention is split three-ways. One upon his comrades in the turmoil ahead, another, ahead - in their surroundings, and a third that he addresses without looking, but violently. His crossbow-bearing hand lifts, points directly at the tall-grass first before his eyes turn to stare down that direction as well.
The tip of a bolt follows along whatever it is he's seeing in the distance -- yet he murmurs witha wry bit of a smirk, repeating what the booming voice, in a more questioning manner. "Sneaky rat, huh.." He breaks away from the pair, but only lowers his crossbow, doesn't unwield it when he's also now walking with a slightly more cautious pep to his step avoiding accidental footfalls on any twigs or branches in his path. His hand over his shoulder beckons Juniper and Elias to follow him along. "Let's go this way, I think there might be a way."
And so, with a shrug of complete non chalance at whatever it is that Dean has seen in the grass, Juniper moves to follow the man and possibly the ripple in the grass in this new direction.
It doesn't take much prompting by Dean for Elias to just change direction and go back to following the large-wolfish man. He squints his eyes against the darkness, looking back to the crumbling medieval fortress and the movements of the men there. There isn't time to spent on doing too much inspecting, the disruption that JR worked so hard on won't buy cover for the entire night.
Dean fires a bolt into the tall grass in the dead of night, and a dark object starts to tumble down the hillside. At first, it is little more than the death cry of a large rat, but as it tumbles, it grows and grows and grows and grows until it is the size of a small-ish man with a surprisingly rat-like face. "Eugh!!" he cries, rolling down and down the hill until he comes to a stop at the water's edge, face down in the muck and the sand. He's dead, whoever the fuck he was, his creeping and sneaking days cut undeniably short by a crossbow bolt right between his eyes.
It doesn't take long for the trio to reach the base of the castle walls, those pyrotechnics doing their final blasts into the sky just in time for the group to assemble in the shadows. The little ecosystem of gangsters within the castle has had its pH balance thrown off. Mercury is in retrograde, and even those in charge screaming orders and firing shots into the air in an attempt to get some organization around here are left with little more than hoarse voices and raspy throats until the fire show finally ends in a fountain of sparks and one final middle finger-shaped blast that goes up into the air. It's now or never.
Pointing the blade off his knife towards the iron portcullis at the base of the castle walls, Elias keeping his voice low, asks, "Do you see that. I think that there is a passage way that we are looking for." He says as he slowly edges along towards the said portcullis, but his gaze looks to the rat-ish man as he crosses the body, but doesn't dwell on it, getting closer before he confirms, "I do think this is the way."
Now or never, their newfound path to the portcullis is a welcome boon. Dean, without reloading after his recent kill, only speaks without looking over his shoulder. "Glad that wasn't JR. It'd have been funny," Dean muses, smirks, "But the eyes, you know." All in all, Dean is extremely casual, here, in enemy territory. The cascade of fire from above, its light, the giant middle-finger, Dean nods towards Elias. "I see it." And with his hands free, he's kneeling down next to the iron bars, grabbing them from below, with the clear intention of lifting the gate open by sheer force over his head, if he can manage it. "At least we know he isn't caught - June and I can start tracking for a scent when we're down below. Can't miss that smell of oil."
There's something about watching a shifter go from animal to man in his dying throes that makes Juniper show a flicker of emotion in distaste and discomfort. Once at the portcullis, Juniper keeps low and nods to Dean then while he strains against the metal. "It'll be hard, with all this gunpowder reek Dean," she admits in a low voice. "But I did lay in his laundry the other day so... that's kinda fresh." It's jovial teasing, but there's more of a seriousness set to her now that they're closer to the action and putting themselves to work. First body rolling will do that to you.
"As much of oil and smoke there is, I don't really think it takes a wolf to smell the path down there." Elias says with a touch of amusement at the suggestion, but the raw strength of Dean just ripping his way through the iron, he just watches quietly all of the sudden.
The portcullis gives way with a groaning creak; loud, but easily masked by the noises of shouting and other rubble falling, assumed to be just another casualty of this miniature war. It enables the group of three to stealth their way into the grounds proper, over to the chasm created by what looks to have been a fallen black of stone, and inside at their leisure.
Once they are inside, if they do go, they are greeted by the dank smell of a millennium-or-more old crypt that has been collecting Reegan bodies for generations upon generations all throughout its labyrinthine halls. Some sarcophagi look recently-inhabited, while others are sealed shut with moss and buildup from centuries down below. The sound of water dripping down from above plays in a few directions. Plop plop into pools. Splash splash onto stone.
The symbolism here isn't hard to find: for those, if any, familiar with Irish folklore, they'd find images, Celtic drawings and knots, and various other depictions of a Cyclopsian Demon wearing the garb of Saint Patrick as its singular eye cries a river of lava. Balor of the Fomorians: the progenitor of the Reegan bloodline, it seems.
And that voice from before. Stronger now. Louder. Followed by an echoing boom that causes rubble and stones to fall lightly from above like rain.
"YOU'RE ME OWN FLESH AN' BLOOD, BOY. YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW ALL O' YOUR FUCKIN' TRICKS?!"
They pass through, or at least, someone and Elias does. Dean waits for them to do it - powerlifting the whole portcullis up above their heads, and when his comrades are through, he drops it heavily to slip inside himself with an agitated rolling of a shoulder and a hand above it as if regretting that he didn't stretch from that. Not that it is any deterrent, he's walking forward now, walking it off to be exact and sshrugging off the /brief/ exertion that didn't wind him at all.
The opening that he goes ahead of both someone and Elias makes him pause, even while he offers help to them both to helpthem drop into it after he did - "Tight spaces. I'm probably going to be hard pressed to shift anywhere in here without getting stuck," Dean informs - and then, his brows are knitting. The twitch to his nose makes it clear that he notes more than the scent of decayed old wood and the groan of stone, the generational coffer of corpses. He stares north, and again, his crossbow is pulled from his side. Cranked taught and bolt-filled, pointing ahead, straight north down the decrepit passageways. "I smell blood. Fresh." It probably doesn't need an extra mention of who it may belong to, given the booming voice that shakes the walls in its descending echo towards them. He moves, at any rate.
They pass through, or at least, Juniper and Elias does. Dean waits for them to do it - powerlifting the whole portcullis up above their heads, and when his comrades are through, he drops it heavily to slip inside himself with an agitated rolling of a shoulder and a hand above it as if regretting that he didn't stretch from that. Not that it is any deterrent, he's walking forward now, walking it off to be exact and sshrugging off the /brief/ exertion that didn't wind him at all.
The opening that he goes ahead of both someone and Elias makes him pause, even while he offers help to them both to helpthem drop into it after he did - "Tight spaces. I'm probably going to be hard pressed to shift anywhere in here without getting stuck," Dean informs - and then, his brows are knitting. The twitch to his nose makes it clear that he notes more than the scent of decayed old wood and the groan of stone, the generational coffer of corpses. He stares north, and again, his crossbow is pulled from his side. Cranked taught and bolt-filled, pointing ahead, straight north down the decrepit passageways. "I smell blood. Fresh." It probably doesn't need an extra mention of who it may belong to, given the booming voice that shakes the walls in its descending echo towards them. He moves, at any rate.
They pass through, or at least, Juniper and Elias does. Dean waits for them to do it - powerlifting the whole portcullis up above their heads, and when his comrades are through, he drops it heavily to slip inside himself with an agitated rolling of a shoulder and a hand above it as if regretting that he didn't stretch from that. Not that it is any deterrent, he's walking forward now, walking it off to be exact and sshrugging off the /brief/ exertion that didn't wind him at all.
The opening that he goes ahead of them all now makes him pause, even while he offers help to them both to drop into the chasm after he did - "Tight spaces. I'm probably going to be hard pressed to shift anywhere in here without getting stuck," Dean informs - and then, his brows are knitting. The twitch to his nose makes it clear that he notes more than the scent of decayed old wood and the groan of stone, the generational coffer of corpses. He stares north, and again, his crossbow is pulled from his side. Cranked taught and bolt-filled, pointing ahead, straight north down the decrepit passageways. "I smell blood. Fresh." It probably doesn't need an extra mention of who it may belong to, given the booming voice that shakes the walls in its descending echo towards them. He moves, at any rate.
Moving forward with Dean and Juniper as the approach the angry voice in the distance. Elias looks down at his watch, but it doesn't actually appear he is trying to tell what time it is, but more perhaps just confirming it is actually on his wrist at the moment. He clenches his knife tightly and without hesitation, he progresses with the two wolves.
Apparently, Juniper smells it too, because she's already set her jaw and started walking north towards the source of it, though it seems painfully obvious that her walk is a barely restrained run. "I'll be fine in here," she states through gritted teeth to Dean, as if he needed confirmation of it, but for now, they remain as they are in their current forms, following the sounds of daddy issues and the smell of the clock running out.
North. West. North. East. South, then east, then north twice the distance. The catacombs go on and on, deeper and deeper underground with slippery slopes and thigh-burning inclines that seem to go on forever. All the while, the pungent smell of blood becomes thicker, heavier, an ambiance of aroma at this point, rather than a simple waft on the breeze.
"DO YOU KNOW WHY I NAMED YOU ISAIAH JUNIOR INSTEAD O' ISAIAH THE SECOND??" wonders that voice, a guiding light in what now feels like a heavy mist of blood that gives no real rhyme or reason in the way of direction.
"IT'S BECAUSE YOU CAN NEVER BE A SECOND ME. JUS' A CHEAP, WEAK IMITATION!!"
Another slam, more dust and pebbles falling from overhead, and eventually the party comes upon a fork in the road; left, or right? which way to go? There's no signs, no riddles, no catchy poems warning which one is the right room, and which one will spell doom. It's just a fork, and each passageway goes on so deep that you cannot see the end through the darkness.
"Can you feel that?" Elias asks, but no one in particular as he heads to the magical draw the radiates from ahead. Before, so cautious, but now it seems like the mission is a bit more urgent for the dark haired man as he moves towards the source of the demonic energies.
This is what she was waiting for, already turning to Elias for his input on all things arcane, Juniper listens and watches him move forward, following directly in line with him with no doubts or questions asked. "I can't," she tells him quietly. "But I'm here. Go." Indeed, the blonde stays right behind him in close quarters, her pupils dilated widely in the dark to take in all the light she can and keep her vision sharp.
Perhaps the mood begins to dim among the company of 'heroes' of questionable morals as they traverse. The sickening increase of the scent of blood, possibly to some at least, doesn't appear to do the same for Dean. His nostrils flare, his eyes glow perpetual, they pierce the darkness, but it appears even he even with his eyes can't seem to see through the veil of it upon their eventual reach to the bottom of the well so to speak. Before Dean can say anything, it is Elias that steps forward - and in turn, Dean steps back, next to Juniper.
"I did say he'd lead us into goons." But perhaps it isn't th goons that they will be heading for, now. Even with his dryly attempted mirth, there is intensity to his eyes, worry that creases his brows together as the crossbow remains hefted, aligned forward - tip pointedly pointed away from Elias in trigger safety. "That guy sounds majorly punchable." It's a tame comment, all things considered, but Dean's jaw shifting idly in agitation ready to break out speaks volumes more than that, a penchant of violence and thirst for it in ground teth and slightly bared, sharp cuspids.
All through the journey in the catacombs thus far, there had been gleaming eyes watching the party- some golden, some red, some inky black; the eyes of rats that observed, that watched, but often skittered away before anyone got too close, disappearing into cracks, holes, and grates to avoid any potential danger. If the group so fancied, perhaps they would pick off a few here or there for sport, or for the sake of feeling a touch more secure in their travels.
There is a saying: There are no snakes in Ireland. The folktale being that good ol' Saint Patrick ran them all out into the seas, never to be seen again. Traveling deeper into the crypt proves that this rumor simply isn't true. This hall seems unending, a No Man's Land for the rats, because every single inch of it is covered in living serpentine bodies. The eyes that glint in the darkness now are all red and reptilian, and the sound of slithering forms and hissing mouths echoes all around as the stench of Hell itself overpowers the scent of blood, and the sounds of violence grow eerily silent.
Eventually the corridor opens into a wide, round chamber, snakes falling from the ceiling and writhing along the floor as they all seem to move not against, nor towards the group, but with them; watching, urging, yearning, beckoning, even. A large pile of bones serves as the makeshift dais on which a massive skeletal hand grasps something in its palm, a single shaft of light beaming down on it from above: an ever-burning brazier of some sort, the flame black and green rather than red or orange. The stench of magic is sickening to those who are already averse to it, but for those who embrace it? It smells like pure, unadulterated power.
Juniper lifts her arm to cover her nose and half her face when they reach the chamber. "JR's not here," she says, muffled into her elbow - as if the other two can't see for themselves. She holds no vested interest in the brazier herself, still letting the smell of JR's blood be her driving motivator.
The dark haired man's gray-blue eyes seem fixated on the relic before him. If it had any more influence over him, he would probably be drooling over the artifact before him, but something seems to hold him back in the end. Elias takes a deep breath, sliding his blade into his belt sheath before he mentions to the others, "Well, that is." He says, to the two wolves with a touch of doubt in his mind, "Well, now the question is, is it cursed or trapped?" And the fit man starts to approach the medical device, looking over the dais which it sits for any signs of warding or other such medical protections.
"Fucking.." Dean doesn't finish his sentence. No, he's grown relatively quiet in their descent heralded by a gatheering of rats that peek out from whichever inch they find opportune to inpect them all. His disinterested displeasure of the rodent population ends when they're past it, further below, deeper in the belly of the beast while he's growing agitated no doubt. Nose twitching in intervals yet more often than it had before. And in the corridor that they trudge on in within, Dean ops to stay behind, too. Behind Elias like Juniper and at her side. Inspection of his own gaze now skips over the whole of where they've ended up in - but, JR is not here, Juniper is right. "Let's find out if it is." He's dry in his tone. Some inkling of ssomething on his expression speaks of small worry, the unsaid fact that clock does tick, and who knows how long JR hs with all the blood he's pinning. Before Elias can trvere the distace to the staff, Dean's hand moves, wrist twists and open palm beckons towards the skeletal hand and its weapon of choice. The telekinetic pull doesn't seek to focus only upon the staff - but the whole arm on the dais itself, and since Elias is ahead of them, it makes a midair .
And since Elias is ahead of them, it would, if it even budged at all, would take a straight path for the other man in a set-to-fail endeavor trying to jump to Dean. *
Maybe Dean made a mistake and misread something, retcon as necessary!
Juniper is not going anywhere near that thing, pacing impatiently now in a semi circle near the exit to the tunnel they came from much like her wolf self keeping a perimeter with a tense focus on the potential dangerous thing within.
"... Eliasssss.."
An eerie, serpentine voice whispers in a hiss as Elias approaches the dais, the magic of the room seeming to vibrate and hum in reaction to some magical force within the man.
"Eliasss"
It's more clear now, more hungry, threatening to swallow the man whole and hold him hostage in its belly. Perhaps, if given time, Elias could have deciphered a code, or even made a horrible choice in being guided by a lust for power. Maybe. Maybe not. But as the dark-haired, blue-eyed man begins his search, Dean is yanking open that skeletal hand with telekinetic force, the bones crunching, cracking, and then shattering as an odd, lumpy bowling ball looking... Thing... Rolls out of the palm and across the bone-and-snake strewn ground. A rumble echoes from deep below, the ground vibrating as a statue behind the dais becomes visible in the glow of... Lava.
It is that Cyclopsian Saint Patrick with arms outstretched that takes center stage now, a live mating ball of snakes in each hand as it slowly begins to twist and rise up from the ground, the eerie sound of too-hot, too-thick bubbles gurgling from below.
Just in time, too, because crashing through the ceiling comes the form of what was probably a handsome young redhead, now bathed in his own blood and choking on it too. One eye is crushed shut, an arm is broken in several places, and he lays on his back right in front of Elias on the altar, staring upwards with likely unseeing eyes as he shudders.
Stepping back from the dais when the redheaded man crashes through the ceiling and Dean's telekinetic efforts seems to snap him out of any of the draw he was feeling from the unholy creation and whatever temptations he was feeling over it. Elias takes a deep breath, looking around to take in the surroundings for a moment like he is seeing them for the first time.
"Oh fuck, JR!" Juniper calls out immediately following the crash of the man through the ceiling. Her ambitions and cares about bowling balls on daises and rising statues are extremely limited when it comes to seeing the redhead in his crumpled up state. She books it to where the redhead has fallen from where she was keeping a wide berth before.
The blonde nearly collides with Elias up by that altar and uses a strong grip on his arm to check in with him that's he still with them while looking him in the eye. With a tiny, satisfied nod, she's dropping her attentions to someone, trying to brace his upper body a little and roll him to his side into the recovery position to keep that blood choking at bay. "JR? JR," she repeats the name sternly, trying to get a flicker of recognition from him. "I've got bandages in my duffel, Elias," she says over her shoulder while she holds the redhead.
"Oh fuck, JR!" Juniper calls out immediately following the crash of the man through the ceiling. Her ambitions and cares about bowling balls on daises and rising statues are extremely limited when it comes to seeing the redhead in his crumpled up state. She books it to where the redhead has fallen from where she was keeping a wide berth before.
The blonde nearly collides with Elias up by that altar and uses a strong grip on his arm to check in with him that's he still with them while looking him in the eye. With a tiny, satisfied nod, she's dropping her attentions to JR, trying to brace his upper body a little and roll him to his side into the recovery position to keep that blood choking at bay. "JR? JR," she repeats the name sternly, trying to get a flicker of recognition from him. "I've got bandages in my duffel, Elias," she says over her shoulder while she holds the redhead.
With the allure of the artifact fading away from his mind for whatever reason, perhaps it is just the raw distraction of the man or perhaps the artifact has given up. Whatever the reason maybe, Elias nods to Juniper and starts rummaging through the duffel bag for the said bandages. After a moment of searching, he returns to Juniper with the bandages.
"Oh, shi-" The rest of his expletives are drowned out by the sound of bones shattering and the gurgling lava - and of course, of the broken body falling through the ceiling. "Juniper!" No time to waste, but time for full-name's to convey severity, he takes off at once. Rapid, and visibly undaunted by the sight of that towering statue, more worried of what it could do to its closest prey. He twists midmotion, kicks that ball of whatever that he is most definitely not inspecting right now, alongside all the snakes that coil beneath it, straight on and at Elias.
What he wants from Juniper is made clear after how he nods to her, after they've reached the wounded in question, while he moves to assist, takeover from her. "You grab Elias," And hopefully before that looming statue of snake-hands does anything, Dean seeks to cradle the man closer up in his arms, with the intention of a swift retreat back the way they came.
Government name's been used, Juniper snaps to attention as Dean does a 'bend it like beckham' and hucks the relic at Elias. He swoops in for their redheaded and bloodied friend and Juniper turns to Elias with an expression of apology before she just does as ordered and chucks her raven-haired man onto her shoulder in a fireman carry like the blonde amazonian she is and books it for the exit with Dean.
Juniper does this only AFTER Elias makes the save of course...
The statue twists, and turns, and rises bit by bit as the below-ground pillar it had rested on becomes, well, no longer subterranean. Like something out of an Indiana Jones movie, it ascends into the air until it unplugs itself from the earth like a cork- and the champagne that spills forth is molten rock, oozing over the ground like a tub of slime that has spilled over. The heat is unbearable, along with the stench, and just as Dean kicks that ball to Elias, the red-hot stone begins to ooze towards the group.
From above, the shadow of a man- average, maybe even short, in stature- looms, gazing down that hole in the ceiling that had been created by JRs body. For now, the figure is little more than shadow- highlighted by the glowing cherry of a Cuban cigar between their lips, the light reflecting off of Devil-red eyes that watch the party with glowering hatred as they make for the exit.
"He... Found... Me.." says JR quietly to Dean as he's carried, each word a strain on his lungs, especially that blood-gurgled chuckle he tries to echo towards the larger man, only to go a touch more limp during their escape. "Fucked.. Up.. Again..."
Catching the relic shortly before he gets slammed into and apparently carried off by Juniper. Elias doesn't really struggle to the events that are happening to him, but just largely looks more puzzled than anything else from how they are unfolding. Talk about everything getting carried away... literally.
The way Dean's expression is cross, jaw a hard line of vehement severity, no doubt a plethora of curses are swimming at the back of his mind. Threatening to spill over - though, it is less of a threat than the swirling, molten rock that spills over now. Just briefly, just for a second, green eyes angle up to the ceiling, to the hole from which JR dropped with the same intensity harbored in his own gaze, one of glowering hatred -- but he's fleeing already. Pace is kept beside Juniper - she, with her fireman carry, and him, with his princess, whatever poor snake slated for death by fire daring to slither their way ends up crushed underfoot by a deceptive weight that far more than what Dean appears.
"You said you were going to /scout/, dipshit!" Finally some of that expletive is growled out, and he takes a bend, and another - its a lot of turns in this place, each familiar to the last. "Not throw a fireworks show." However good that was, admittedly. At least they have their own scent to run along and retrace for Juniper and Dean to find their paths, and maybe Dean keeps an intentionally slower pace as not to jostle anything broken of JR too much. "It's alright, we got you, that's what matters. We get to highground, and I'll path us out of here."
"It was a good show, Dean," Juniper barks out tensely, in support of JR, somehow trying to balance the light and dark as they both rush through the writhing labyrinth with their precious cargo in tow. Juniper keeps pace with Dean only because he's slowed himself for his passenger, and likely her, who isn't quite up to snuff as the man leading them.
"So, why are we running at this point?" Elias says to Juniper as he is still being carried along with a grunt, "Can't we just path out of here, we have both of the things we were looking for."
Entire chunks of ceiling fall around the trio-turned-quartet at last as they run through the ruins (which are becoming more ruined by the second). Quite literally hot on their tails is a rushing river of lava which collides with and rolls off of the walls like a burst dam, chasing them like the Devil itself. What was that pattern? South twice, west, north, west again, south, east, south, west, south, south, south, south, all the way until they reached the crypts once more.
It was a /magnificent/ show, JR would say himself if he could, but he's out of the precious energy required to speak after that last expulsion of words, and Elias's question is answered in the form of a crashing wave of lava shooting high over all of their heads, about to crash down as they come upon the exit leading to freedom, fresh air, and Bailey's Irish Cream.
"LAVA!" Juniper shouts back at Elias over the rumble of the chambers behind them that would surely catch up to them before any pathing were complete.
Dean turns to stare at Elias at once, and barks, simply; "Lava!" The thing that they're really running from, the bubbling molten rock growing -- he seem to shout in unison at the poor man with Juniper.
"Bah, Lava. I have the relic and ice magic." Elias says as he eyes the orb in his hand with a small grin as he is still being carried off, "I am betting we can stop it."
"Save your bravado for another day, Elias," Juniper chirps out in clipped sounds, though there's a smirk on her face as she does so. "Have a pissing contest with JR later."
A simple leap propels Dean straight outside, up the exit they came from - crashing through the stone and rock to make the exit bigger by the inclusion of his shoulder upon it. Good for someone, maybe not so for him, but JR is kept out of harm's way even if he has to endure rock dust for some. The lack of heat is bliss, certainly, and he's so coated in perspiration that it drips from the edge of his jaw and down the incline of his throat where beads meet the line of his armor. His slick, wet hair is a mess upon him, sweaty and clinging. Whether there is any safety or not, Dean turns to the couple duo at their side, after they themselves have presumbly leapt out after. "Bet on opening a path fast, right now."
A simple leap propels Dean straight outside, up the exit they came from - crashing through the stone and rock to make the exit bigger by the inclusion of his shoulder upon it. Good for Juniper, maybe not so for him, but JR is kept out of harm's way even if he has to endure rock dust for some. The lack of heat is bliss, certainly, and he's so coated in perspiration that it drips from the edge of his jaw and down the incline of his throat where beads meet the line of his armor. His slick, wet hair is a mess upon him, sweaty and clinging. Whether there is any safety or not, Dean turns to the couple duo at their side, after they themselves have presumbly leapt out after. "Bet on opening a path fast, right now."
Juniper is already letting Elias free to his own machinations the moment they burst free through the exit created by brickhouse Dean's sheer determination.
And once Elias is free, he looks over the relic once more, but then looks back to JR with some thought. He turns his gaze back to Juniper, "Well, I guess we are pathing now then." He says as he holds his hand out to her, giving her a small smile
The floor is lava!
Luckily for Elias, Dean, and Juniper, lava can't path. The way topside is cleared by Dean blowing a secondary hole into the already-existing one, leaving no room for error- no time to squeeze through. It is a time for brute force and ignorance, and God dammit, Dean has enough of that to go around. He's the Juggernaut, bitch.
Bet on making a path? If they wish it, it is so, Elias and Dean clearing paths for themselves as they bolt away from the heat into fresh, cold air that has likely never felt so crisp and refreshing, an ocean mist spraying against them to help soothe the blistering heat that steams from their flesh.
JR is nestled quietly in Dean's arms- safe and sound, but likely with wounded pride among other things. But he's alive, physically anyways. Emotionally? Getting beaten half to death by your own father not once, but twice, can really do a number on the spirit. Surely he'll bounce back though, right? Like a ball, with all of that usual golden retriever energy he has.
Quiet or not, Dean keeps JR safe. Dust, stone, and no doubt some small, charred bits here and there on him are flaring at the hems of his attire. Thankfully they aren't ambushed by the classic villain trick of a bunch of goons waiting right outside between them and the portcullis - Dean already looks on edge enough, and he's already taken a life. All the more eager for more. He steps in by Elias and Juniper when it appears like they're going to open a path, and without any necessity to expel his own energy, or really, empty his hands of JR, Dean waits for the opening of that misty gate to leap in after them.
Juniper slips her hand into Elias's, a far more delicate motion from the woman than was exhibited earlier. She's not untouched by the chaos - also sweaty, likely haggard - and concern for JR dripping out of her while Dean is the one to carry him to safety. She draws tight to Elias, ready to follow with him to the dark forest. "I'm with you, Elias," she says thickly before casting another look back to the chaos they leave behind.
"Alright, lets head home." Elias says to Juniper as he gives her hand a firm squeeze, "I am exhausted. All this being carried really wears me out." He says with a a small grin crossing his face.
Homeward bound, and home free, or so it seems. Dean carries JR, and he follows after Juniper and Elias, their respective path pulled open, and then entered- but something raises the hairs on the backs of everyone's neck, and a quick glance behind them would show the portal to the path closing on the leather gloved hand of a red-eyed, tawny-skinned man who was a hair's breadth from snatching that unconscious redhead right out of Dean's grip. They're safe now, walking through that magical forest, but it makes one wonder what might have happened if they had left a mere moment later.
FIN- for now.