Logs:A Shady Spot

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A Shady Spot
Dramatis Personae

Abdiel, Anikka, Cricket, Dave, Gerry, Laoise, Llewelyn, Morgan, and Simon. Trinity as GM.

15 May, 2007



Oxford University Park


Plot:Magic's Children

The afternoon seems to have gotten away with most of the city, leaving everything in the darkening shadows of dusk. The sun was slipping quietly down below the horizon without much fanfare, the only thing marking its procession being the lighting of the walkway lights along the paths of Oxford University Park. People were moving at a decent pace, but the lack of rain coming from the dark sky overhead has left most without the rush that had been prevalent of late, and some people were simply strolling towards their final destinations. Whether it be dinner out, or a trip back to the college dormitories. It was, however, a little damp on the ground after several days of rain and it caused there to be a decided lack of picnickers and people sitting on overly waterlogged wooden benches.

The sun was going down and it was university park...which means morgan was probably going to make an appearance soon either with booze, weed, or both. As if to reinforce this idea, along comes the big One eyed viking, joint hanging loosely from his lips and freshly opened bottle of Mezcal in his hand. Apparently he and the boss weren't currently at odds about anything as he;s not talking to himself, just enjoying the evening air as he strolls. "Fuck off and be patient...I'm trying to find my lighter." Ok, so all good things must come to an end.

Abdiel is cycling along the baths, no bag or package to be delivered, it just seems as though he is out exercising. Though he is not going too fast, due to the rain and not wanting to run in to people. "What would you do if I sang out of tune? Would you stand up and walk out on me?" Singing a bit, though not a hymn for once.

Dave walks through with a mild lack of purpose and aura of contemplation. He breathes deeply and smiles, enjoying his passage along the path beside the river. At one point he pulls his hands from his pockets and checks his phone, counts on his fingers, then puts it back with a slightly furrowed brow. Whatever he was considering, it wasn't the right answer.

The doors of the Faculty of Music building opened, allowing through the tiny form of Anikka. She slipped out into the night humming a happy sounding song as she let the door shut solidly, pushed the nearly waist-length curtain of her flaxen blonde hair behind her shoulder, and took a deep, satisfying breath. The gentle words from her lips could only be heard by those very nearby, but they clearly were "Ah, sweet freedom." The humming started back up again as she walked from the entryway and onto the first primary path, likely heading towards home, but at the very least away from the trappings of work.

Anikka's feet carried her lightly, moving in almost a dance with her bright pink and sparkly jelly shoes reflecting the lights of the overhead lamps in brief flashes. Her legs were covered in a set of lavender tights that went remarkably well with the diaphenous blue, purple, and pink flowing skirt that looked like it might just be more at home on a tiny sprite or fairy than a normal woman. Let alone a teacher. For a top, she had on a long sleeved, powder blue Tshirt with a set of music notes in white bubble letters on the front, that read 'Music, better than air!' and looked a bit youthful, like she'd purchased it from the kid's section. Over everything instead of a jacket she had on a hand woven shawl in pastel pink, though she seemed to almost be using it as more of a cape as she dancewalked, rather than a warmth-provision.

The sound of heels striking against the well-groomed paths through the park heralds the coming of Cricket from her lectures. Her long legs keep her moving quickly. In one hand, she is carrying a brand-new leather briefcase and over her shoulder is her purse. She is dressed in grey suit and tailored long rain coat. Her silver hair is hidden beneath a pink scarf. Her blue eyes seem to be everywhere at once looking or someone instead they land on Morgan. A smile is forced as she calls out, "Good Evening Mr. Morgan." Her words are warm though there are tired lines around her eyes. Her accent is North American but there is a soft lilt to her words.

Gerry strolls along a different path, swinging his slender walking stick and whistling the overture to The Magic Flute. From his left shoulder hangs his customary satchel. He wears charcoal slacks and pastel blue button-down shirt beneath a raincoat that recalls the glory days of 1920s noir private detectives. On his feet are a pair of comfortable black loafers. Also in the style is the gray fedora that covers his head. When another biker speeds across his path, he stops and sniffs the air. He lifts his eyes upward and frowns. "Rain," concludes. He continues to stroll until he sees Abdiel, Morgan, and finally Cricket. He salute them with the walking stick. "Good evening all!" he calls.

Someone had not gotten the memo that spring had come, or it was possible that he had received the memo, assumed it was a lie or possibly a cruel joke and threw the annoucement away. Simon adjusted was heavy wool overcoat, peeking out the bottom were a pair of heavy black workboots and jeans. His head was covered with bright yellow knit cap and a brown scarf that seem ragged but was still pretending to maintain it insolating value. His brown finger gloves, he held an old metal thermos and an umbrella in the other. Panting, he headed to the nearest bench to take a seat. "I'm starting to think the burn barrel in a wagon wasn't a terrible idea." He sighed heavily, taking off the top to the thermos and pouring himself something steamy and dark. "Here's to return sender mail." He toasted the park and sipped his Hawaiian coffee.

The sun dimmed further, making it look like darkness had come fully to roost. There were no obvious lights aside from the ones delivered by personal devices such as cell phones or the overhead lights along the paths. The moon hadn't come out to play yet, and the stars in Oxford were notoriously hard to see, so it left everything outside of the lights looking rather dim indeed. Just blobs of trees, only the outermost made obvious, and many deep, dark shadows.

Pausing in his search for the lighter at the sound of someone calling him, Morgan pauses and looks around. Smiling at Cricket, the big man heads her way. "Miss Cricket! how are you this evening?" finally managing to find the light, he mutters. "Yes I saw it too...It's my eye, remember?" Another nod is given to jerry and the distracted Cycling Abdiel.

Abdiel continues to cycle, but hearing Morgan, he pauses then. "Well, good evening, Morgan. And Cricket. Gerry. How are you doing?" he coasts to a stop and stands straddling the bar of his bicycle, happy in the looming darkness.

Dave's cell phone is back in his pocket, but even glancing at it has definitely blown out what night vision he had. Concentrating more on his own thoughts than where he is, he wavers from one side of the path to the other, only noticing when there's about to be grass under his feet. Suddenly he stops, pulled from his thoughts by a sudden shiver that starts in his spine and ends with a quick shake of his head. A wide grin spreads across his face.

Anikka looked up at the sound of voices and grinned brightly, her huge gray eyes looking pleased to see people she recognized. A happy wave from her towards the now gathering Cricket, Gerry, Morgan and Abdiel carried the exuberance of a person just freed from the shackles of grading the work of a large number of third year University students intent on becoming world famous musicians. When she spotted Simon sitting on the bench, she gave a bright laugh and elected to walk towards the group, which brought her right in line to cross paths with the coffee drinking Eternal Apprentice. "Simon! What a surprise. Have you come out to enjoy a little bit of a clear night? Or are you on your way to the library?" The delicately dancing tones of her voice were amused and partially curious, looking at the poor Hawaiian's clothes with mirth in her eyes. The mirth faded to something that looked more like the need to retch, though, as a pekid cast came to the tiny blonde woman's skin, and her eyes swept the area like she was searching a mine field. "Godt lort..." She grumbled in Danish, her accent more noticeable in her native tongue.

"I am doing well Mr. Morgan, you also flatter me. I have not been called miss in a very long time." She blushes a little. When she hears Gerry she turns her head in his direction. "Ger-Bear, I am relieved to see you." She relaxes a little. "I thought you were working late or did I get my days and times mixed up? Did you feel that? Something wicked this way comes? Or is that just a chill?" She takes a step closer to Gerry once he gets to where they are. Blue eyes move to Abdiel. "Good evening Mr. Abdiel." She seems distracted now. Taking in her surroundings. Her hand reaches for Gerry. She looks to Anikka, her eyes skimming over the other professor's profile. "You feel the shadow passing." She asks her. Her gaze moves to look over the area and her brow furrows.

Although Gerry resumes his stroll soon after the cyclist whizzed past him, he again slows and glances around his personal space. He frowns. The fingers of his left hand tighten around the strap of his satchel. and he shifts his grip on the walking stick to carry it almost as if it might serve as a weapon of last resort. While he walks, he glances around him more often, taking note of other people. Forsaking the path, he cuts across the grass more directly, angling toward the spot where Morgan, Abdiel, and Cricket seem to be nearing. "Indeed, I did have a late day, love," he answers Cricket. Then he glances from person to person before he nods. "I said 'good evening,' but for a moment, I was not so sure. I felt a chill, not like cold, but like ... being watched."

Blowing over his coffee, Simon took another careful sip of his coffee, watching the darkness. Upon hearing his name, a smile appeared immediately and genuinely. Looking over to Anikka, he raised his thermos to her. "Aloha, little Ms. Poulsen." He paused a moment, "Library? No, I was enjoying a bit of walkabout otherwise I'd elect to hiberate... Possibly indefinitely." He took another sip of his coffee, his eyes flicking to the darkness again. Reaching down, he moved his umbrella to rest on his leg, offering a polite nod to the others around.

In the darkness, a huge grey form can be seen, something like a monolith with legs. Slowly overtime, the form becomes clearer, more solid, more Welsh-looking. Not the shortest or thinnest of blokes, Llewelyn has gone for dark colours this evening, something that helps blend his form in with the night. On his head he has a woollen cap, black and with a small white hexagonal label to the side. His barrel like chest is covered by a black shirt, open at the neck to reveal his golden torc, the metal catching the light occasionally and giving a nice counterpoint to the silver bracelet he wears on his right wrist. The black shirt is tucked neatly into his black jeans, the waist held up by a rather sturdy looking leather belt that has a silver buckle. There is a steady clomp clomp sound from his huge black boots, that and the sound of crunching as Llewelyn tries to work his oversized fingers into a large bag of pungent smelling crisps.

Coming to a stop, Llewelyn spots some familiar faces and haves a crisp covered hand excitedly, a broad smile forming on his face. "Hey guys!" Not quiet in the least and not worried about someone finding him in the dark, nevertheless he frowns for a moment as a flash of movement catches his eye. Using his best state whisper, he points with his hand towards a large stand of trees. "Not worried personally but there's shadows over there and they be moving. Man shaped and they're keeping to the trees. Could be nothing though. Probably." There is a crunch then as Llewelyn eats more crisps, his stomach reminding him of more urgent concerns.

From the darkened shadows of the trees, three different stands of them within about 50 yards, comes three different tones of whistle. They are clear, sharply pitched, and together make an actual chord. Birds that had chosen to settle onto branches took off all at once, filling the night sky with the sound of hurried wings and ruffled feathers, a couple of squawks from surprised avians, and a few tufts of falling detritous from the trees to the ground below. Once the birds were gone, another whistle sounded, but this time all three whistles were making the same pitch. The whistle to the north started, then was joined by the whistle to the north east, then another whistle joined in to make the sound loud and very precisely tonal, from the west.

About to reply to Llew, Morgan frowns as the whistling starts. Dropping a hand to the chain wrapped around his waist, the big Viking looks to Cricket. "Is this one of those weird Student Flash mob things people kep talking about?"

Dave seems completely thrilled. Whatever was occupying his mind is now long in the past, replaced with the rush of encountering novelty. He looks around brightly and spots the gathering crowd. "Ah!" He says to nobody in particular and starts walking briskly towards it. "Tall people with whistles convention? Do I need to buy a pass to get in?" He asks when within loud-talking range.

Anikka tilted her head to the side and listened to the whistles coming from the trees and making their chord, her fine, blonde brows raised curiously. She looked at Simon and gave him a smile, nodding. "I understand that completely, only having to come to work got me out of my warmest blankets and rooms in the house this winter. It's a bit on the chilly side here. I can't imagine how cold it must feel for you." She glanced over to Morgan, Cricket, Abdiel, and Gerry and nodded, in response to likely many statements that had been made. "I definitely feel it, and hear it. How odd, it's this terrible sensation though, not like anything lively or happy." She frowned a little, then turned her gaze to the trees when Llewelyn mentioned shadows moving. "Hmmm, I wonder if Morgan isn't more right than he knows, if it's just a group of students perhaps playing a trick. But it doesn't quite feel like a bunch of students, it definitely sends a bit more of a prickle to my skin than that." When the three whistles joined in concert on a single note, Anikka puckered her lips and whistled with them, purposefully disintegrating any semblance of harmony with a vividly sharp note, that caused the sound to warble and fray.

"Death, like someone walking across your grave." Cricket says to Gerry. "Make us eternal truths receive. This land is old and the history here is great. Most likely the students have been through here on their paranormal investigations. I have heard the students talk about Ghost hunters. That is my quick assessment, though I could be wrong." She tries to explain her thoughts without saying too much. Her gaze still roves and it comes to Dave, "Interesting evening is it not, good Sir.". She offers the smiling man a nod of her head. It then goes to Simon. "Coffee?" She asks him, a day late and dollar short. "Good stuff." She looks to Gerry. Her hand comes to rest on Gerry's arm.

"Mr. Llewelyn, we always seem to meet in the oddest of places. Good to know that about them." Cricket turns her head in the direction of the whistles. Then her attention is brought back to Morgan. "Nope, it is not a weird student flash mob, what is a flash mob for that matter?" The question slips out before she can say more. Turning her head in towards Anikka she nods her head. "Shades?"

"Curiouser and curiouser," Gerry murmurs, although loudly enough for those close to hear, after their hidden watchers whistle their notes, first in unison and then in harmony. When Anikka breaks their musical spell, he nods to her. "Well played, literally," he praises. He looks to Morgan and shrugs. "I hope that it's only students. I've had enough peculiarity for one month already, and it's only halfway done." He shifts to look toward Dave. Although he does not recognize the newcomer, he nods. "It's a public place, certainly not the spot for a secret meeting of a sinister conclave." While he speaks, he takes a step to his left, closer to Cricket.

Simon knocked back his coffee, replacing the lid on the thermos as the whistle continued from one direction to the next. Sighing heavily, "That seems like a terrible waste." Checking his coat pocket, he picked up a fist sized hunk of porous rock. Even with lamented coffee, the man had no problem finding his smile again as he stool up, taking the hook of his umbrella in his other hand. "It's nothing that a half a dozen layers of clothes can't handle." He shook his head, his smile maintained as he glanced at Cricket. "Calling it coffee wouldn't be right. It's a personal blend of Maui and Kona beans. Volcano soil neutralizes the acidity and bitterness... It's much easier to call it an addiction." A chuckle escaped him as he looked to the darkness again, "I think I would appreciate all sinister conclave to be out in the open. It's good for people to vent."

"This is starting to look like something from the Discovery channel. We being hunted or something?" There is perhaps a measure of concern in Llewelyn's voice, the huge Welshman taking a couple of steps to bring himself closer to the group. Finding a handy wastebin, he deposits his now empty packet of crisps and then reaches into a pocket for a candy bar, slowly unwrapping the top while keeping an eye on what is going on. Looking to the group, he smiles once more. "Hello there Cricket, it's nice to see you again, and you too Gerry." Looking round some more he spots Ani and Simon. "Ani, Simon! How's it hanging guys?" Inbetween bites of his chocolate bar, he nods and waves to the others present, the infusion of sugar apparently doing good things for his mood. Looking to Dave he chuckles. "I reckon we're all invited butty, could be interesting." Squinting once more into the dark, Llewelyn gives his opinion. "We're probably safe. Probably. Also, it's still coffee. Doesn't matter how many squirrel shavings you put into it."

The sound of whistling from the trees stopped abruptly when its harmony was compromised by the addition of Anikka's tonal dischordance. When Anikka stopped whistling the only sounds left in the night were those committed by the people standing or possibly walking towards the shadowy wooded areas. From the south, then, there came another weird sound. It wasn't a whistle this time, but the subtle sound of a man weeping. From the trees to the south of the group a tall, shadowy figure emerged. The light from the walkway didn't serve to illuminate any of his facial features, which seemed to be buried in his shadowy, black hands. Oddly, he also didn't have a shadow stretching out behind himself and seemed to absorb the light rather than be enlivened by it. As the form came closer, it kept weeping, and as it did a sense of despair and sadness echoed from it like it was literally filled to the point it was bursting forth and washing over the world around him.

As Gerry mentions it not being the place for sinister conclaves, Morgan snaps his fingers. "Wait? this isn't the Elucidated order of the brethren of the Ebon night? Shit...I should have guessed from the distinct lack of a dread portal of forbidden knowledge.

Taking a swig of the Mezcal bottle in his hand, the Viking replaces the joint and finally lights it, taking a lung bursting hit off the thing. As the Shadowy man comes out of the woods crying, the big viking squares his shoulders and grunts almost inaudibly as he mutters. "Yeah...I know it's a shade. that being your classic type A Shade shit right there...shadowy...mysterious...depressing as fuck...You don;t have to tell me it's a shade...I can SEE it's a shade...plus, that lady just said it was a shade too." Another swig is taken before the bottle is set aside and Morgan is approaching the creature, calling out in a voice that's more gravelly than usual. "Oi! mister! Got a problem?" Unfortunately, this wasn't near as articulate as one would hope due to the joint still hanging from his lips.

Ani looked at the trees, then her gaze settled to rest on Dave, which caused her naturally upturned mouth to frown ever so slightly. "Wait! Be careful, even if it's nothing, don't go in there alone." Worry made her check the rest of the group, as if cataloguing them one by one, and she nodded to Cricket and to Laoise. "Yes, it seems very shady." But then the shadowy figure of the man was walking towards them from a different direction than the whistling had come, and she stiffened. "Definitely Shady." Her tone was solid there, as she stared at the figure made of darkness walking their direction. As she was touched by the fingers of sadness that wove their way through the gathered group, though, she let out a soft sound that almost wanted to be a sob. Her huge, gray eyes grew larger if that was possible and shimmered slightly, unshed tears threatening to spill over. "Oh it's so sad... I didn't mean to make you so sad, I promise. I just didn't want the notes to hurt anyone. Do you need help?" She spoke to the shade directly, then looked over at Morgan and offered him a small smile, obviously appreciating his humor and attempting to use it to silence the suggestion of sadness happening around them. "If we can help it, we might be able to get it to stop hurting, and even help it find the light." This was spoken to no one particularly, but given to the entire group in earshot, which was of course everyone. For a tiny woman Anikka's voice carried well enough to be heard in even a large crowd, courtesy of years of entertaining those crowds.

Dave puts one finger in his ear and wiggles it. He blinks and shakes his head, as if trying to rattle Anikka's discordant note loose from his memory. "Well, if it wasn't a convention before, it is now." He peers into the gloom, getting a look at the crowd until a new addition shows up. "Maybe he just needs a hug?" Dave offers in response to the viking. He starts walking towards the shadowy figure, thinking aloud as he does so. "Although... hugging shady men in the park sounds like a fine way to get arrested."

Closer to Gerry, Cricket winces as the discord note cause the hair on the back of her neck to raise on end. Then again it could be from what is lurking in the shadows. Her eyes are on the shadows and the direction that Dave is wandering in. Her eyes have a far off look in them. She mutters, "Careful sir, I do not know your name." This is said to Dave. She nods to Morgan. "Indeed, I am starting to feel like this is a Dean Koontz novel, or a Clive Barker." She keeps her eyes in the direction of the shadows. She shivers lightly.

Gerry grimaces when another stranger approaches. He squints at the man, and murmurs, "No shadow. Real men leave shadows." When Dave moves to detach himself from the group that he so recently joined, Gerry frowns. "Safety in numbers!" he calls. Then the wave of despair hits. A single tear wells in his left eye and he glances toward Cricket. He bits his bottom lip and shakes his head. "This is wrong!" he defies.

"Weird, yes, but not students, not even human, in fact," Laoise muses with quiet, but firm tones, as she appears out of the shadows herself, her dusky skin and dark hair blending in, along with the black of her long sleeved t-shirt. As she steps into the light, behind the giant Viking Morgan, the russet oranges and deep goldenrod hues of the ikat material that swirls around her legs can be made out, the pattern repeated around her head as it holds the cloud of corkscrew curls away from her head. When she steps up next to her 'mentore', she is almost of a height with him, although about half his width, and her staff comes to rest on the ground in front of her feet in an exact, equilateral triangle. "It's not healthy, it's... dank, earthy? Perhaps? It's not something that belongs above ground, but I don't think undead... something..." she sighs out a breath as she peers towards the sound of the whistles.

Simon sighed heavily, "The fact it was grown in volcanic soil does not change the fact it is coffee. I happen to believe it is the best coffee." As the shade pressed forward, Simon's smile fainted to a dour expression, his shoulders falling. His gaze fell to the ground as he took a heavy breath, thumbing at the porous rock in his hand, muttering, "Hookipa a..." He cleared his throat, speaking more clearly and louder. "Keep your eyes low." He started again the incantation. "Hookipa ana ka puka ana." A soft reddish glower started within the lava rock. Raising the rock over his head, he continued the incantation twice more, the rock glowing brighter and by all appearances hotter molten yellow until the third incantation caused the stone to flare white, casting long shadows fingers as the stone blazed white, illuminating the surrounding area like a tiny sun. "There was more than one whistle that I recall."

"Perhaps it's Goth season?" Llewelyn offers, ever hopeful. His mouth drops open as he listens to the others, taking in this new information and letting out a quiet laugh when he hears Morgan's comment. "Seeing as how I was never any good at shadow boxing..." Stepping forward, he addressed the tall shade. "Is there something you need there mate?" Llewelyn keeps his voice low but it still carries in the park. "Is there anyway we can help you out?" There is no edge to his voice, his tone soft and he seems to genuinely want to help. "Is there another song you can sing, one that doesn't hurt folk. Or are you lost and need a hand?" Turning his head, he peers at Simon, "You see? Now I want coffee..."

Although she does not cry herself, the sharper planes of Leo's features seem to soften, melt and her dark eyes seem to offer the softness of a doe's gaze. "I salute you as a free spirit," she offers, stepping over to join Llewellyn and adding her sympathetic encouragement to the welsh man's.. "How may we ease your pain?"

Now that the shadowy figure had come free from the stand of trees to the south of the group, three more man-shaped concentrations of black shadow walked free from the other three stands of trees to the north and east. They all moved towards the group that was standing under the light. While the man that had come closer and reeked of sadness had been crying, these three were whispering. Softly at first, and it sounded like far more than just three voices. Or maybe it was simply that each of the voices didn't have a set octave or speech pattern, so they all ran together and changed constantly. The whispers were almost incoherent, save for the consistent repetition of the words "Help us." It may be that they were repeating them in multiple languages, as any Latin speakers heard the term "Liberate me" and some other similar phrases. Obviously, they were reaching out for help, and as they drew within about 20 yards of the gathered group of Oxfordians, they all reached out their arms in a beseeching gesture, eerily mirroring one another.

The light from Simon's spell illuminated the shadowy men further, making it even more obvious that they had no defined facial features, nor any other features really, and they seemed to be just black masses. That light didn't seem to reflect from them and was instead absorbed, making each of the 4 a total absence of light in their form. When the brightness touched them they stilled slightly, but then kept coming closer, as if they were testing the light and only moved when they found it less than harmful.

The shade from the south slowly lowered its hands from its face, but it left no obvious definition of a face to be seen. Perhaps it was all for show or simply a rememberance of a previous motion it would have made to be able to see them. The hands moved palm up, and held out towards the group he was approaching, definitely in a 'help me' sort of motion. He looked to Llewelyn and then over to Laoise, a rattling sound coming from the Shade's chest as if sucking in a deep breath while battling off the tears. "We cannot be helped, no. Trapped. So trapped. Kept. So kept." Jerky language eminated from the shade, and its voice had the same odd intonations the others held, like the vocal qualities couldn't be maintained at the same frequency or pitch for long. Despite the fact that there were no facial expressions, the yearning and pain in the words caused them to be wrenchingly sad enough to give an idea of how much would have been seen had there been expressions to read.

"Forgive us." The last term was whispered by all four shades at the same time. Disturbingly all in the same vocal pitch and tone. With a solid voice all the way through the words.

As Shade reaches out for morgan and begins to draw on his life Force, Morgan can feel the Soul crushing sadness in his chest. deadening his senses and drawing him inward. Head dropping with a soft whimpering Groan, The big Viking's nostrils flare as a long, black hammer seems to drop from his sleeve, the head striking the ground with a soft Thud as his whimper turns into a strangled cry of Fury. the joint dropping from his lips as he leans in and comes face to...uh...face...? with the featureless being. It was epic. it was manly...it was Morgan trying to shout down a spirit of despair with a lung full of Pot smoke...it Was Morgan ending this sweet act of epic defiance with a coughing fit that left him wretching and dry heaving...it was a bad idea.

Dave looks over his shoulder to offer a bright smile at the people advising caution, but ends up squinting into the glare of a bright light. "It's fine! He probably just needs a hug and some coffee." He turns back to see the approaching figure reaching out for help. "Oh hell." His smile drops for few tense heartbeats as he stares into faceless horror. A wide grin spreads across his face as realisation strikes. "Ohhhhhh." Dave says, as if he's just getting a joke. "Oh Hell!"

Anikka looked at the creatures with dawning horror as she felt her strong mental barriers buffetted against. "No. No. We can't allow this!" She cried it out loudly and reached up to pull an earring from her left earlobe, the small shining rock looking entirely too innocent in her hand. "Sunlight. Sunlight. They are completely allergic to it. Anyone else with sunshine, use it!" She gave the statement looking tearful and saddened. "Forgive us as well, because you cannot be allowed to continue." She motioned up to Simon's light with her right hand. "It's not enough light, it needs to be Sunshine."

"They are bound by vines, chains and sickly green jewels, three men and woman." Cricket murmurs softly. "They are feasting off all of you." She cannot help but point out the obvious. "Aww something is holding on to the their leashes." Cricket moves forward, "Ger-Bear." Her faced looks more strained, her voice echoes the lines on her face. Murmuring softly the older woman parts the veil and disappears from sight, taking her briefcase with her.

Gerry nods to Cricket and then follows, pausing long enough to call, to anyone who might need to know later, "We will see where the rabbit-hole goes." Then he murmurs an inaction and follows Cricket into the rift, with cane raised like a sword and satchel clutched close to his body.

Simon watched the shades closing in, pausing for a split second when he cast his light spell. When Morgan started cough and David yelled, when Anikka confirmed it, Simon dropped his umbrella. "So we need more light? That much I can do." The light of the lava stone flicked as the man reached into his coat, withdrawing a glass ball from the inner pocket. "I have a couple." Slinging the glass ball onto the ground, there was another flash light, this time it was somehow warmer and happier. The shades may not have considered it so, but that was their problem. Taking a deep breath, he reached for the second one as well to ready it.

"It's okay buddy." Llewelyn's voice is soft as he leans forward, reaching forward with a hand and then slowly pulling back, thinking better of patting a shade on the shoulder. Any compassion that Llewelyn shows quickly evaporates as he notices the reactions of his companions. "Can I hit them, will it hurt? They look all ghosty and whatnot." He turns to look and Simon and Ani as he says this, then two Cricket and Gerry. Turning back to the shades, he grits his teeth, bringing himself upto his full height. "You need to stop that, it ain't right. It's never right." Looking around, he listens to Cricket and then watches as she and Gerry part the veil. "Right then, that sounds like a plan." Dropping to his knees, he places his palms flat to the ground and then disappears.

Her salute has not been returned, and has, instead, been turned against her. Laoise recoils a step, head bowing and eyes closing against the pain that courses through her. Tears squeeze out from under her eyelids, but then her lips curl in a snarl of fury, and she lifts her staff. "That... was uncalled for," she grits out from between clenched teeth, and she brings her staff down to the ground in front of her, establishing her triangle. "Who are you, really?" she lets out a breath and lifts her head and opens her eyes, swallowing against the outrage that flames in her eyes at the plight of the shades before her.

Screaming came from the four shades as Sunlight touched them. They recoiled back, stumbling in an odd way as their legs seemed to almost melt into the ground. After a moment, though, they regathered their strength and seemed to redouble their intent. Standing back to full height, they began walking back towards the group. All four were now wailing in pain and filled with sadness to the brim. If they'd had faces, tears would be streaming down them. Once they reached the distance they needed to be at, however, they lifted their arms again in that seemingly beseeching manner, and the sensation of sadness started to grow in a heavy wave. "FORGIVE US!" They shrieked it into the night, tortured voices broken and weighed down with complete hopelessness.

Almost sinking to his knees as he finishes coughing and wretching, Morgan nods softly as he seems to be listening to something. "I will. Got it...right...basics." Grasping that hammer of his in both hands, the Viking leans forward as though he were about to fall, then twists and brings the warhammer up in a hard arc. Sensitive onlookers might be slightly relieved to know that the shade really was just a shade as the head of the hammer drives upwards striking the thing between the legs. the hammer sinking into the form and travelling upwards as though he had hit quicksand with it, passing through Shade's form.

Almost sinking to his knees as he finishes coughing and wretching, Morgan nods softly as he seems to be listening to something. "I will. Got it...right...basics." Grasping that hammer of his in both hands, the Viking leans forward as though he were about to fall, then twists and brings the warhammer up in a hard arc. Sensitive onlookers might be slightly relieved to know that the shade really was just a shade as the head of the hammer drives upwards striking the thing between the legs. the hammer sinking into the form and travelling upwards as though he had hit quicksand with it, passing through Shade's form.

As he strikes, Morgan speaks in tones much more somber than his usual, his voice reminiscent of graves and long ago, sad memories as he nearly whispers "I forgive you."

Dave stares into faceless void. The pleasant warmth of sunlight beats on his back as he takes entirely too long to think things through. He doesn't even notice the attendants of the whistling people convention vanishing across the veil. "Well. All right then. You're forgiven." He finally says to the shadowy figure in front of him.

Anikka looked like she was about to start bawling, shaking her head. "Dammit, you could have just left. I'm so sorry." She lifted the hand that held her shimmering earring and sang a beautiful, poignant note that sounded more like 2 notes chiming together. The stone in her earring cracked open and glorious sunlight burst forth, like dawn had come and set it's lips to the earth for a life giving kiss hours earlier than intended. It was warm, bright, and gorgeously illuminating for the area all around them, and especially to the shades. Tears ran down Ani's face as she unleashed her power, knowing full well it wouldn't be survivable to those things allergic to the touch of the sun.

Screeching came along with the sound of things tearing and ripping. Each of the shades gathered around them waiting to take their lifeforce shredded into tatters and slowly oozed into the ground, leaving behind nothing but clear jelly and the hissing sound of melting ooze. The sunlight faded suddenly as it came, and all the sounds of suffering with it, making the sobbing and pain that had been so clear earlier just a memory.

Simon looked around as the shades faded into the ground, replacing the remaining glass ball into his coat. "Is anyone hurt beyond feeling like they just watched Old Yeller?" He looked around, angling his hand to see if there were anymore shadows moving about, the lava stone's light fading to a dim glow once he was satisfied. "I feel like a creating a circle would have been enough to block them..." He sighed heavily, reaching out to pick up his umbrella. A dry laugh escaped him, "Under the circumstances, it's probably better she got held over at shift."

Watching the things melt and disappear, Morgan stands there for a moment in silence. Raising his hand quiely, the viking doesn't bother with the usual theatrics of dropping the hammer into his sleeve to disappear, he just opens his hand around the weapon's handle and the thing vanishes into thin air.

Looking to his left (Really the only convenient way TO look when you've only got that eye) He leans down to pick up his still lit joint. Taking a deep drag from the thing as he moves to retrieve his bottle, stares at it for a long moment, then tips the contents down his throat without pausing for breath, drops the bottle and walks off muttering "No, this wasn't a glorious fucking victory...It was souls forced to die by someone else's bidding...No I don't want a fucking pizza."

Laoise raises her staff from the ground, her grip shifting on the haft as she turns it, but then the rays of sun in the dark are enough to make her duck her eyes behind one arm. As the light fades, her arms drop, and she notes the puddles on the ground. The foot of her staff thuds dully on the ground, and she gives a sniff, before she walks towards Anikka, her head shaking once. "They couldn't," she offers quietly, an arm reaching to fold the tiny woman into a hug. "They were being pushed forward, by something stronger. There was nothing we could do." Her tone is soothing, and she looks over the little woman's head towards Morgan, the deep gaze perhaps knowing.

"Huh." Dave drops the syllable as if he were discovering he's out of milk. He turns around, smile completely unbreakable. "Looks like all they needed was a little sunlight and forgiveness! They should have tried Spain, lots more sun and fun."

Anikka did her best not to sound like the youngster she appeared to be, and somehow sniffled quieter than she may have, but talking was out of the question. She just nodded and accepted the hug from Laoise, taking advantage of the other woman's height to tuck herself against something that wasn't going to suck her soul away or dissolve into goo on the ground. Hugging the other woman back firmly, she even did her best not to mess up Laoise's clothes, but likely left a wet bit from the tears despite her efforts. As people started to go away and head to where they needed to be for the night, she looked over at Dave and smiled wanly. "Perhaps Alaska. In the summer. Likely no shades around then." She nodded once and cleared her throat before offering a grateful smile up to Laoise, then starting her walk towards home. "I hope Ely remembers to give a heads up before he does something crazy over there." She looked at Simon. "I think I'm very glad I never saw Old Yeller."