Evil's Return (redux) Chapter 2:

[rapter200]

Isaac woke up with a jolt from his nap, second bottle of whisky still in his hand. For some reason he had a weird feeling that he had to be somewhere, he had to be where the mother was. With this thought he grabbed a box of magazines he had hidden in his closet, and then headed outside. While putting the box into the trunk he took out both of his handhelds and reloaded them, sticking them into their holsters on the inside of his jacket. He also made sure to reload his sniper rifle, just in case it was needed.

Isaac knew exactly where to go to find the Mother of Hell, it was really the only place in the area where they could possibly be holding her and it was to that mansion where he was currently speeding towards. Luckily the cops were nowhere in sight. You would think that they would be all over this road, but nope it was completely clear for speeding to his heart’s content.

When he reached the manor he got out of his car and took his sniper rifle from the trunk, using the sling to carry it on his back. Isaac walked into the manor now hungry for some odd reason. He looked around for the dining room hoping that food would be available. Finding the dining room took some time but he did indeed find it and he did find food set up for him to eat. Things were already looking up for him.

[Overcast]

A bit awkward as it was to have been followed to the place he had wandered in the large property Richard felt obliged to answer Abdul's question, what with McCragge being there as well to possibly shed any light he couldn't do. Which was good because he had very little light to use,

"I haven't checked in with anyone at SECA. If I had to make an assumption things are probably going badly. What we do is controversial at best and heretical at worst, and there is always going to be someone to oppose. We blew up a Wyrm in public, and with public incidents politics come into play. The people start to doubt that we can handle it even if we succeeded in protecting her, because we couldn't keep it simple. Forgetting as they do the monumental importance of this girl. No matter how many times she dies she will come back until her destiny is played out and maybe one day when she comes back she will not fall into our hands. We are lucky any time we get to her first and we should protect her with all we had at the chance that she birth the savior of this world. God knows we need it."

He really would enjoy to have someone to spar with right now, but just by assuming his hands were gripping a bit too tightly into a fist. He might not be the best guy to 'practice' fight at the time. He tried to calm himself with soft breaths before turning his head to look at McCragge,

"Getting ahead of myself. You probably know better than I do. Tell him what the men up top are saying, and by extension what we are to do now. Other than protect the girl of course."

He ran his hand through his hair, before slicking it over unconsciously. He really ought to just keep his mouth shut...but he believed in his assignment and would find no patience for those who denied his faith.

[lazy man]

Rob heard Don call him from the dining room and walked out swallowing a small morsel that he had snagged on the way over. His hunger wasn't quite squelched yet, but seeing the dining room table covered in guns, the Warden couldn't help but forget about his hunger briefly. He had never seen one person with so many weapons, and cleaning looked like a chore if anything. But having access to so many guns at once... he was definitely jealous.

"Wow, I could never even think about getting one of these..." Rob said gleefully, even making a move to grab one of the guns that had been cleaned already before he remembering his manners. He allowed his youth and cheerful disposition to shine through without any worries. No point hiding it if he was going to live here for an extended period of time. "Oh, right, heh. I'm Rob Brinford, one of the Wardens assigned as a Protector. Nice to meet you!" he said brightly, extending a hand.

[Arcanum]

Marcus had arrived at the mansion some time late in the afternoon, and after letting both Duncan and Jenkins know he was there, he had retired to the room he had been given. Marcus was, to say the least, very upset. After helping sort out everything at the school, he had been called to meet with an Elder of the Astral Light. He could still hear the Elder's words in his head.

"The Council is calling a meeting," the Elder had told him. "We will have an Elder present, but I doubt our voice will be heard. With every passing day more people favor the Sealers, and I dare say you know what that means. We believe that the Society and the S.E.C.A will help silence any doubts, but we will see the outcome of the meeting when it happens.
"Our meeting, on the other hand, has a different purpose than discussing politics. Some of the Elders are beginning to doubt the Light, and believe that more lives will be preserved if the Chosen is killed. While these Elders don't speak openly of this, many of us are worried that the Sealer's belief will spread to other members. If this happens you might be told to kill Pamelia. I'm here to tell you that you must not obey such an order. No matter what happens, no matter what the highest ranking Elders tell you or order you to do. Marcus, you were chosen to protect this girl's life, and that is the purpose the Light has ordained for you. If the others of our order fall into shadow, you must be their guiding star."

The thought that members of the Astral Light were considering killing an innocent girl was abhorrent. That meeting had left Marcus filled with anger, hate, and confusion, and it was only after several hours of seclusion, meditation, and practicing incantations did he finally feel better. He was still upset, but upset was much better than hatred and anger.

Marcus muttered another incantation has he paced back and forth across his room. A hollow sphere of crystal clear ice formed above his hand. He spoke another incantation and the sphere evaporated as a golden flame took its place. Another incantation; the flame split into four smaller flames, which then began to spin rapidly, creating a ring of fire. Another incantation; the ring crystallized and became ice once again.

Marcus continued these low level practice spells for another half an hour, the simplistic nature of the incantations helped calm him down. Finally when he felt like he would be able to maintain his composure in front of the other Protectors, he left his room and started walking to the stairs. He passed by Pamelia's room and stopped for a moment and listened. He didn't hear anything so he gently eased the door open. Marcus's heart ached a little as he saw the poor girl, curled up on her bed. She looks so vulnerable, he thought. Marcus silently made his way to her bed and pulled her blankets over her. His fatherly deed done, Marcus exited the room, eased the door shut behind him, and started to make his way to the kitchen.

[rapter200]

The seconds on the watch kept on ticking by as Isaac watched the man cleaning his guns. Maybe he should do that himself but then again most of his weapons were Russian made and as such really durable. Something didn’t feel right to him as he sat in his chair chewing his gum. Why did he feel like he needed to be here, he never liked to get his hands dirt with officials, and most of the protectors here were just that except from different organizations. S.E.C.A, The Society, and others who followed the orders of higher-ups, he never liked the idea of someone else giving him orders and it is why he became a Warden, his own man, his own boss. No one could tell him what was right from wrong.

With that thought Isaac spat out his gum into a paper towel he was holding, and then put it into his pocket to throw out later. The flask in his back pocket started to call out to him so he gave into its seduction and took it out. Alcohol can make any situation go by faster he said to himself while taking sips from the flask. He waited for the other protectors to gather into a large group, that is when he would join them. But for now he was content with only his flask.

[DanteFalcon]

Damien was one of the least injured of the group, just a couple scratches from a demon bird he had missed which he had cleaned and bandaged shortly after. Upon arrival at the manor he made sure he had a few clips of spare ammo, his gun was loaded and his hammer was still in working order, free of splinters and the head was still attached tight. Upon completing his routine he started pacing the outer area of the grounds, making a large circle around the manor, his hammer at over his shoulder and pistol at his side.

He hated waiting for enemies to find them. He never had gotten used to how much stronger demons were physically, and the one today was just a reaffirmation of that fact. Perhaps that's why he decided to use the hammer, to prove his superiority by beating the demon to a bloody mass of tissue despite the risk.

He didn't see Duncan on the phone as he was on the opposite side of the grounds at the time. He also noted one of the other protectors shooting the pistols. The man was quite good; leading him to believe he was with whatever that agency was called. The S.C.A.E or whatever. He didn't have much faith in the government since he began hunting demons and had even less faith after the incident today. If they were that good then there wouldn't have been such a mess at the school.

Still allies were allies and his weapons certainly weren't adequate against demons of that strength.

[The Artist Formerly Known as Hawk]

"Wow, I could never even think about getting one of these..."

"Yep, one of the only few perks of working this gig; government funding," Don laughed as the other man began eyeing up the assorted weapons, "they certainly don't skimp on the money!"

As Rob revealed his name, Dons mind flashed back to the files once again, mentally reeling off the information he had on this new Protector. Rob Brinford, 19, Warden, trained in melee combat from near birth, profficiency in close range combat, special abilities; increased tolerances to pain and rapid healing factor (????).

"Colonel Wight. Don Wight," he introduced himself in return, shaking Robs hand, "just call me Don though, not like my rank carries much weight round here anymore. I'd been meaning to catch up with you and the other new guys earlier, but well, day got kinda crazy I guess."

He noticed the young Warden was still shooting furtive glances towards the Colonels vast arsenal, causing Don to smile slightly. "So, see anything you like? What you usually carry'in." Don always had time for any who could appreciate good guns.

[lazy man]

"Well, all I have is a Glock and my old sawed off, other than my knife. The shotgun I won't replace, but the Glock..." Rob picked up a completed M9 and pulled back the slide, listening to the clack it made with a simplistic glee. "I'd prefer something like this, honestly. Really, military grade is just so much better than the weapons I can get..."

Rob felt like he was just being asked if he just liked what he saw, but looking at Don again, he got the feeling that he was being given free reign over most of the weapons on the table. Rob had an almost shocked expression on his face. "...really? I mean, you don't mind if I take it?"

Still with a shocked look on his face, the young Warden raised the empty gun up and pulled the trigger at an invisible target. The pressure of the trigger felt good, and the weight the gun even more so. To be able to so quickly get access to a good pistol... He was beginning to like this job just a little more now.

Shaking off the shock of such sincerity, Rob expressed his gratitude sounding like a kid at Christmas. "Wow, thanks Don! Only other free weapon I've gotten is my knife, and that was years ago!" He couldn't help but keep grinning as he looked the M9 over, until a thought dropped into his head. "Say... you wouldn't happen to be able to get me something else, would you? I've always wanted something in a one-handed automatic, a machine pistol or SMG. Like a TMP or an Uzi..."

The thoughts of having an automatic weapon in one hand and a shotgun in the other made Rob feel like something out of a movie, even if he actually do it. Although if he could get a good axe or sword too...

"Oh I am definitely going to like it here," Rob thought, waiting for Don's response to his request.

[Toastburner B]

There was a reason why McCragge Manor became home to the Mother of Hell.

Well…a reason beyond freak chance that Duncan McCragge was the one who confirmed her existence.

McCragge Manor, as it turns out, happened to boast one of the most impressive anti-demon defenses in the United States, certainly in the western US. True, there are a handful of places on the continent that are better defended, but those are either headquarters of secret orders or monasteries…not really a place to raise a teenage girl.

Since the manor was built in the 1800s, several generations of McCragges had maintained, added to, and strengthen the wards that protected the house from demons…making almost impregnable to their kind.

The key word here, of course, is “demons”.

Wards just don’t work against people. The current theory is that wards work by disrupting a demon’s “anchor” on this world, which explains why most demons can’t cross them at all, but more powerful blood-summoned, hybrids, and greater demons may have the strength to push through them.

So, while the defenses around McCragge Manor would of stopped anything short of a greater demon, humans could walk in and out with no problem…humans including hell cultists and renegade demon hunters. So, when Pamelia became a resident of the manor four years ago, a robust and cutting edge surveillance system was installed. However, unlike the nearly 200 years the McCragges have had with the anti-demon defenses, SECA has only had four years to try to discover all the secret hideaways and blind spots in their defenses…and truth be told, they never had much reason to look for those spots. Stealth isn’t really the forte of renegades and cultists.

So, it shouldn’t be too surprising when only one of the SECA troopers on the grounds saw something weird. However, a search of the area and review of the security tapes found nothing out of the place.

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Before Duncan could explain the situation, his phone rang again. He excused himself, glad to be free of the duty being the bearer of bad news. Surely, the myriad of Protectors would hear through more official channels than him, and besides; they were here for a good meal after a long, hard, bad day.

Once he was around the corner from the others, he answered the phone, however, before he could speak, the caller began to talk: “Mr. McCragge, it seems that your security is somewhat lax.”

“I’m sorry, who is this?” Duncan asked into the phone.

“Don’t interrupt, you haven’t got the time. They’re coming for her tonight. Fast, stealthy, quiet. The fact that your haven’t raised the alarm yet leads me believe that they got inside the mansion undetected, seeming as they were set to start their operation five minutes ago.”

“Who is this?” Duncan asked again, growing irritated and worried in equal measures.

“You really should stop talking to me and check on the Mother,” the man on the other end said.

“And I should trust on this why?” Duncan said, his nerves starting to get the better of this temper.

“Charlotte asked me to call.”

Duncan dropped the phone, not bothering to hang up, and sprinted towards Pamelia’s room.

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Jared yawned as he walked down the hallway towards his room. As penance for his mess up in the school today, he had spent all day out in the hills studying and re-learning his exorcisms and sword skills, determined not to be such a screw up the next time. His own superiors hadn’t bought the excuse of ‘I only had a sword’ when they interrogated him on his performance against the beast, saying that for centuries the Order of the Blade had fought the Dark with little more than the blades in their hands.

Jared wanted to point out that was before the invention of guns and people who used them, but he wisely to say quite and take the condemnation of his actions stoically.

He was still muttering exorcisms under his breath as he turned down the hall towards his room, a dark shadow crossed the hall. This was interesting considering the hall was well lit. Being an exorcist, Jared was well acquainted with various and assorted things that could cast dark shadows in lighted hallways, but he was pretty sure Duncan would of gotten that sort of thing taken care of a long time ago.

With a shrug, he started to walk again. Likely it was his imagination playing tricks on him. After all, he’d been reading exorcisms most of the day, and those aren’t exactly the most light and uplifting things you could read. He did however, take note of where the shadow had crossed the hall, and when he reached that spot, he came to stop.

Of course, the shadow had crossed the hall and gone into Pamelia’s room. Why wouldn’t it?

He paused. Pamelia was likely in her room. If anything dangerous had gone in there, she would of screamed or something. However, all was peaceful. It was probably nothing.

…Then again, if it was dangerous, she might not of had a chance to scream.

He put his hand on the doorknob, and paused again. If it was nothing, he was likely barging in on her while she was sleeping. Considering the events of the day, it was a well earned sleep, and it would be shame to wake her up…not even to mention the fact that him sneaking into her room while she was sleeping would give off a creepy panty raid vibe.

He scoffed at himself. “For crying out loud, man, you’re peeking into her room to make sure she’s alive and well, not because you’re a peeping tom.” He berated himself.

Slowly, positioning himself so that he would block out more of the light that came from the hallway, he opened the door into Pamelia’s room.

“We’re not getting paid enough for this,” a voice whispered.

“Shut up,” another voice answered, “the money’s fine.”

“For killing a girl in her sleep? Screw that, I’m not going to be able to sleep for a month after this.”

Needless to say, by this point, Jared had heard enough. He stepped back, drew his sword, and kicked the door in. “Hey!” he yelled.

Who figures clad in black stood in the room. They wore SWAT-style body armor, right down to the helmets and face-covers, so Jared couldn’t tell who they were. However, one was looming over Pam’s bed with a long knife, while the other man stood behind him, his hand resting on a holstered pistol. Both seemed surprised by the sudden appearance of Jared.

Jared used this surprise to full effect. He leapt at the knife-guy first, with a back-hand slash left a deep cut on the man’s knife arm, causing him to drop it fan jump back with a bellow of pain.

Jared spun, looking to take the gunman out before he could draw his weapon. The strike was true, and should of caught the man in the stomach. However, at the last second, the man came ghost-like, and the blade passed right through him and stuck in the wall behind him. The man calmly side-stepped, and rematerialized after the blade was no longer in his body. “Why are there so many kids in this house?” he muttered to himself, drawing his pistol, flipping it expertly in his hand, and cracking Jared across the skull with the butt of the pistol. Dazed from the blow, Jared lost his grip on the sword and the strength in his legs and collapsed to the floor.

“Freakin’ kid cut my freakin’ wrist!” the guy with the knife snarled, “I’m freakin’ going to bleed out!”

“No your not, you pussy.” The gunman snarled. “Not so squmish about when you’re the one doing the cutting,” Jared hear the man mutter hunter his breath.

A flash of movement came from the hallway. Duncan slid to a stop in the hallway, throwing knife in hand. He threw the knife so fast and so hard that the incantation to activate the sigil on it wasn’t even completed before it struck its target. The gunman howled and dropped his gun as the knife dug into his hand, even more so when the sigil flared to life. The cradling his arm, and grabbing his compatriot with his other, the gunman ghosted again, dragging both him and the wounded knifeman through the wall to outside the manor. In his dazed state, Jared wandered if they knew that they weren’t on the ground floor…

He felt hands grab him under his arms and haul him to his feet. “Come on, Jared,” Duncan grunted as he lifted the young man. “Pam! We got to get you to the safe room. Hurry!”

The “Safe Room” was the pride and joy of McCragge Manor’s defenses. Imagine your standard panic room, with it’s nearly impenetrable walls, and combine that with a series of sigils that, when activated, would wipe out any form of magic energy they came in contact with. Basically, the room was human proof, demon proof, and magic proof.

Shame it was in the basement, and who knew how many of those shadowy guys were between here and there.

((OOC: Yay, more baddies! But this time, with a slight twist. Unlike what you’ve faced off against so far, which has been a bunch of demons that were “charge first, kill second, ask questions never”, you got a skill group of humans that will favor stealth over direct combat. They are armed only with knives and pistols, and are protected with body armor. In their favor, however, the have the ability to “ghost”, which, if you read the above, gives the advantage of being able to phase through walls (including the floor and ceiling if they so choose, by the by), and of making them harder to see. If faced with superior firepower, they will likely ghost into a nearby room to change their angle of attack, or simply book it. Of course, their primary target is Pamelia, so they will likely avoid the Protectors if possible.

What does this mean to you the player? It means that you’re facing off against skilled, smart humans, so no racking up the body count on this one. Think more “cat and mouse” than “massive suicide charge”.))

[The Artist Formerly Known as Hawk]

Don smiled when he saw Robs face light up as he handled the new handgun with expert proficiency. "Haha, 'course you can have it, not like I can use all of these weapons myself!" He leaned forwards slightly, his hand slightly covering his mouth aas he continued the next sentence in a more conpspirital tone, "and it's not like I paid for most of them either!! Besides, you clearly have excellent taste in weaponry, the M9 is a fine gun, although I prefer the SIG personally," he told the Warden picking up his standard sidearm, "smaller, lighter, more variety in ammo types, I could go on..."

And he really could; if Don liked to talk about one thing, it was guns alright. "As for SMGs, well, the only one I really use is my good old P90," he patted the now re-assembled weapon affectionately, "my pride and joy, there's really no other contender. But I could certainly put in a request to my QM, see what we can rustle up for you."

Suddenly Don sat bolt upright, his head cocked at a slightly odd angle, as if he was listening intently. He had heard something... raised voices maybe?? A scream of pain quickly followed, then what Don could clearly tell was more shouting. Slowly he rose to his feet, picking up his P90 and sliding in a magazine.

"Kid, better load up that gun... we're being fucked!" Raising the weapon to his shoulder he quickly made his way out of the room, and headed for the stairs to Pamelias room.