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legionmissions2017-02-23 03:16 am
letsgolegion) wrote in legionmissions2017-02-23 03:16 am
Entry tags:
THE BOOKS OF MAGIC - [modplot] [finale]
Who| Everyone who signed up
What| The finale to the plot
Where| The Rock of Eternity
When| After they've all found their respective pieces of the puzzle.
Warnings/Notes| N/A
After all the pieces are found, they're brought back to Sorcerer's World and the they reassemble themselves into a strange little golden device. It whirs and clicks and then they all find themselves in a strange cavernous place, with the device floating along like a guide.
The stone hallway has ugly imp-like beings imprisoned in stone.
Each is labeled with its name. Pride. Envy. Greed. Wrath. Sloth. Gluttony. Lust.
At the end of the long hallway, there sits a wizened old man, bearded and frail. He doesn't seem surprised that they've come.
"I know why you're here. You've come to find a way to imprison the Spectre once more." He briefly raises his eyebrows and for a moment the aura of aloof mystical wisdom is broken by something warmer. "Golly. Freeing him wasn't really the brightest idea. And after all the effort it took for us to lock him away, too."
The Wizard wags his finger.
"You especially shouldn't known better, Mr. Jordan."
The golden device suddenly glows and rotates in place. There's a sound like a key turning in a lock and the floor unlocks and opens up, sucking them down into a bright white light. Even their flight rings can't fight against the pull.
"Don't worry, the test is only a bad as you are. And you're heroes, right? You'll make it through, I'm sure of it!"
-
The light shows them the truth, first, before they land. For a moment, they're fully immersed in a vision of the past. Hundreds of mages are on a magical battlefield, a place that has been transformed by magic into a realm where said magic won't harm the outside world as they fight. This is all filtered through the perceptions of one particular person, and that person knows all the names of the gathered mages, knows the context of this situation, so the Legionnaires know them, too.
The Spectre, host-less, refusing to take on a sentient host that will give him perspective, struggles against the magical chains that have been cast over him. He wants to punish the whole world, and that means has to be stopped.
A woman in fishnets and top hat, Zatanna Zatara, casts a spell, speaking backwards. "Sniahc elbakaerbnu, sniahc elbakaerbnu, sniahc elbakaerbnu!"
A man in a brown trenchcoat lights up a cigarette.
"Constantine, do we really have time for that?" asks Zatanna through gritted teeth.
"There's always time for a potential last smoke, love," he nods towards the middle distance. "'Sides, the cavalry's here."
A plain-looking older teen, with round glasses floats towards the Spectre and there's the crackling clash of powerful raw magic. His name is Timothy Hunter and there are about fifty or so prophecies that suggest him fighting against the literal hand of God is a bad idea.
"This is bad. Isn't this a little too...epic, for Tim?" asks Zatanna. "There are so many prophecies about moments like this. I thought we all agreed that it shouldn't come down to him, in case one of them accidentally comes true."
"He's just the big, flashy distraction. He's not our ace in the hole, that is," Constantine says, pointing. "Well, that and the person that's got to wield it."
A mage floats into the air, a man in a gold helmet and cape, Dr. Fate, and he summons some kind of long case from where it was magically stored.
"That's not what I think it is, is it?" Zatanna gasps. "But who's going to use it? It has to be someone completely pure of heart --"
"Traci, please tell me you've got a lock on our boy," Constantine calls out.
"I've got a stable teleport lined up!" says a teenage girl, Traci 13. "Mecca lecca high mecca hiney ho!"
A light crackles to life over the assembled mages and a muscular silhouette can be seen in the light.
"Superman?" asks Zatanna. "But he's tried to wield it before and nearly fell into temptation."
"Nope," says Constantine. "We did one better."
The light fades and the hero known as Captain Marvel stares down at the Spectre. He takes the case from where it hovers in the air in front of Doctor Fate and lands on the ground.
"And we'll do one better still," Constantine goes on. "The Captain here's not the hero of the day."
"SHAZAM!" Captain Marvel calls out, and lightning strikes him, and what's left behind...is a boy. Just a teenage boy, blue-eyed, baby-faced, and timid-looking. He takes a spear out of the case, wincing the moment he touches it.
"Not even Captain Marvel is pure-hearted enough to wield the Spear of Destiny without being twisted by it," says Constantine. "And who could blame 'im? The spirit of Hitler's possessing the bloody thing -- not a one of us is strong enough in the face of that. But the boy? The boy's just innocent enough. Even more than the big blue boyscout. Hopefully innocent enough to use the holiness of the spear without being corrupted. After all, Hitler wasn't the first to touch it -- the blood of you-know-who's on it, son of the Big Man 'imself."
Billy Batson, the alter ego of Captain Marvel, cries out as he uses the spear, casting its holy light on the Spectre. The Spectre screams as the magical chains around him start to compress, turning into a cage that shrinks down into the sarcophagus that Hal Jordan, Gwen Stacy, Vance Astrovik, and Dipper Pines eventually found and opened 1000 years later. For a moment, Billy looks at the spear in his hand, his eyes going wide and wild as delusions of grandeur fill his mind.
"Billy?" says a young woman with lightning designs on her costume. Mary Marvel. "Billy, put it away. You don't need that terrible thing."
It's enough to break him out of the fugue he's in, and Batson manages to jam the spear back into its case and close it, then drops to his knees. Mary Marvel drops to her knees next to him and holds on tight as he looks at his hand in horror -- it's now stained black, like it's blighted. Around the battlefield, the mages and wizards and witches and magical beings all start celebrating, hugging and high-fiving. Zatanna grabs Constantine and yanks him over for a kiss so fast that the cigarette falls out of his mouth.
After she pulls away, she shoves him away and clears her throat, pretending it didn't just happen. He gives her the smuggest look humanly possible and adjusts his tie.
"Now we just have to hide that thing away where no one can ever get their hands on it again. And the spear, too. Hopefully, no one will ever be so bloody, fucking, nut-brained stupid as to try to mess with either again."
Except they were.
-
Which is why when the illusion fades, the Legionnaires find themselves in a large circular chamber. In the center floats the Spear of Destiny. Nearby is a magical case it can be stored in, once one of them gets their hands on it. Around the outside edge of the chamber are countless mirrors. While they can see their reflections, there's nothing behind them. It makes them all look like they're standing against a black background.
At least, it looks that way at first. Then their reflections start to break free, crawling out of the mirrors, causing them to shatter as they break loose. The stronger their inner darkness is, the stronger the shadow-selves are.
Fortunately, nothing says they're forced to only fight their own.
What| The finale to the plot
Where| The Rock of Eternity
When| After they've all found their respective pieces of the puzzle.
Warnings/Notes| N/A
After all the pieces are found, they're brought back to Sorcerer's World and the they reassemble themselves into a strange little golden device. It whirs and clicks and then they all find themselves in a strange cavernous place, with the device floating along like a guide.
The stone hallway has ugly imp-like beings imprisoned in stone.
Each is labeled with its name. Pride. Envy. Greed. Wrath. Sloth. Gluttony. Lust.
At the end of the long hallway, there sits a wizened old man, bearded and frail. He doesn't seem surprised that they've come.
"I know why you're here. You've come to find a way to imprison the Spectre once more." He briefly raises his eyebrows and for a moment the aura of aloof mystical wisdom is broken by something warmer. "Golly. Freeing him wasn't really the brightest idea. And after all the effort it took for us to lock him away, too."
The Wizard wags his finger.
"You especially shouldn't known better, Mr. Jordan."
The golden device suddenly glows and rotates in place. There's a sound like a key turning in a lock and the floor unlocks and opens up, sucking them down into a bright white light. Even their flight rings can't fight against the pull.
"Don't worry, the test is only a bad as you are. And you're heroes, right? You'll make it through, I'm sure of it!"
-
The light shows them the truth, first, before they land. For a moment, they're fully immersed in a vision of the past. Hundreds of mages are on a magical battlefield, a place that has been transformed by magic into a realm where said magic won't harm the outside world as they fight. This is all filtered through the perceptions of one particular person, and that person knows all the names of the gathered mages, knows the context of this situation, so the Legionnaires know them, too.
The Spectre, host-less, refusing to take on a sentient host that will give him perspective, struggles against the magical chains that have been cast over him. He wants to punish the whole world, and that means has to be stopped.
A woman in fishnets and top hat, Zatanna Zatara, casts a spell, speaking backwards. "Sniahc elbakaerbnu, sniahc elbakaerbnu, sniahc elbakaerbnu!"
A man in a brown trenchcoat lights up a cigarette.
"Constantine, do we really have time for that?" asks Zatanna through gritted teeth.
"There's always time for a potential last smoke, love," he nods towards the middle distance. "'Sides, the cavalry's here."
A plain-looking older teen, with round glasses floats towards the Spectre and there's the crackling clash of powerful raw magic. His name is Timothy Hunter and there are about fifty or so prophecies that suggest him fighting against the literal hand of God is a bad idea.
"This is bad. Isn't this a little too...epic, for Tim?" asks Zatanna. "There are so many prophecies about moments like this. I thought we all agreed that it shouldn't come down to him, in case one of them accidentally comes true."
"He's just the big, flashy distraction. He's not our ace in the hole, that is," Constantine says, pointing. "Well, that and the person that's got to wield it."
A mage floats into the air, a man in a gold helmet and cape, Dr. Fate, and he summons some kind of long case from where it was magically stored.
"That's not what I think it is, is it?" Zatanna gasps. "But who's going to use it? It has to be someone completely pure of heart --"
"Traci, please tell me you've got a lock on our boy," Constantine calls out.
"I've got a stable teleport lined up!" says a teenage girl, Traci 13. "Mecca lecca high mecca hiney ho!"
A light crackles to life over the assembled mages and a muscular silhouette can be seen in the light.
"Superman?" asks Zatanna. "But he's tried to wield it before and nearly fell into temptation."
"Nope," says Constantine. "We did one better."
The light fades and the hero known as Captain Marvel stares down at the Spectre. He takes the case from where it hovers in the air in front of Doctor Fate and lands on the ground.
"And we'll do one better still," Constantine goes on. "The Captain here's not the hero of the day."
"SHAZAM!" Captain Marvel calls out, and lightning strikes him, and what's left behind...is a boy. Just a teenage boy, blue-eyed, baby-faced, and timid-looking. He takes a spear out of the case, wincing the moment he touches it.
"Not even Captain Marvel is pure-hearted enough to wield the Spear of Destiny without being twisted by it," says Constantine. "And who could blame 'im? The spirit of Hitler's possessing the bloody thing -- not a one of us is strong enough in the face of that. But the boy? The boy's just innocent enough. Even more than the big blue boyscout. Hopefully innocent enough to use the holiness of the spear without being corrupted. After all, Hitler wasn't the first to touch it -- the blood of you-know-who's on it, son of the Big Man 'imself."
Billy Batson, the alter ego of Captain Marvel, cries out as he uses the spear, casting its holy light on the Spectre. The Spectre screams as the magical chains around him start to compress, turning into a cage that shrinks down into the sarcophagus that Hal Jordan, Gwen Stacy, Vance Astrovik, and Dipper Pines eventually found and opened 1000 years later. For a moment, Billy looks at the spear in his hand, his eyes going wide and wild as delusions of grandeur fill his mind.
"Billy?" says a young woman with lightning designs on her costume. Mary Marvel. "Billy, put it away. You don't need that terrible thing."
It's enough to break him out of the fugue he's in, and Batson manages to jam the spear back into its case and close it, then drops to his knees. Mary Marvel drops to her knees next to him and holds on tight as he looks at his hand in horror -- it's now stained black, like it's blighted. Around the battlefield, the mages and wizards and witches and magical beings all start celebrating, hugging and high-fiving. Zatanna grabs Constantine and yanks him over for a kiss so fast that the cigarette falls out of his mouth.
After she pulls away, she shoves him away and clears her throat, pretending it didn't just happen. He gives her the smuggest look humanly possible and adjusts his tie.
"Now we just have to hide that thing away where no one can ever get their hands on it again. And the spear, too. Hopefully, no one will ever be so bloody, fucking, nut-brained stupid as to try to mess with either again."
Except they were.
-
Which is why when the illusion fades, the Legionnaires find themselves in a large circular chamber. In the center floats the Spear of Destiny. Nearby is a magical case it can be stored in, once one of them gets their hands on it. Around the outside edge of the chamber are countless mirrors. While they can see their reflections, there's nothing behind them. It makes them all look like they're standing against a black background.
At least, it looks that way at first. Then their reflections start to break free, crawling out of the mirrors, causing them to shatter as they break loose. The stronger their inner darkness is, the stronger the shadow-selves are.
Fortunately, nothing says they're forced to only fight their own.
FIGHTING THE SHADOWS
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GRABBING THE SPEAR
But the illusion they saw made it clear how dangerous that is. The spear is clearly a powerful artifact, capable of subduing the literal wrath of God. And with it corrupted by the spirit of Adolph Hitler, anyone who touches it will find themselves almost immediately corrupted. They have to decide amongst themselves which among them is pure-hearted enough to withstand the corruption of the spear long enough to at least get it into its magical case.
Re: GRABBING THE SPEAR
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THE WIZARD
"I'm glad you managed to get it into its case. The magic would've booted you all out without the spear if one of you'd tried to hold onto it as your own."
He holds up a hand and they can see it's withered and blackened -- blighted.
"It was only the once for me, but after using it, it's never really gone away."