Rise of the Midnight Sons Part 4

Brief Title:

Elsa Bloodstone, Brother Voodoo, Hellstorm

Scene Runner/Watcher:

IC Date:
12/04/12 08:30

Voodoo Lounge

Elsa is drafted into the Midnight Sons (AKA the Nine)

Social or Plot:


-----==[ Voodoo Lounge - Greenwich Village ]==--------------------------------

One must descend a flight of black slate stairs flanked by walls papered in rock concert programs before discovering...

This is no ordinary urban mecca. This is no sports bar, no yuppie hipster watering hole. This... is the famed Voodoo Lounge.The lights are recessed into the wall, and of a golden hue, dimmed low enough that one can see where one is going, but still be able to consider the atmosphere intimate. People more than a dozen feet away will appear as mere shadows until one is right up on them. The walls are paneled in mahogany wood. The bar, that travels down the left side of the room is teak with a black marble top, polished to a fare-thee-well. Taps are visible just past the lip of the countertop. There's a recess in it so that a bartender can slide drinks to the waiting patrons. Behind the bar, the expected mirror -- this one beveled on the edges. Glasses and more elaborate drinkware hangs upside down from a wooden rack above.

The barstools appear to be leather and wood, but they are reinforced to handle patrons of superhuman size. The floor is carpeted in plush brown carpet, thick enough to sink into, though nothing seems to ever reach it if anything is spilled. There are cozy tables and booths clustered at the front and back of the room. A long, thickly stuffed leather sofa, also in brown, is along the entire front wall and side wall. A hidden moving light casts random shapes and sigils around the room in muted hues -- slowly enough so it's ambience-enhancing rather than disorienting. Potted palms flank the door and stand in the corners. There are hanging plants above the tables, leaves dripping lazily down toward the floor, but not enough to impede anyone there. Carefully hidden speakers pipe music into the room that varies from the contemporary to the exotic. There is no television behind the bar. The back wall has a floor-to-ceiling fountain that trickles away serenely. A few feet in front of the back wall is a modest stage, also set with small tables if there's no one performing.The entire vibe is like someone set a bar in a cozy little alcove in some exotic place far removed from New York City.



Darkness covers New York like a thick blanket, swaddled in grey clouds that hung upon the evening threatening rainfall, but mostly just condenscening mosture on windows, sidewalks, and streets alike. Then again, within the Voodoo Lounge, despite its own darkness, the atmosphere is fuelled by technicolor glow from neon and LED lights. There are those simply out for a good time, in their clubbing clothes, coming to see what this place is about. Then there are regulars, not truly mystical perhaps in the hedge at best.

They come wearing clothes some might associate with gothic or emo, those dark subcultures of the night stemming out of the underworld of the 70s basked in the stardust of David Bowie and glam. The crowds mingle, but rarely mix, those regulars know their kind, those of the club world come and go at random. Then there are those like Brother Voodoo, who in the eyes of the club crowd seems to have gone a step overboard even for the attire at the Voodoo Lounge. He sits at the bar, wearing a regular white shirt and pants, but has a beaded, frayed vest on that looks like it came straight from Haiti. There is a medallion at his neck to match. A white stripe down the middle of his head. His feet are bare and unlike most denizens, no one of the establishment asks him to put shoes on. They look well worn.

Presently he is seated at the bar, most of the buttons of his shirt being loose or undone. In his right hand is a Red Stripe while his left hand lingers over a cedar box, old and well worn. The box rests on his left leg; the hand atop it rests protectively as if it where a wallet and he were expecting a pick pocket.
Woosh! There's a quick flash of light and them, suddenly, there's a blonde standing in the middle of the room. She wasn't there before but she's there now and her eyes fixate immediately upon the bar. "Barkeep!" She shouts, "Guiness. In a mug if you have it!"

Where many here are emo or goth, Elsa Bloodstone certainly isn't. Her hair's blonde and tied back in braids. She stands up straight and tall, like a Barbarian princess from a bygone era. She's dressed in deerskin pants and a blue dress shirt, nicely tied under her chest. She doesn't fit in. Nor do her armaments. There's a large machette sheathed at her side. A shotgun is set through a large holster tied to her back.

The unregular regulars are outright startled, even some of the mundane regular set who put on the look turn to look, some back away. The bartender is perhaps used to odd happenings, in the least, and moves to comply with the drink order. Being of the odd attire himself Jericho turns to regard the woman who made quite the entrance and offers blandly, "I think the standard mode of entrance in the common areas is by door. Not that I don't admire the entrance, it was grand indeed. Though, I'm afraid to say, there are no elephants to hunt in here." Maybe he's joking, maybe he's not trying to be sarcastic, but his words hang as dry as the stout in his hand.

A skilled mystic would feel the hint of magic surrounding the woman. Her mode of transport obviously mystical and a pulsating power at her throat, traveling through the blood in her body. Elsa accepts her beer and says, simply. "Tab." to the bartender.

Then she turns to Brother Voodoo. A black face in a sea of white ones who like the color black. Must be great for date night. "Hard to walk through the front door from Zimbabwe. It was elephants, though. Bloody demon possessed this old girl. Had to put her down." Her eyes cloud for a moment and she raises her mug in salute. The accent? English. Somewhere between London and Cardiff.

Whether he places the accent or not, Jericho takes notice but couldn't really discern the too. His own voice carries hints of an accent at best, he has spent much time in study and practice in the States. There is a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips, but it slips into the shadows as he responds. "Perhaps you are right." Maybe referencing the front door and its relation to another continent. "As for the elephant, I can imagine taking care of her was the least of your worries if demons were really invovled. That seems to be a growing concern of late, I am curious about that aspect of your recent ... safari?"

Elsa drops down into a chair near Voodoo. "Happens a lot in Africa, lately. Between mining, oil excavation, urban development, and constant warfare... lot of old shrines, temples, buried artifacts have been dug up or destroyed. Demons trapped there get loose. African demons like animals, especially the big buggers. Elephants. Rhinos. Hippos." She wrinkles her nose. "I get at least one of those a week, this last year. The demons can keep the animal going past the point where the poor beast would collapse from pain and exhaustion but they can't defy biology entirely. Take out the knee joints first and its an easier time."

Lifting the beer for a sip, Jericho listens intently as she talks about the disturbance of the past and the release of old demons/spirits. There is a nod of his head even, "They were better at containing the loa, those old civilizations, and today, we are better at breaking the ouangas that hold them." As if summarizing what Elsa is talking about but in his own words. "I have to admit, I am unfamiliar with your mean's of stopping the horse, but I'm sure extracting the spirit is much the same. Do you frequently come here between hunting these demons?"

"Here? No." Elsa says with a shrug. She takes a long swallow of her beer, then licks the foam off her lips. "Wished for the lamp to send me to the closest place that had something to drink and an expert in spirits." She slides her hand into one of her pouches and pulls out a dried lizard on a stick. "If you're the expert, this is for you." The lizard pulses with power. A demon trapped inside. "Dad had a case of these. Pokeballs, basically. Sucks up the demon after I defeat them."

A slight rise in his left brow, he reaches a hand out for the lizard curiously. Jericho listens to the talk of pokeballs, "Yes, your lamp choose wisely. The spirit can be appeased and sent on to its world once more. Are you curious of this spirit itself, those spirits still roaming the wilds of Africa ... or are you more interested in visiting the Training Center to see if you can restock your case of Pokeballs?" They are both serious questions and he looks up to the woman to see which one she chooses to take.

Elsa takes another pull from her beer. "As long as it goes where it needs to and doesn't come back, I'm happy. Wouldn't mind more pokeballs down the road. Dad dealt mostly with giant monsters and living hills and evil robots. I've got to deal with demons and vampires and idiot dictators trying to raise the dead to hold onto power."

"It will not come back unless summoned, which is certainly more difficult than finding its cage on earth and releasing it," intones Jericho. Then looking at the woman's eyes, he offers, "Perhaps your lamp knows more than it has let on. Demons and raising the dead is quite the personal interest of mine." A pause to let that hang, "I am Brother Voodoo ... Houngan Surpeme. It seems you wish you had your father's problems, giant monsters and robots, those physical concerns that threaten that which we know. My realm is the mystical. I can offer help, assistance, and advice on your concerns, but I would ask a favor of you as well ...?"

"Elsa Bloodstone." The blonde introduces herself. "And I have dad's problems. I have both sets of problems. Then again, he had ten thousand years of them so..." She shrugs her shoulders. "Pleasure to meet you. I'm not against the idea of teamwork." She reaches back and pulls the shotgun from its holster, then sets it down on the table. She sighs happily. "Better. Thing was digging into my shoulders."

Reaching into his vest, he pulls out a silk pouch, offering it as a new home for the lizard that holds the spirit. "Trappings of the office," he grins in regards to the discomfort of the shotgun into her shoulders. "I am thankful I am not required to carry such a weapon. Your father has leved centuries, but you have taken the family mantle, is this a curse that has come your way?" It would seem he has no interest in living that long, he puts the lizard away and turns to face the woman more directly now.

"Dad died, a few years back." Elsa says, though there's no sadness in her voice. Its just a fact. "He left me... let's just say I've got the job now. I don't mind. I enjoy it. Makes school bloody difficult but university's less interesting than fighting an alien infant lost on the planet."

Pushing his way through the main entrance to the Lounge, the ever dapper Daimon Hellstrom emerges from the night. His eyes quickly scan the bar and he takes note of a familiar face and a lovely woman of epic stature drawn from the Hyborian age. A devilish smile crosses his face and he begins his approach. He calls, in an interruptive (lookitme) pitch, "Voodoo! So good of you to call upon the gods and summon one with such majestic and classical beauty. Tell me, who is your companion?"

In his movemnt, he takes a position flanking the two at the bar (between but two foot back so as not to obscure them from one another).

"School has its place, I completed ..." begins Brother Voodoo as an interruption intrudes itself between the present conversation. "Daimon Hellstrom," he begins, formally, partially in return greeting. With a lift of his hand to the woman, "This is Elsa Bloodstone, a name you may be familiar with." At least her father's perhaps. "The summoning was not mine, you can thank her magical lamp for bringing her to New York." Back towards Elsa, "Here is one quite familiar with demons, though I presume not all your spirits are of the sort he is familiar with."

"I've heard of Mister Hellstrom." Elsa says, offering her hand to the half-demon. "Pleasure to meet you." Once hands are shaken, and Elsa's handshake is a strong, firm one, she continues. "I don't specialize in demons or ghosts or spirits. I'm a monster hunter. I go wherever the strange and unusual is plaguing mankind. What Lovecraft called things man was not meant to know."

Hellstrom smiles, takes the offered hand and cannot help but also take in (with his eyes) the spectacle that is the woman. "Pleasure." He states and then adds, "Wait a moment. As in Ulysses Bloodstone, Monster Hunter extraordinaire? Oh my, how the apple does not fall from the tree."

Taking another drink of his beer as the two greet one another, Jericho ponders at the last of Hellstrom's remark. "Is that an admission on your part?" Then back to Elsa, he offers, "Teamwork, yes ... in return, I must admit that I would ask for you arms and armement should the need arise with various Loa that I seek, some are not so kind to intrustions as I would like." He leaves it there, she can chew on it, ponder monster hunting, and apples.

"That was my dad, yeah." Elsa agrees cheerfully. "Ulysses Bloodstone, monster hunter and immortal. Well, long-lived anyway." She finishes her beer and sets the mug down on the table. "If you need help and you're fighting the good fight, I'm glad to chip in." This she directs to Jericho.

Glancing to Voodoo after Elsa's comment, he raises an eyebrow and states, "What do you think, Voodoo? Would she make a good addition to our little band of those that hold back the midnight?"

There is a distinct nod of Jericho's head to the question from Daimon. "If she is as skilled as she seems to be, I would say she is a definite fit into this band. Finding the monsters we seek is one thing, fighting them has proven a certain challenge. Ms. Bloodstone may be the key stone to the foundation we are building in this battle."

Elsa looks from voodoo priest to demonic man. "Well, seems you blokes owe me an explanation. Maybe another pint." She nods to the barkeep and raises her mug. "I've got at least a dozen more before I feel too much of a buzz."

"Forthcoming my dear, but first we should retire to the more private parts of this lounge. The mundanes need not hear the details we're about to share." Hellstrom notes as he motions with his right hand toward a door at the end of the bar marked Private.

Standing, Jericho takes his beer just the same, "Mundanes and others, but that is in the details." He'll wait for Elsa to go first unless she declines, then he'll wait for Hellstrom. He won't wait indefinitely if everyone is too kind and can't figure out who should go first, he'll just give first rights to decline to proceed to them. All the same, he's quite until they get back to the private lounge area.

"Fair warning, boys. I'm fully capable of ripping both your heads off if I need to." Elsa notes as she slips to her feet. She grabs her shotgun but doesn't holster it, then walks to the Private room. Does she have a wiggle to her walk? With her curves, how could she not?

-----==[ Inner Sanctum - Voodoo Lounge ]==------------------------------------

This is a very large room, though exact size is hard to determine as most of it is blocked off by a large theatrical velvet curtain that runs the width of the room. It is a deep purple and seems to be heavy, blocking light and probably quite a bit of sound as well.

The public side of the curtain is used as a store room. Boxes and crates of booze, snacks and other bar supplies are stacked in an orderly fashion so that whatever is needed can be found with ease. As a storage area the ceiling is open, showing the pipes and beams that go through the building. A few standard hanging lights provide lumination. The walls and floor an undecorated cinderblock/cement conglomeration.

The private area on the other side of the curtain is a stark contrast to the storage area. The floor is tiled in a green marble with gold inlay mystical symbols in each corner. These may be recognized as mystical wards to keep noise from escaping, keep those not welcome out, and another to prevent unwanted magical leakage.

Along two walls are floor to ceiling book shelves filled, not only with books and scrolls, but also other mystical paraphernalia. Along another wall is a heavy wood workbench, over which are shelves containing a variety of jarred supplies. Finally, off center of the room, sitting on a large square oriental rug is a round table, large enough to fit eight comfortably, or more if they got friendly. The requisite wrought iron candlabra stands and candle sconces are around for looks but the majority of the lighting comes from white globes that hang from the ceiling.


Hellstrom follows Elsa, notes her posterior, glances back to Voodoo and makes a gesture with his hands over his own chest and straightens back before reaching the door which he fully intends to open for Elsa. "After you." he states and allows her to pass through the threshhold into the private ares.

Half smirking at Daimon, its unsure if he's agreeing with the man or showing disdain. Still, Jericho doesn't object to noting the wiggle in her walk. Once in the private area and the wards of Topaz, he opens up. "It seems there is a gathering here for the purpose of stopping Lilith in her schemes, Doctor Strange has seen to the mechinations that have drawn us together while not revealing himself and his awareness of her plots." Taking a seat, "This band that Daimon speaks of is charged with defeating her Lilin and finding the thershold she means to utilize to fully materialize on earth." That's the basics at least, some of the details may be fuzzy, and he may have skipped some bits.

Elsa drops her shotgun down on top of a crate and then plops down into a chair, throwing her feet up onto another crate. "There's a few mentions of Lilith in my dad's journals." She admits. "I don't know how much use I'd be against her but she's bound to have plenty of minons. Those I'm handy for. Any info you have is good. I've got a house full of weapons. Monster fighting is all about knowing what weapon to use against what enemy."

Hellstrom crosses the room and has little to offer with the initial setup which was covered by Voodoo. But when Elsa strikes upon the minion aspect, he says, "That's actually our first step. We've no idea where Lilith is or where she intends to open a rift; but there plenty of her Lilin around that need to be destroyed."

Giving a nod himself, Jericho further notes, "There are others responsible with locating the rift, we are merely on call should our services be needed there." That was his take at least, but then, "And yes, the Lilin, that is a prime area we need help. We are capable of fighting them, but we had trouble when one ran from us. If you have a house full of weapons and are good at proverbial knee joints, we are now more competent in our challenge I would venture." He tries to sit back some, putting his back to the back of the chair even, it doesn't feel quite right, he sits upright again.

Elsa smiles at that, "Well, I'll do what I can, then. I'm stronger, faster, more agile, more durable than the average bloke." She explains. "I heal from just about anything rapidly. I can't be killed easily. Same powers as my dad, really." She touches the red gem at her throat. "And I inherited ten thousand years worth of his collection. Weapons, artifacts..." She shrugs.

"Appealing." comments Hellstrom regarding her choker then follows with, "Presently we're seeking a Lilin den. Between Voodoo's loa contacts, Topaz's bar patrons, and my would-be followers, we have ears on the street. We know they are stiring, it's just a matter of finding the one place or individual to strike. They're slippery."

"With enough diligence to allow Ms. Bloodstone to equip herself with the right weapons and are work containing the Lilin so it does not slip away again, we are gaining a foothold into this battle at least," says Brother Voodoo, more open rhetoric now as the move from greetings to real work.

"We just need A Lilin den, right?" Elsa asks as she leans forward. "Not a specific one? We don't need to find it. I have a genie that will do that for us. A while back, my dad got hold of a magic lamp. Djinn. He set it up so that it warns me when monsters are attacking and, best of all, it will take me wherever I wish. I can say 'I wish to be in a Lilin den' and I'll go there." She pauses, "Sometimes she's a bitch, though. She'll send me as close to danger as possible."

Hellstrom smirks and says, "Can't be any worse than the Loa that turned on Voodoo and set us up." which is followed by a chuckle. He's definitely liking the new girl's party favors and interesting toys. Though he remains seated on the side of a table, still engaged visually with his companions.

"What are the chances of the Djinn taking us to a specific Den," ponders Brother Voodoo, "I mean is it a random shot or, if you know the location, the Djinn will comply in getting us there, even if in the thick of danger? I think we need forplanning and information to arm us better with. As Daimon points out, Pie brought us a Lilin when we asked to find the nearest one. That didn't work out so well."

Elsa grabs a bottle of beer from a nearby crate. She examines the label, then shrugs and bites the cap off and spits it out. She takes a swallow. "No, not random. If there's a specific location she'll send us there. We can bring Adam with us. He's good in a fight. You guys might know him as Frankenstein's Monster."

Hellstrom's smile faded during the account of the earlier Lilin encounter that turned out foul. But when Elsa goes into details of her Djinn in a lamp, that smile returns. It only broadens when she mentions Frankenstein's Monster. He comments, "Good to know you can't keep a dead man down."

Pondering Daimon's comment, Jericho looks at him with that curiousity a moment, its passes and he turns back to the discussion at hand. "Any assistance is of benefit, dead or otherwise," says Brother Voodoo. Always on task it would seem with this one. "He is in this aresonal warehouse as well, or can he be summoned through the lamp?" As if that helps him rationalize the moment when it comes down to jumping into Lilin dens.

"He takes care of the house." Elsa explains. "Sort of the caretaker. He and dad became friends years ago and so Adam stuck around. He doesn't go out in the field with me except when I really need it. He's not so much for violence, no matter how strong he is. Plus, we just got Netflix."

Hellstrom had his own housekeeper, Gargoyle, for a time. So he can relate. He however does not comment on it and allows Voodoo to follow a train of thought that he's on with no interruptions.

Sharing with all, Jericho says, "Yes, I imagine the dead are fascinated by Netflix, I'll be sure to ask Daniel when next we speak about his choice of movies for the list." Straight, dead pan, but it was a touch of humor just the same. "I am only curious how much preparations we should consider now to organize coordination of such an endeavor. My assets for this endeavor are always at my disposal, but Adam may be half way around the world. We'll need to make sure your network is open - once our leads pan out and we find a den, we'll need weapons at the ready and everyone to gather here as quickly as possible."

"Well, I'll leave the planning up to you blokes." Elsa notes as she drinks a bit more beer. "I can provide weapons if people need it. I can provide transport. I just need everyone in one place to do it. Great thing about the lamp? It takes phone calls." She pulls her cellphone from her belt.

"Sounds like a date." intones Hellstrom as they come to a head in the conversation. Further he'll be glad to obtain Elsa's phone number and install it into his own phone. After all the collaterals are taken care of, Hellstrom notes, "Now if you all would excuse me..." and will make his exit.

There is a curious glance to Daimon, then a shrug from Jericho, maybe that is his idea of a date. Not that Brother Voodoo considers that a serious notion. If anyone actually wants his number, he'll give it out too. Not that he goes into details of having a phone/cell/mobile device of any sort. As Daimon makes to leave, and does so, Voodoo notes, "I think that sums up the business end. I'll retire to the main room of the Lounge, least any curiosity or suspicion be raised at all of us being un-locatable for so long." He pauses, to see if she's going to stay and enjoy Topaz's personal stash down here or not, but he'll go back up to the main bar himself regardless.

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