Raveled

Chamalia and Hombre's Reflexes vs DC 28 (1d20+7=8, 1d20+7=17, 1d20+7=25, 1d20+7=23) Entangled and, uh, since he's unconscious he probably shouldn't even have rolled. So I guess Entangled? Multiplex and Spectra's Reflexes vs DC 28 (1d20+6=20, 1d20+6=16, 1d20+6=23, 1d20+6=21) Entangled and Entangled. Acro-Bat II's Reflexes vs DC 28 (1d20+8=15, 1d20+8=21) Entangled Hunger's Reflexes vs DC 28 (1d20+5=16, 1d20+5=21) Entangled. Rolled better than I expected, but didn't help much.

Ignatio followed Crow through the hotel, careful to stay a step behind the runemaster. "I am -- I was -- bound to the Lady by certain agreements, certain oaths. As long as I could not hear the Lady, she could not invoke them, but she lent her authority to Brannagh. I could not resist his orders, despite how much I wanted to. As to what I did... it's complicated." Ignatio's hands shaped the air as he tried to explain what happened. "The Lady had a, a stake on part of my soul. That was what she was pulling back into her domain. So, I very simply let her take that part of me. What was left was, well, this part. The part that I shaped to hold my other part when I came to this plane." He glanced sidelong at Crow. "Does that answer your question?

Jessica crouched down so she was eye-level with the hammer in its chain hammock, listening to Tom's quick history of the weapon while she gave it a visual inspection, not even touching it yet. "Villain tech," she commented. "Racy." She didn't press him on the details, but made a not to look up Professor Wyrd in all the usual databases; if he was serving time at the moment, perhaps they could have a little sit-down. After a couple minutes of close inspection, the young genius sat back on her heels. "So, what exactly can you do with the hammer that you can't do without it?" She knew that Tom had powers above and beyond owning a cool hammer, so if she was going to deduce how it worked, first she needed to know what exactly it could do. "Actually, while we're on the subject, how exactly do your powers work, if you don't mind me asking?"

For a moment Ignatio didn't move, then he sprang into the air and waved his sword in a figure-eight, barely missing Crow before he got himself under control. "Crow! You survived! I am very sorry about the explosion; I did not expect it would be so violent." He started suddenly and grabbed the hero's runic coat. "My wife! And my children! We must be back to your castle!"

Pong?

The rope slowed and stilled again, strung taunt between two mystical, near-godly forces. Then slowly, inexorably, the rope began trending back towards the water, and the Lady's expression turned triumphant and cruel. Foolish mortal! I am in my power! This water connects to my City, and this flicking, insolent flame shall be pulled down and drowned under there! I shall have his mate, and their offspring, and in due time I shall have your skin too, you jumped-up scion of a straggle-hair goddess! The fae's shrill laughter echoed across the lake, and the rope started slipping from Crow's grasp. He strained all his might, but it was for naught. Then he heard something, a harsh, rasping breath coming from behind him; it was Ignatio, rising slowly to his feet. "I hated you," he said, staring the Lady down, "and my beloved and myself stole our children out from under your eye. We ran and escaped here, but even now you pursue us. You use bonds of duty, but you are not worthy of them!" The fae swordsman strained against his bonds, steaming blood running down his hands as he worked them against his bonds. "You shall not have me, you shall not have my wife, and you shall not have OUR CHILDREN!" There was a flash of light, a wave of force that knocked Crow flat, and for a moment everything went dark. A moment later he was on his feet again; the surface of the lake was absent of either the Lady or Brannagh, and Ignatio was nowhere to be seen. Instead there was a short, swarthy man in nondescript clothes. Close to his hand laid a wavy-bladed sword, like an oversized kris.

Brannagh reeled back from the blow, blood streaming from his nose. He kept stumbling back until his heels splashed in the water, actually. His face was flushed and he tried to take a step back towards Crow -- tried, but the water froze his feet in place. The first rays of the sun speared across the lake, and slow mounds of water piled above the surface of the lake in a way that Crow had seen before. In moments the Lady's smiling visage was discernible, splitting the rays of light into a rainbow across Crow and Ignatio. No more, Brannagh, she 'said. You have achieved your goal, and more besides. Brannagh stood there, breathing heavily to keep his temper under control. "The woman, the golem. She yet walks free, as do the children." Not for long, the fae purred. I shall drag him down into my depths, and the cries of his agony will draw her near day by day, until she serves me yet again. And if you end this pointless fight now, I'll even let you work him over with the irons. Brannagh sneered at Crow, but retreated further into the lake. "Until another day, Son of Morrigan." As he disappeared, the extra length of Ignatio's bindings zipped out until the cord was underwater, then started pulling the swordsman into the water.

Brannagh Att roll vs. Crow flat-footed (1d20+8=17) Ouch. DC 23 Toughness, Q.

Brannagh smiled into Crow's red-hot hand. "You are simply too easy," he hissed. "But I can't kill you yet. This is too much fun!" The warrior spun and hauled Ignatio's body into the air, suspending him from the silver cord and whipping him around into the hero. The pair went down in a tangle of sprawled limbs; as Crow was sorting himself out, the Autumn Child stepped over the pile and drove the heel of his boot into the hero's mouth. "Now, didn't you say something about a pike?"

Jessica Parker had a relatively more mundane summons; as wired as the Lab was, and with the benefit of her technopathic abilities, she knew when she had a new email or cell phone call nearly before her computer did. She was sitting in the high-energy physics lab, waiting on some test data, when the familiar tingle started at the base of her spine. The young inventor hummed tunelessly as she accessed the server -- only to experience an odd sensation. The email was being written as she watched. Jessica double-checked and discovered that the data hadn't been sent, per say. It would be closer to say that it was being formed, character by character, on the Lab servers, coming into being without any outside agency. The immaculate email? The idea was only half a joke, though, as a near-instantaneous search of Wikipedia gave her the run-down on Tian and Guan Guan. Well, she could hardly say it was the oddest thing that had happened to her since putting on the armor for the first time. An hour later, tests concluded and (some very interesting) data saved to her suit, she was hovering over the city. To be exact, she was hovering over a point in Riverside, near the edge of the stratosphere. The heroine was up there just long enough to wonder if this was some kind of joke or attempted attack, then a slit appeared in the sky and opened wide. Beyond was a carefully tended, almost geometrically-perfect landscape of golden pagodas and small gardens. Ironclad gave an approving nod at the careful layout and floated through.

Sense Motive vs DC 22 (1d20+14=26) Yeah, so that's a thing that's done with. Acrobatic Bluff vs Crow (1d20+10=29) So Sense Motive or Acrobatics vs that.

Brannagh was waiting for the hero's blow, and even as he appeared the mercenary was reaching up. He took the blow to the head and rolled with it, grabbing Crow's leg and slamming him against the sandy beach before he could teleport away. He laughed in triumph even as he struggled to his feet, stumbling towards Ignatio. "Knock him out? Who said I was going to be so gentle?" Brannagh snatched at the extra length of silver chain that bound the fire fae, looping it around Ignatio's neck. He pushed the tiny fae's face into the sand with a booted foot, hauling on the chain until Ignatio's face went red -- well, redder than normal. "I'll choke the life out of him. Then what will you tell his Lady when she comes looking!?"

Toughness save vs DC 22 (1d20+7=23) Nope! And he handily made the Notice check, so... Attack vs Crow's Def (1d20+8=27) Probably hits, so DC 23 Toughness. And he's now grappling Ignatio, so beware that.

Brannagh's Fort save vs DC 19 (1d20+10=18) Readies an action to attack Crow when he comes back.

The warrior made a whuff sound as the blow connected, feeling the strange rune energy try to leech away his vitality. His magically-enhanced nature fought back, though, and he felt barely any effect from it. He stood on the beach and cast his gaze around; when he couldn't find the hero, he sped to the bound Ignatio, form blurring with speed. The Autumn Child lashed out with his boot and knocked the fae swordsman to the ground, then spat on the beach. "Son of Morrigan! I would never believe you would be such a coward, as to abandon your charge like this!"

Brannagh's head snapped back and he followed it for a few stumbling feet, then met Crow's gaze with his own warm one. The hero instantly recognized the mercenary as the type of fighter who wouldn't go down when pushed, who would always get back up and swing again, who wasn't in a fight for honor or a cause but simply to shed some blood and make someone hurt -- and if he got hurt in the process, well, he was someone, wasn't he? Brannah spat a mouthful of bloody phlegm into the lake. He raised his hands in an odd, open-palm style and Crow could see, by the light of the rising sun, the intricately worked Celtic knots on his bracers. The warrior moved forward, fienting left and right before jumping clean over the hero and spinning his body, launching a sharp chop with the whole weight of his body behind it. Time fighting supervillains in Boston and Freedom meant that Crow wasn't taken in by the leap, but he still on the wrong foot from his impassioned blow earlier to dodge this one.

Brannagh's Toughness vs DC 23 (1d20+8=25) A-hahahaha! Didn't even need a fiat! Fast Acrobatics vs Crow (1d20+10=22) Acrobatic Bluff Attack roll vs Crow's Def (1d20+8=26) Good thing he doesn't have Improved Crit. DC 23 Toughness.

The heroine's super-powered snap tossed the unsuspecting Hombre through the air and into the back wall of the bank, cracking the stone edifice there and dropping the pale biker to the polished floor. He didn't seem to be moving, and Fulcrum strode forward unimpeded. At least, until she heard a sharp voice to her right swear and shout out, "Spectra! Multiplex! Hunger! Plan B, hit her!"

Chamelia's Stealth roll vs Notice 24 (1d20+13=27) Juust makes it. Hombre's Reflex vs DC 28 (1d20+7=13) He takes full damage. Hombre's Toughness vs DC 33 (1d20+10=15) And things start going Fulcrum's way! Initiate escape plan Delta-Charlie, bad guys!

As Crow stepped into the magic portal, the room swirled around him disconcertingly, the walls falling away and the roar of open water filling the hero's ears. The world finally stabilized -- and dropped him about five feet, so he landed sprawled out on the sand. He heard that cruel laughter again, echoing all around him. Crow pushed himself to his feet and discovered that he was standing on the shores of Lake MacKenzie, and fifty feet in front of him stood Brannagh, clapping his hands together slowly. The man cupped his mouth and shouted at the hero in old Gaelic, "I was expecting a battle, not a show!"

Hombre easily side-stepped Fulcrum's, not penned in like the superheroine was. "Baby, I gotta say this is all sorts of disappointing." He quickly closed the distance with her and jabbed low, aiming his blow at her floating ribs and connecting with a crack. He backed off then and sauntered back to the desk he'd been relaxing behind. "Frankly, I was told this was gonna be all sorts of rough and tumble. Heck, Chamalia said I might even break a sweat!" He laughed at that. "At this rate, I'm not even gonna be breathing hard."

You know what's coming. Chamalia Aid to boost Att (1d20+5=18) Acro-Bat II Aid to boost Att (1d20+13=24) Multiplex and Hunger Aid to boost Att (1d20+10=29, 1d20+10=25) Spectra Aid to Att (1d20+8=16) Aid's a great tactic. Hombre full Power Attack w/ +10 Aid bonus, vs Fulcrum Def (1d20+15=35) Ahahahahaha! Oh, wow. DC 35 Toughness save.

For a long moment the water refused to clear, and even once it stopped swirling Crow thought that he had done something wrong. All he could see was more water. Then the view shifted over and he realized he was looking straight down on a large body of water from a large height -- a lake, or the edge of the ocean maybe. There was a wide strip of sandy beach, then grass, then thick forest beyond it. On the beach, Crow could make out two dark dots. At a thought the view of the pool zoomed down and panned, until he was looking at Ignatio and his abductor from the surface of the water. Brannagh was standing tall and humming something under his breath, pacing the sand and fiddling with his bracers. Ignatio, by contrast, was on his knees, head bowed, his hands bound behind him by a thin silver cord. He spat out occasional words in a language Crow didn't understand; in reply, Brannagh lashed out with a foot every time he passed the fae, striking his face, his side, his bound arms. After a minute or so, Brannagh stiffened and stopped, turning slowly until he gazed out over the water. He locked eyes with Crow, as impossible as that was, staring the hero down. The other man slowly drew back his fist and punched -- and Crow felt the brow across the bridge of his nose, pushing him back from the scrying pool. As the vision ended, he heard a cruel, disembodied laughter swirling around him and dying away.

Speaking with the spirits than inhabited Parkhurst was never a pleasant experience. Whether that was by choice, due to Nick's necromancy, or just because they had been dead and haunting for so long that they had forgotten any other way to interact with the living, no one could say. In any case, strong winds came from behind Crow, forcing him to brace himself or be blown into the wall. Almost immedietly, the winds seemed to... wear down the wall in front of the hero, stripping away layers of wallpaper and plaster and wooden beams, to reveal a view of the front yard. Which was disconcerting in and of itself, since this wall should only lead further into the building, but such was magic. Even from the back, Crow recognized Ignatio's flowing robes and wavy-bladed saber. There was another figure there, a frankly ripped man wearing what looked like a chain mail shirt and leather breeches, with silver bracers and dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. The mail'ed man paused on the front lawn and Ignatio gestured with his sword. The man opened and closed his mouth, but there was no sound; still, Crow was able to see several minutes of silent conversation between the diminutive swordsman and the dark-haired man. Then the man held out one hand and made a crooking motion with his fingers. The fae stiffened suddenly and began to march woodenly down the lawn, moving with an unnatural, jerky gait. The pair disappeared as they reached the edge of the property, then the scene started to repeat itself. Crow heard a grinding noise behind him and glanced back to see that Osullus had followed him up the steps. The earth fae's gaze was focused on the dark-haired man. "Brannah," she growled. "He took Ignatio."

From the moment he crossed the threshold, something warned Crow that things weren't as they should be. He prowled through the hotel more cautiously than he normally would, and found that everything was in order -- except that Ignatio was nowhere to be found. His ember-children were still in the basement, and Osullus and her gravel-brood quickly found them there. The earth fae allowed her two sets of children to splash and play against each other, but she had eyes only for the rune-clad hero. "Where is my husband? My sons are here, but where is Ignatio?"