Plotlogs
Paimon Game On Sr Tabitha 241013
In the gritty underbelly of a dilapidated apartment complex in Boston, a tense and dramatic confrontation unfolds. Novel, a surly and determined man, brandishes his blade with a purpose that has been burning within him for weeks since his home was violated by a member of the Destined Host. Alongside him are Fayad, a self-proclaimed wizard nursing a bite wound; Lepia, who resists being simply labeled as a wizard; Lilah, waking from a nap to find herself thrust into the middle of an urgent quest; and Emmanuel, always ready with a rifle and a slightly sarcastic remark. Their target: a woman named Paula, a recent and unwilling recruit of the Destined Host, now a sacrifice on the run.
The group navigates through the dark and decaying corridors of the apartment complex, armed not only with conventional weapons but also the unique magic each of them harbors. Lepia, wielding the threads of magic with a delicate balance of power, provides an almost ethereal support, while Fayad's commitment to the cause is clear despite his reservations about their violent path. Emmanuel, ever the pragmatist, opts for non-lethal means to subdue the opposition, signaling a complex morality amidst the chaos.
As they confront Paula, the stark reality of her situation and the broader implications of their mission come to light. Confined and abused, Paula's plea for help is a mirror reflecting the personal traumas and vulnerabilities of the group, especially Lilah, who sees in Paula a fragility and strength she deeply understands.
Novel stands ready to exact vengeance, his anger momentarily pausing at Lilah's intervention. Her compassion and the promise of sanctuary cut through the tension, proposing a different path—one of healing and redemption rather than continued violence. The decision to take Paula not to Haven but to a safe location in Peru marks a pivotal moment of choosing mercy over retribution, complicating the narrative of good versus evil that they've been navigating.
As external threats close in, Emmanuel's quick thinking and Novel's reluctant restraint pave the way for their escape. Using the pathing plane—a risky but necessary maneuver—they vacate the scene, leaving chaos in their wake yet preserving the life they came to save. The group's departure is not just a physical journey but also a metaphoric dive into the unknown, each member grappling with the shadows of their past and the flickering hope for a future less burdened by the weight of darkness.
The story concludes with the disparate group, bound by circumstance and driven by varying motives, forging ahead. Their mission intertwines fate with free will, challenging each character to reckon with their ghosts while striving toward something resembling redemption. In Paula, they find not only a victim to save but also a mirror reflecting their own shackled spirits, yearning for liberation. As they traverse the precarious path away from the scene, the true journey unfolds within, marking the beginning of an uneasy and uncertain road to absolution.
(Paimon? Game on!(SRTabitha):SRTabitha)
[Sat Oct 12 2024]
In Novel's Apartment -- Haven, Massachussets
The tranquil living room has floor-to-ceiling walls lined in light-colored handmade terracotta Danish bricks, pale polished concrete floors and Douglas fir timber ceilings, and is furnished with a massive leather sectional couch pressed against the corner between the entrance and the kitchen door, allowing for the wrap-around view and luxurious comfort. A low white birch table providing a setting space before it.
The bare raw brick surrounding the fireplace across from the couch is mounted in the central south-western locale of the apartment which serves the dual function of additional heating and the lovely view of flames during the winter months.
A designer has chosen to clad the walls with black painted wood slats, and adding black floating shelves lining the other walls to provide space for a few carefully curated decorative objects. Layered rugs define the seating area and twin floor lamps add symmetry and ambient lighting. The rest of the decor is kept minimal to keep the focus on the architecture of the room.
It is about 55F(12C) degrees.
"Alright so," Novel drawls out with a mixture of irritability and annoyance, his dragon-stylized messes blade hefted in hand and on shoulder, resembling a big knife, resting on his shoulder and strapped with armor, poison, and a crossbow. "About a few weeks ago some bitch from the Destined Host broke into my goddamn house with a blood-drinking demon-summoning artifact thing. Then our buds showed up, and then her husband showed up to nab her also wearing the same fucking symbols, took her, took the artifact. Me, I'm honestly just tired of people breaking into my house and thinking they can get away with it. Plus that shit probably shouldn't be left around. So I want you uh... whatever you call yourselves. Wizards." He manages, lamely, to Fayad, Lepia, and Lilah, lifting his chin. "Track them down. And then we'll follow them, kick their ass, etcetra. Who knows, maybe it'll lead to a storage warehouse we can burn down on the way out." It is the roughest and crudest parts of a 'plan' with about as much thought as you could expect from the man.
"I'm Lepia." Lepia says, in a deadpan voice, in response to Novel saying 'whatever you call yourselves'. "Calling me a wizard I think is either too little or too much justice towards what I do."
Lilah chokes out a little laugh at the term 'wizard' being applied to her, but takes a moment to rake hands through her sleep-mussed hair and try and straighten out clothes wrinkled from a long nap on a lumpy couch. There's a hand pressed to her back in an effort to stretch out muscles getting more and more aggravated with her. Clearly, she's just come straight from a nap, trailing along behind Fayad and Emmanuel. Time passes as Lepia answers, and then she says, "I can try. Helps if I know the person or have some sort of item of importance to them to center on but... sure."
Fayad quietly nods, a serious expression on his face. "I'm a wizard, at least," he murmurs, nursing a bite wound on his right arm. "I can do it with a name, have that much, maybe? Or an image. Photogrpah, security camera, anything?"
"Too little, too little, too little. Little like.. a worm. Itty bitty." Emmanuel does his best to emulate Lepia's usual unusual cadence of speech with a faintly amused cant of the lips, before growing more serious as he directs his attention back over toward Novel, "Oui. This is a plan." A little bit of a messy plan, but a plan none-the-less. He ejects the magazine of his rifle then, or clip, or whatever the proper term is, and checks the loaded rounds. Quartz-infused. Just in case.
Without a name, or a photograph or something of theirs that could link back to the person specifically, even a ritual won't provide much information, if any at all.
Novel fishes around inside inside his jacket. He snorts a laugh and flashes Lepia a grin which turns to something more savage as he turns his gaze to Lilah and Fayad. "Well. The artifact electrocuted the fuck outta me and stole a bunch of blood. Still have scars on my feet from it. You can just use my blood, right?" He suggests.
Novel says "and not unless Frenchie here recorded it with his cameras"
"If I want to find out where -you- are," Lilah says dryly to Novel. I'm not sure that I'm powerful enough to use your blood now to find your old blood, assuming it hasn't been used in rituals." She frowns apologetically, and then says, "Maybe what I -can- do is get Order's scouts looking for them for you? Fayad can try the ritual if he wants, and I'll see what Order can do. This chapter might not be doing much right now, but you know... the scouts really are top tier.""
"If I want to find out where -you- are," Lilah says dryly to Novel. "I'm not sure that I'm powerful enough to use your blood now to find your old blood, assuming it hasn't been used in rituals." She frowns apologetically, and then says, "Maybe what I -can- do is get Order's scouts looking for them for you? Fayad can try the ritual if he wants, and I'll see what Order can do. This chapter might not be doing much right now, but you know... the scouts really are top tier."
Other means, however, are at Disruptor disposal, however, when magic is not the answer. Blood is still Novel's own blood, but his could potentially be used, to see into the past should there be a sensitive in the space who could tap into memories. But it is a stretch.
Fayad says "So this is the Destined Host, right?"
Fayad says "It might actually be about the fucking archfiend that I had a defector from come into the arcanists the other day. I'll ask the guy who came and quit his job if he knows anything about this."
Fayad turns aside and starts speaking into his pendant - his recent encounter with SRIllyana might actually have something that could help with this, if it was woven together. If not, no big deal - just another random Host plot clashing into another by coincidence.
"Oui, they are very good at scouting out parties to attend," Emmanuel opines sarcastically aside to Lilah, always happy to make fun of the local chapter of the Order. There's a squint aside to Fayad at his comment then as the Frenchman parses it, and then clucks his tongue gently, "Good idea, mon ami."
Lepia tilts her head somewhat at the mention of the artifact coming into contact with Novel. Her hand twitches gently, as she blinks a few times, before commenting, "All things leave traces; marks on weave, weft, thread. A spark, a shock, leaves a singe, a current. If we replicate the current, we should be able to follow where else it resonates, I would imagine."
"Describe the woman, as much detail as you can, Novel?" Lilah asks, already dialing a number on her phone, to try and get ahold of a scout she's worked with in the past. She nods to Fayad, as he suggests another method, while idly flipping off Emmanuel. She doesn't even look annoyed by what he's said, really. It's just a sassy response because... it's her. She nods again to Lepia and murmurs, "Three way assault. We'll find her."
Novel nods at Fayad's inquiry. "Yeah, the girl's husband had a big ass cloak with their symbol on it - won't fucking forget that - and two of our own back when we were serving Gonth." He practically spits out that lash word. And he grins. "Fuck am I glad to be friends with you people." He pulls out an unmarked inhaler. "Oh, the girl? Sure. Wedding ring, pale skin, kinda thin, crazy bloodshot green eyes, smelled of brimstone and stimulants and cheap coffee and had a lot of cloying odors of clove cigs and the man who came in with her.. " He goes into a weird amount of detail about how she smelled, which comes out with a lot of somewhat useless and creepy personal information.
Novel shrugs and - steps up to Lepia, presenting an arm - and an empty needle. Apparently he had some thoughts ahead of time. "Help yourself."
Contacts are contacts, so Fayad is welcome to try to get information from the man in question. Lilah's phone, comically, rings and rings and rings, to a point that she might consider hanging up. Howevever, soon a man answers, asking with a drowsy, just woke up voice, "Hello?" For Lepia, some preparation is required.
Lepia is going to need much more assistance for what she intends.
"Going to need much more. Much much more. Mmmmm...." Lepia peers at his arm, tilting her head, circling around him for a moment, a certain feral gleam in her eyes.
"Jose, my guy," Lilah greets and then meanders off to a corner of the room to have a full on chat that starts with, "How's the wife? And your baby?"
It might go on for hours that way, knowing her, but she manages to rein it in after just a couple of moments of rapport-building chatter. "I've got a major favor to ask," she says next, more seriously, and then passes off Novel's information to her contact. "I know it's bad," she commiserates with him. "But if you can get us some visuals of women in the Host looking like her at all? Novel can pick her out of a photo lineup, I'm sure."
There's a pause and then she says, "I mean, we -could- go to Temple's intelligence. Emmanuel's here and he could get them on the line. They'd be able to find her. But you're my guy, Jose. And you do owe me for sending me after a -cat- last time. Come on, please?"
Novel repockets the inhaler. Something for a later date. A suspicious squint at Lepia. "Like"
Novel repockets the inhaler. Something for a later date. A suspicious squint at Lepia. "Like what, exactly?"
"More power. More resources. More links. More threads." Lepia bobs her head a few times.
Jose seems pleased as a pickle to hear from Lilah and there is some chatter back and forth about the wive and the kid, and a humorous regaling of her conquest of a cat. "Anyhow, Li, sure, I can do that for you. Give me a little to compile some of the data we have on the Host. But they recycle their members alot. More like, they play with demons, they get the horns, you know?"
Lepia, in her roundabout way is right. It is not that she needs more blood, but she needs more power behind her spell. Knowledge is only half the battle!
Novel pauses at Lepia. Details fall together. He groans. "Emmanuel has a taser."
"Thanks bud. I've got a beer with your name on it, next time you're in town. Better yet if that's after January and I can drink one with you," Lilah quips. "Just quick as you can, thanks?" And she's off the phone, turning to say to Novel, "Jose's going to put together some photos for you to see if you recognize any of the women. He says you may have no luck though - bitches die fast when they play with demons," she muses as she walks back across the room to sink onto the couch. Then, with a side-eye at Emmanuel, she says, "You make a really great carrot. Thanks, Emmanuel." Only then does the comment about tasers sink in, and her eyes widen. "Uhhh... why are we tasing people?"
Fayad quietly converses with the Disruptors' recent vassal, the man having essentially joined the ranks of the nameless society arcanists in return for safety and protection from his former comrades.
There's a slow blink from Emmanuel as he glances between Lepia, Novel and Lilah, "Carrots, and tasers?" The Frenchman wonders, clearly confused, while otherwise waiting for the others to pull in favours, and employ assets.
Lilah's phone dings, rapidly, as picture after picture start rolling in. "Take a look at some of these. Theyve had a couple deflectors lately so I can't tell you for sure that these are current, but it'll be a start." They are all women that Jose has sent. They are all pale, frail, and slim. Emmanuel's taser will come in handy later, no doubt, but hardly power enough to power a spell. Fayad's contact says, "Man, we have a lot of women in the ranks. But I can't tell you --- oh. Yeah. Wait. There was this one. She tried to overtake the Boston chapter leader. But I need more assurance, they're still out to kill me. If I say more."
Fayad responds with a bit of annoyance, "I suppose I did only agree with you that you'd work curses for me in return for safety. Fine," he mutters. "Think Lilah might have it handled.."
"You know, carrot to make the donkey move," Lilah helpfully finishes her little phrase. "Telling Order I can get Temple on it helps." She smirks, then pushes back to her feet to hold out her phone toward Novel. "Here. Look through those and see if you see her. Just uhh, don't go back more than..." She counts quickly. "Twelve pics."
One little oopsie slide of a finger though... Whats thirteen instead of twelve right?
Novel jabs himself and leaves the fresh blood-filled needle with Lepia, stepping away from the moff that's starting to creep him out with the circling and shifts, leaning down to scan over the photos that Lilah presents. He squints. "Man. I really wish these had smell-o-vision with the photos," As he scrolls through, looking for the details he can pick out. "If one of them has a wedding ring...."
Lepia finishes her circling, taking the ampoule of blood and peering to Emmanuel, tilting her head. "Need the spark, please."
The spark, as it were, is handed over toward Lepia at her request, "Be careful, hm?" Emmanuel adds as he passes her the device.
Each picture looks quite similar to the next. They have a type, for certain. One in particular might stand out more in his mind. A young lady, though in the picture much more fresh faced. Probably a new recruit. She is smiling here. She is happy, and unsuspecting. There is no wedding ring, but she does look familiar.
"If all you can point out is a wedding ring... we might never find her, Novel," Lilah says with a small grimace. Were he to look past those twelve though, all he's going to find is a simple photograph of her feet. Why? Who knows why someone might take such a picture, really.
Lepia fiddles a bit with the taser, uncertain of it, uncertain how to make it work. "... Do you know how this works? What does it do."
Fayad sighs. "Come here, Lepia," he mutters. "You need a metaphorical spark, right? I'm basically an inferno at this point, even though I might not look like it." He extends his relic gauntlet, as if to shake hands.
Novel rolls through the images twice, and then - he gives Lilah a glance. "Extra income?" He jokes about the feet and then slides back onto the smiling one. The only smiling one. He taps that image. "This one." He says, firmly. "Planning. Happiness. Not drained out yet."
"Yeah. Sucks being a broke college kid," Lilah says to Novel without hesitation, although there's undeniable amusement in her eyes at his assumption. When he chooses a woman, she nods, quickly loading the photo into a new text message back to Jose with the request: 'Full workup on this one. Name. Address. Powers. Anything you've got, pls! <3' Over to Lepia and Fayad she says, "I'll have a name for you in a moment, hopefully, and we can work on pinpointing her with your magic?"
Lepia nods a few times, fervently so, before taking out some thread from the pocket at the front of her baja jacket, beginning to make loops and whorls with it, in preparation. She sets the ampoule down in front of her, and begins to weave the thread carefully, fingers working deftly.
Lilah recieves a text back from Jose in short order, maybe she did actually light a fire under his arse. Name: Paula Green. Age: 19. Hair: Brunette. Eyes: Green. Other details include that she had first been seen as part of the host only a few months ago. There is a status there too: Missing.
Novel grins at Lilah easily, murmuring back, "Hey, get ahead any way you can, right?" And then he wanders over to the fireplace. There's a prepared set of logs, tinder, all of it looking to be hauled straight from the forest and cut by hand. And there, he lights a fire, opening the chimney. The pop and crackle of flames. Maybe he just like fire. Or maybe it is cold.
"Truth. OF rocks," Lilah quips to Novel in a teasing tone, before she rattles off the details as Jose feeds them to her. "Paula Green's her name. Age 19. Brunette with green eyes, a member of the Host for only a few months. Probably why she's still alive. Or well... she might not be now. She's been reported missing. Probably just by her family. She's probably deep in the cult by now. Or fish food," she offers a little too casually, all things considered.
'Thanks, guy. You're the best. :beers_emoji:' she texts back to Jose, then pockets her phone.
"You got this?" she wonders of Lepia and Fayad. "Or need my help? I'm not great if I don't -know- a person." And she's distracted, looking over at Emmanuel for some reason, and stifling a soft laugh.
Emmanuel whistles innocently, ticking his gaze over towards the wizards as they work, and bouncing his brows ever so slightly upwards. He isn't a very magically inclined person, given the nature of it, but he at least tries to follow along with what they're up to.
Fayad shrugs. "I can do a scry just with a name and a face. Should work fine. If not, we'll just bust down some innocent person's door.", he quips.
Lepia will need more than a spark from Emmanuel's taser, and more than Fayad's fire to get enough power to get her spell to work with a woman who may or may not be missing. But should Fayad and Lepia work together to build the power? Magic ... when can you count on it?
"Need your help, yes." Lepia once again bobs her head, weaving the threads together into an elaborate circle, surrounding the ampoule of blood. She gestures to Lilah first, then pointing to a part of the circle, and then to Fayad, and another part of the circle. "Sit sit sit. Three is an important number. Emmanuel She then gestures to him, pointing to the threads. "The taser upon my signal, please please please."
Fayad is surprised by this - "Hm? Okay, well, I'll...I'll deal with this first," he mutters, sitting down in the circle where Lepia indicates, folding his claw across his lap.
Lepia stands up, walking over to Fayad and adjusting his claw to be grasping onto one part of the circle of threads. "Hold tight. Hold hold hold. Even though it will hurt."
Lepia says "It -will- hurt."
Three is an important number. Even a mundane man such as Emmanuel knows this. The power of three has been baked into the collective unconscious of humanity, and it's power cannot be denied. The Frenchman plucks up his taser, and shifts closer to Lepia, prepared to do as she'd asked, when she asks.
"Do not tase me. I will bite you," Lilah warns mildly, playfully even as she looks from the oh-so-innocent Emmanuel to the circle. That brings a grimace to her lips, but the redhead - with a look to Novel that reads 'the things I do for you!' - walks over and lowers her ungainly body to the floor where Lepia has asked her to be.
Lilah plus baby technically makes it four!
And what a baby it is. Imagine the power that courses throught it's forming veins!
Novel steps over to the lightswitch. And then - click. The lights go. The normally bright, luxurious room, plunged into darkness. Fortified walls and doors. Concrete floors, icy cold. And illuminated merely by the flickering, hot flames, lengthening the darkness. It's ominous. And then he walks back over, flashing Lilah a thankful smile. And then... "This is basically what the room fucking looked like." And he steps over, curious, observing the circle.
"We work with what we have, Maiden..." Lepia gestures to herself, then gestures to Lilah, "Mother...." Then, she gestures to Fayad. "Crone. That which has yet to transmute, that which is transmuting, that which has been transmuted." She then grasps onto the tangle of threads, formed into a circle. She hums lowly, faint orbs of light emerging from her free hand, circling around the threads arrayed below. They transmute in turn, flickering into a mirror image of the flames. "Focus focus focus. Together, breathe in cadence, together with the flames, they dance, dance, dance." The flames begin to spin around the circle of threads.
Fayad looks vaguely saddened at being called a crone, but he just takes it and stares into the flame instead, prepared to permit his energy to be drawn upon.
Lilah draws in a breath, but leans slightly to one side to muse to Fayad, "It has nothing to do with your age, or your old woman-hood," she assures him, still too playful for the serious moment - she took a nap, guys. But then she steadies herself, hands resting atop her belly with fingers laced together, as she starts to breathe in the cadence Lepia asks for.
Lepia gestures with a hand around a loop of the threads, a tangle of it surrounding the blood at the center, a linkage from the whole into the ampoule. She then waves at Emmanuel, before pointing at the threads, saying, "Additional shock, in cadence with the flames; channeled through conduit, conceit, confluence. Use the box that draws forth lightning, there, there, there."
As the magic builds, and reaches a crescendo, thanks to the combined efforts of the wizards, including the crone that Fayad is, the fire that Novel had built in his fireplace whooshes out in one harsh, hurricane-esque gale, sending clothing and hair into tizzies. There is an image that rises from the elecrified, now bubbling blood, the scent of it filling the nostrils of all there, acrid and pungeant. The image is of a woman, no longer happy and carefree. She looks far older than nineteen. Her hair is dirty, she looks like she needs a shower. She is huddled in what appears to be a dilapidated apartment somewhere in Boston.
Lepia gives a tittering laugh as the taser's shock runs through the threads, tingling along her arms, her hair standing up on end from the electrical current. Her eyes are wide, staring at the woman's face, a rictus grin stretching across her face as she lets the illusionary flames dance around the circle.
Fayad's eyes dart around the scried scene for an identifier - address number, anything...
"Magic leaves a trace. People may start to realize we're looking for her, now. If they care and choose to move or protect her, we'll be in trouble," Lilah mutters softly, as the spell dies away. She doesn't look overly concerned, despite such being incredibly different from how her own magic usually works; she's seen much. "Is that her, Novel? If so, we need to get on the move. It'll take time to get to Boston."
Novel leans forwards as the image forms, the crackle of power, his eyes gleaming with a desire of vengeance and mayhem. He leans forwards, nostrils flaring, a bloodhound. And to the image and the flames, as he tightens his grip on the blade. "You!" He calls out to it, answering Lilah's question. He pulls out the inhaler. A depression. A jet of chemicals. A shiver of his body, a terrible thing as he casts the empty plastic aside on the concrete clattering. And then he steps forwards and swing his blade. It catches onto the edge of the image, fire erupting. And he begins to cut straight through the air.
Everyone head north.
Fayad says "Building's on the south side of boston, I see it's 323-"
Fayad says "Oh, shit, you got it-"
"Weave, weave, weave...." Lepia's fingers dance, the tangles of the threads beginning to dance and waggle from her manipulations, "Truth into lies, lies into truth, obscure what is, reveal what isn't. Traces traces traces, none of them left...." The innumerable threads billow out from her fingertips, aiming to conceal, to mislead, away from where they are going, revealing a thousand different possibilities.
Lepia's magic is still being affected by Lilah and Fayad, and their combined skill and knowledge, however, only so much can be done to conceal a large group as they are. Fortunately, on the path, there is no need to conceal oneself, unless someone unfortunate steps off of it, pushed from it. There are eyes, inhuman, that follow them.
Fayad is in the Path for the very first time in his life and is scared shitless, staying VERY close to Emmanuel, clutching at an arm to keep himself safe.
Novel commits violence and wrath. It is what he excels at, as he tears through the veil and creates an opening - stepping through. Leading. He cares not for the many staring eyes, the darkness. His eyes are on the path, pupils dilated terribly by whatever he took. This place he remembers, walking endlessly, especially when crammed full of many things, his brain so far detached. "Follow," He demands, as he stalks deeper in along the path.
"You... know how to path," Lilah says to Novel. She sounds annoyed by this revelation, and her eyes narrow on him for a few moments, before she shakes her head. Clearly he's in no mood for a lecture, or for having his pants set on fire. He's on the warpath. "Right. Well..." And they're off. She keeps her arms wrapped around her belly as she walks, shoulders ever-so-slightly hunched to ensure that she's sheltering that unborn babe, instinctively.
Lepia follows, of course. It is something she was just fine at, the flickering illusionary flames dancing on her fingertips.
Emmanuel does as bid, and moves to follow, though not without first offering Lilah a hand up from the floor, given her less than flexible state, and then extending that same hand to Fayad to hold his own. It's totally cool, bro. Handholding is fine, "It is okay, mon ami, hm? Eyes forward, do not wander off the path," The Templar instructs Fayad with only a little wariness showing in his voice.
Of course she'll take the offer of help, though her own focus is more on the child than on Emmanuel, once Lilah is on her feet and on the path. There's merely a glance when he turns from her to helping Fayad, and a brief nod. And a lecture for Novel, cut off to one protesting claim.
Novel clacks his teeth. Open. Closing. An agitated gesture with subtle click, the noise of a hungry vampire. "It's faster to walk places than it is to fucking ride. Neve knew it had a fucking name or you could do it on goddammit purpose now pay attention to the fucking path." He spits out to Lilah, rapid fire, words piling up and ontop of each other. Fayad and Emmanuel might recognize it as the way he used to talk and speak, a slightly higher pitch. Mania edging on madness, drugs enabling - or perhaps softening.
The route feels circumventing, especially to Fayad, sending his stomach lurching for the strangeness of travel, this in-between. Occasionally a hand can be seen reaching into the path, through the mist, given the speed of which they travel, these limbs are cut off, and left behind. Roars can be heard outside, howls, unearthly. It is hard to say where the path actually resides. It could be the void for all one knows.
In time, all are unceremoniously spit out onto a street somewhere in the South End.
Head east
Lilah is so sorry! Assume her following and will be back ASAP.
Novel twists his head this way and that, his eyes are terribly unfocused. Not seeing the desolation and despair of poverty and pain, built up and creating a space for a hunter as he. Or perhaps he knows in his heart where he belongs. His head twists, this way and that, sniffing the air. Trying to find something familiar.
"Mon ami, we're all on the same side here, hm?" Emmanuel reminds Novel gently as he stumbles out of The Forest, and back into reality, then turning to ensure that the others don't end up tripping as well. Once they're all out, he turns his gaze to the space around them, nose wrinkling- though it's not due to the application of a super-sniffer.
The smell of old beer and other garbage wafts through the streets as the wind blows papers and other detriment down the sidewalk where they have been dumped. Its the smell of abandonment. Occasionally a siren can be heard in the distance, going to somewhere other than here. A rat scampers itself over Lilah's feet and even stops to try to nibble at them. Seems other things have foot fetishes too!
There is an old apartment complex to the south, with the doors heavily chained and boarded up, along with windows, which are all graffittied with gang symbols, some looking very familiar to wizard eyes. To the east, an alleyway extends, dark and dank.
Lilah looks down at the rat that's perched itself atop her stiletto. "Nah," she murmurs, though for whatever reason she looks amused by the disease-ridden rodent's presence - until it nibbles at her shoe. Then, she picks up her foot to give it a quick shake, intent on sending the creature scurrying elsewhere. At least, until such a move born of impulsivity, not thought, causes her to lose her balance and teeter and stumble. She didn't fall on the path, but she's on her way down now, with a squawk.
Fayad moves by reflex to try and catch Lilah, but Lilah is a lot bigger than Fayad and Fayad has about the proportional muscle strength of a human who is not very strong. Oops. He might just end up being the cushion for Lilah as the both of them hit the filthy, disgusting ground.
Novel takes a deep breath at Emmanuel's words. He focuses. "Darkness to darkness," He mutters to himself. Normally so attentive, he doesn't move when Lilah starts to fall. And then, he points. "Apartment." He states. Yes, Novel. It was there when you got here. Very helpful. He looks about to simply charge out of it... and then he casts his gaze to the two falling. Apartment. Tension on the hand, the blade. He sheathes it. He turns, to go offer to help his friends, hands up. There's an excited grin and a certain distinct pleasure as he studies their failure and suffering even as he offers a way out.
Lepia follows along with, slowly returning to some semblance of awareness of the world around her as she does. Her eyes slowly become less and less glazed over, fingers less twitchy.
Emmanuel is too slow to help Lilah, and it's largely left up to Fayad for the time being. He doesn't try and interject, not wanting to 'too many cooks in the kitchen' this whole loss of balance thing. The man turns over toward Novel at their words, and nods at the later ones. Heavily chained? Boarded up? Neither of these scenarios present too large of a problem for the Templar who wanders closer to inspect the chains, and what is keeping them locked.
Yes, there is an apartment complex, posing itself a new set of problems with everything locked and boarded up. Do they use magic to make their way inside, or do they try more mundane ways. There are many schools of thought here.
Lilah is not big! She's pregnant! Luckily she wasn't called such atrocious things to her face where she could react with indignation and fire. No. Instead, poor Fayad does just, indeed, get the brunt of her fall, though she does try to twist to lessen the impact, her first concern is, as always, the baby she carries. And it all happens so fast, that she's on the ground - on Fayad - before she even really realizes she's falling. For a moment, she just lays there. Then, she tries to push herself up, which probably just makes the poor 'wizard' that much more uncomfortable, before Novel is there to offer his hand. She takes it with a sigh, a grumble, and "Thanks..."
It takes a relatively short amount of time for Emmanuel to pick the lock on the chain. It clicks, but it sticks. The chain is old and rusty and does need some brute force to pull it open. Maybe it is some lingering magic, or just really good locks. Maybe its just that it needs WD40. The boards are warped enough, however, that people could squeeze through.
Lepia flicks her hand as she approaches, lagging slightly behind the group. A veil descends over her, and she steps into the shadows, foot falls becoming soft, sight becoming indistinct. She hides; she hides very well, away from sight. Possibly, so well that they don't even realize she isn't visible anymore.
Fayad gets to his feet and sadly shuffles along behind the group, clothing requiring multiple passes through the wash after this.
There's a time for finesse, and there's a time to just break a bitch. Emmanuel employs a little of both as he has his way with the lock, convincing it to open with a liberal application of both, until it eventually relents to him, "Shitty lock," He decides, tugging away at it.
It does not seem that there are any cameras outside such a horribly decaying building. There are occasionally men who walk down the road, but on seeing the group, don't pause to stop. They don't appear to be Host. But how can one be sure? They do, however, eye Lilah and Lepia up and down as fine specimen. Fayad is now covered in whatever muck of a puddle he landed in. Novel is literally chomping at the bit here to find a way in, the rage pulsating off of him, and in his chest.
Head south when ready.
Novel yanks Fayad and Lilah upright, then stalks up behind Emmanuel as he suppresses the desire to stab the poor man. Into the gloom, the darkness. A sampling of a pipe to help him focus.
Novel focuses on Emmanuel's words from his scanning around and sizing up of his allies. Shaking his head. Not a no, but trying to clear his mind. His glass pipe briefly glows cherry red. One puff. Two. Then he snuffs and pockets it. Not calmer, but more focused. "Sec." He answers, as he begins to prowl the hallways, the doors.
Once within, the area is devoid of light, casting those who cannot see in the night to be quite blind.
Fayad is quite blind, but thankfully multiple people are capable of shedding light here, especially from Novel's crack pipe.
Novel is, for a brief moment, a cherry glow leading the way, until that fades.
Luminous eyes bob in the dark; Lepia stalks.
Lilah is fairly stealthy, even in her heels, even with the baby bump in tow, but she can't move quickly and quietly at the same time. So, she keeps herself to the back of the group, behind everyone else as they move through the darkness.
Novel feels the walls, walking along slowly. Booted feet scuff, ready to trip.
There is an elevator but one can assume that it is broken. At least, they would be very daring in order to even try it. And then there are stairs, which look equally as harrowing. But surely that is the lesser of two evils. And it can't be too far up. Right? Lepia's spell should be stronger here, if she tries to conjure the face again.
Lepia likely will not do so unless asked; after all, if such a spell would cause a trace from a distance, doing so from so very close would be like lighting up a beacon telling everyone they're here.
Earlier, Fayad did mention the number '323' but was that the building number or was that an apartment number?
Fayad noted that was the building number since the apartment numbers were all filed off.
Novel pauses as he feels the air shift to a more open space. The rush of wind through empty hallways. He fumbles for his 'light', figuratively and literally. "Which way?" He murmurs, looking around sightlessly.
Emmanuel fumbles around in his many straps, and pockets, eventually producing a little headlamp, and strapping it over his noggin. At least he's less blind now. There's a glance over toward the elevator, and a shake of his head before the Frenchman starts over toward the stairs, shifting his rifle half-raised as he moves.
There are sounds, of course, of thing scurrying under the garbage, and there are voices. But Novel is honed in on one and one alone, the woman, and so the sound of a sob, or some kind of choke does lead him up the stairwell, with Emmanuel being ever vigilent in protecting his friends and family.
Lepia creeps up behind, the dark her ally; if anything, the others turning on their lights and illuminating things cast even deeper shadows for her to sneak around in. She continues to lag behind ever so slightly.
Novel turns his head - and then suddenly he's walking. Something. Up the stairs. The doggy found Something! A pace. Not a run, but a stride, straight towards the stairs, his silhouette outlined by chemical red glow.
Fayad hesitates but follows quietly, murmuring to Emmanuel, "This seems a lot less like a raid on a demonic compound than I thought it would be," giving voice to his thoughts. "...like anyone who lives here is already suffering so much that why the fuck are we here.."
Lilah can't help but agree with Fayad, giving a grimace and muttering, "I don't... this isn't a good idea. Emmanuel, he's going to end up killing her if he goes in all wired up like this." Her tone is grave, kept to a whisper but the worry in it very clear.
Novel has friends that know him so well
"..Their suffering is not reason enough to be summoning demons, hm?" Emmanuel notes aside to Fayad in a quiet, bare whisper, before raising his hand to his lips in the classic 'shushing' gesture, and moving after Novel. He doesn't walk directly behind him, instead taking the opposite side of the corridor, ensuring that if they do end up in a firefight he won't shoot Novel in the back accidentally. There's a gentle tap at Novel's shoulder, attempting to slow him somewhat, but also hold him out of the line of fire.
It isn't too long, and too far of a trek up darkened stairs to a door, which Novel has sniffed out, so to speak. The door is closed, and the woman behind it has stopped sobbing. It is still and quiet, and desolate. The energy from these things is palbable.
Novel growls back at someone' touch, his hackles raising- and then he falls back. Yielding, slowing, falling back and settling into pace with the French freedom fighter. He guides. But he no longer leads, slowing to flank the door in some automatic drill pushed into his head.
Novel growls back at someone' touch, his hackles raising- and then he falls back. Yielding, slowing, falling back and settling into pace with the French freedom fighter. He guides. But he no longer leads, slowing to flank the door in some automatic drill pushed into his head.
Novel growls back at Emmanuel's touch, his hackles raising- and then he falls back. Yielding, slowing, falling back and settling into pace with the French freedom fighter. He guides. But he no longer leads, slowing to flank the door in some automatic drill pushed into his head.
When ready join the apartment.
Novel pushes open the door - letting it creak open, his body tense, and others going first.
The living room is a terrible mess, but it should not be very surprising with the rest of the way the apartment looks. There is a woman laying on the threadbare couch. She is in as much disarray as the room. The smell of defication fills the nostrils of those who enter, as well as the green scent of mold. Wide-eyed, and tangled up in a mess of chains all connected to a collar about her throat, the oily-haired brunette calls out to Emmanuel and his rifle pointed inward into the gross living room, shrill, "Don't hurt me!" By the looks of it, she's been put through a ringer, already. She seems to recognize Novel then, and says, fear trembling the word, "You..."
Novel steps aside, letting the others file in as he draws the gleaming blade.
"I found you."
Fayad frowns, observing how the woman is literally chained to the wall. "What did she do to you again?", he asks Novel, glancing up towards Novel with a furrowed brow - and a pinched nose.
Novel huffs out a breath at Fayad's question, his mind focusing. There's something about the small man that makes him draw to attention, to focus and soften. He shoulders the blade. "Brought an evil artifact into my fucking apartment and turned it on."
Novel says "Or... demonic, I fucking guess."
Lilah is sorry ugh RL.
There's a wrinkle of Emmanuel's nose, this time from the smell rather than expressing mere emotion. The rifle remains pointed toward the woman, though the Frenchman doesn't shoot, not yet. His left hand shifts away from the front grip of the weapon, plucking out a silver collar from his pouch which he tosses aside to Novel, then fills itself with a tranq pistol, pressing it up against the barrel of his gun. Two options. Lethal, and less than. "Collar her," He requests of the demonborn, despite the woman very much being chained down already.
The woman looks high as a kite. She's definitely been dosed with something. She mumbles, "Evil in the hands of ..." She says, "Did anyone see you? Oh ... Oh... They're going to come soon... Please. They're going to kill me!" Though, there's Novel with a blade, and Emmanuel with a rifle, it looks like she's in a bit of a rock and a hard place, as well as in between saggy cushions.
"Gods," Lilah gasps as she steps in behind the others. Her hands clamp to her nose and empathy immediately rips through her. While the others do what they do, she rushes forward, trying to push past Emmanuel, Novel, Fayad, and Lepia all to get to the chained up woman. "No, Jesus no!" she pleads with Emmanuel as she reaches toward the filthy woman, without thought for her own clothes. "She's -suffering- already. She's not a villain. She's a victim!"
Novel snatches the tossed thing out of the air by Emmanuel. Habits. Practice. Orders. Focus. The snap of that silver neutralizer being opened, stepping forwards - and then Lilah is in the way. He blinks. "They're coming," He says, tersely, an eagerness to push past her.
The woman cringes from Lilah when she approaches her, sinking further back into the couch as if the woman is lying and intends to hurt her. She is already collared with the chains all attached to it, o-rings in the chains to be used, likely, to drag her.
The woman may be bound, through mundane means, but that doesn't mean that Emmanuel is at all with Lilah moving in closer to her, dangerously so, when she makes to push past him, he drops his rifle, letting it hang down by his side and shifts his free hand to grab at her, jerk her back, "Stop."
Fayad narrows his eyes. "They're going to use her as a sacrifice. Really fucking common in the Host. Which means whoever her boss is, she displeased in some way, and they're going to take her to him. We could track her somehow to the ritual site and get them all at once, or we could fuck up their plans for the day by ... removing her, in whatever way you see fit, Novel. Since youw ere the one, wronged, and all." It'd be remarkably hypocritical for Fayad to stop Novel from going on a death vengeance bender considering Fayad's entire driving force for months.
For whatever reason, the woman calms, though she still shows the signs of her crying, the stains on her dirty cheeks. "Please... please take me with you," she gulps out to Lilah.
Novel steps forwards, that gleaming crescent pushing forwards, snapping closed over or under the collar. Wherever fits. And then he raises his blade in both hands, hanging in the air. The blade falls.
There's a crash, as that heavy blade comes down on metal chains with a sharp crack.
"We're the Disruptors, aren't we, Fayad. Not The Hand."
Fayad meekly affirms, "Yeah. Yeah, we are, Novel."
Calm only lasts so long when Novel brings up his blade. The terrified woman screams. She screams bloody murder.
Lilah is yanked to a stop by Emmanuel's grab at her arm, while the woman jerks away from her as well. "No," she says again, her own tone all but pleading now, and tears filling those sea-green eyes. She tugs at her arm for a moment, before just sinking back. Relenting, her gaze flits wildly from Novel to the woman, and back again. "Novel," she gasps, and her intent grows stronger when she hears the woman's plea. "Don't hurt her!" When his blade falls on chains, not on the woman herself, she releases a ragged breath and nods. "Yes. Let's go. Take her back to Haven. We can sort it out there, where she'll be safe. Sanctuary. Please?"
Novel then gives a smile back to Fayad. It's terrible as it is displaying the wonder and joy on his face.
"And the dead can't suffer."
Novel steps away, "Search the room, Fayad, Lepia. Lilah, get her. We're going."
"Careful," There's a single word afforded to Lilah at first, pointedly so, with a glance down toward her belly, and then back over toward the other woman. The captive, as it were. "Not Haven, non. Our base in Peru, hm? Non Sanctuary." Emmanuel suggests aside to the other members of their little squad, before starting to pat himself down once more, releasing his grip on Lilah with a look, after a gesture, searching for something or other and eventually producing a slightly squashed spy camera. He must've fallen on it. The Templar moves to stick it up and into the far corner of the room, ensuring it has view of the door, and syncing it to his phone.
Lepia moves in like a shadow, slipping into the room, scouring it for things hidden, things less so. The threads are once again withdrawn, flickering tendrils of light creeping into every darkened corner of the room.
Everyone in the room has a story. Each and everyone. The reach for power, to remove power. At least if they take the woman, maybe she will have a chance to tell hers. The new collar doesn't change anything, and maybe, in reality, the new doesn't affect her much either. She looks so young. So vulnerable. So completely. Utterly. Ruined.
Fayad gives the room a lookover, but doesn't expect to finda nything.
Its hard to tell if there is anything in the room with all the clutter and decomposition. But there are the sounds echoing through the hallways. Footsteps. Sounds like less than the party, but all the same, a group.
"It's not the end for you," Lilah whispers as she turns, giving Emmanuel a nod though something in her features hardens at the Frenchman's words. There's a tightness there, a sense of displeasure and stress that radiates even past the senses of the demon-blooded in the room, but she walks over to the bound woman. She studies her carefully, then reaches out to embrace her despite the state that she's in and she says softly, "It's not the end of your story. What's your name?"
A pause and then she adds, her voice low and meant only for one, for this shattered soul, though the others can probably hear too. Music laces her words, a soft hum beneath her breath as she works to try and calm the girl further. "I've been through it. You get through it. Changed. Different. But still you. Stronger," she promises softly, as she tries to help the girl rise. "Come on."
Novel stalks out the only exit, booted feet thumping - extinguishing the thing that says please shoot me in the head on the way out. He doesn't know where he's going - but he has another man to locate. Another hunt. The day is not over.
"Paula." the woman answers Lilah, letting the pregnant woman assist her up to a stand, her clothing is disgusting, left there to sit on the couch for who knows how long. There are sores at her mouth, likely for lack of water. "Thank you..." Unsuspecting of the siren's song keeping her calm and willing. Despite the echoes down the hall, she is calm. Around people willing to kill her, not just in the room, but outside of it, too. Walking out of the apartment is probably not the wisest thing, but then .... Novel. He's on a warpath, afterall.
Fayad cannot feel anything but safe in the place he currently is - behind Novel.
Lepia keeps to Novel's back; not only to ensure that he is pointed in the direction away from her - after all, one faces a claymore towards their enemy - but also to ensure she could support with her magic.
"Paula," Lilah says, slowly giving a shake of her head. "Your family has reported you missing. We're getting you home to them." It's a promise she means, even if her companions may well make it so that she can't keep it. For all that she's using otherworldly means to keep the woman calm, her own demeanor is determined, as she leads the girl with them, at the back of the group of men, who are far better armed than she, though she's always got a knife on her person, these days.
Emmanuel reaches over to tap a hand upon Fayad's shoulder, and then jerk his thumb over toward Lilah and their captive. Protect them, from the others, and from Lilah being harmed by Paula, the motion seems to say, as Emmanuel collects his rifle once more, checking it and it's quartz infused munitions before moving forward to follow Novel's lead.
Novel pauses - and presses against empty darkness. The blade hews through the air. A slow, scrhripling noise of the air. "Landmine," He suggests, to Emmanuel, finally thinking.
Novel starts the process of re-opening the way out of here. Away. Back to Haven.
There is a shout down the hallway at Novel, "Hey!" As for Paula, she doesn't look like she's in any state to harm anyone at all, despite Emmanuel's suspicious mind. The woman leans into Lilah, a soft sigh escaping. "I haven't seen them in months. I ... want to see my mom.." she tells her, accepting and trusting this promise, even if it is unable to be kept.
There's a pause as Emmanuel considers this, a landmine? In an apartment complex? That could start a fire, especially without Sanctuary, not to mention the potential collateral in human lives. It isn't enough to be a dreg of society, that doesn't mean you get to get blown up. At least not according to Emmanuel. There's a slight shake of the head, a disagreement, and then Emmanuel goes about fetching some other ordnance from his person. A long cylindar of a grenade, and another that is flecked with silver and nearly looks like a christmas bauble. A careful application of pin removal has the two primed and ready to go, as Emmanuel listens to hear when the corridor outside of their apartment is filled.
Lilah exhales a sigh of open relief when Emmanuel chooses not to blow the place sky high with them (and who knows who else) all still in it. Keeping an arm around Paula, she hurries after the group, but freezes at the sound of someone yelling down the hallway. "Shit. Shit," she breathes, anxiety flooding her system in an instant. Of course, that might well mean that Paula's own calm fades too... as the redhead tries to focus into the distance.
Fayad warns Emmanuel, "Careful not to drop that fucking neutralizer in here and stop Novel from cutting our way back."
Those who espy Novel as he stormed out of the apartment are unfortunate enough to start running, and run right into the tear gas, and the other less mundane and more magical device used to quell any power that they were attempting to use. One has the foresight to stay behind at least, for whatever reason. There is havok now, but also, the one who stayed back is apparently calling for backup. It is in the nick of time that the group is suddenly thrust into the disorientating world of the pathing plane.
Novel makes a grunt of disappointment, but not displeasure, running too high and drugs and pleasure. There's a smile on his face as he forays to darkness - humming Always Look On The Bright Side of Life as he leads the meandering way through this terrifying place, striding along the path.
Emmanuel scrambles out of the danger of the apartment, and into a different sort of danger, skittering along the path through The Forest after ensuring that everyone else had gotten out. He lets out a long breath then, shaking his hands a little and peering back every few steps, just in case.
Pathing is both reliable and unreliable at the same time. Sometimes you end up where you want, or at least close. Sometimes you end up in the bay. Sometimes you end up in someone else's house. Good luck (and Goodnight)!
Novel has a player that notes he had fun - and compliments to the storyrunner for the descriptions, and wonderful job from the other players' emotes. And it was nice to see everyone show off their talents and differences. Thanks for joining! See you next time!
Unsteady enough on shoes she really really needs to stop wearing, Lilah maneuvers her way along the path while also supporting someone. "It's just the Path," she offers to the woman, visibly concerned with the other woman's ability to handle it all. "Just stay close." As if the girl has much choice, with that collar around her neck and all.
Unsteady enough on shoes she really really needs to stop wearing, Lilah maneuvers her way along the path while also supporting Paula. "It's just the Path," she offers to the woman, visibly concerned with the other woman's ability to handle it all. "Just stay close." As if the girl has much choice, with that collar around her neck and all. Wherever they end up.
The group navigates through the dark and decaying corridors of the apartment complex, armed not only with conventional weapons but also the unique magic each of them harbors. Lepia, wielding the threads of magic with a delicate balance of power, provides an almost ethereal support, while Fayad's commitment to the cause is clear despite his reservations about their violent path. Emmanuel, ever the pragmatist, opts for non-lethal means to subdue the opposition, signaling a complex morality amidst the chaos.
As they confront Paula, the stark reality of her situation and the broader implications of their mission come to light. Confined and abused, Paula's plea for help is a mirror reflecting the personal traumas and vulnerabilities of the group, especially Lilah, who sees in Paula a fragility and strength she deeply understands.
Novel stands ready to exact vengeance, his anger momentarily pausing at Lilah's intervention. Her compassion and the promise of sanctuary cut through the tension, proposing a different path—one of healing and redemption rather than continued violence. The decision to take Paula not to Haven but to a safe location in Peru marks a pivotal moment of choosing mercy over retribution, complicating the narrative of good versus evil that they've been navigating.
As external threats close in, Emmanuel's quick thinking and Novel's reluctant restraint pave the way for their escape. Using the pathing plane—a risky but necessary maneuver—they vacate the scene, leaving chaos in their wake yet preserving the life they came to save. The group's departure is not just a physical journey but also a metaphoric dive into the unknown, each member grappling with the shadows of their past and the flickering hope for a future less burdened by the weight of darkness.
The story concludes with the disparate group, bound by circumstance and driven by varying motives, forging ahead. Their mission intertwines fate with free will, challenging each character to reckon with their ghosts while striving toward something resembling redemption. In Paula, they find not only a victim to save but also a mirror reflecting their own shackled spirits, yearning for liberation. As they traverse the precarious path away from the scene, the true journey unfolds within, marking the beginning of an uneasy and uncertain road to absolution.
(Paimon? Game on!(SRTabitha):SRTabitha)
[Sat Oct 12 2024]
In Novel's Apartment -- Haven, Massachussets
The tranquil living room has floor-to-ceiling walls lined in light-colored handmade terracotta Danish bricks, pale polished concrete floors and Douglas fir timber ceilings, and is furnished with a massive leather sectional couch pressed against the corner between the entrance and the kitchen door, allowing for the wrap-around view and luxurious comfort. A low white birch table providing a setting space before it.
The bare raw brick surrounding the fireplace across from the couch is mounted in the central south-western locale of the apartment which serves the dual function of additional heating and the lovely view of flames during the winter months.
A designer has chosen to clad the walls with black painted wood slats, and adding black floating shelves lining the other walls to provide space for a few carefully curated decorative objects. Layered rugs define the seating area and twin floor lamps add symmetry and ambient lighting. The rest of the decor is kept minimal to keep the focus on the architecture of the room.
It is about 55F(12C) degrees.
"Alright so," Novel drawls out with a mixture of irritability and annoyance, his dragon-stylized messes blade hefted in hand and on shoulder, resembling a big knife, resting on his shoulder and strapped with armor, poison, and a crossbow. "About a few weeks ago some bitch from the Destined Host broke into my goddamn house with a blood-drinking demon-summoning artifact thing. Then our buds showed up, and then her husband showed up to nab her also wearing the same fucking symbols, took her, took the artifact. Me, I'm honestly just tired of people breaking into my house and thinking they can get away with it. Plus that shit probably shouldn't be left around. So I want you uh... whatever you call yourselves. Wizards." He manages, lamely, to Fayad, Lepia, and Lilah, lifting his chin. "Track them down. And then we'll follow them, kick their ass, etcetra. Who knows, maybe it'll lead to a storage warehouse we can burn down on the way out." It is the roughest and crudest parts of a 'plan' with about as much thought as you could expect from the man.
"I'm Lepia." Lepia says, in a deadpan voice, in response to Novel saying 'whatever you call yourselves'. "Calling me a wizard I think is either too little or too much justice towards what I do."
Lilah chokes out a little laugh at the term 'wizard' being applied to her, but takes a moment to rake hands through her sleep-mussed hair and try and straighten out clothes wrinkled from a long nap on a lumpy couch. There's a hand pressed to her back in an effort to stretch out muscles getting more and more aggravated with her. Clearly, she's just come straight from a nap, trailing along behind Fayad and Emmanuel. Time passes as Lepia answers, and then she says, "I can try. Helps if I know the person or have some sort of item of importance to them to center on but... sure."
Fayad quietly nods, a serious expression on his face. "I'm a wizard, at least," he murmurs, nursing a bite wound on his right arm. "I can do it with a name, have that much, maybe? Or an image. Photogrpah, security camera, anything?"
"Too little, too little, too little. Little like.. a worm. Itty bitty." Emmanuel does his best to emulate Lepia's usual unusual cadence of speech with a faintly amused cant of the lips, before growing more serious as he directs his attention back over toward Novel, "Oui. This is a plan." A little bit of a messy plan, but a plan none-the-less. He ejects the magazine of his rifle then, or clip, or whatever the proper term is, and checks the loaded rounds. Quartz-infused. Just in case.
Without a name, or a photograph or something of theirs that could link back to the person specifically, even a ritual won't provide much information, if any at all.
Novel fishes around inside inside his jacket. He snorts a laugh and flashes Lepia a grin which turns to something more savage as he turns his gaze to Lilah and Fayad. "Well. The artifact electrocuted the fuck outta me and stole a bunch of blood. Still have scars on my feet from it. You can just use my blood, right?" He suggests.
Novel says "and not unless Frenchie here recorded it with his cameras"
"If I want to find out where -you- are," Lilah says dryly to Novel. I'm not sure that I'm powerful enough to use your blood now to find your old blood, assuming it hasn't been used in rituals." She frowns apologetically, and then says, "Maybe what I -can- do is get Order's scouts looking for them for you? Fayad can try the ritual if he wants, and I'll see what Order can do. This chapter might not be doing much right now, but you know... the scouts really are top tier.""
"If I want to find out where -you- are," Lilah says dryly to Novel. "I'm not sure that I'm powerful enough to use your blood now to find your old blood, assuming it hasn't been used in rituals." She frowns apologetically, and then says, "Maybe what I -can- do is get Order's scouts looking for them for you? Fayad can try the ritual if he wants, and I'll see what Order can do. This chapter might not be doing much right now, but you know... the scouts really are top tier."
Other means, however, are at Disruptor disposal, however, when magic is not the answer. Blood is still Novel's own blood, but his could potentially be used, to see into the past should there be a sensitive in the space who could tap into memories. But it is a stretch.
Fayad says "So this is the Destined Host, right?"
Fayad says "It might actually be about the fucking archfiend that I had a defector from come into the arcanists the other day. I'll ask the guy who came and quit his job if he knows anything about this."
Fayad turns aside and starts speaking into his pendant - his recent encounter with SRIllyana might actually have something that could help with this, if it was woven together. If not, no big deal - just another random Host plot clashing into another by coincidence.
"Oui, they are very good at scouting out parties to attend," Emmanuel opines sarcastically aside to Lilah, always happy to make fun of the local chapter of the Order. There's a squint aside to Fayad at his comment then as the Frenchman parses it, and then clucks his tongue gently, "Good idea, mon ami."
Lepia tilts her head somewhat at the mention of the artifact coming into contact with Novel. Her hand twitches gently, as she blinks a few times, before commenting, "All things leave traces; marks on weave, weft, thread. A spark, a shock, leaves a singe, a current. If we replicate the current, we should be able to follow where else it resonates, I would imagine."
"Describe the woman, as much detail as you can, Novel?" Lilah asks, already dialing a number on her phone, to try and get ahold of a scout she's worked with in the past. She nods to Fayad, as he suggests another method, while idly flipping off Emmanuel. She doesn't even look annoyed by what he's said, really. It's just a sassy response because... it's her. She nods again to Lepia and murmurs, "Three way assault. We'll find her."
Novel nods at Fayad's inquiry. "Yeah, the girl's husband had a big ass cloak with their symbol on it - won't fucking forget that - and two of our own back when we were serving Gonth." He practically spits out that lash word. And he grins. "Fuck am I glad to be friends with you people." He pulls out an unmarked inhaler. "Oh, the girl? Sure. Wedding ring, pale skin, kinda thin, crazy bloodshot green eyes, smelled of brimstone and stimulants and cheap coffee and had a lot of cloying odors of clove cigs and the man who came in with her.. " He goes into a weird amount of detail about how she smelled, which comes out with a lot of somewhat useless and creepy personal information.
Novel shrugs and - steps up to Lepia, presenting an arm - and an empty needle. Apparently he had some thoughts ahead of time. "Help yourself."
Contacts are contacts, so Fayad is welcome to try to get information from the man in question. Lilah's phone, comically, rings and rings and rings, to a point that she might consider hanging up. Howevever, soon a man answers, asking with a drowsy, just woke up voice, "Hello?" For Lepia, some preparation is required.
Lepia is going to need much more assistance for what she intends.
"Going to need much more. Much much more. Mmmmm...." Lepia peers at his arm, tilting her head, circling around him for a moment, a certain feral gleam in her eyes.
"Jose, my guy," Lilah greets and then meanders off to a corner of the room to have a full on chat that starts with, "How's the wife? And your baby?"
It might go on for hours that way, knowing her, but she manages to rein it in after just a couple of moments of rapport-building chatter. "I've got a major favor to ask," she says next, more seriously, and then passes off Novel's information to her contact. "I know it's bad," she commiserates with him. "But if you can get us some visuals of women in the Host looking like her at all? Novel can pick her out of a photo lineup, I'm sure."
There's a pause and then she says, "I mean, we -could- go to Temple's intelligence. Emmanuel's here and he could get them on the line. They'd be able to find her. But you're my guy, Jose. And you do owe me for sending me after a -cat- last time. Come on, please?"
Novel repockets the inhaler. Something for a later date. A suspicious squint at Lepia. "Like"
Novel repockets the inhaler. Something for a later date. A suspicious squint at Lepia. "Like what, exactly?"
"More power. More resources. More links. More threads." Lepia bobs her head a few times.
Jose seems pleased as a pickle to hear from Lilah and there is some chatter back and forth about the wive and the kid, and a humorous regaling of her conquest of a cat. "Anyhow, Li, sure, I can do that for you. Give me a little to compile some of the data we have on the Host. But they recycle their members alot. More like, they play with demons, they get the horns, you know?"
Lepia, in her roundabout way is right. It is not that she needs more blood, but she needs more power behind her spell. Knowledge is only half the battle!
Novel pauses at Lepia. Details fall together. He groans. "Emmanuel has a taser."
"Thanks bud. I've got a beer with your name on it, next time you're in town. Better yet if that's after January and I can drink one with you," Lilah quips. "Just quick as you can, thanks?" And she's off the phone, turning to say to Novel, "Jose's going to put together some photos for you to see if you recognize any of the women. He says you may have no luck though - bitches die fast when they play with demons," she muses as she walks back across the room to sink onto the couch. Then, with a side-eye at Emmanuel, she says, "You make a really great carrot. Thanks, Emmanuel." Only then does the comment about tasers sink in, and her eyes widen. "Uhhh... why are we tasing people?"
Fayad quietly converses with the Disruptors' recent vassal, the man having essentially joined the ranks of the nameless society arcanists in return for safety and protection from his former comrades.
There's a slow blink from Emmanuel as he glances between Lepia, Novel and Lilah, "Carrots, and tasers?" The Frenchman wonders, clearly confused, while otherwise waiting for the others to pull in favours, and employ assets.
Lilah's phone dings, rapidly, as picture after picture start rolling in. "Take a look at some of these. Theyve had a couple deflectors lately so I can't tell you for sure that these are current, but it'll be a start." They are all women that Jose has sent. They are all pale, frail, and slim. Emmanuel's taser will come in handy later, no doubt, but hardly power enough to power a spell. Fayad's contact says, "Man, we have a lot of women in the ranks. But I can't tell you --- oh. Yeah. Wait. There was this one. She tried to overtake the Boston chapter leader. But I need more assurance, they're still out to kill me. If I say more."
Fayad responds with a bit of annoyance, "I suppose I did only agree with you that you'd work curses for me in return for safety. Fine," he mutters. "Think Lilah might have it handled.."
"You know, carrot to make the donkey move," Lilah helpfully finishes her little phrase. "Telling Order I can get Temple on it helps." She smirks, then pushes back to her feet to hold out her phone toward Novel. "Here. Look through those and see if you see her. Just uhh, don't go back more than..." She counts quickly. "Twelve pics."
One little oopsie slide of a finger though... Whats thirteen instead of twelve right?
Novel jabs himself and leaves the fresh blood-filled needle with Lepia, stepping away from the moff that's starting to creep him out with the circling and shifts, leaning down to scan over the photos that Lilah presents. He squints. "Man. I really wish these had smell-o-vision with the photos," As he scrolls through, looking for the details he can pick out. "If one of them has a wedding ring...."
Lepia finishes her circling, taking the ampoule of blood and peering to Emmanuel, tilting her head. "Need the spark, please."
The spark, as it were, is handed over toward Lepia at her request, "Be careful, hm?" Emmanuel adds as he passes her the device.
Each picture looks quite similar to the next. They have a type, for certain. One in particular might stand out more in his mind. A young lady, though in the picture much more fresh faced. Probably a new recruit. She is smiling here. She is happy, and unsuspecting. There is no wedding ring, but she does look familiar.
"If all you can point out is a wedding ring... we might never find her, Novel," Lilah says with a small grimace. Were he to look past those twelve though, all he's going to find is a simple photograph of her feet. Why? Who knows why someone might take such a picture, really.
Lepia fiddles a bit with the taser, uncertain of it, uncertain how to make it work. "... Do you know how this works? What does it do."
Fayad sighs. "Come here, Lepia," he mutters. "You need a metaphorical spark, right? I'm basically an inferno at this point, even though I might not look like it." He extends his relic gauntlet, as if to shake hands.
Novel rolls through the images twice, and then - he gives Lilah a glance. "Extra income?" He jokes about the feet and then slides back onto the smiling one. The only smiling one. He taps that image. "This one." He says, firmly. "Planning. Happiness. Not drained out yet."
"Yeah. Sucks being a broke college kid," Lilah says to Novel without hesitation, although there's undeniable amusement in her eyes at his assumption. When he chooses a woman, she nods, quickly loading the photo into a new text message back to Jose with the request: 'Full workup on this one. Name. Address. Powers. Anything you've got, pls! <3' Over to Lepia and Fayad she says, "I'll have a name for you in a moment, hopefully, and we can work on pinpointing her with your magic?"
Lepia nods a few times, fervently so, before taking out some thread from the pocket at the front of her baja jacket, beginning to make loops and whorls with it, in preparation. She sets the ampoule down in front of her, and begins to weave the thread carefully, fingers working deftly.
Lilah recieves a text back from Jose in short order, maybe she did actually light a fire under his arse. Name: Paula Green. Age: 19. Hair: Brunette. Eyes: Green. Other details include that she had first been seen as part of the host only a few months ago. There is a status there too: Missing.
Novel grins at Lilah easily, murmuring back, "Hey, get ahead any way you can, right?" And then he wanders over to the fireplace. There's a prepared set of logs, tinder, all of it looking to be hauled straight from the forest and cut by hand. And there, he lights a fire, opening the chimney. The pop and crackle of flames. Maybe he just like fire. Or maybe it is cold.
"Truth. OF rocks," Lilah quips to Novel in a teasing tone, before she rattles off the details as Jose feeds them to her. "Paula Green's her name. Age 19. Brunette with green eyes, a member of the Host for only a few months. Probably why she's still alive. Or well... she might not be now. She's been reported missing. Probably just by her family. She's probably deep in the cult by now. Or fish food," she offers a little too casually, all things considered.
'Thanks, guy. You're the best. :beers_emoji:' she texts back to Jose, then pockets her phone.
"You got this?" she wonders of Lepia and Fayad. "Or need my help? I'm not great if I don't -know- a person." And she's distracted, looking over at Emmanuel for some reason, and stifling a soft laugh.
Emmanuel whistles innocently, ticking his gaze over towards the wizards as they work, and bouncing his brows ever so slightly upwards. He isn't a very magically inclined person, given the nature of it, but he at least tries to follow along with what they're up to.
Fayad shrugs. "I can do a scry just with a name and a face. Should work fine. If not, we'll just bust down some innocent person's door.", he quips.
Lepia will need more than a spark from Emmanuel's taser, and more than Fayad's fire to get enough power to get her spell to work with a woman who may or may not be missing. But should Fayad and Lepia work together to build the power? Magic ... when can you count on it?
"Need your help, yes." Lepia once again bobs her head, weaving the threads together into an elaborate circle, surrounding the ampoule of blood. She gestures to Lilah first, then pointing to a part of the circle, and then to Fayad, and another part of the circle. "Sit sit sit. Three is an important number. Emmanuel She then gestures to him, pointing to the threads. "The taser upon my signal, please please please."
Fayad is surprised by this - "Hm? Okay, well, I'll...I'll deal with this first," he mutters, sitting down in the circle where Lepia indicates, folding his claw across his lap.
Lepia stands up, walking over to Fayad and adjusting his claw to be grasping onto one part of the circle of threads. "Hold tight. Hold hold hold. Even though it will hurt."
Lepia says "It -will- hurt."
Three is an important number. Even a mundane man such as Emmanuel knows this. The power of three has been baked into the collective unconscious of humanity, and it's power cannot be denied. The Frenchman plucks up his taser, and shifts closer to Lepia, prepared to do as she'd asked, when she asks.
"Do not tase me. I will bite you," Lilah warns mildly, playfully even as she looks from the oh-so-innocent Emmanuel to the circle. That brings a grimace to her lips, but the redhead - with a look to Novel that reads 'the things I do for you!' - walks over and lowers her ungainly body to the floor where Lepia has asked her to be.
Lilah plus baby technically makes it four!
And what a baby it is. Imagine the power that courses throught it's forming veins!
Novel steps over to the lightswitch. And then - click. The lights go. The normally bright, luxurious room, plunged into darkness. Fortified walls and doors. Concrete floors, icy cold. And illuminated merely by the flickering, hot flames, lengthening the darkness. It's ominous. And then he walks back over, flashing Lilah a thankful smile. And then... "This is basically what the room fucking looked like." And he steps over, curious, observing the circle.
"We work with what we have, Maiden..." Lepia gestures to herself, then gestures to Lilah, "Mother...." Then, she gestures to Fayad. "Crone. That which has yet to transmute, that which is transmuting, that which has been transmuted." She then grasps onto the tangle of threads, formed into a circle. She hums lowly, faint orbs of light emerging from her free hand, circling around the threads arrayed below. They transmute in turn, flickering into a mirror image of the flames. "Focus focus focus. Together, breathe in cadence, together with the flames, they dance, dance, dance." The flames begin to spin around the circle of threads.
Fayad looks vaguely saddened at being called a crone, but he just takes it and stares into the flame instead, prepared to permit his energy to be drawn upon.
Lilah draws in a breath, but leans slightly to one side to muse to Fayad, "It has nothing to do with your age, or your old woman-hood," she assures him, still too playful for the serious moment - she took a nap, guys. But then she steadies herself, hands resting atop her belly with fingers laced together, as she starts to breathe in the cadence Lepia asks for.
Lepia gestures with a hand around a loop of the threads, a tangle of it surrounding the blood at the center, a linkage from the whole into the ampoule. She then waves at Emmanuel, before pointing at the threads, saying, "Additional shock, in cadence with the flames; channeled through conduit, conceit, confluence. Use the box that draws forth lightning, there, there, there."
As the magic builds, and reaches a crescendo, thanks to the combined efforts of the wizards, including the crone that Fayad is, the fire that Novel had built in his fireplace whooshes out in one harsh, hurricane-esque gale, sending clothing and hair into tizzies. There is an image that rises from the elecrified, now bubbling blood, the scent of it filling the nostrils of all there, acrid and pungeant. The image is of a woman, no longer happy and carefree. She looks far older than nineteen. Her hair is dirty, she looks like she needs a shower. She is huddled in what appears to be a dilapidated apartment somewhere in Boston.
Lepia gives a tittering laugh as the taser's shock runs through the threads, tingling along her arms, her hair standing up on end from the electrical current. Her eyes are wide, staring at the woman's face, a rictus grin stretching across her face as she lets the illusionary flames dance around the circle.
Fayad's eyes dart around the scried scene for an identifier - address number, anything...
"Magic leaves a trace. People may start to realize we're looking for her, now. If they care and choose to move or protect her, we'll be in trouble," Lilah mutters softly, as the spell dies away. She doesn't look overly concerned, despite such being incredibly different from how her own magic usually works; she's seen much. "Is that her, Novel? If so, we need to get on the move. It'll take time to get to Boston."
Novel leans forwards as the image forms, the crackle of power, his eyes gleaming with a desire of vengeance and mayhem. He leans forwards, nostrils flaring, a bloodhound. And to the image and the flames, as he tightens his grip on the blade. "You!" He calls out to it, answering Lilah's question. He pulls out the inhaler. A depression. A jet of chemicals. A shiver of his body, a terrible thing as he casts the empty plastic aside on the concrete clattering. And then he steps forwards and swing his blade. It catches onto the edge of the image, fire erupting. And he begins to cut straight through the air.
Everyone head north.
Fayad says "Building's on the south side of boston, I see it's 323-"
Fayad says "Oh, shit, you got it-"
"Weave, weave, weave...." Lepia's fingers dance, the tangles of the threads beginning to dance and waggle from her manipulations, "Truth into lies, lies into truth, obscure what is, reveal what isn't. Traces traces traces, none of them left...." The innumerable threads billow out from her fingertips, aiming to conceal, to mislead, away from where they are going, revealing a thousand different possibilities.
Lepia's magic is still being affected by Lilah and Fayad, and their combined skill and knowledge, however, only so much can be done to conceal a large group as they are. Fortunately, on the path, there is no need to conceal oneself, unless someone unfortunate steps off of it, pushed from it. There are eyes, inhuman, that follow them.
Fayad is in the Path for the very first time in his life and is scared shitless, staying VERY close to Emmanuel, clutching at an arm to keep himself safe.
Novel commits violence and wrath. It is what he excels at, as he tears through the veil and creates an opening - stepping through. Leading. He cares not for the many staring eyes, the darkness. His eyes are on the path, pupils dilated terribly by whatever he took. This place he remembers, walking endlessly, especially when crammed full of many things, his brain so far detached. "Follow," He demands, as he stalks deeper in along the path.
"You... know how to path," Lilah says to Novel. She sounds annoyed by this revelation, and her eyes narrow on him for a few moments, before she shakes her head. Clearly he's in no mood for a lecture, or for having his pants set on fire. He's on the warpath. "Right. Well..." And they're off. She keeps her arms wrapped around her belly as she walks, shoulders ever-so-slightly hunched to ensure that she's sheltering that unborn babe, instinctively.
Lepia follows, of course. It is something she was just fine at, the flickering illusionary flames dancing on her fingertips.
Emmanuel does as bid, and moves to follow, though not without first offering Lilah a hand up from the floor, given her less than flexible state, and then extending that same hand to Fayad to hold his own. It's totally cool, bro. Handholding is fine, "It is okay, mon ami, hm? Eyes forward, do not wander off the path," The Templar instructs Fayad with only a little wariness showing in his voice.
Of course she'll take the offer of help, though her own focus is more on the child than on Emmanuel, once Lilah is on her feet and on the path. There's merely a glance when he turns from her to helping Fayad, and a brief nod. And a lecture for Novel, cut off to one protesting claim.
Novel clacks his teeth. Open. Closing. An agitated gesture with subtle click, the noise of a hungry vampire. "It's faster to walk places than it is to fucking ride. Neve knew it had a fucking name or you could do it on goddammit purpose now pay attention to the fucking path." He spits out to Lilah, rapid fire, words piling up and ontop of each other. Fayad and Emmanuel might recognize it as the way he used to talk and speak, a slightly higher pitch. Mania edging on madness, drugs enabling - or perhaps softening.
The route feels circumventing, especially to Fayad, sending his stomach lurching for the strangeness of travel, this in-between. Occasionally a hand can be seen reaching into the path, through the mist, given the speed of which they travel, these limbs are cut off, and left behind. Roars can be heard outside, howls, unearthly. It is hard to say where the path actually resides. It could be the void for all one knows.
In time, all are unceremoniously spit out onto a street somewhere in the South End.
Head east
Lilah is so sorry! Assume her following and will be back ASAP.
Novel twists his head this way and that, his eyes are terribly unfocused. Not seeing the desolation and despair of poverty and pain, built up and creating a space for a hunter as he. Or perhaps he knows in his heart where he belongs. His head twists, this way and that, sniffing the air. Trying to find something familiar.
"Mon ami, we're all on the same side here, hm?" Emmanuel reminds Novel gently as he stumbles out of The Forest, and back into reality, then turning to ensure that the others don't end up tripping as well. Once they're all out, he turns his gaze to the space around them, nose wrinkling- though it's not due to the application of a super-sniffer.
The smell of old beer and other garbage wafts through the streets as the wind blows papers and other detriment down the sidewalk where they have been dumped. Its the smell of abandonment. Occasionally a siren can be heard in the distance, going to somewhere other than here. A rat scampers itself over Lilah's feet and even stops to try to nibble at them. Seems other things have foot fetishes too!
There is an old apartment complex to the south, with the doors heavily chained and boarded up, along with windows, which are all graffittied with gang symbols, some looking very familiar to wizard eyes. To the east, an alleyway extends, dark and dank.
Lilah looks down at the rat that's perched itself atop her stiletto. "Nah," she murmurs, though for whatever reason she looks amused by the disease-ridden rodent's presence - until it nibbles at her shoe. Then, she picks up her foot to give it a quick shake, intent on sending the creature scurrying elsewhere. At least, until such a move born of impulsivity, not thought, causes her to lose her balance and teeter and stumble. She didn't fall on the path, but she's on her way down now, with a squawk.
Fayad moves by reflex to try and catch Lilah, but Lilah is a lot bigger than Fayad and Fayad has about the proportional muscle strength of a human who is not very strong. Oops. He might just end up being the cushion for Lilah as the both of them hit the filthy, disgusting ground.
Novel takes a deep breath at Emmanuel's words. He focuses. "Darkness to darkness," He mutters to himself. Normally so attentive, he doesn't move when Lilah starts to fall. And then, he points. "Apartment." He states. Yes, Novel. It was there when you got here. Very helpful. He looks about to simply charge out of it... and then he casts his gaze to the two falling. Apartment. Tension on the hand, the blade. He sheathes it. He turns, to go offer to help his friends, hands up. There's an excited grin and a certain distinct pleasure as he studies their failure and suffering even as he offers a way out.
Lepia follows along with, slowly returning to some semblance of awareness of the world around her as she does. Her eyes slowly become less and less glazed over, fingers less twitchy.
Emmanuel is too slow to help Lilah, and it's largely left up to Fayad for the time being. He doesn't try and interject, not wanting to 'too many cooks in the kitchen' this whole loss of balance thing. The man turns over toward Novel at their words, and nods at the later ones. Heavily chained? Boarded up? Neither of these scenarios present too large of a problem for the Templar who wanders closer to inspect the chains, and what is keeping them locked.
Yes, there is an apartment complex, posing itself a new set of problems with everything locked and boarded up. Do they use magic to make their way inside, or do they try more mundane ways. There are many schools of thought here.
Lilah is not big! She's pregnant! Luckily she wasn't called such atrocious things to her face where she could react with indignation and fire. No. Instead, poor Fayad does just, indeed, get the brunt of her fall, though she does try to twist to lessen the impact, her first concern is, as always, the baby she carries. And it all happens so fast, that she's on the ground - on Fayad - before she even really realizes she's falling. For a moment, she just lays there. Then, she tries to push herself up, which probably just makes the poor 'wizard' that much more uncomfortable, before Novel is there to offer his hand. She takes it with a sigh, a grumble, and "Thanks..."
It takes a relatively short amount of time for Emmanuel to pick the lock on the chain. It clicks, but it sticks. The chain is old and rusty and does need some brute force to pull it open. Maybe it is some lingering magic, or just really good locks. Maybe its just that it needs WD40. The boards are warped enough, however, that people could squeeze through.
Lepia flicks her hand as she approaches, lagging slightly behind the group. A veil descends over her, and she steps into the shadows, foot falls becoming soft, sight becoming indistinct. She hides; she hides very well, away from sight. Possibly, so well that they don't even realize she isn't visible anymore.
Fayad gets to his feet and sadly shuffles along behind the group, clothing requiring multiple passes through the wash after this.
There's a time for finesse, and there's a time to just break a bitch. Emmanuel employs a little of both as he has his way with the lock, convincing it to open with a liberal application of both, until it eventually relents to him, "Shitty lock," He decides, tugging away at it.
It does not seem that there are any cameras outside such a horribly decaying building. There are occasionally men who walk down the road, but on seeing the group, don't pause to stop. They don't appear to be Host. But how can one be sure? They do, however, eye Lilah and Lepia up and down as fine specimen. Fayad is now covered in whatever muck of a puddle he landed in. Novel is literally chomping at the bit here to find a way in, the rage pulsating off of him, and in his chest.
Head south when ready.
Novel yanks Fayad and Lilah upright, then stalks up behind Emmanuel as he suppresses the desire to stab the poor man. Into the gloom, the darkness. A sampling of a pipe to help him focus.
Novel focuses on Emmanuel's words from his scanning around and sizing up of his allies. Shaking his head. Not a no, but trying to clear his mind. His glass pipe briefly glows cherry red. One puff. Two. Then he snuffs and pockets it. Not calmer, but more focused. "Sec." He answers, as he begins to prowl the hallways, the doors.
Once within, the area is devoid of light, casting those who cannot see in the night to be quite blind.
Fayad is quite blind, but thankfully multiple people are capable of shedding light here, especially from Novel's crack pipe.
Novel is, for a brief moment, a cherry glow leading the way, until that fades.
Luminous eyes bob in the dark; Lepia stalks.
Lilah is fairly stealthy, even in her heels, even with the baby bump in tow, but she can't move quickly and quietly at the same time. So, she keeps herself to the back of the group, behind everyone else as they move through the darkness.
Novel feels the walls, walking along slowly. Booted feet scuff, ready to trip.
There is an elevator but one can assume that it is broken. At least, they would be very daring in order to even try it. And then there are stairs, which look equally as harrowing. But surely that is the lesser of two evils. And it can't be too far up. Right? Lepia's spell should be stronger here, if she tries to conjure the face again.
Lepia likely will not do so unless asked; after all, if such a spell would cause a trace from a distance, doing so from so very close would be like lighting up a beacon telling everyone they're here.
Earlier, Fayad did mention the number '323' but was that the building number or was that an apartment number?
Fayad noted that was the building number since the apartment numbers were all filed off.
Novel pauses as he feels the air shift to a more open space. The rush of wind through empty hallways. He fumbles for his 'light', figuratively and literally. "Which way?" He murmurs, looking around sightlessly.
Emmanuel fumbles around in his many straps, and pockets, eventually producing a little headlamp, and strapping it over his noggin. At least he's less blind now. There's a glance over toward the elevator, and a shake of his head before the Frenchman starts over toward the stairs, shifting his rifle half-raised as he moves.
There are sounds, of course, of thing scurrying under the garbage, and there are voices. But Novel is honed in on one and one alone, the woman, and so the sound of a sob, or some kind of choke does lead him up the stairwell, with Emmanuel being ever vigilent in protecting his friends and family.
Lepia creeps up behind, the dark her ally; if anything, the others turning on their lights and illuminating things cast even deeper shadows for her to sneak around in. She continues to lag behind ever so slightly.
Novel turns his head - and then suddenly he's walking. Something. Up the stairs. The doggy found Something! A pace. Not a run, but a stride, straight towards the stairs, his silhouette outlined by chemical red glow.
Fayad hesitates but follows quietly, murmuring to Emmanuel, "This seems a lot less like a raid on a demonic compound than I thought it would be," giving voice to his thoughts. "...like anyone who lives here is already suffering so much that why the fuck are we here.."
Lilah can't help but agree with Fayad, giving a grimace and muttering, "I don't... this isn't a good idea. Emmanuel, he's going to end up killing her if he goes in all wired up like this." Her tone is grave, kept to a whisper but the worry in it very clear.
Novel has friends that know him so well
"..Their suffering is not reason enough to be summoning demons, hm?" Emmanuel notes aside to Fayad in a quiet, bare whisper, before raising his hand to his lips in the classic 'shushing' gesture, and moving after Novel. He doesn't walk directly behind him, instead taking the opposite side of the corridor, ensuring that if they do end up in a firefight he won't shoot Novel in the back accidentally. There's a gentle tap at Novel's shoulder, attempting to slow him somewhat, but also hold him out of the line of fire.
It isn't too long, and too far of a trek up darkened stairs to a door, which Novel has sniffed out, so to speak. The door is closed, and the woman behind it has stopped sobbing. It is still and quiet, and desolate. The energy from these things is palbable.
Novel growls back at someone' touch, his hackles raising- and then he falls back. Yielding, slowing, falling back and settling into pace with the French freedom fighter. He guides. But he no longer leads, slowing to flank the door in some automatic drill pushed into his head.
Novel growls back at someone' touch, his hackles raising- and then he falls back. Yielding, slowing, falling back and settling into pace with the French freedom fighter. He guides. But he no longer leads, slowing to flank the door in some automatic drill pushed into his head.
Novel growls back at Emmanuel's touch, his hackles raising- and then he falls back. Yielding, slowing, falling back and settling into pace with the French freedom fighter. He guides. But he no longer leads, slowing to flank the door in some automatic drill pushed into his head.
When ready join the apartment.
Novel pushes open the door - letting it creak open, his body tense, and others going first.
The living room is a terrible mess, but it should not be very surprising with the rest of the way the apartment looks. There is a woman laying on the threadbare couch. She is in as much disarray as the room. The smell of defication fills the nostrils of those who enter, as well as the green scent of mold. Wide-eyed, and tangled up in a mess of chains all connected to a collar about her throat, the oily-haired brunette calls out to Emmanuel and his rifle pointed inward into the gross living room, shrill, "Don't hurt me!" By the looks of it, she's been put through a ringer, already. She seems to recognize Novel then, and says, fear trembling the word, "You..."
Novel steps aside, letting the others file in as he draws the gleaming blade.
"I found you."
Fayad frowns, observing how the woman is literally chained to the wall. "What did she do to you again?", he asks Novel, glancing up towards Novel with a furrowed brow - and a pinched nose.
Novel huffs out a breath at Fayad's question, his mind focusing. There's something about the small man that makes him draw to attention, to focus and soften. He shoulders the blade. "Brought an evil artifact into my fucking apartment and turned it on."
Novel says "Or... demonic, I fucking guess."
Lilah is sorry ugh RL.
There's a wrinkle of Emmanuel's nose, this time from the smell rather than expressing mere emotion. The rifle remains pointed toward the woman, though the Frenchman doesn't shoot, not yet. His left hand shifts away from the front grip of the weapon, plucking out a silver collar from his pouch which he tosses aside to Novel, then fills itself with a tranq pistol, pressing it up against the barrel of his gun. Two options. Lethal, and less than. "Collar her," He requests of the demonborn, despite the woman very much being chained down already.
The woman looks high as a kite. She's definitely been dosed with something. She mumbles, "Evil in the hands of ..." She says, "Did anyone see you? Oh ... Oh... They're going to come soon... Please. They're going to kill me!" Though, there's Novel with a blade, and Emmanuel with a rifle, it looks like she's in a bit of a rock and a hard place, as well as in between saggy cushions.
"Gods," Lilah gasps as she steps in behind the others. Her hands clamp to her nose and empathy immediately rips through her. While the others do what they do, she rushes forward, trying to push past Emmanuel, Novel, Fayad, and Lepia all to get to the chained up woman. "No, Jesus no!" she pleads with Emmanuel as she reaches toward the filthy woman, without thought for her own clothes. "She's -suffering- already. She's not a villain. She's a victim!"
Novel snatches the tossed thing out of the air by Emmanuel. Habits. Practice. Orders. Focus. The snap of that silver neutralizer being opened, stepping forwards - and then Lilah is in the way. He blinks. "They're coming," He says, tersely, an eagerness to push past her.
The woman cringes from Lilah when she approaches her, sinking further back into the couch as if the woman is lying and intends to hurt her. She is already collared with the chains all attached to it, o-rings in the chains to be used, likely, to drag her.
The woman may be bound, through mundane means, but that doesn't mean that Emmanuel is at all with Lilah moving in closer to her, dangerously so, when she makes to push past him, he drops his rifle, letting it hang down by his side and shifts his free hand to grab at her, jerk her back, "Stop."
Fayad narrows his eyes. "They're going to use her as a sacrifice. Really fucking common in the Host. Which means whoever her boss is, she displeased in some way, and they're going to take her to him. We could track her somehow to the ritual site and get them all at once, or we could fuck up their plans for the day by ... removing her, in whatever way you see fit, Novel. Since youw ere the one, wronged, and all." It'd be remarkably hypocritical for Fayad to stop Novel from going on a death vengeance bender considering Fayad's entire driving force for months.
For whatever reason, the woman calms, though she still shows the signs of her crying, the stains on her dirty cheeks. "Please... please take me with you," she gulps out to Lilah.
Novel steps forwards, that gleaming crescent pushing forwards, snapping closed over or under the collar. Wherever fits. And then he raises his blade in both hands, hanging in the air. The blade falls.
There's a crash, as that heavy blade comes down on metal chains with a sharp crack.
"We're the Disruptors, aren't we, Fayad. Not The Hand."
Fayad meekly affirms, "Yeah. Yeah, we are, Novel."
Calm only lasts so long when Novel brings up his blade. The terrified woman screams. She screams bloody murder.
Lilah is yanked to a stop by Emmanuel's grab at her arm, while the woman jerks away from her as well. "No," she says again, her own tone all but pleading now, and tears filling those sea-green eyes. She tugs at her arm for a moment, before just sinking back. Relenting, her gaze flits wildly from Novel to the woman, and back again. "Novel," she gasps, and her intent grows stronger when she hears the woman's plea. "Don't hurt her!" When his blade falls on chains, not on the woman herself, she releases a ragged breath and nods. "Yes. Let's go. Take her back to Haven. We can sort it out there, where she'll be safe. Sanctuary. Please?"
Novel then gives a smile back to Fayad. It's terrible as it is displaying the wonder and joy on his face.
"And the dead can't suffer."
Novel steps away, "Search the room, Fayad, Lepia. Lilah, get her. We're going."
"Careful," There's a single word afforded to Lilah at first, pointedly so, with a glance down toward her belly, and then back over toward the other woman. The captive, as it were. "Not Haven, non. Our base in Peru, hm? Non Sanctuary." Emmanuel suggests aside to the other members of their little squad, before starting to pat himself down once more, releasing his grip on Lilah with a look, after a gesture, searching for something or other and eventually producing a slightly squashed spy camera. He must've fallen on it. The Templar moves to stick it up and into the far corner of the room, ensuring it has view of the door, and syncing it to his phone.
Lepia moves in like a shadow, slipping into the room, scouring it for things hidden, things less so. The threads are once again withdrawn, flickering tendrils of light creeping into every darkened corner of the room.
Everyone in the room has a story. Each and everyone. The reach for power, to remove power. At least if they take the woman, maybe she will have a chance to tell hers. The new collar doesn't change anything, and maybe, in reality, the new doesn't affect her much either. She looks so young. So vulnerable. So completely. Utterly. Ruined.
Fayad gives the room a lookover, but doesn't expect to finda nything.
Its hard to tell if there is anything in the room with all the clutter and decomposition. But there are the sounds echoing through the hallways. Footsteps. Sounds like less than the party, but all the same, a group.
"It's not the end for you," Lilah whispers as she turns, giving Emmanuel a nod though something in her features hardens at the Frenchman's words. There's a tightness there, a sense of displeasure and stress that radiates even past the senses of the demon-blooded in the room, but she walks over to the bound woman. She studies her carefully, then reaches out to embrace her despite the state that she's in and she says softly, "It's not the end of your story. What's your name?"
A pause and then she adds, her voice low and meant only for one, for this shattered soul, though the others can probably hear too. Music laces her words, a soft hum beneath her breath as she works to try and calm the girl further. "I've been through it. You get through it. Changed. Different. But still you. Stronger," she promises softly, as she tries to help the girl rise. "Come on."
Novel stalks out the only exit, booted feet thumping - extinguishing the thing that says please shoot me in the head on the way out. He doesn't know where he's going - but he has another man to locate. Another hunt. The day is not over.
"Paula." the woman answers Lilah, letting the pregnant woman assist her up to a stand, her clothing is disgusting, left there to sit on the couch for who knows how long. There are sores at her mouth, likely for lack of water. "Thank you..." Unsuspecting of the siren's song keeping her calm and willing. Despite the echoes down the hall, she is calm. Around people willing to kill her, not just in the room, but outside of it, too. Walking out of the apartment is probably not the wisest thing, but then .... Novel. He's on a warpath, afterall.
Fayad cannot feel anything but safe in the place he currently is - behind Novel.
Lepia keeps to Novel's back; not only to ensure that he is pointed in the direction away from her - after all, one faces a claymore towards their enemy - but also to ensure she could support with her magic.
"Paula," Lilah says, slowly giving a shake of her head. "Your family has reported you missing. We're getting you home to them." It's a promise she means, even if her companions may well make it so that she can't keep it. For all that she's using otherworldly means to keep the woman calm, her own demeanor is determined, as she leads the girl with them, at the back of the group of men, who are far better armed than she, though she's always got a knife on her person, these days.
Emmanuel reaches over to tap a hand upon Fayad's shoulder, and then jerk his thumb over toward Lilah and their captive. Protect them, from the others, and from Lilah being harmed by Paula, the motion seems to say, as Emmanuel collects his rifle once more, checking it and it's quartz infused munitions before moving forward to follow Novel's lead.
Novel pauses - and presses against empty darkness. The blade hews through the air. A slow, scrhripling noise of the air. "Landmine," He suggests, to Emmanuel, finally thinking.
Novel starts the process of re-opening the way out of here. Away. Back to Haven.
There is a shout down the hallway at Novel, "Hey!" As for Paula, she doesn't look like she's in any state to harm anyone at all, despite Emmanuel's suspicious mind. The woman leans into Lilah, a soft sigh escaping. "I haven't seen them in months. I ... want to see my mom.." she tells her, accepting and trusting this promise, even if it is unable to be kept.
There's a pause as Emmanuel considers this, a landmine? In an apartment complex? That could start a fire, especially without Sanctuary, not to mention the potential collateral in human lives. It isn't enough to be a dreg of society, that doesn't mean you get to get blown up. At least not according to Emmanuel. There's a slight shake of the head, a disagreement, and then Emmanuel goes about fetching some other ordnance from his person. A long cylindar of a grenade, and another that is flecked with silver and nearly looks like a christmas bauble. A careful application of pin removal has the two primed and ready to go, as Emmanuel listens to hear when the corridor outside of their apartment is filled.
Lilah exhales a sigh of open relief when Emmanuel chooses not to blow the place sky high with them (and who knows who else) all still in it. Keeping an arm around Paula, she hurries after the group, but freezes at the sound of someone yelling down the hallway. "Shit. Shit," she breathes, anxiety flooding her system in an instant. Of course, that might well mean that Paula's own calm fades too... as the redhead tries to focus into the distance.
Fayad warns Emmanuel, "Careful not to drop that fucking neutralizer in here and stop Novel from cutting our way back."
Those who espy Novel as he stormed out of the apartment are unfortunate enough to start running, and run right into the tear gas, and the other less mundane and more magical device used to quell any power that they were attempting to use. One has the foresight to stay behind at least, for whatever reason. There is havok now, but also, the one who stayed back is apparently calling for backup. It is in the nick of time that the group is suddenly thrust into the disorientating world of the pathing plane.
Novel makes a grunt of disappointment, but not displeasure, running too high and drugs and pleasure. There's a smile on his face as he forays to darkness - humming Always Look On The Bright Side of Life as he leads the meandering way through this terrifying place, striding along the path.
Emmanuel scrambles out of the danger of the apartment, and into a different sort of danger, skittering along the path through The Forest after ensuring that everyone else had gotten out. He lets out a long breath then, shaking his hands a little and peering back every few steps, just in case.
Pathing is both reliable and unreliable at the same time. Sometimes you end up where you want, or at least close. Sometimes you end up in the bay. Sometimes you end up in someone else's house. Good luck (and Goodnight)!
Novel has a player that notes he had fun - and compliments to the storyrunner for the descriptions, and wonderful job from the other players' emotes. And it was nice to see everyone show off their talents and differences. Thanks for joining! See you next time!
Unsteady enough on shoes she really really needs to stop wearing, Lilah maneuvers her way along the path while also supporting someone. "It's just the Path," she offers to the woman, visibly concerned with the other woman's ability to handle it all. "Just stay close." As if the girl has much choice, with that collar around her neck and all.
Unsteady enough on shoes she really really needs to stop wearing, Lilah maneuvers her way along the path while also supporting Paula. "It's just the Path," she offers to the woman, visibly concerned with the other woman's ability to handle it all. "Just stay close." As if the girl has much choice, with that collar around her neck and all. Wherever they end up.