As Time Goes By -- The Big Finish

[jla_extras]

In a bid to cast his influence over the tenth age of magic, the villainous Wotan set in motion a plan that pitted some of the most significant figures in magic against one another

Comments

[lanternslight]

The Spectre pauses in his assault, looking warily towards the Spear.

"...Hippolytah Hall..." he murmurs. "Mother of Endless. What is your purpose here?"

[jla_extras]

"We are not Lyta Hall, Oh Wrath of The Presence," says the woman. "We are, like you, an aspect of vengeance."

The sun is beginning to set, the shadows growing slightly longer.

"We have come to settle a score, to birth the new age."

[lanternslight]

"And I shall help birth it. An age of punishment and vengeance..."

[jla_extras]

"Perhaps," says the Furies. "This is the precipice, after all. The choice is ours. Do two aspects of vengeance combine their might here? To spin an an age where vengeance underlies the forces of magic?"

They nod to the Fallen, and to the unconscious Wotan.

"Or do we fail here, and let evil shape the next era."

Then the Furies' gaze falls on the fallen Dr. Fate.

"And the there is he who summoned us, he to whom we owe a debt. What is his will?"

Lastly, they return their attention to The Spectre.

"The prophecy is clear -- the Wrath of God and the Champion of Nabu shall clash, and both mantles shall pass on. Tell me, where does the future lie?"

[jla_goldenage]

The doorway opens again to the battlefield, and Rose Psychic stands where Dr. Occult once was.

"Oh my," she says. "It seems they've started the party without us."

[gemma_masters]

"That's really hard to keep up with you know." Rose and Occult kind of confuse her a little.

"Do we throw our two pence in or what?"

[jla_goldenage]

"Honestly?" says Rose, sounding a bit concerned, "I'm not quite ..."

Gemma Masters, Rose Psychic," says a voice ringing in their minds. I have need of you. Lend Tefe and the Stranger your will. Guide my way home.

Rose's eyes grow wide.

"You," she whispers, astonished.

"Gemma, listen to the nice disembodied voice."

And with that, she reaches out her mind.

[gemma_masters]

Her eyes widen at the voice and when Rose asks she sends her will out to follow Rose's to the amulet.

[johns_demons]

The demons pause in their eager sport with Zauriel as the First turns his attention towards the Spear. Things will be delicate here, and must be handled carefully.

"Hold him, do not kill him yet." And now the demons work to restrain and not consume Zauriel, he may yet be needed.

[a_winged_prayer]

The angel is kept immobile by a score of grasping hands, each one eager to punish any perceived resistance. The master said to keep him still, after all, not to be gentle. And it is not as if losing a few more feathers or another bit of skin will kill the prisoner after all.

Zauriel spares a defiant glare at the First of the Fallen, though his red eyes are all but indistinguishable in a mask of black and scarlet blood. Most of his attention is held by the artifact and the towering avatar of vengeance.

[jla_extras]

The Furies cast their gaze on the angel.

"And you, Herald of the Presence's Love, will you stand beside your brethern in birthing this new age of magic?"

[a_winged_prayer]

"I am mortal," Zauriel says, his voice a little more than a rasp from his abused throat. "And I stand with them."

He focuses on the sentience creeping into his mind like a golden thread, lending his belief. He's not entirely sure what is going on, but trust an angel to have faith in his friends.

[johns_demons]

The demons are still holding Zauriel still and fresh blood flows everytime he moves or says something.

The First and his fellow lords of Hell summon the rest of the demons on the field in a swarm to surround them.

"We believe our own vision of the future." The best way to disrupt the balance is to throw their own energies to the Spectre and against the ones who surround Fate's amulet.

And the demons die like rain to give their energy to their masters to use as they will.

[jla_extras]

The Spear of Destiny glows as the sky darkens. Lightning cracks through the sky, drawn to the Spear's tip, where it crackles and sizzles the air.

The Furies' aspect begins to come forward, Lyta Hall's hair transforms to snakes, armor forming around her body.

"So let the new balance be set, with magic being the new theater of combat in a harsh war between vengeance and evil. So it is ..."

[doctorfatejsa]

"No!" shouts Kent Nelson, flying into the swirling matrix of energy. "Lyta, you're in there somewhere. You're the one who needs to influence this, not them. Hector knew! Is this what you want the future to be?"

[johns_demons]

The first sends a lance of power at Kent Nelson.

"Let her speak."

[a_winged_prayer]

Angels are made of strong substance, but so are demons. Zauriel is weakened by the constant bloodletting and knows that if he does not free himself soon, he will be all but useless. The First has reduced the numbers of the horde; there will not be a better time to attempt escape, even if the odds of success are slim.

Zauriel glances up to see a winged steed swooping down among the damned. He smiles, bracing himself for action, senses honed on where Zatanna fell. The odds are about to shift in his favor, it seems.

[jla_goldenage]

Shining Knight doesn't care if the mages have managed to lend him power or strength yet. An ally is in need -- that's all he needs to know.

Pushing Winged Victory, he charges to Zauriel's rescue, sword slashing at whatever demon is in his way.

"Ho, though we may all fall to darkness to day, at least we shall stand against evil as warriors!"

[grey_walker]

The Stranger's arms are outstretched and he begins to glow with his own peculiar arcane energies. The magic of Sir Justin's sword and armor are infused with additional power.

"Strike swiftly, Sir Justin."

[a_winged_prayer]

"Well said," Zauriel murmurs, "but let's work on not falling, huh?" Demons scatter before Sir Justin in confusion. At his will, Zauriel's sword flares into existance in his hand. He cuts a path through the disorganized damned toward Zatanna. He can't count on this confusion to aid him forever, but just a little longer...

He dives for the unconscious woman, coming to his feet with her limp form in his arms and a prayer on his lips as he spreads his bloody, tattered wings. Pain flares along his shoulders and back, for he is badly torn. He rises, but only slowly.