(no subject)
**OOC: Jean's POV Log of the Mansion Attack. Freaky Phoenix-Eyes Included! Entry will be updated when I get back from Foal Watch**
X-Men MUCK - Saturday, June 07, 2003, 9:47 PM
---------------------------------------------
<< XS >> Front Gates
The Xavier Estates is well marked with white brick high walls encompassing the boundries between the public and private grounds. Iron wrought gates with their lattice work support the plaque that tells the address: 'Xavier's School for the Gifted' and reading in a following of personal address. The mansion can be seen from here, rising above the upper lip of the outer walls and seen more clearly if one were to peek through limited gaps in the iron-work gates.
[Exits : [T]he [D]rive, and [G]raymalkin [L]ane]
[Players : Chaim, Yuriko, Sky-Fire, Siryn, Madrox, Hank, Sabretooth, and Wyrd]
Sabretooth waits with his assigned companion, Wyrd, a fair distance off when the explosives Sabella has placed at regular intervals go off with a thunderous violence that shakes the leaves of the nearby trees and sets the ground to tremoring faintly. And there's the alarm sirens, of course, triggered by the blasts and now wailing quite clearly over the entire mansion grounds. Sabretooth curls his upper lip at this, exposing oversized feral canines, but steels himself. "Hell of a way to make an entrance..."
Wyrd watches the explosion silently, those grey eyes scanning over the flames as they rock heavenwards. Nodding slightly to his companion for the evening, he stepped forward with a concealed smirk, hidden beneath that silver cowl. "Indeed. Well, looks like it's time to see just what they have, hmm?" Chuckling softly, the silver clad telekine strode forward towards the gates, his teke shields deflecting aside random bits of debris whichh fell around him. "You take the melee ones, I'll handle anyone who wants to play with range."
Madrox rushes out the front door, having heard the alarms from the infirmary, along with a small crowd of duplicates who joined them from various spots around the mansion. Siryn chases after the lot as Jamie starts shouting out orders to his dupes. It's a rather motley bunch that crowds out the door, including Elvis, the flaming Queen (still in Nurse's attire), the whiner, the Madrox Village, DJ Madrox, and Doctor Madrox. Agent Madrox in the rear of the group nods as he hears something and rushes back in and up the stairs.
So much for her plans of training. Still, the delayed hopes of sessions in the Danger Room have evolved into a more serious note, and allowed her to come up from the basements levels ready in suite. Black leather pants, boots, tank top all uniformed to many other of the same gear. Leather collar and leather strappings of the same noir coloring lattice around wrists and up mid-forearm.
She'd of escaped the mansion if only for those damnable sirens alone. Feral makes some muted growl under her breath as she, like Madrox and the others that slink out before her, go to investigate the cause for alarm. Gates are first watched, for a moment, as twisted and abandoned metal is touched by the fire birthed from the explosions. Melissa pauses, briefly, examining the self-cloning and multi-personalities Madrox has acquired. Blinking that away, the more worrisome issue at hand is examined with a cock of her head.
Like many of the others, there's no walking involved, but instead a leap and dashing out onto the front lawn to inspect the damage and root of it all. Of course, pausing on the front lawn isn't an option, not when Sabretooth is spied. Cat in her territory? It won't fly well. The woman doesn't fully stop, and instead, slows to a stalkish walk towards the Gates - not worrying about the wannabe Silver Surfer.
A bare few minutes after the arrival of Madroxes & Company, the acrid tang of chemical explosives still sharp in the air and the sirens still wailing ear-splittingly in the distance, a lone figure comes trotting down the half-mile expanse of the drive at a good combat-jog, joining Melissa and apparently fresh from the same Danger Room session, as she's already in uniform. Jean Grey, with nary a hint of ValGal or amnesia in sight. Green gaze flickers between focused and dis- as flickers of high-level mental communication, likely quite notable by Wyrd, if equally undecipherable, echo back between the woman and her mentor. Drawing to a watchful halt as she takes in the scene, the spectral glimmer of a telekinetic shield forming as, with an effort at the insousiance that seems to be required in all superhero battles, the redhaired woman flicks an eyebrow, posts a hand to one hip and inquires "I don't suppose you boys have ever heard of the concept of knocking...?"
"Not much, so long as that damnable weather-witch isn't around," Sabretooth remarks in response to Wyrd's comments. He closes in, as well, as the fires steady themselves and the debris seems mostly settled. To his pleasure, the aforementioned 'witch' is nowhere in sight. There's the familiar scent of that wolf chick, but even she is tolerable. Sabretooth goes about sizing them all up as such as he moves in, sparks falling in spontaneous shower to his coat. "Works for me."
Wyrd takes in the sights and sounds of the gathering which ushered forth from the mansion to greet them, that concealed smirk still upon his lips as he regarded each in turn. Several men, all similar. A young teen girl. An older woman and..whats this. His gaze held upon Jean a moment, watching her. Yes, he could sense her psychic presence even among so many. She could be trouble, that one. Casting a quick glance to Sabretooth, then back to the assembly before them he called out, "Indeed, I have heard of knocking. Perhaps if you hired better craftsmanship in your doors, they wouldn't crumble so easily?" Beneath the cowl, his eyes blazed into silvery light flickering within the dark shadows as he brought his powers to the fore. "Very well then, compatriot. Let us begin," he replied simply to Sabretooth, and with an upward heave of his hands he set to lifting the debris of the fallen gates, their stone and metal forms wreathed in a light akin to that of his eyes as his telekinesis took hold.
Madrox is still feeling somewhat woozy, having just come up from the infirmary, but the rest of him is looking warily at the devastation and the possible opponents. A few are picking up whatever available debris is at hand intending to use them as weapons...
"What's goin' on?" is asked of one of Madrox's dupes, but before an answer is offered, Siryn gets a good look at the carnage left behind from what appears to have been a bomb blast. "What in the Saints?" she begins to question again. Then she spies the two characters coming through the smoke and debris, and the lass - tainted by an odd virus or not - loses control of herself. Specifically when she gets a good look at Sabretooth. "EEEEEEEEEeeeee!" she lets out, a high pitched scream that gives explanation to the reason behind her codename. A 'young teen' she may be, but this young lass packs a punch.
...The burst of sonic blare that escapes her is more of exclamation, rather than an actual use of her power, though it's still loud and long enough to do some damage to those close enough to catch it full force...
Madrox mutters more to himself than to anyone else, "There's a wha--?" He shakes his head and begins directing DJ Madrox and Doctor Madrox running towards the woods. The rest of the Madroxes don't look too good, as they attempt to recover from being in close proximity to Siryn. Most of the Madrox village is covering their ears and looking rather pained.
Quietly, there's an appreciation of Jean having her back. The kinetic balances out where she cannot. Still, there's the fact there is a giant hairy P-kitty word in their yard. A. Cat. "Go piss in a box y'pussy." Those lips peeling back in her verbal snarl towards Creed. No. She is NOT a cat person. Then again she's horribly biased. Those dead colored eyes merely thin and narrowing her gaze. With the pair moving in advance towards the mansion grounds, further invading territory she's claimed as her own, her own ire peaks with a jaw setting in a deciding frown. Only mumbling is heard as it exchanges between Wyrd and Sabretooth. Her hearing isn't that great... But the words 'weather witch' is somewhat if muffledly heard.
The lycanthromorph continues, allowing the feminine form to quickly melt away onto something more fierce. Not full wolf, and definitely not human, she sports to the arched muscular neck of a wolf, as well as a horsesized wolf head. A werewolf. Long arms have no paws, but a mutantous blend of human and animal 'fingers' with large claws. While most of her uniform is melted into her skin, the thick strap of black leather collaring her throat is there, as well are the straps that lace up her forearms. Pivoting on the ball of lupine-like foot, she lowers herself to a crouch as Sabretooth stalks forward with companion. "<< Back off. >>" Large werewolf mentally snarls. Ears flushed against her skull and she lifting that large head with jaws exposed, flicking narrow tongue out in a preparation over finger length teeth. Mutedly, she snarls in regards of Siryn interfering, if simply a more primal hold on her mind being overpowered. Those pupiless glowing yellow eyes narrow, giving a slight whine of protest at the sound, trying to shrug it off in favor of warning Sabretooth off.
Jean senses Siryn's reaction about a milisecond before the girl's shriek, and abandons all attempts at dignified pose in a frantic duck and covering of her ears that still isn't enough to save her from a beautifully-ringing brain cavity that mercifully is ignorable thanks to the wonders of adrenaline. Straightening, she doesn't deign to answer Wyrd's sally, since clearly plastic explosives are not included under the average warranty. Instead, a grin that might be termed feral if Melissa weren't around is unleashed as the woman spots the masked man's use of powers. Almost... delighted, on might say. "Boys and their toys." she mock-tsks, flicking two fingers in an uneccessary focusing movement as she applies a precise choke hold on the other telekine, a very minor but highly-effective tactic in the past. "You all seem to think that bigger is necessarily better... but I prefer to save my strength for the larger game. A little pinch here, a little twist there... so much more elegant than tossing rocks around. Take a nap." The choke hold is joined by the little tingle of invisible fingers adding pressure points to their contacts.
"Jamie, I need you to joing the group in the woods. Siryn, you're with me." she adds on as well.
Chaim strides out of the Mansion with his Slingshot in hand. He took teh time to dress for this but his shirt has already sizzled away and there is a faint hiss with each step as his boots and pants have been charged with the same acidic nature as his flesh. He already has his Slingshot held ready in one hand and a paintball turned acidic in his other hand...ready to be fired at whoever would dare make trouble here. He breaks stride a second as he notices the man apparently encased in silver and just chooses to target the lion man thing.
Sabretooth merely rolls his dark eyes at the familiar term that he has been dubbed with. "I ain't your damned compatriot, bub. We just happen to be on the same team," he mutters, though whether it's to himself or Wyrd isn't quite definite. But hey, there's the wolf chick with her hackles up and panties in a twist, and he's all for distracting himself with *her* instead. Then there's the short, yet excruciating blast from Siryn, and he might have to rethink his battle plan. Sabretooth jerks as if physically stricken, a grimace curling his mouth into a ferocious snarl as the sound hits his eardrums like a hot poker. Fortunately, it's short lived, and the moment the slight exclamation drops off, Sabretooth is lunging at Sky-Fire with his claws bared.
Wyrd growls softly, between the shriek of the young girl, and then the mental clutch upon his neck by Jean. Silver pools narrow upon Jean's form before blazing even brighter in his anger. "My, so you wish...to play games?" came the somewhat forced words from his throat, pressed past those invisible fingers. He wasn't about to try fighting against that force. Not yet at least, not until he freed up some of his own focus. With a snort he shoved forward with his mind, tossing debris in the direction of Madroxes and Siryn. Not particularly aiming for either, but to free them from his attention and to see if Jean would try to erect a TK shield to defend them and therefore weaken her own focus.
Madrox in the white lab coat and DJ Madrox nod to Jean but they're already in the process of running for the woods. The Madrox village still looks out of it, having been hammered at close range by Siryn. Unfortunately, the only remaining three Madroxes still on their feet are the sick one, the nurse in the feather boa and the whiner. The whiner is obviously too paralyzed by fear to do anything useful, "Ohmigod, don't kill me!" and has subsequently wet his pants, even as he tries to help hold up the original. The flaming queen on the other hand sees the flying debris and interposes himself, holding arms up to his face and catching a few of the smaller chunks on his arms, which causes him to duplicate. Each impact creating more of him in a sort of human shield to protect Siryn and his main body.
Unlike Sabretooth, she has no human head on her shoulder, only the full jaws of the wolf. That head turns and the werewolf bares her fangs with every intention of meeting Sabretooth and crunching his face off. Lets see how well that plan actually works out though. Rising to her full height, Sky-Fire's fingers splay, and she flexing her own slightly duller claws in retaliation. It's about all the preparation she had time for, after Siryn's scream having blazed and hurt her own senses, her own ears ringing still after that soundwave shock. Muted roar of Sabretooth is met with her own broad fanged growl.
The impact of Sabretooth against her forces she to stagger back only partially, with tender tipped silver ears flushed against her skull. Long muzzle diving forward and ripping her long teeth and jaws into the man's shoulder in every attempt to crush the bone and shred the muscle beneath. Eyes narrowed to slits in self-guard of her precious gold-glowing eyes, while own claws searching to savagely place against the mutant's torso with claws attempting to slice through his ribs. Long silvery guard hairs fluffed, along with the rest of her body, reflecting her lupine body language, and her adrenaline fueled hate. "<< Die >>" Lock jawed against his shoulder, squeezing her jaws together in attempt to simply pulverize the bone to unworkablity standards.
"I don't play games where defending my students and my home is concerned." is Jean's dead-level reply, her concentration indeed wavering for a moment as her attention shifts to deal with the thrown debris. Not wanting to bother with something as time-consuming and energy draning as a shield, she simply sweeps a hand in a warding motion and presents a wall of force to counter the incoming debris, deflecting the most lethal bits of it. Returning to focusing on Wyrd with an unholy intensity in green eyes, she redoubles the pressure on the choke hold, enough to disrupt his air supply entirely if left in place, and ensure that she gets her next sally all to herself and uninterrupted. "To every action there is a reaction. Try again. I'd love to show you how this dance is properly done, unless you're too busy showing off to the kids." Speaking of which... "Siryn." is ordered, one hand reaching out to snag the girl. "Either get behind me or get clear, I don't want to split my focus."
Chaim grimaces as some of the debris manages to clip him but most of it dissolves quick enough to prevent him being seriously wounded, oh yeah...he's not happy...he fires three acid Charged paintablls at the lion dude (Sabretooth) as he growls..."How Dare you attack us in our own home...how arrogant are you?..." He prepares to launch a few more acid balls at the large man...of course this tactic hasn't been field tested per se...
Walled by Madrox's in drag, and dragged clear by Jean, Siryn finally begins to get it through her horny skull that what they're facing here is actually quite serious. She would have figured it out sooner, had she not been busy lusting after a certain young man with split personalities.. and selves.. Shaking her head as though to clear it, the lass returns to her senses - if only for a moment. That moment of clearheadedness, however, gives way to a decision - she's not going to just hide behind everyone - she's going to fight back. Or at least help out by blocking some of the more physical things being tossed their way. Recalling all that she was tought about controlling her powers, the girl lets out another sonic blast - though this one is toned much lower, directed, and used to help shield herself and Jean. "Ne'ermind splittin' anything," the teen states in an drawl, more her old self than she's been in weeks. "Ye jus' leave the deflectin' te me."
A small army (well, perhaps half a platoon) of nurse uniform and feather boa wearing Madrox's rush forward after having deflected part of the debris assault. Despite their excellent make-up, they're all clutching their sparkly little purses grimly as they try to surround Sabertooth intending on delivering what punishment they can inflict to help out the lupine shaped person. They try to get in a few whacks of their purses, or kicks to the shin where they can, but it's largely being ignored, and they can't get too close in, as the savage battle between the two animalistic mutants rages. "You brute! Animal! Masher! You gave us a run on our stockings! Take this! And That! And This!" The sick Madrox drags his way closer to Jean and Siryn, being assisted by the whiny Madrox. He manages to gasp out to Jean, "Most of me with the Professor's down and so's Jubilee. Sabella's there and she's got somethin that's blocking the Prof's telepathy."
Oh, way to pick on Sabretooth. Jaws and claws and acid balls might do most mutants in, but Sabretooth seems to have it all planned out. The acidic paintballs that splatter across whatever side is bared to Chaim seep through the thickness of his coat quickly, sizzling on his skin. Does he notice? Oh hell yes. Does he care? Not compared to the massive pounds of pressure currently crushing and tearing his shoulder up something awful. Crushed bones will no doubt be far more painful and take much longer to heal than a few acid burns, and so Creed's elongated talons on the good arm arc towards where the protective fur grows short on the wolf's face, aiming to lacerate and maim.
Let's not forget spangly purses and delicate kicks to the shin using rather expensive pumps.
Actually let's... before I start snorting soda on the computer screen at the image.
With the debris no longer hindering him, he focuses his full attentions upon Jean, his eyes holding an intent fire. Both hands lift up in a flourishing motion, drawing upon his mental focus and using his hands as guiding beacons. His own telekinetic barrier came into being with a slight shimmer, pressing with a force to try and move aside Jean's attack upon him, or at least halt it's progression. And with his hands, well, here is where he tried a different trick entirely. His mental presence lashed out then in the form of two silver bolts, sent coursing for the form of Jean. The time for cute little banter was over, and the time for battle had begin.
begun even.
She can hear Madrox, and what she hears... It scares her. A lot. Queeny Madrox. Shudder. She can taste it and smell it. That metallic dribbling warmly through her encasing teeth and over textured tongue. Cruelly, her head twists to wretch herself further against his shoulder. She can feel it, that snap of the thick masculine, and mutant feral bone, give under the pressure of her fangs. It's enough. Attempting she tries to wiggle her jaws in a way to get a better grasp on his broken shoulder, trying then to fling massive head up and rip the bone up and out of the mutant's skin. Hopefully giving the man a very painful compound fracture.
Her plans are delayed, letting out a howl of pain, finding her face subjected to fine lines that tear down the side of her face. Unlatching him, she attempts to push him away; skin sizzling with a more bristling anger. Sky-Fire opens her eyes carefully, thankfully not blinded, but it does little in regards to the sheer burning pain where his claws had traversed .
"Nice to see you back to your usual self, Miss Cassidy." Jean manages in an amused murmur at the shift in Siryn's mental presence from girly to her more usual knee-the-world-in-the-groin-then-spit tendancies. And then it's all business, the smile on her lips growing as Wyrd decides to leave off pretenses and fight like a man. Or telekine. As his energies divert, Jean advances forwards with a fencer's nod and her own arms raised. The choke-hold established she leaves it in place for him to play with and turns her attention elsewhere, mingling the metaphysical with the physical as a series of blows and kicks from martial arts training are aimed and launched. Madrox Prime's dire news acts as both deficit and benefit, however, as her mind whirls and her face pales and there's a lovely stream of invective from the woman of which a repeated "Dammit, dammit -dammit-!!" is the most printable. Tactical scenarios usually left to the keener mind of Scott whirl in a dizzy and depressing gavotte through her head, picking up the incoming psychic bolts and whirling them around and through like a child's water-wheel. "Dammit," she adds on one last time, for feeling. "Mel, finish with your boy, I'm going to deal with mine... then boot it back to the Mansion, top speed." Too late, probably, her mocking little internal monologue insists.
Chaim isn't so intent on the Cat man that he didn't hear that. The Professor is in trouble so all bets are off...plus he knows a clingy acid will likely be harder for sabella to instantly heal. He pokes one of the Madrox clones with his slimgshot and drags it off..."Show me where the Professor is...I'm going to go help him as best I can..." With that he is running towards the Mansion...assunimg the queen is in tow to help him reach wherever he is going,,,
Siryn just nods, too busy controlling her sonic lance and shield to even attempt a spoken reply. Jamie's news depresses her too, especially the mention of the name 'Sabella'. Now where has she heard that before? Recently too... Unfortunately, now is not the time to be thinking of such inconsequential matters. The lass would like to just let rip a scream that would knock everyone unconscious, therefore finishing the 'fight', but alas, that would mean doing damage to her own friends and allies at the same time as taking out the baddies. Plus, even with superhuman vocal chords, the young woman _is_ starting to tire a little. Perhaps that's just another effect of the strange virus that's overtaken her personality - it's hard to concentrate when all you want to do is jump the 'guy of your dreams' right there amongst the fighting. Thankfully, she doesn't have any attacks directed personally towards her... which means that she should be able to hold out like this for a while longer.
Even through the blinding red haze of pain that clouds his vision as Melissa worries at his shoulder, Sabretooth screams only mentally. Outwardly, he gives a guttural snarl as there's a further sickening crack of bone and, as a result, an even fiercer hand brought down upon her. That one arm will be useless for a few hours now, but the other drags as deeply as he can manage across her muzzle and eyes. They're closed tightly enough to prevent blinding, no doubt, but probably leave her with a few groovy-looking scars in the aftermath. And even through this, he gives a choking laugh at Jean's apparent frustration, not far away. "S'the matter--urgh!-- frail? Somebody get their hands on yer daddy-figure?" He coos, before lapsing back into various feral noises of pain and agitation.
The cross-dressed Madroxes are still trying to inflict a futile attack on Sabertooth with their purses. A few smarter ones are aiming for his existing injuries, but trying to keep out of the way from a retaliatory swipe of the claw (like they could possibly outrun him). The Prime Madrox is clutching at his head as nearly 30 conflicting points of view stream through his mind. The Madrox village is back on it's feet now though and they're maintaing the defensive positions that the Queens set up earlier. Chaim pokes The King Madrox who despite wanting to get into combat nods his agreement and leads the other mutant back into the house.
Wyrd closes his eyes a moment, finding that 'center' of which psychics speak of. Bringing his mind into harmony with his body, he bundled his powers into that core, like a tightly packed spring. Unleashing that power into a sudden telekinetic blast, the culmination of his powers, he lashes out in a 10 foot radius of which thankfully none were within, but hopefully freeing himself of Jean's grasp. As a secondary effect, his body was rimmed with that silvery light, lifting from the ground with his power. Slowly he 'flew' towards Jean, his gaze locked upon her now as he formulated the next of his plans. The psychic kicks and punches were a pain, but nothing he hadn't been through before in his own training, and only adding fuel to his growing anger. With a near gutteral snarl his right arm snapped to the side and part of the light coaleced. Now, within his grasp was held a long sword of that same glimmereing psychic energy, an energy he fully intended to unleash upon the good Doctor.
Slender triangular cur ear swivels towards the callings of Jean. But... She wants a new chew toy... Though preferably one that'll not scratch her. The wounds feel alive, as if they're twitching against her skin, burning her. Bitterly she snarls, ensuring Sabretooth's own pain as injured muzzle pries open, lunging at Sabretooth with a new malevolence and primal scream that's far from human as it's as far from wolf. Injured, but not probably as the severity of Sabretooth's case, her ire spikes with bright eyes fixated on the cat, masked by her new stripes across her long lupinesque face. Instead of going head to head, there's no shame in her as she bends that large werewolf body down in a crouch, lunging forward in attempts to plunge her fangs deep within Sabretooth's arm, having little to no disregard if she would fatally injure him. Part of her doesn't care. The other half knows he'll undoubtedly heal. He's like an infomercial. You can't escape them. Although she hasn't been lucky enough to find such a killing hold or killing bite. The arm will have to do.
If lucky, she tears through his clothing, latching on to whatever bone and flesh her mouth can hold, and growling. "<< Go away. >>" Sharply jerking her head to the side, and reminding the feline why she's named Sky-fire. Air clotting with static, there's only that charging buzz as her muzzle clamps firmly down, and a jolt of electricity attempts to course through the feline-mutant's body.
Sabretooth is zapped and bitten and generally will be very sore and pissy for the next few hours.
Voices in her head, the last-ditch, last-second efforts with the Professor, the assault on Wyrd, operating at a physical and mental remove as she sees through her mentor's eyes... a sudden cry, full of loss, at the rude termination of mental contact, and the collapse of the central pillar of the psi-link joining her to Nightcrawler and other teams. Jean sinks to her knees with her head in her hands as the man approaches in flight. (And incidentally, why is that every other telekine on the planet seems to teach themselves to fly straight off? Is she missing something fun here?) Looking entirely overwhelmed outwardly, her mind is a whirl of chaos as shields collapse and thoughts swirl madly, until, like the roiling matter of a proto-star, something ignites, breaking the last barriers placed in her childhood.
There's a sudden crackle of raw power across the mental plane, echoed with the shrill astral cry of a bird of prey, and... Jean looks up. Eyes unseen behind a wall of red fire suddenly burning from their depths, she raises her hands, gathering a ball of pure force to herself, and then, in a motion half-thow and half convulsion, flings it outwards, straight at Wyrd's chest, heedless of his psychic sword as she stands and simply waits on results, presense halfway between 'strange' and 'very disturbing' and very much not the normal Jean Grey.
Madrox is looking less well as his viewpoint splinters further. He's trying to encourage his dupes to remerge to help him regain his concentration, but most of them are too busy doing their own thing. The whiner is watching Jean and now cowering away from her, while the Madrox village watches awed.
Siryn is almost shocked into another scream, thanks to the scene that's playing itself out just a few feet ahead of her. When Jean goes down, she's about to loose her sonic lance on Wyrd, and to hell with everyone else, but then something very _odd_ starts to happen... to Jean, no less. "Saints galore!" the Irish lass exclaims aloud, the words forcing down her shields, as she's still too untrained to keep both up at the same time. But no matter what the older woman's physical appearance may look like (Did you _see_ those eyes?!) it looks like she's got things under control... Which allows for Siryn to turn her attention towards Madrox instead. Her use of powers, abrudtly cut short, manages to make her concentration slip as well, therefore allowing for her altered personality to once again take ahold. "Oh Jamie! Ye'be hurt! Come to ye'r Irish Rose and let me take care o' ye, ye multiplying hunk o'man, ye!" With that said, she turns to reach for the youg man, intent on enfolding him in a giant, mushy hug.
Madrox is easily torn out of the whiner's grasp, who takes this point in time to run back into the mansion whimpering, having already wet his pants, he doesn't have much dignity left. Madrox, confused and definitely out of it, falls into Siryn's arms even as his other duplicates are trying to keep out of the way of the psychic battle.
Wyrd continues his approach, only partially pausing as the woman breaks down, the psychic backlash from Jean's trauma felt by him rather keenly as he closed in. With a flourishing twist of his arm he brought that psychic blade up and into position, readying himself to sweep down upon her with a vengeance. But in those last moments before his assault was launched, then came the attack of Jean. With a snarl he reinforced his shields, pumping in every last bit of energy he could muster, and as the blast struck there was an audible grunt from his lips. The telekinetic shields held against the first blast of the onslaught, but with a flickering aura they dimmed and were breached. Backwards he was flung, landing to the ground with a bounce and a roll across the drive. For a moment, he merely lay there, his breathing labored with the bruising injury. He wasn't sure just how bad it was yet, but it certainly didn't aid his combat effectiveness. And so, rising to one knee he cast his gaze upon Jean once more, no words spoken, at least not verbally. << This is not over, that I assure you. >> With a snarl he lashed out with the what power he could muster, setting to shaking the trees around him with his power, a shower of leaves and branches raining down to conceal his escape. And so, in that distraction he drifted back and away.
<< That's what they all say. Now run, boy. We have had enough of you. >> Silent orders given with a further flare of her eyes, Jean watches her victim create his diversion, a useless one to a person seeing with mental eyes. Holding her stance for a moment, aware of the shock and awe (Quick! Call Dubya!) on the faces of various of her fellow Mansion-folk, but with some voice whispering to her that it's only right and fitting, she at last sighs heavily, slumps her shoulders, and when her eyes re-open, there stands only Jean, a beautiful and tired woman with the weight of the world on her shoulders once more. "Siryn, here, let me give you a hand with him," she directs, slipping an arm under Madrox Prime's shoulders and helping him along as best she can. "Down to the medical bay we go... it's too late now to stop them from taking Professor Xavier... We'll just have to get him back as soon as possible."
Siryn snaps back out of her lovey-trance for the moment, though she still keeps on hand firmly around Jamie's waist, at the base of his back, nearly touching his rear-end. But at one look from Jean, the lass quickly moves it. "I'm sure ye'll find a way to get'im back safe 'n sound," she states, her words sounding hollow even to herself. But for now, they've more pressing things to worry about. Her dear honey-bun is hurting! "Ugh. This boyo weighs more than I'd 'ave gave him credit for..." she mutters, as they lead the young man back through the mansion and towards the medlab.
X-Men MUCK - Saturday, June 07, 2003, 9:47 PM
---------------------------------------------
<< XS >> Front Gates
The Xavier Estates is well marked with white brick high walls encompassing the boundries between the public and private grounds. Iron wrought gates with their lattice work support the plaque that tells the address: 'Xavier's School for the Gifted' and reading in a following of personal address. The mansion can be seen from here, rising above the upper lip of the outer walls and seen more clearly if one were to peek through limited gaps in the iron-work gates.
[Exits : [T]he [D]rive, and [G]raymalkin [L]ane]
[Players : Chaim, Yuriko, Sky-Fire, Siryn, Madrox, Hank, Sabretooth, and Wyrd]
Sabretooth waits with his assigned companion, Wyrd, a fair distance off when the explosives Sabella has placed at regular intervals go off with a thunderous violence that shakes the leaves of the nearby trees and sets the ground to tremoring faintly. And there's the alarm sirens, of course, triggered by the blasts and now wailing quite clearly over the entire mansion grounds. Sabretooth curls his upper lip at this, exposing oversized feral canines, but steels himself. "Hell of a way to make an entrance..."
Wyrd watches the explosion silently, those grey eyes scanning over the flames as they rock heavenwards. Nodding slightly to his companion for the evening, he stepped forward with a concealed smirk, hidden beneath that silver cowl. "Indeed. Well, looks like it's time to see just what they have, hmm?" Chuckling softly, the silver clad telekine strode forward towards the gates, his teke shields deflecting aside random bits of debris whichh fell around him. "You take the melee ones, I'll handle anyone who wants to play with range."
Madrox rushes out the front door, having heard the alarms from the infirmary, along with a small crowd of duplicates who joined them from various spots around the mansion. Siryn chases after the lot as Jamie starts shouting out orders to his dupes. It's a rather motley bunch that crowds out the door, including Elvis, the flaming Queen (still in Nurse's attire), the whiner, the Madrox Village, DJ Madrox, and Doctor Madrox. Agent Madrox in the rear of the group nods as he hears something and rushes back in and up the stairs.
So much for her plans of training. Still, the delayed hopes of sessions in the Danger Room have evolved into a more serious note, and allowed her to come up from the basements levels ready in suite. Black leather pants, boots, tank top all uniformed to many other of the same gear. Leather collar and leather strappings of the same noir coloring lattice around wrists and up mid-forearm.
She'd of escaped the mansion if only for those damnable sirens alone. Feral makes some muted growl under her breath as she, like Madrox and the others that slink out before her, go to investigate the cause for alarm. Gates are first watched, for a moment, as twisted and abandoned metal is touched by the fire birthed from the explosions. Melissa pauses, briefly, examining the self-cloning and multi-personalities Madrox has acquired. Blinking that away, the more worrisome issue at hand is examined with a cock of her head.
Like many of the others, there's no walking involved, but instead a leap and dashing out onto the front lawn to inspect the damage and root of it all. Of course, pausing on the front lawn isn't an option, not when Sabretooth is spied. Cat in her territory? It won't fly well. The woman doesn't fully stop, and instead, slows to a stalkish walk towards the Gates - not worrying about the wannabe Silver Surfer.
A bare few minutes after the arrival of Madroxes & Company, the acrid tang of chemical explosives still sharp in the air and the sirens still wailing ear-splittingly in the distance, a lone figure comes trotting down the half-mile expanse of the drive at a good combat-jog, joining Melissa and apparently fresh from the same Danger Room session, as she's already in uniform. Jean Grey, with nary a hint of ValGal or amnesia in sight. Green gaze flickers between focused and dis- as flickers of high-level mental communication, likely quite notable by Wyrd, if equally undecipherable, echo back between the woman and her mentor. Drawing to a watchful halt as she takes in the scene, the spectral glimmer of a telekinetic shield forming as, with an effort at the insousiance that seems to be required in all superhero battles, the redhaired woman flicks an eyebrow, posts a hand to one hip and inquires "I don't suppose you boys have ever heard of the concept of knocking...?"
"Not much, so long as that damnable weather-witch isn't around," Sabretooth remarks in response to Wyrd's comments. He closes in, as well, as the fires steady themselves and the debris seems mostly settled. To his pleasure, the aforementioned 'witch' is nowhere in sight. There's the familiar scent of that wolf chick, but even she is tolerable. Sabretooth goes about sizing them all up as such as he moves in, sparks falling in spontaneous shower to his coat. "Works for me."
Wyrd takes in the sights and sounds of the gathering which ushered forth from the mansion to greet them, that concealed smirk still upon his lips as he regarded each in turn. Several men, all similar. A young teen girl. An older woman and..whats this. His gaze held upon Jean a moment, watching her. Yes, he could sense her psychic presence even among so many. She could be trouble, that one. Casting a quick glance to Sabretooth, then back to the assembly before them he called out, "Indeed, I have heard of knocking. Perhaps if you hired better craftsmanship in your doors, they wouldn't crumble so easily?" Beneath the cowl, his eyes blazed into silvery light flickering within the dark shadows as he brought his powers to the fore. "Very well then, compatriot. Let us begin," he replied simply to Sabretooth, and with an upward heave of his hands he set to lifting the debris of the fallen gates, their stone and metal forms wreathed in a light akin to that of his eyes as his telekinesis took hold.
Madrox is still feeling somewhat woozy, having just come up from the infirmary, but the rest of him is looking warily at the devastation and the possible opponents. A few are picking up whatever available debris is at hand intending to use them as weapons...
"What's goin' on?" is asked of one of Madrox's dupes, but before an answer is offered, Siryn gets a good look at the carnage left behind from what appears to have been a bomb blast. "What in the Saints?" she begins to question again. Then she spies the two characters coming through the smoke and debris, and the lass - tainted by an odd virus or not - loses control of herself. Specifically when she gets a good look at Sabretooth. "EEEEEEEEEeeeee!" she lets out, a high pitched scream that gives explanation to the reason behind her codename. A 'young teen' she may be, but this young lass packs a punch.
...The burst of sonic blare that escapes her is more of exclamation, rather than an actual use of her power, though it's still loud and long enough to do some damage to those close enough to catch it full force...
Madrox mutters more to himself than to anyone else, "There's a wha--?" He shakes his head and begins directing DJ Madrox and Doctor Madrox running towards the woods. The rest of the Madroxes don't look too good, as they attempt to recover from being in close proximity to Siryn. Most of the Madrox village is covering their ears and looking rather pained.
Quietly, there's an appreciation of Jean having her back. The kinetic balances out where she cannot. Still, there's the fact there is a giant hairy P-kitty word in their yard. A. Cat. "Go piss in a box y'pussy." Those lips peeling back in her verbal snarl towards Creed. No. She is NOT a cat person. Then again she's horribly biased. Those dead colored eyes merely thin and narrowing her gaze. With the pair moving in advance towards the mansion grounds, further invading territory she's claimed as her own, her own ire peaks with a jaw setting in a deciding frown. Only mumbling is heard as it exchanges between Wyrd and Sabretooth. Her hearing isn't that great... But the words 'weather witch' is somewhat if muffledly heard.
The lycanthromorph continues, allowing the feminine form to quickly melt away onto something more fierce. Not full wolf, and definitely not human, she sports to the arched muscular neck of a wolf, as well as a horsesized wolf head. A werewolf. Long arms have no paws, but a mutantous blend of human and animal 'fingers' with large claws. While most of her uniform is melted into her skin, the thick strap of black leather collaring her throat is there, as well are the straps that lace up her forearms. Pivoting on the ball of lupine-like foot, she lowers herself to a crouch as Sabretooth stalks forward with companion. "<< Back off. >>" Large werewolf mentally snarls. Ears flushed against her skull and she lifting that large head with jaws exposed, flicking narrow tongue out in a preparation over finger length teeth. Mutedly, she snarls in regards of Siryn interfering, if simply a more primal hold on her mind being overpowered. Those pupiless glowing yellow eyes narrow, giving a slight whine of protest at the sound, trying to shrug it off in favor of warning Sabretooth off.
Jean senses Siryn's reaction about a milisecond before the girl's shriek, and abandons all attempts at dignified pose in a frantic duck and covering of her ears that still isn't enough to save her from a beautifully-ringing brain cavity that mercifully is ignorable thanks to the wonders of adrenaline. Straightening, she doesn't deign to answer Wyrd's sally, since clearly plastic explosives are not included under the average warranty. Instead, a grin that might be termed feral if Melissa weren't around is unleashed as the woman spots the masked man's use of powers. Almost... delighted, on might say. "Boys and their toys." she mock-tsks, flicking two fingers in an uneccessary focusing movement as she applies a precise choke hold on the other telekine, a very minor but highly-effective tactic in the past. "You all seem to think that bigger is necessarily better... but I prefer to save my strength for the larger game. A little pinch here, a little twist there... so much more elegant than tossing rocks around. Take a nap." The choke hold is joined by the little tingle of invisible fingers adding pressure points to their contacts.
"Jamie, I need you to joing the group in the woods. Siryn, you're with me." she adds on as well.
Chaim strides out of the Mansion with his Slingshot in hand. He took teh time to dress for this but his shirt has already sizzled away and there is a faint hiss with each step as his boots and pants have been charged with the same acidic nature as his flesh. He already has his Slingshot held ready in one hand and a paintball turned acidic in his other hand...ready to be fired at whoever would dare make trouble here. He breaks stride a second as he notices the man apparently encased in silver and just chooses to target the lion man thing.
Sabretooth merely rolls his dark eyes at the familiar term that he has been dubbed with. "I ain't your damned compatriot, bub. We just happen to be on the same team," he mutters, though whether it's to himself or Wyrd isn't quite definite. But hey, there's the wolf chick with her hackles up and panties in a twist, and he's all for distracting himself with *her* instead. Then there's the short, yet excruciating blast from Siryn, and he might have to rethink his battle plan. Sabretooth jerks as if physically stricken, a grimace curling his mouth into a ferocious snarl as the sound hits his eardrums like a hot poker. Fortunately, it's short lived, and the moment the slight exclamation drops off, Sabretooth is lunging at Sky-Fire with his claws bared.
Wyrd growls softly, between the shriek of the young girl, and then the mental clutch upon his neck by Jean. Silver pools narrow upon Jean's form before blazing even brighter in his anger. "My, so you wish...to play games?" came the somewhat forced words from his throat, pressed past those invisible fingers. He wasn't about to try fighting against that force. Not yet at least, not until he freed up some of his own focus. With a snort he shoved forward with his mind, tossing debris in the direction of Madroxes and Siryn. Not particularly aiming for either, but to free them from his attention and to see if Jean would try to erect a TK shield to defend them and therefore weaken her own focus.
Madrox in the white lab coat and DJ Madrox nod to Jean but they're already in the process of running for the woods. The Madrox village still looks out of it, having been hammered at close range by Siryn. Unfortunately, the only remaining three Madroxes still on their feet are the sick one, the nurse in the feather boa and the whiner. The whiner is obviously too paralyzed by fear to do anything useful, "Ohmigod, don't kill me!" and has subsequently wet his pants, even as he tries to help hold up the original. The flaming queen on the other hand sees the flying debris and interposes himself, holding arms up to his face and catching a few of the smaller chunks on his arms, which causes him to duplicate. Each impact creating more of him in a sort of human shield to protect Siryn and his main body.
Unlike Sabretooth, she has no human head on her shoulder, only the full jaws of the wolf. That head turns and the werewolf bares her fangs with every intention of meeting Sabretooth and crunching his face off. Lets see how well that plan actually works out though. Rising to her full height, Sky-Fire's fingers splay, and she flexing her own slightly duller claws in retaliation. It's about all the preparation she had time for, after Siryn's scream having blazed and hurt her own senses, her own ears ringing still after that soundwave shock. Muted roar of Sabretooth is met with her own broad fanged growl.
The impact of Sabretooth against her forces she to stagger back only partially, with tender tipped silver ears flushed against her skull. Long muzzle diving forward and ripping her long teeth and jaws into the man's shoulder in every attempt to crush the bone and shred the muscle beneath. Eyes narrowed to slits in self-guard of her precious gold-glowing eyes, while own claws searching to savagely place against the mutant's torso with claws attempting to slice through his ribs. Long silvery guard hairs fluffed, along with the rest of her body, reflecting her lupine body language, and her adrenaline fueled hate. "<< Die >>" Lock jawed against his shoulder, squeezing her jaws together in attempt to simply pulverize the bone to unworkablity standards.
"I don't play games where defending my students and my home is concerned." is Jean's dead-level reply, her concentration indeed wavering for a moment as her attention shifts to deal with the thrown debris. Not wanting to bother with something as time-consuming and energy draning as a shield, she simply sweeps a hand in a warding motion and presents a wall of force to counter the incoming debris, deflecting the most lethal bits of it. Returning to focusing on Wyrd with an unholy intensity in green eyes, she redoubles the pressure on the choke hold, enough to disrupt his air supply entirely if left in place, and ensure that she gets her next sally all to herself and uninterrupted. "To every action there is a reaction. Try again. I'd love to show you how this dance is properly done, unless you're too busy showing off to the kids." Speaking of which... "Siryn." is ordered, one hand reaching out to snag the girl. "Either get behind me or get clear, I don't want to split my focus."
Chaim grimaces as some of the debris manages to clip him but most of it dissolves quick enough to prevent him being seriously wounded, oh yeah...he's not happy...he fires three acid Charged paintablls at the lion dude (Sabretooth) as he growls..."How Dare you attack us in our own home...how arrogant are you?..." He prepares to launch a few more acid balls at the large man...of course this tactic hasn't been field tested per se...
Walled by Madrox's in drag, and dragged clear by Jean, Siryn finally begins to get it through her horny skull that what they're facing here is actually quite serious. She would have figured it out sooner, had she not been busy lusting after a certain young man with split personalities.. and selves.. Shaking her head as though to clear it, the lass returns to her senses - if only for a moment. That moment of clearheadedness, however, gives way to a decision - she's not going to just hide behind everyone - she's going to fight back. Or at least help out by blocking some of the more physical things being tossed their way. Recalling all that she was tought about controlling her powers, the girl lets out another sonic blast - though this one is toned much lower, directed, and used to help shield herself and Jean. "Ne'ermind splittin' anything," the teen states in an drawl, more her old self than she's been in weeks. "Ye jus' leave the deflectin' te me."
A small army (well, perhaps half a platoon) of nurse uniform and feather boa wearing Madrox's rush forward after having deflected part of the debris assault. Despite their excellent make-up, they're all clutching their sparkly little purses grimly as they try to surround Sabertooth intending on delivering what punishment they can inflict to help out the lupine shaped person. They try to get in a few whacks of their purses, or kicks to the shin where they can, but it's largely being ignored, and they can't get too close in, as the savage battle between the two animalistic mutants rages. "You brute! Animal! Masher! You gave us a run on our stockings! Take this! And That! And This!" The sick Madrox drags his way closer to Jean and Siryn, being assisted by the whiny Madrox. He manages to gasp out to Jean, "Most of me with the Professor's down and so's Jubilee. Sabella's there and she's got somethin that's blocking the Prof's telepathy."
Oh, way to pick on Sabretooth. Jaws and claws and acid balls might do most mutants in, but Sabretooth seems to have it all planned out. The acidic paintballs that splatter across whatever side is bared to Chaim seep through the thickness of his coat quickly, sizzling on his skin. Does he notice? Oh hell yes. Does he care? Not compared to the massive pounds of pressure currently crushing and tearing his shoulder up something awful. Crushed bones will no doubt be far more painful and take much longer to heal than a few acid burns, and so Creed's elongated talons on the good arm arc towards where the protective fur grows short on the wolf's face, aiming to lacerate and maim.
Let's not forget spangly purses and delicate kicks to the shin using rather expensive pumps.
Actually let's... before I start snorting soda on the computer screen at the image.
With the debris no longer hindering him, he focuses his full attentions upon Jean, his eyes holding an intent fire. Both hands lift up in a flourishing motion, drawing upon his mental focus and using his hands as guiding beacons. His own telekinetic barrier came into being with a slight shimmer, pressing with a force to try and move aside Jean's attack upon him, or at least halt it's progression. And with his hands, well, here is where he tried a different trick entirely. His mental presence lashed out then in the form of two silver bolts, sent coursing for the form of Jean. The time for cute little banter was over, and the time for battle had begin.
begun even.
She can hear Madrox, and what she hears... It scares her. A lot. Queeny Madrox. Shudder. She can taste it and smell it. That metallic dribbling warmly through her encasing teeth and over textured tongue. Cruelly, her head twists to wretch herself further against his shoulder. She can feel it, that snap of the thick masculine, and mutant feral bone, give under the pressure of her fangs. It's enough. Attempting she tries to wiggle her jaws in a way to get a better grasp on his broken shoulder, trying then to fling massive head up and rip the bone up and out of the mutant's skin. Hopefully giving the man a very painful compound fracture.
Her plans are delayed, letting out a howl of pain, finding her face subjected to fine lines that tear down the side of her face. Unlatching him, she attempts to push him away; skin sizzling with a more bristling anger. Sky-Fire opens her eyes carefully, thankfully not blinded, but it does little in regards to the sheer burning pain where his claws had traversed .
"Nice to see you back to your usual self, Miss Cassidy." Jean manages in an amused murmur at the shift in Siryn's mental presence from girly to her more usual knee-the-world-in-the-groin-then-spit tendancies. And then it's all business, the smile on her lips growing as Wyrd decides to leave off pretenses and fight like a man. Or telekine. As his energies divert, Jean advances forwards with a fencer's nod and her own arms raised. The choke-hold established she leaves it in place for him to play with and turns her attention elsewhere, mingling the metaphysical with the physical as a series of blows and kicks from martial arts training are aimed and launched. Madrox Prime's dire news acts as both deficit and benefit, however, as her mind whirls and her face pales and there's a lovely stream of invective from the woman of which a repeated "Dammit, dammit -dammit-!!" is the most printable. Tactical scenarios usually left to the keener mind of Scott whirl in a dizzy and depressing gavotte through her head, picking up the incoming psychic bolts and whirling them around and through like a child's water-wheel. "Dammit," she adds on one last time, for feeling. "Mel, finish with your boy, I'm going to deal with mine... then boot it back to the Mansion, top speed." Too late, probably, her mocking little internal monologue insists.
Chaim isn't so intent on the Cat man that he didn't hear that. The Professor is in trouble so all bets are off...plus he knows a clingy acid will likely be harder for sabella to instantly heal. He pokes one of the Madrox clones with his slimgshot and drags it off..."Show me where the Professor is...I'm going to go help him as best I can..." With that he is running towards the Mansion...assunimg the queen is in tow to help him reach wherever he is going,,,
Siryn just nods, too busy controlling her sonic lance and shield to even attempt a spoken reply. Jamie's news depresses her too, especially the mention of the name 'Sabella'. Now where has she heard that before? Recently too... Unfortunately, now is not the time to be thinking of such inconsequential matters. The lass would like to just let rip a scream that would knock everyone unconscious, therefore finishing the 'fight', but alas, that would mean doing damage to her own friends and allies at the same time as taking out the baddies. Plus, even with superhuman vocal chords, the young woman _is_ starting to tire a little. Perhaps that's just another effect of the strange virus that's overtaken her personality - it's hard to concentrate when all you want to do is jump the 'guy of your dreams' right there amongst the fighting. Thankfully, she doesn't have any attacks directed personally towards her... which means that she should be able to hold out like this for a while longer.
Even through the blinding red haze of pain that clouds his vision as Melissa worries at his shoulder, Sabretooth screams only mentally. Outwardly, he gives a guttural snarl as there's a further sickening crack of bone and, as a result, an even fiercer hand brought down upon her. That one arm will be useless for a few hours now, but the other drags as deeply as he can manage across her muzzle and eyes. They're closed tightly enough to prevent blinding, no doubt, but probably leave her with a few groovy-looking scars in the aftermath. And even through this, he gives a choking laugh at Jean's apparent frustration, not far away. "S'the matter--urgh!-- frail? Somebody get their hands on yer daddy-figure?" He coos, before lapsing back into various feral noises of pain and agitation.
The cross-dressed Madroxes are still trying to inflict a futile attack on Sabertooth with their purses. A few smarter ones are aiming for his existing injuries, but trying to keep out of the way from a retaliatory swipe of the claw (like they could possibly outrun him). The Prime Madrox is clutching at his head as nearly 30 conflicting points of view stream through his mind. The Madrox village is back on it's feet now though and they're maintaing the defensive positions that the Queens set up earlier. Chaim pokes The King Madrox who despite wanting to get into combat nods his agreement and leads the other mutant back into the house.
Wyrd closes his eyes a moment, finding that 'center' of which psychics speak of. Bringing his mind into harmony with his body, he bundled his powers into that core, like a tightly packed spring. Unleashing that power into a sudden telekinetic blast, the culmination of his powers, he lashes out in a 10 foot radius of which thankfully none were within, but hopefully freeing himself of Jean's grasp. As a secondary effect, his body was rimmed with that silvery light, lifting from the ground with his power. Slowly he 'flew' towards Jean, his gaze locked upon her now as he formulated the next of his plans. The psychic kicks and punches were a pain, but nothing he hadn't been through before in his own training, and only adding fuel to his growing anger. With a near gutteral snarl his right arm snapped to the side and part of the light coaleced. Now, within his grasp was held a long sword of that same glimmereing psychic energy, an energy he fully intended to unleash upon the good Doctor.
Slender triangular cur ear swivels towards the callings of Jean. But... She wants a new chew toy... Though preferably one that'll not scratch her. The wounds feel alive, as if they're twitching against her skin, burning her. Bitterly she snarls, ensuring Sabretooth's own pain as injured muzzle pries open, lunging at Sabretooth with a new malevolence and primal scream that's far from human as it's as far from wolf. Injured, but not probably as the severity of Sabretooth's case, her ire spikes with bright eyes fixated on the cat, masked by her new stripes across her long lupinesque face. Instead of going head to head, there's no shame in her as she bends that large werewolf body down in a crouch, lunging forward in attempts to plunge her fangs deep within Sabretooth's arm, having little to no disregard if she would fatally injure him. Part of her doesn't care. The other half knows he'll undoubtedly heal. He's like an infomercial. You can't escape them. Although she hasn't been lucky enough to find such a killing hold or killing bite. The arm will have to do.
If lucky, she tears through his clothing, latching on to whatever bone and flesh her mouth can hold, and growling. "<< Go away. >>" Sharply jerking her head to the side, and reminding the feline why she's named Sky-fire. Air clotting with static, there's only that charging buzz as her muzzle clamps firmly down, and a jolt of electricity attempts to course through the feline-mutant's body.
Sabretooth is zapped and bitten and generally will be very sore and pissy for the next few hours.
Voices in her head, the last-ditch, last-second efforts with the Professor, the assault on Wyrd, operating at a physical and mental remove as she sees through her mentor's eyes... a sudden cry, full of loss, at the rude termination of mental contact, and the collapse of the central pillar of the psi-link joining her to Nightcrawler and other teams. Jean sinks to her knees with her head in her hands as the man approaches in flight. (And incidentally, why is that every other telekine on the planet seems to teach themselves to fly straight off? Is she missing something fun here?) Looking entirely overwhelmed outwardly, her mind is a whirl of chaos as shields collapse and thoughts swirl madly, until, like the roiling matter of a proto-star, something ignites, breaking the last barriers placed in her childhood.
There's a sudden crackle of raw power across the mental plane, echoed with the shrill astral cry of a bird of prey, and... Jean looks up. Eyes unseen behind a wall of red fire suddenly burning from their depths, she raises her hands, gathering a ball of pure force to herself, and then, in a motion half-thow and half convulsion, flings it outwards, straight at Wyrd's chest, heedless of his psychic sword as she stands and simply waits on results, presense halfway between 'strange' and 'very disturbing' and very much not the normal Jean Grey.
Madrox is looking less well as his viewpoint splinters further. He's trying to encourage his dupes to remerge to help him regain his concentration, but most of them are too busy doing their own thing. The whiner is watching Jean and now cowering away from her, while the Madrox village watches awed.
Siryn is almost shocked into another scream, thanks to the scene that's playing itself out just a few feet ahead of her. When Jean goes down, she's about to loose her sonic lance on Wyrd, and to hell with everyone else, but then something very _odd_ starts to happen... to Jean, no less. "Saints galore!" the Irish lass exclaims aloud, the words forcing down her shields, as she's still too untrained to keep both up at the same time. But no matter what the older woman's physical appearance may look like (Did you _see_ those eyes?!) it looks like she's got things under control... Which allows for Siryn to turn her attention towards Madrox instead. Her use of powers, abrudtly cut short, manages to make her concentration slip as well, therefore allowing for her altered personality to once again take ahold. "Oh Jamie! Ye'be hurt! Come to ye'r Irish Rose and let me take care o' ye, ye multiplying hunk o'man, ye!" With that said, she turns to reach for the youg man, intent on enfolding him in a giant, mushy hug.
Madrox is easily torn out of the whiner's grasp, who takes this point in time to run back into the mansion whimpering, having already wet his pants, he doesn't have much dignity left. Madrox, confused and definitely out of it, falls into Siryn's arms even as his other duplicates are trying to keep out of the way of the psychic battle.
Wyrd continues his approach, only partially pausing as the woman breaks down, the psychic backlash from Jean's trauma felt by him rather keenly as he closed in. With a flourishing twist of his arm he brought that psychic blade up and into position, readying himself to sweep down upon her with a vengeance. But in those last moments before his assault was launched, then came the attack of Jean. With a snarl he reinforced his shields, pumping in every last bit of energy he could muster, and as the blast struck there was an audible grunt from his lips. The telekinetic shields held against the first blast of the onslaught, but with a flickering aura they dimmed and were breached. Backwards he was flung, landing to the ground with a bounce and a roll across the drive. For a moment, he merely lay there, his breathing labored with the bruising injury. He wasn't sure just how bad it was yet, but it certainly didn't aid his combat effectiveness. And so, rising to one knee he cast his gaze upon Jean once more, no words spoken, at least not verbally. << This is not over, that I assure you. >> With a snarl he lashed out with the what power he could muster, setting to shaking the trees around him with his power, a shower of leaves and branches raining down to conceal his escape. And so, in that distraction he drifted back and away.
<< That's what they all say. Now run, boy. We have had enough of you. >> Silent orders given with a further flare of her eyes, Jean watches her victim create his diversion, a useless one to a person seeing with mental eyes. Holding her stance for a moment, aware of the shock and awe (Quick! Call Dubya!) on the faces of various of her fellow Mansion-folk, but with some voice whispering to her that it's only right and fitting, she at last sighs heavily, slumps her shoulders, and when her eyes re-open, there stands only Jean, a beautiful and tired woman with the weight of the world on her shoulders once more. "Siryn, here, let me give you a hand with him," she directs, slipping an arm under Madrox Prime's shoulders and helping him along as best she can. "Down to the medical bay we go... it's too late now to stop them from taking Professor Xavier... We'll just have to get him back as soon as possible."
Siryn snaps back out of her lovey-trance for the moment, though she still keeps on hand firmly around Jamie's waist, at the base of his back, nearly touching his rear-end. But at one look from Jean, the lass quickly moves it. "I'm sure ye'll find a way to get'im back safe 'n sound," she states, her words sounding hollow even to herself. But for now, they've more pressing things to worry about. Her dear honey-bun is hurting! "Ugh. This boyo weighs more than I'd 'ave gave him credit for..." she mutters, as they lead the young man back through the mansion and towards the medlab.