Mobius is very glad he's in shape and has stayed in shape. He might be getting older, but good clean living and swords and shields keep him from needing a second to double over and catch his breath.
He keeps the mirror in hand as a makeshift shield, though he'll likely ditch it when he finds something he can hold better and strap to his arm. "How about one of those--what are they...shotguns, you got any shotguns?" Even if his hands are a bit shit, he could probably hold a shotgun pretty well. "Looks like those have some really good stopping power. A magic one would be better."
Just because he knows he's asking too much does not mean he's not going to ask for it. His feet hit the stairs, hot on Strange's tail, when they suddenly slide out from under him.
Because the stairs have folded in to become a slide.
"If we ever," Mobius puffs, shoes squeaking to get traction on the incline, "end up on your actual world, in your actual Sanctum," skidding a few times but finally managing to get momentum, "I'm just gonna stay somewhere else just in case."
The banisters curl up after them as though they've become sentient tendrils. They crash into the marble not-stairs behind him when he reaches, finally, flat floor and starts for the nearest cabinet. The doors of which start swinging open and closed madly, threatening any wandering fingers that come near. Just wood, but that can still do damage aplenty if he isn't careful. There are some spears decorating the walls, and some heftier gear on display behind glass.
Fuck it, it isn't like he's going to have to pay for the damages. He braces an arm and smashes a glass case, and a halberd is not anywhere near his weapon of choice, but it appeals to him a little more than some of the other readily available options.
Another sizzling portal opens, and the Wonginator marches through in the same place they had appeared. The slide snaps back into place as stairs, and Mobius gives a huff, spinning the halberd a few times. Plant his feet for two seconds it is.
"This is going to be unpleasant." It's the only verbal warning he gives Strange, because a loss of magic has got to feel weird, or so he imagines.
He faces the stairs and focuses. It feels...different, this time. Familiar energy gathering inside of him, but somehow to the left. It doesn't simply feel like calling on a divine power that then fills him; it feels like he's drawing it from himself, and it fills him with a tingling surge from his feet and moving up. And it feels like it builds, such that it's difficult to hold within him. The same power, but filtered through a different lens?
"Though all before me is shadow," from his lips, solid and certain, steady, "yet shall the Maker be my guide." Planting the halberd firmly, dropping to a knee, his voice rising, that building energy rising to a fever, "I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond." His body trembles. It's not usually like this. Not even in the Crossroads. And yet, with conviction: "For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light! And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost!"
All at once, flowing out from him, a wave.
The energy itself is sight unseen, but it pushes back against--everything. The halberd in his hand vanishes as though it simply had never been. The floor around him dissipates, moves outward; the display cases cease to be; the cabinets stop flailing when they begin to be undone; the ceiling quivers where it seems a dome touches it, and a hole forms into familiar turbulent sky.
It washes over Strange, with all magic being shut out by will alone.
It washes over the form of Wong, fury on his face, glowing weapon held high in his hands--and he, too, vanishes with a thought.
It doesn't encompass the entirety of the room, but a good portion of it has stopped being. There is ground beneath their feet that also strikes familiar. It is quiet. It looks like the room might collapse in on itself, and yet whatever is left remains standing, but paused, hanging, suspended in this moment.
Mobius braces himself on hands and knees. "It won't last," he says heavily. This, he remembers. Any moment now, it will come flooding back.
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He keeps the mirror in hand as a makeshift shield, though he'll likely ditch it when he finds something he can hold better and strap to his arm. "How about one of those--what are they...shotguns, you got any shotguns?" Even if his hands are a bit shit, he could probably hold a shotgun pretty well. "Looks like those have some really good stopping power. A magic one would be better."
Just because he knows he's asking too much does not mean he's not going to ask for it. His feet hit the stairs, hot on Strange's tail, when they suddenly slide out from under him.
Because the stairs have folded in to become a slide.
"If we ever," Mobius puffs, shoes squeaking to get traction on the incline, "end up on your actual world, in your actual Sanctum," skidding a few times but finally managing to get momentum, "I'm just gonna stay somewhere else just in case."
The banisters curl up after them as though they've become sentient tendrils. They crash into the marble not-stairs behind him when he reaches, finally, flat floor and starts for the nearest cabinet. The doors of which start swinging open and closed madly, threatening any wandering fingers that come near. Just wood, but that can still do damage aplenty if he isn't careful. There are some spears decorating the walls, and some heftier gear on display behind glass.
Fuck it, it isn't like he's going to have to pay for the damages. He braces an arm and smashes a glass case, and a halberd is not anywhere near his weapon of choice, but it appeals to him a little more than some of the other readily available options.
Another sizzling portal opens, and the Wonginator marches through in the same place they had appeared. The slide snaps back into place as stairs, and Mobius gives a huff, spinning the halberd a few times. Plant his feet for two seconds it is.
"This is going to be unpleasant." It's the only verbal warning he gives Strange, because a loss of magic has got to feel weird, or so he imagines.
He faces the stairs and focuses. It feels...different, this time. Familiar energy gathering inside of him, but somehow to the left. It doesn't simply feel like calling on a divine power that then fills him; it feels like he's drawing it from himself, and it fills him with a tingling surge from his feet and moving up. And it feels like it builds, such that it's difficult to hold within him. The same power, but filtered through a different lens?
"Though all before me is shadow," from his lips, solid and certain, steady, "yet shall the Maker be my guide." Planting the halberd firmly, dropping to a knee, his voice rising, that building energy rising to a fever, "I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond." His body trembles. It's not usually like this. Not even in the Crossroads. And yet, with conviction: "For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light! And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost!"
All at once, flowing out from him, a wave.
The energy itself is sight unseen, but it pushes back against--everything. The halberd in his hand vanishes as though it simply had never been. The floor around him dissipates, moves outward; the display cases cease to be; the cabinets stop flailing when they begin to be undone; the ceiling quivers where it seems a dome touches it, and a hole forms into familiar turbulent sky.
It washes over Strange, with all magic being shut out by will alone.
It washes over the form of Wong, fury on his face, glowing weapon held high in his hands--and he, too, vanishes with a thought.
It doesn't encompass the entirety of the room, but a good portion of it has stopped being. There is ground beneath their feet that also strikes familiar. It is quiet. It looks like the room might collapse in on itself, and yet whatever is left remains standing, but paused, hanging, suspended in this moment.
Mobius braces himself on hands and knees. "It won't last," he says heavily. This, he remembers. Any moment now, it will come flooding back.
But now they know. This is all illusion.