Atlantean Abduction

October 30, 2014 Following the trail of the Sorcerer Supreme, the Atlanteans encounter the mystical healer who aided him.

Moontree Manor

Rain's House. It's odd.



  • Captain
  • Atlanteans
  • Various Mystical Denizens of Moontree Manor

Mood Music:

"Prepare yourselves, men. We are up against a mystic warrior of the highest caliber. We must be wary."

The Time: Sometime at Night.

The Place: The Exact Middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

The interior of Namor's personal warship, Numenor's Wrath, is generally filled from bow to stern with the tons of salty, freezing ocean water. And today, it still is. Except for in one of the ship's larger storerooms, which has been emptied out entirely of both water and stores and filled instead with the particular mixture of oxygen and nitrogen that human lungs find so delicious. Which is why all of the Atlanteans assembled in the room are wearing some sort of armored environmental suits.

A group of twenty of Namor's personal guard have been selected for this mission. Standing in formation, they go through final functions checks on their gear and weapons. The guard's Captain walks back and forth in front of the formation, personally inspecting his men before the upcoming battle. Their battle armor looks incredibly heavy and thick, and their energy rifles are about the size of bazookas.

A group of twelve mystics form a circle around the formation, chanting softly in unison. They also wear armor, albeit of a much lighter variety. Their hands are outspread, and from the tips of their fingers a strange energy flows, passing from the tips of one mystic's fingers, travelling through the air and passing into the fingers of the next mystic in line. In this fashion, the mystic energy forms a complete circuit, enveloping nearly the entire room with an unbreakable containment spell.

A smaller group of six Elite Mystics stands behind the formation. Although their armor is flimsy, the runes inscribed upon it confer some amount of divine protection. The barnacle-encrusted staves that they carry are a bit out of keeping with the flashy gear carried by the troopers, but this is perhaps to be expected, as mystics are weird.

Before the group, but within the circle, Namor himself stands, holding some sort of golden trident. Unlike the others, he has eschewed armor entirely, keeping only his trademarked green speedo and knife belt. He breathes the oxygen just fine, much to the discomfort of some of the advisors who watch from outside the circle.

The Guard Captain gives Namor the signal that all is ready to go, and Namor nods in the direction of one of the Elite Mystics. "Open the portal."

Energy errupts from the mystic's staff, and a glowing portal opens up. Almost before it has completely opened, the first of Namor's guard have already begun sprinting through the swirling vortex, followed shortly by all twenty eight Atlanteans.


Rain is at home. Her home is not in the middle of the ocean. And yes, her lungs do find the atmosphere quite tasty. It's true! She's sitting in her living room, petting Captain. The orange tabby who wears a trenchcoat is curled into a small ball. The fireplace is going quietly, the wood crackling now and then while the chirps and dings of a video game go on. And for all she knows, the speedo IS armor. Sort of like how bikinis work for women. The staff and Rain have no idea what awaits them.

The golem, Dave, is in one of the bedrooms watching the Food Channel. The two succubi are playing GTA and there's a sense of peace and contentment. The butler is himself reading in his own room. The portal will likely end up in the living room, as that is where Doctor Strange himself portaled in. "OH WHAT THE—" Seeing that many dudes, not the least among them Namor, is probably enough to send anyone scampering. Captain merps loudly as he flips over from Rain jerking, startled. The cat hisses, then speaks in a baritone, Gotham accented voice. "I was sleeping!" He bolts behind the couch, a comic scramble of orange shed hair and cat legs. Rain dives for cover. "Invasion!?" She's -terrified-. To say she's terrified is putting it lightly, though. It's like being the last donut after a diet. It's the tiny dinosaur in front of a t-rex. It's being a mini Cooper vs a train.


The guards begin shouting very loudly in Atlantean, and pointing their massive rifles in the faces of anyone and anything that happens to be in their path. They move so quickly through the portal and around the room that it's only a few seconds before the entire living room has been secured.

The mystics are already doing a Locator Spell and setting up various wards and glyphs around themselves and around Namor.

Namor gently parts the group of armored men standing around Rain with his trident, speaking to them in Atlantean first, before switching over to English to speak to the terrified young woman.

As she's already done the whole 'dive for cover' thing, and as she's got several rifles pointed directly at her, it might come as a mild relief to see an unarmored, human-looking (aside from the elf ears) man kneel in front of her. His voice is coaxing, almost tender. The way one might speak to a scared horse.

"Pardon the intrusion, ma'am, we certainly didn't mean to startle you. But my men are very enthusiastic about their jobs. Which is why any one of them will gladly shoot you in whatever portion of your anatomy I command, if you aren't extremely cooperative with me."

"Tell me that you understand."

Fortunately, the staff are off-duty and look more startled than anything else. None of them lift weapons or transform or anything. Captain is hissing and poofed up, fluffy and annoyed, but a common housecat is probably not a threat. And he's cowering in his corner. There's no real resistance here. It seems like they could be potentially powerful, but not now.

Rain's eyes are wide as dinner plates. She sort of peeks up to notice those rifles. Yes, Rain is a roughly ordinary human in terms of durability. She freezes as Namor comes closer. She's going to be eaten/stabbed/whatever!

She swallows hard, violet eyes wide still. "Uhm." She takes a deep breath. "… I see. That's - okay. I understand." She's having trouble mustering courage. But nods. Oh yes.


"Your Majesty, the Locator Spell has turned up nothing. The Trickster who placed the barrier spell is not here." The mystics give Namor their report, though they seem to be less than completely surprised by the result. However, as they're speaking in Atlantean, it's unlikely that Rain will know what exactly they're talking about.

Namor frowns for the briefest of moments, before returning to his forced attempt at being tender. He extends a hand to cup the bottom of Rain's face, holding her head in such a way that she can't escape his ridiculously intense gaze, or his ridiculously intense eyebrows.

"I do not know what the trickster told you when he was last here. But you must know who I am seeking, surely. You will save yourself a great deal of pain and torment if you tell me where I can find the mystic who attacked my people without provocation."


Rain looks confused, at the Atlantean speak. Even Captain looks baffled. The two look to one another, then back to the Atlanteans. He's frowning. That's not good. They're both stock still now. She blinks as he cups the bottom of her face. Her - huh, those are some eyebrows. She boggles a bit. "The trickster?" Who in the wo— oh. Ooooooooh. It dawns on her. Realization sinks in. Oh dear.

"Well. I think - if I know who you're talking about… He teleported away. He did not say where to." And Rain, not being a stalker, did not follow it up, it seems. She seems to be telling the truth. Strange did in fact, teleport away. She didn't erase any of the magic traces. "I'm sorry to hear that happened to you and your people."


The mystics busy themselves by looking around and doing more spells, but they don't seem to be finding much that they can use. The guards, meanwhile, have begun tossing furniture around, emptying drawers onto the floor, and generally making a chaotic, noisy mess.

Through all of this commotion, Namor remains calm. But one of his eyebrows begins twitching as if it didn't like Rain's answer very much. "That is not the answer that I wanted to hear. Men, hold her down."

Several of the guards move forward to do just that, but one of the mystics quickly interjects. "Your Majesty, perhaps I might volunteer a more practical solution? This is apparently the trickster's woman. Perhaps he will come for her if he learns that she is in distress? I could easily leave a message that he'd be certain to find." Again, this is all in Atlantean, so it's probably not very helpful to Rain.

Namor slowly stands, rubbing the bridge of his pointy nose as he gives the matter some consideration. Finally, he tells the woman, in a very brusque manner… "You will be my guest, it appears. Instruct your servants to tell the trickster that Namor, King of Atlantis, Ruler of the Waters, Protector of the Deep, Scion of the Seas, et cetera, et cetera, will return you to your domicile when it pleases him. But if I must wait for the trickster long, I will begin sending pieces of you home in advance of the rest of your body."


"…" They're trashing her home! Rain looks worried. ESPECIALLY once he mentions holding her down. She whimpers a bit. But she IS telling the truth. "Uhm. Sure." Right. Rain's not about to argue, even if she feels rather guilty about being used as a pawn here. She swallows hard. One of the succubi, the younger one, pokes her head out of the room. "Tell… okay," She takes the message down. She's got it written.

Captain merps and move closer to Rain. She's frozen stock still. What is she going to do…? She doesn't want to get cut up, but Doctor Strange was so nice and … her head is spinning a bit. Sadly, she doesn't speak Atlantean, so she has no clue as to what they think.


Two of the Guards bind Rain's hands behind her back with something that looks very much like it's made of seashells. But it does its intended job quite well.

They lift her to her feet, a bit roughly, but don't do anything overtly harmful. The shell cuffs are probably a bit tighter than she would like, however.

The mystics set about making a final spell as the guards begin filtering back through the portal, carrying The Trickster's Woman with them.

Namor, the Guard Captain, and the most senior mystic are the last three remaining on the other side of the portal. The Captain warily watches over the proceedings, while Namor and the Mystic converse.

"You're sure this will attract his attention?" Namor puts the finishing touches on the note he plans to leave behind, explaining his terms and the location of the pickup.

"Yes, my liege. This spell is essentially a mystical bomb. When it explodes, it will being the mystics of the surface world toward it like lanternfish to an anglerfish." He waves his staff about, spewing greenish energy into the room. Finally, the spell erupts up and through the roof of the house, leaving a sizeable hole in the roof. The night sky is lit with a series of green Atlantean glyphs that have not been seen by the surface world for millenia.

With a smile, Namor enters the portal, followed quickly by his mystic and his captain. The swirling vortex stops swirling, and closes behind them.

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