Owner	Pose
Polar Boy	Minutes ago, a brief, garbled message comes through to the Legion monitor console: ASSISTANCE NEEDED! The location suggested from the message source coordinates? The gaming leisure planet Ventura, above whose surface float massive casinos. The problem at hand? Violent threats from beyond--but beyond what, exactly? The message was unclear. -- On the floating streets of Ventura, Brek "Polar Boy" Bannin is flung against the ground by a large four-legged red creature that snarls inches from his face, a set of lareg fants complemented by probosces that reach out for the Legionnaire's face. "No no no no no...!" Brek cries, shoving his right arm--made of ice from the elbow down--into its mouth, locking the creature's maw open with a giant block of ice. As the beast attempts to deal with the new obstacle, a dozen others scramble about on the streets ... which are, in response, complete and utter chaos. One by one, the crimson creatures target the power stations for each casino, shutting down the multicolored glow of their neon signs as well as the anti-gravity mechanisms keeping them afloat.
Lydda Jath	Lydda has taken the advice of her friends to get some orientation on life in the 21st century. As a result she's not in the cruiser when the alert comes in. She's in a back alley in New York, demonstrating to some robbers why they should fear the dark. The reasons feature casual tossing of people long distances, taking bullets without flinching and otherwise generally walking through what would be danger with a grin and more than a few homey proverbs about justice and crime. Then her ring blares the alert. "Enough playtime," she decides, rapidly ending the fight with alacrity. "I will leave your unconscious bodies for the authorities. I am needed elsewhere." And with that, activating her flight ring, Lydda takes to the skies. "Legionnaire Lydda Jath reporting in," she says over comms. "Arriving as soon as possible."
Mon-El	As the casinos begin to plummet, endangering the people below, Lar zips through them, grabbing some and tossing them away from populated areas, and blasting others apart with his thermal vision. Hopefully until most civilians are safe from falling buildings.     But now Brek is in trouble, so he's on top of that monster in no time, attempting to grab it and throw it off of his friend.
Polar Boy	One of the creatures--a Dire Wraith--stands on its rear legs and gestures with its forelimbs, and the sky darkens. "With the onset of this eclipse, we will feast--my brothers, harvest the meat from these wretches and gorge yourself! The next step awaits," it chokes out in a voice that sounds like a sputtering exhaust pipe. Gritting his teeth in anticipation of further attack, Brek blinks when Lar relieves him of the immediate threat to his person. "And many thanks for that," he says breathlessly. Then, Brek stands and reaches out on either side of him to create large ice walls between the wraiths and the fleeing humanoids. "Can't really allow any 'harvesting' to happen," he mutters. "All we need to do is--" Another Dire Wraith lopes forward and strikes Brek in the head with a haymaker, and its impact sends the Tharrian to smash through one of those newly-constructed walls. "Say good night, little entree," it growls.
Lydda Jath	The cruiser, a marvel of 30th century engineering, picks up Lydda's communique, tracks her motion as she shoots up into the sky at breathtaking speed, then dematerializes her in flight, dropping her off on the cruiser bridge. "Excellent. Now warp me to that call," Lydda says, pleased as punch that at least one familiar thing is working as she remembers it. Moments later the mighty engines of the mighty Legion Cruiser tear a colourful hole in space, entering it and exiting overhead. Instantly every monitor on the bridge is displaying the chaos. Lydda looks over the displays and then stabs her finger at one of the screens. "There." Nobody hits her friend and gets away with it. "Put me there." Seconds later she wobbles and fades into existence in a spray of colour, right in front of the charging Dire Wraith. "You will learn to fear the Dark!" she says before launching herself at the surprised entity, targeting one of its limbs in an attempt to bend it backward in a debilitating and painful hold. "Brek! Mon-El! Are you two alright?!"
Mon-El	Lar arches a brow at Brek slightly. "What, you're not going to tell me you had that?" he chuckles.     "I'm good..." he nods toward Lydda when she arrives. But then Brek gets punched. "Check on Brek though, will you?" he asks, as one of them starts blabbing about a harvest.     "Not on my watch." the Daxamite mutters, more to himself than anyone else.     He charges at the one who appeared to have been trying to rally the others. There was a good chance it was some kind of leader, right?
Polar Boy	The Dire Wraith yelps in a mix of surprise and pain at the sudden arrival of Lydda and her application of force. "How...?!" it gasps, trying to wrest itself free. Nearby, its companion continues to utter an incantation, and several of those fleeing Venturans nearest collapse to the ground, a faint hazy waft of /something/ rising from their bodies and drifting toward the Wraith mage. All around, the casinos continue to lose power, and with the eclipse overhead entering its full state, the area is blanketed in darkness. The darkness becomes all the more terrifying for most as the casinos continue to drop toward the ground below. Brek grimaces as he sits up slowly, trying to maintain stability under the circumstances. "Who is--Lydda? Is that you?" he asks, blinking. "No way!" His face lights up, and he rises to his feet. "Mon-El! Did you know Night Girl was here? Ha!" He blasts a freezing wave toward the chanting Dire Wraith, but it's fortunately already being air-tackled by Lar, and the casinos' electrical systems flicker, trying to come back on, as the mage is preoccupied with the Daxamite beatdown. "You're in for it now, whoever you all are<" Brek adds. "You picked the dumbest possible circumstances for this fight." The remaining dozen Dire Wraiths respond by turning their full attention to the three Legionnaires--four for each of the heroes.
Lydda Jath	Lydda has great tactical awareness. She teaches it at the Legion Academy, after all. Tactics, that is. And teamwork. "Mon-El!" she calls out. "Incoming. Let's time this!" And the Dire Wraith she's twisting the limb off finds itself airborne beyond its control as she swings it around her head once and throws it in a flat trajectory to hit the same target that Mon-El is going for, timed to hit approximately simultaneously, counting on her Daxamite friend to ensure both hit at the same time. And for show-off points ... because Brek is here and as former co-leaders of the Subs they had a friendly, fun rivalry going on ... she uses the opposing momentum she gained throwing the Dire Wraith to fly into another, boosting it with her flight ring to cause maximum pain where it counts. "Surrender now!" she commands. "I don't want to hurt you!"
Mon-El	Lar grabs the chanting mage and shoves into the path of the incoming projectile body that Lydda just tossed his way, allowing them to slam into each other hard enough to break bones and hopefully knock them both unconscious. He drops them to the ground once they're out, then fires his thermal vision at a third one as it rushes at him.     "Forget it Brek, they never learn anyway." he remarks as Polar Boy comments on their opponents' poor strategic planning.
Polar Boy	With his fellow Legionnaires in the fray, Brek grins and cracks his knuckles. "Well, you know, as the ancients used to say ... 'I can do this all day.'" He causes his ice hand to triple in size as he throws an uppercut at an inbound Dire Wraith, sending it cartwheeling backwards. As three others dogpile onto him, Brek disappears from view--but the Wraiths begin to chatter, their red skin coated with a thickening frost-rime. Their movements slow to what appears to be a painfully limited range, and Brek extricates himself. "You heard the lady!" Brek shouts. "Surrender while it's only mildly embarrassing for you!" The Wraith that had been chanting is barely conscious atop a pile of his brethren. Shakily, he traces a sigil in the air ... and the group of them fades into nothingness, as though they'd never been there. Save for the terror and destruction, of course. The moment the Dire Wraiths leave, the casinos' systems successfully reboot. The anti-grav parameters reorient the area and cease plummeting, and the sky lights up with the gaudy neon glow of various signs and the end of the eclipse overhead.
Lydda Jath	Lydda, focused on the fray she's in, prepares to pick up her Wraith and start using it as a cudgel ... only to have it vanish in her hands. The disappointed look on her face is a wonder to behold. Then she looks around at the devasation the short assault caused and that face turns dark (symbolically, not literally). The sunlight takes away her strength, so she can't leap a mighty leap to Brek, making do with a run and a tackling hug. "You didn't know? I finally joined the party!" she laughs. "Good to see you partner. I talked to Mon-El, Rokk, and Tas on the Cruiser, but you weren't around." She lets him go and looks around again. "How can we help?" she asks, adding, after a gesture to the now-lit sky, "I'll have to do things indoors if it takes lifting."
Mon-El	Lar was about to slam-punch into another Wraith when something even more incredible happens....they actually do the smart thing and retreat, disappearing to goodness knows where.     "Wow," he chuckles. "I take that back, I guess sometimes, some of them -do- learn." Now that the chaos is over, he starts helping to free some trapped citizens from piles of debris.
Polar Boy	Nearly bowled over, Brek laughs--a genuinely happy laugh--and returns Lydda's hug. "The past is finally in good hands, then," he says, and squeezes her shoulder for a moment. "Thank you for being here." He turns and waves to Mon-El. "And to you, too, Lar. Whatever sort of magic that one was using--that seems like something we'll need to get our databases updated on so we know how to deal with it in the future. But for now, I think the best thing we can probably do is just help attend to the needs of those injured or impacted by those things." Following Lar's lead, Brek looks around and steps toward a couple cowering near a small recess in between two buildings. He reaches out a hand. "It's OK," he says. "We're here to help."