NationStates Jolt Archive

((See Modern Fantasy/Vampire RP anyone?: http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=519351 for sign up and details))

Hello Darkness my old friend, I’ve come to talk with you again…


Flagg Street sat quiet and still under orange tinted street lamps. Silent, except for the whining winter wind; empty, save the lone figure striding briskly down the cracked sidewalk. The man wore a black trench coat, turned up at the collar to hide most of his face; only his silver hair and dark eyes were distinguishable in the 1:30 dark. He walked down this small, slummy New Salem street at a steady, deliberate pace; relying heavily on a wooden cane clutched in his left hand. The man’s eyes stayed fixed on the ground in front of him, oblivious to the rundown tenements that leaned over him on both sides.

Because a vision softly creeping, left its seeds while I was sleeping

“Bad time to go for a stroll, my man,” said a greasy voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

The man stopped and straightened his back, lifting his cane slightly. He glanced towards the alley a few feet ahead of him, and moved tentatively toward it.

“Who’s there?” he asked in a voice muffled by his coat.

“You’ll see…” replied the voice, full of amusement.

The man in the trench coat took a few more steps before a pale, fat hand grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him into the alleyway. Before he could react he was thrown onto ground, a dirty sneaker planted itself on his chest.

“Hello there,” growled the attacker, a fat man in a wifebeater tee and ripped jeans. The lank hair which hung around his flabby face like a frame looked as greasy as his voice.

“What do you want?” asked trench coat, grabbing for his cane.

“Dinner…” laughed the fat man, displaying a row of sharp cannibal teeth. The canines were particularly long, and filed to razor edges. The monster leaned down and ripped the coat off of his victim, revealing the notched collar of a priest… and a silver crucifix on a chain. There was a soundless flash of white light as the fat man was hurled into the brick wall behind him.

The priest stood slowly, holding his cane loosely in his left hand and clutching his cross in his right. A faint white glow emanated from the holy symbol, illuminating the ruddy, slightly wrinkled face of its user.

The fat man staggered to his feet, hissing and holding his pawish hands in front of his face.

“Bad choice of meals tonight, my friend,” said the priest in a deep, almost haughty baritone. He took a deliberate step forward, holding the cross out before him.

“What do you want!!?” screeched the fat monster as he backed against the wall, his face contorting in pain.

“Information, my friend. And then I’ll put the cross away.”

“LIAR!!” howled the beast.

The priest advanced; the illuminated cross flared.

“Ok, ok ok ok okokokokkokokokkokkokokkok j-just put the cross away!”

“Not until you tell me whose leading you bloodsuckers, there’s a new boss in town…don’t deny it.”

“Go fuck yourself, shaman.”

“In the name of the Fath-“

“OK, OK! Stop! Its- his name is Kane, Alex Kane I think.”

“Vampire?”

“No, no….something else…”

“Don’t lie to me…”

“I’m not lying… he looks like a man, like anybody and no-one really… he can change his face…he calls himself ‘we’ a lot… put that down!”

Without a word, the priest stepped forward and plunged the bottom of his cane into the fat man’s chest. There was a spurt of blood, and then the body collapsed in a heap of black ash.

Sighing, Cardinal DeGrasse brushed the vampire dust from his clothes, picked up his torn trench coat, and stepped out of the alley. He produced a cell phone from his pocket and quickly dialed.

“Hello, Father MacKenzie? Yes this is the Cardinal… We have a problem.”





*********

The Next Day...


“Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We have now made seal at the gate and will be disembarking. On behalf of all of us on your trip today, we thank you for your time and bid you all a pleasant day.” It was day, early morning to be exact.

The man in seat 24A grabbed his bag from the overhead compartment and disembarked. Navigating through the terminal, he found his way out of the concourse and arrived at the baggage claim just in time to get his suitcase. He stepped out into the early morning light to see a young man holding up a sign that said “Bayne.”

“Desmond Bayne,” said the man, greeting the young chauffeur. “And you would be?”

“Henry, sir. Which hotel shall I take you to, sir?”

“None, for now. It is the Sabbath, so we are going to the cathedral.” He loaded his two bags into the trunk, then climbed into the car while Henry started the engine.

They made it about fifteen minutes before the 11:00 Mass, which would probably go till half past noon. Taking a seat on the side of the main precept, Desmond knelt in silent prayer. As he finished, the starting notes for the beginning of the Liturgy motioned him to his feet. He saw, coming out of the rectory, Cardinal DeGrasse in the crimson robes of his office. As he passed, a single glance allowed them to make eye contact.

After the service, the Cardinal had gone out the front doors to greet the departing parishioners. Desmond remained seated, with a few other people, but as the cardinal reentered the building, a few got up to speak with him. Once they had gone, Desmond rose and walked directly to the cardinal, whom had been waiting for him.

“The years have been kind and Lord has been merciful to you, Cardinal,” came Desmond’s greeting. He inclined his head slightly as he spoke. “My father sends his regards, and it will please him to realize that I find you in what appears to be good health. It has been too long.”

“Thank you for coming, Desmond. I will have need of a Bayne before long. Tell me,” said the cardinal, as the two walked back to the rectory, “have you secured lodgings?”

“Not yet, I was planning on finding someplace close by. I’m ‘meeting’ with other members of both our Orders to establish a cover as being here on a business consultation trip of indefinite length. Depending on how long this is, I will have to adjust my living arrangements.”

“You are of course, welcome to lodging here,” said DeGrasse. “We have spare rooms for this sort of situation. Rather monastic, I’m afraid, but it will at least allow you some point of flexibility. Come.” He moved off towards the rectory proper, Desmond right behind him.

“I’m sure that whatever you have will more than suffice. I understand,” said Desmond, dropping his voice to a whisper, “that the headquarters is located here. What exactly do we have by way of physical resources within the building?”

“A decent amount, as far as equipment goes. I’ll give you the tour later. If there’s anything that you need, I have the connections to acquire what we don’t already have.”

Desmond nodded. “Now,” he said, “what exactly are we going up against here?”

“Relax,” said the night man, “We are programmed to receive… you can check out any time you like but, you can never leave.”
-Hotel California


King Darius Banquet Hall, Hotel Nero, Downtown New Salem, 12:30 am…

“Ladies…ladies and gentlemen take your seats,” purred the silky voice of New Salem’s most popular televangelist, Reverend Victor “Sunrise” Reynolds. Rev. Sunrise stood at the VIP table, his oily blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. The reverend wore a silk shirt, open at the collar, blue jeans, and the snakeskin boots that were his trademark. His handsome, chiseled face (chiseled mostly by cosmetic surgery) grinned at the rich, famous, and powerful diners as they took their seats. He waved a spidery thin hand at the guards standing by the banquet hall entrance, and the heavy, ornate doors swung shut- locked.

“Ladies and gentlemen, distinguished citizens of New Salem, we are all among friends here… please before we begin- let us remove our masks.”

All across the dinning room celebrities, politicians, athletes, and powerbrokers of all sorts, dressed in the finest dresses and handsomest tuxedos, covered in glittering jewelry and fine silks, began to…change. Some, including the mayor of New Salem, literally pulled their latex faces off, revealing rotting, ghoulish visages. Others’ faces contorted, becoming demonic parodies of their former selves. Vampires revealed their fangs, werewolves burst into their monstrous forms… but a few, like Rev. Sunrise, remained unchanged- the human attendees of a hellish party.

“Now that we have shed our disguises,” chuckled the Reverend, “Allow me to introduce our host this evening…the new leader of our little fellowship, hallelujah…Mr. Alex Kane.”

“Thank you, Victor…” Kane said as he stood, motioning for the reverend to sit, “My friends, I know I have only been able to meet a few of you since my arrival in New Salem… and let me say this I’m disgusted by what I see.”

A murmur of shock rumbled through the demonic host. Kane, a tall, thin, black haired man wearing a white silk suit, grinned viciously, revealing a mouthful of gleaming shark teeth. His grey eyes glittered in the yellow light of the room’s chandeliers.

“You stumbling idiots have done a pitiful job- your infighting and petty squabbles have allowed our enemies to multiply against us. The delusional Cardinal DeGrasse and his puppets grow stronger as we grow weak. Our Father Below is most disappointed… I am here to correct your failures. Anyone, from now on, who fails me will be sent straight back down to Our Father’s house, to face his wrath. The King of Chaos wishes to gain a foothold in this world, in New Salem…. we will succeed, or face his wrath. And so a toast before we enjoy this most excellent meal- the infant liver is especially delicious- a toast to success.”

Kane lifted his wine glass, full of dark, crimson blood, and grinned his nasty, sharkish grin, “To success, and to the Kingdom of Eternal Noise, Hell.”


Vincent Fabrizio sipped the blood past sharp, pointed teeth. He and his lieutenant, a Lycan named Gregor, had assumed the feral man forms that were most useful for hidden dangers in public. Their arms and hands bristled with thick hair, and their hands ended in fingers with pointed nails that fell firmly within the term of claws. The blood brought a small rush of brightness to Vincent’s yellow eyes, almost making them glow. Across from him sat a member of the zoning commission, a vampire by the name of Ducard,

“So,” began Vincent, “ how did that subdivision hearing go? I understood that there were some objections raised by more of those environmentalists.”

“No thanks to you,” came Ducard’s reply. Both knew why. “Your girl Vannessa really got her claws into it. Why did you pull her out?”

“Please,” said Vincent, sounding polite despite the fact that this form made everything sound like a half growl, “you and I both know that most of what we do is to keep up pretenses. Truth be told, I couldn’t care if that had gone through or not, it wasn’t my turf. It’s yours, but if my ilk don’t get involved with the tree hugging, then how are we to explain our love for the outdoors? If it was that irritating, I’ll send you a nice hunter next deer season.”

The vampire merely cut his liver and ingested it, relishing the taste. “Fine blood,” he said. “34 year old female. I wonder who acquired it?”

Down the table, the minister was in a busy discussion with the mayor. “All I’m saying is that we need to find a way to get more of your staff to attend sermons. Preferably mine. It would reflect your good talent- leading by example.”

“How does a person attending your services reflect their willingness to get work done for the city?” asked the mayor.

“Association. If the people think that your staff is going to church with you, then they’ll think that it means you possess such good leadership that they will follow you even to church.” said the minister through his smile. The mayor sat back and nodded at this.

Kane walked past Vincent, and as he did, stopped to speak with him. “Thank you for supplying tonight’s beverages, Mr. Fabrizio. I must ask, where did you find the young boy and girl?”

Vincent stood and bowed slightly to his host before replying, “walking actually. New Salem is known for its safe parks, yet these two felt a stroll through the woods would be better. If it isn’t too much trouble, I’ll “stumble” upon their bodies in a few days. By then, the lack of blood will be attributable to the affects of nature.”

Kane nodded, then spoke more quietly, “Would you mind coming into my conference room? I would speak with you in private.”

“Of course.”

Half an hour later…

Vincent stood in the Conference room with the thing that called itself Alex Kane.

“Tell me,” said Kane, “what exactly is the relative strength of your… pack?”

“Ten werewolves, including myself. As game warden, I have the unpopulated woods as well as the suburbs next to them under my thumb. Why?”

“Reference,” said Kane. “Out of curiosity, though, what do you consider yourself in the grand scheme of things?”

“Simple,” said Vincent, sitting. “I’m one of the Devil’s Hounds.”

Kane smiled and walked over to the room’s panoramic window, which gave a breathtaking view of New Salem’s skyline. In the distance, the twin steeples of Our Lady of Serenity stood amidst the countless skyscrapers of uptown.

“Vinny… I want this town under my thumb within the next year. That means le bon Cardinale and his holy rolling sidekicks need to be gotten rid of, and you’re gonna help me,” Alex turned back to the werewolf, “Here’s how..”

Desmond hadn't gotten his answer. "We can talk later today," said the Cardinal. "I'd prefer to fill you in as fully as possible, and right now, I have a small task that I have put off for too long."

Desmond had accepted this as he entered his room. It was, to his comfort, relatively simple, with floor space for his particular needs. He took out his chalk, and began drawing out the ring with its four segments. At each point of the compass, he inscribed the name of a different angel: St Raphael to the East, St. Micheal to the South, St. Gabriel to the West, and St. Uriel to the North. Just within each name, he placed a single candle, and lit each one. He then removed his staff, and cutting his thumb, placed a dab of blood on the head of the staff, while he spoke the invocation.

"Holy Lord, Thou art merciful and kind. Grant that Thy mercy be upon me, and that Thy will be done trhough me. Through the Holy Ghost I ask Thee, Amen." The candles flared slightly, and Desmond knew that it was done. He had a warding circle. He extended his hand, and each tongue of flame was put out.

As he was stepping out of the circle, a knock came at the door. "Come in," called Desmond. An elder priest, probably one of the men in charge of the lodging, had come to see the cardinal's new guest. He saw the warding circle. "This, this is a House of God," he said, coldly.

"I know," replied Desmond.

"Yet you dare to defile it with heathen practices?"

Desmond's eyes could have lit a torch at that comment. "Father, were it not for the fact that you are a member of the clergy, and that I am a guest of Cardinal DeGrasse, you would be eating those words right now. As it is, I must ask you to please leave me alone."

"You," said the man, "you have no right to be doing this here. Leave, or I will tell Cardinal DeGrasse."

"Oh, I don't think that he will mind. He knows what I do. Though if you must know, I suppose it would be polite to enlighten you, and inform you that my little warding ritual is a prayer for the protection of the angels. You're not the only one that does God's work, Father. Now, if you'll excuse me, I was told that lunch would be served shortly." Desmond leaned his staff against the inside of the door frame before exiting, closing the door behind him, and putting distance between himself and the priest.

Fang-Grinder sniffed the air, allowing the particles to fall upon organs no scientist had ever conceived. Men were above him, and he tightened his grip upon his khopesh. He loped forward, right below a sewer entrance. Fang-Grinder looked at the manhole cover, trying to understand it. His simple mind understood that he had killed everything within a 20-mile radius in these strange tunnels, and he knew that food was abundant above him. So, he stared as his brain slowly put two and two together. Food, above. Him, below. Cover in middle.

Without a second thought Fang-Grinder climbed up the ladder and grabbed a hold upon the cover. With inhuman strength he ripped it off and through it into the sewer. Quickly he climbed up and hid among a shadowy alley. His nose was assaulted with strange scents, his ears with new sounds, and his eyes with new sights. The ground was hard as rock and few weeds grew out of it. Fang-Grinder did not know where he was, but asked for guidance in the barbarous tongue of the ghols.

"O', great and luminous ones, who came from beyond the stars to slumber serene beneath the earth of the third sphere, hearken to me!
Hear me, o' mighty one, o' great Khthon!
Awaken and hear my adulation, o' divine and glorious God of gods!
From thy hoary tomb thou shalt ascend, and the earth shall be enraptured by thy majesty!” He bowed his head, and prayed with a growling voice.

“Khthon! To the ancient Lemurians, you assumed the guise of a beautiful azure-skinned woman with great black wings, to the Atlanteans, you manifested as a brilliant fiery sphere of searing radiant energy, to the peoples of Ultima Thule and Hyperborea, you took the form of a titanic crystalline dragon. Yet your true form is beyond the ken of men, darker than the blackest heart of deepest night, more terrifying than the very essence of fear itself... thou art terror incarnate! From the timeless void you came, son of Z'xulth! Glory to They-Who-Lurk-And-Breed-In-Limbo! This red charnel pit of primal horror, howling black ecstasies to the void. Ancient and divine, older than the hidden Icosahedron, now rebirthed beyond the chaosphere.
Rise... rise and destroy! Hatred, carnage, slaughter, havoc, chaos, murder! I am become the devourer of all life!”

“Daddy, whats that?”

Fang-Grinder looked up, to see a human male and it’s female offspring staring at him. Without a thought he slashed the man in two with his eternally sharp khopesh, and snatched the young girls head off with his teeth. He dragged their blood spurting corpses deep into the alley, shambling like an ape. When he believed himself to be safe he began the enjoyable work of cutting up the bodies. First the arms were severed, then the legs. They were cut into smaller pieces and placed in his satchel. Fang-Grinder then pulled the organs out, eating them on the spot. He soon set about flaying the corpses, reveling in how easily the child’s skin came off. A pity she wasn’t alive. He stuck the skin upon one of the walls, allowing the blood to keep it sticking. With a cleave in between the face, Fang Grinder collected the brain and slurped it down, the juice washing away a little of the blood on his teeth. He placed the rest in his satchel and climbed up one of the buildings.

He found it easy to do, even with his load, and soon was sitting atop an ac-unit gnawing on the child’s skull. He soon found he was not alone.

“What the hell are you?” snarled the werewolf in front of him. Fang-Grinder looked at the beast quizzically, as if selecting the best parts of him to eat. With lightning reflexes he snatched his khopesh and flung himself at the pitiful beast before him.

Tonight he would feast.

Fang-Grinder loped along the rooftops, jumping from one to another. It was morning now, and he had gorged himself last night on blood and…victuals. But now he searched for a new home. Until he knew the lay of his territory better, he needed to find a place he could hide, a place he could run to when injured and regenerate. He offered thanks to Kthon for such a night and asked him to guide him towards a new lair.

As if by magic he caught a whiff of something he loved. Quickly he shambled across the rooftops, driven by the smell. He went for blocks and blocks, his khopesh tightly gripped in his hand. Driven like a dog, he felt no need for rest. Whether he was undead or living was still a mystery to him, but he knew the place he was being drawn to was a home for both.

The city cemetery.

He greeted its view with a toothy smile and jumped down, landing on the ground with the finesse of an ape. Here willows shielded him from view, tombs could become his new home, and graves some new food. He sniffed for living humans, and found none. Fang-Grinder crept towards the largest tomb, broke the lock, and opened the door.

Inside were four decaying bodies, all dressed in their Sunday best, They had been priests, crosses covering their body. Fang-Grinder was intelligent to recognize these men feared some sort of undead, although why had they substituted such strange symbols for the sign of Koth?

Fang-Grinder paid them no heed, and proceeded to urinate upon them. After that he ripped them to shreds, using their bits of flesh and black blood to decorate his new lair. Slowly he de-boned the men, pulling away rotting flesh to reveal off white bone. The smell would have been unbearable for any other, but Fang-Grinder relished it. After getting the bones he sought about spreading them upon the floor. He combined the bones of the young female and the old male with the priests, covering the floor. Still…he wanted it to be completely covered.

Fang-Grinder then dipped his claws in blood, and traced many an occult pictogram and sigil upon the walls of the tomb, chanting a suitable prayer he went. “Ghols attack their church. Crush their holy priest. Turning this cross towards hell. Writhe in N'ggaclothoig's flames. Crush their priests! This feeble church! Dead - your god is dead! Fools - your god is dead! Useless prayers of lies, behold Kthon's rise! Crush the priest, this feeble church, the family of dog! Lust upon my altar! Demons attack with hate, N'ggaclothoig in the fires of hell awaits! Death against you all, Ancient Ones hear my death call!”

Fang-Grinder threw back his head and laughed, quivering with ancient power that man had long forgotten. Fang-Grinder would bring the Ancient Ones back upon this earth, and he would start their cult.

That night, Our Lady Of Serenity Rectory...

Cardinal DeGrasse woke from a fitful slumber, his dark blue eyes glancing around his small, spartan bedroom. A crucifix hung above his bed which, other than the small bookcase that served as his night stand, was the only peice of furniture in the tiny apartment. He stood slowly, frowning- he had been dreaming something...he couldn't remember it completely, just that it had been in some sort of tomb and someone- no, something- had been laughing. Feeling he had missed something important, DeGrasse stood and walked out into his office, a spacious room full of books and relics and decorations. Running a hand through his silver hair, he picked up the phone sitting on his mahogany desk and quickly punched in a number.

"Yes, Sister, sorry to wake you. Send Bayne up to my office immediately please.... I don't care if he's asleep, wake him."


Trinity Cemetery, New Salem... 3:00 AM

The man in the white suit grinned as he walked through the graveyard, his shallow grey eyes gleaming in the moonlight. Behind him stood six or so young men and women, clad in dark robes with pointed hoods...misguided teens lured into satanism and the occult by forces behind their comprehension.

"Is this the home of the prophet, master?" asked one, his voice cracking with fear. He pointed towards a large tomb off to the left; one of the masoleum's great iron doors was slightly ajar allowing the flicker of firelight to escape into the night. The faint scent of roasting meat filled the air...someone was cooking something. Or, more likely, something was cooking someone...

"Yes," purred the man in the white suit, smiling at the acolyte like a shark smiling at a seal, "Go to him, follow him and we will meet again..."

One of the cultists, a girl, gulped audibly and the man laughed.

"Give him this..." he said, holding up a small chain with the ancient symbol of a glaring, slitted eye hanging from it, "Tell him it is a gift from the Ancients, and that if he serves his Masters well, more gifts will come."

The girl in the black robes took the talisman, careful not to touch the hand of the man holding it.

The deluded teens shuffled towards the tomb, too proud to admit their fear but afraid nonetheless, and the man in the white suit watched them go...smiling his predatory smile...before fading into the darkness.

Walking through the dark alley, Kendrick spied his client. He approached to within two metres and spoke, in a British accent which was refined, but not theatrical: "I have come for my payment". There was a certain coarseness to his voice that made it intimidating despite its calm tone.

The client smiled. "I read the newspaper. Good job with that holy man."

With no further words, the man pounced toward Kendrick. As Kendrick dodged, he fired four bullets into the man's torso - two from each gun. The man held his side and yelled in pain, but then he turned to face Kendrick. He licked the blood off his hand and let out a small laugh.

Though Kendrick was curious to know how a man could stand after such wounds, he knew better than to indulge such curiosity and started to run. The creature gave chase and almost caught Kendrick when Kendrick ran past a trash can that had been set alight - homeless people were gathering around it for warmth, but the creature hissed and stopped dead, losing his balance in the process.

"He fears the fire..." Kendrick realised and quickly fired a bullet into each of the creature's eyes, blinding him. Without hesitation, he ran and grabbed the creature, throwing it head-first into the fire.

Kendrick decided to go home quickly, in case the creature had friends around. Now, he just had to find out - what had he just been attacked by and why had it attacked him? It seemed poor reasoning to kill a useful business associate. Perhaps the creature had not meant to kill him at all - perhaps it had been an attempted kidnapping... but that just raised more questions.

Footsteps reached Fang-Grinder's ears, and he turned towards the door. He sniffed, sensing human flesh. Grabbing his khopesh he threw open the door, snarling and roaring and holding his weapon high. He loped towards the robed figures, his teeth bared and his jaw open. He prepared to strike down before the young humans could get away.

But he stopped.

The symbol of Xidirauz, one of the 12 demons of night. Xidirauz had long since been removed by Halaegliagobau, dreamer of one thousand sands. And yet there it was. A symbol of power to a long forgotten time. His mind flashed with images of atlantean spires and hyperborean warcraft. He snapped back to reality, peering at the hooded humans now frozen in fear. What were they doing with such a device? He coughed and hacked until his organs were right for speaking in the language of men. It sounded strange, as if the voice was never meant to speak. Bestial growls, snarls, and coughs escaped his throat as he spoke his warning.

"Bestow upon me the shard which I seek...give me my godhead or I shall condemn your flaccid essence to a dimension of unparalleled pain! Stray not into my darksome embrace, lest I grind my jaws upon your soul."

He slammed his khopesh against the ground to accent his point.

Avery District, New Salem
"I'm just gonna give you a warning, but you make sure to get those tags updated, alright?" Heward looked down into the window.

"Yes, officer. Thanks." The driver nodded, and Heward patted the roof of the car, before walking back to his. The man's tires squealed a bit on the wet road as he drove away. Heward opened up the driver-side door and slouched in.

"Nothing?" asked the man in the passenger seat. Ryan MacNelson sat up and pulled his cap back a bit, uncovering his eyes.

"Nope, nothing." James glanced at Ryan, turned back to the steering wheel, then looked back again. "Wait... you were sleeping when I was dealing with a potential car thief?" Heward started up the motor.

"Relax, son. I was to jump in if things got hostile." MacNelson gestured toward the road. "Are we gonna get going, or what?"

James shook his head and put the car in gear. It was a quiet night, few people were on the road. Heward cruised around the district for a bit, keeping one ear on the scanner. It looked like it was going to be an uneventful patrol, when Ryan spoke up.

"Hang on, kid. Go back to that alley." The two squinted into the dark alley... and saw two people. One was crouched over the lifeless form of another, and appeared to be biting it. Ryan growled, "Damned cultists..."

Heward turned to him. "Wait here, I'll take care of this." He stepped out of the car, drew his Beretta 96 service automatic, and shouted "Stand up, put your hands on your head!"

The man's head snapped up, and he growled. Heward was a bit stunned by his face. Blood dripped down his mouth in a torrent. When he opened his mouth and hissed, his canines looked unnatural: they were at least three times as long as they should be. The man's eyes seemed to glow in the dark, like those of a cat or wolf.

James lowered his pistol for a second, murmuring "What the fuck...", when the man pounced, rushing forward at the officer. Reacting on impulse, he raised his pistol and started firing at the man's torso. "Damn dustheads..."

The seemingly invulnerable man leaped up, and was about to land on Heward, when another shot cracked out, and he crumpled in a heap in front of James, blood seeping from a head wound. James looked back to see his partner, arms braced against the passenger-side door, gun smoking in his hands.

"Jesus." James started walking back to the car, when he heard movement behind him. He glanced back, and saw the man standing there, head wound and all. He... or it gave a brief smile, and turned away, racing through the alley at an inhuman pace. James cursed as he rushed back to the squad car, slammed the door shut, and took off, tires squealing in the night. Meanwhile, Ryan got on the scanner and reported where they were and what happened.

They caught up with the thing just as he reached a waiting car, and sped off. For four blocks, they raced, when the car peeled left, then right. The car took another sharp turn, and was out of sight for a few long seconds. Heward and MacNelson heard a deafening crash, and turned around the corner: the creature's car was wrapped around a telephone pole, it's engine and fuel tank alight. Heward got out of the car, looked inside. Police and fire/rescue sirens blared in the distance.

When he turned back to Ryan, his face was ashen. Ryan asked what the problem was, and it took James a few attempts to speak. "There's no one in there. Whatever it was crawled out the window and walked away... What the hell is going on?"

((Zambistan, feel free to control the cultists now))

Trinity Cemetery...

"H-here," said a girl in black robes, holding forth the talisman. The fear began to leave her shadowed face, replaced with awe.

"We are here to serve you, oh Traveler from beyond the world" they all said at once- it would have been melodramtic if they all hadn't been so frighteningly sincere.

A boy- older than the rest by a few years- removed his hood and stepped foward.

"He-Of-Many-Names called us in our dreams, he led us to this graveyard... This is a gift from him... he said if you are faithful to the Ancients that he would grant you more gifts, that someday you would meet him...but until then we are to serve you."

The Eye charm flashed red in the glow of the fire, as though sparkling with a life of its own.

Avery District, 20 Minutes Later....

A black sedan- so non descript that it just had to be a government car- pulled up to the scene of the crash and parked a few feet from Heward's patrol car. Several other cop cars had parked around the scene now, and perhaps ten officers milled around, telling pedestrians that there was nothing to see here, folks, move along. MacNelson looked up from the report he was filling out, glanced at the two men getting out of the black sedan, and cursed.

"Shit, Feds are here..." he muttered to Heward, and the two hastened over to meet the agents.

The agent in front wore a cheap blue suit complemented by a cheaper red tie. His skin was the yellow of old wallpaper; his black hair was plastered to his head with way too much gel.

"Officer Heward, MacNelson?" he asked the two cops, without waiting for an answer, "I'm Special Agent Creedy, this is Special Agent Quinn. Mind telling us what you boys saw tonight?"

Creedy produced a cigarrette and an expensive looking silver lighter with Hotel Nero engraved across the side in script.

"Well?" he asked, lighting the smoke and putting away the lighter, "Who's first?"

Fang-Grinder screamed his thanks in the beastial tongue of the ghols. He took the amuelet and placed it around his neck, and beckoned them to come into his abode. The cultists followed, noticing his ape-like loping. Fang-Grinder motioned towards the gore inside and smiled. One of the cultists threw up, but the rest were awfully silent. They had never seen such...such...horror in thier life.

"You, children of Ur, seek the mysteries of the Dark?"

They nodded, their expressions of fear hidden behind thier hoods. Fang-Grinder pulled them in, lightly, and shut the door. He pulled a book from his satchel made of the flesh of an unkown beast. The spine of the book was an actual spine, and it's pages seemed made of solidified blood.

"We shall make this our shrine, and I shall bring you into the ways of the Dark. But first, a hymn to the nameless worm of Valusia, may he never lay eyes upon us!" He beckoned his new students to kneel, and the read from the book in the human tongue.

"Curses borne on vampyre tongues,
Elder-fiends, o' nameless ones,
Torches glow in silver cressets,
In the Temple of the Serpent,
Waves enshroud where marble gleamed,
Spectral witch-song rides the gale,
Black wings above the land of dreams,
And silence haunts the nighted vale.
Winged dragon coiled in thrice,
Bane of flame in shadowed ice,
Flooded by the bloated moon,
The ivory worm now sleeps entombed.
Ten thousand spear-points gleaming bright,
Sharp-honed steel in pale dawn's light,
Grim-eyed legions wait brooding,
'neath the banner of the Serpent-King.
Winged dragon coiled in thrice,
Bane of flame in shadowed ice,
Flooded by the horned moon,
Awake o' worm and quit thy tomb."

Fang-Grinder closed the book and hid it once more in his satchel. "You want power? You want knowledge? You," he looked towards one of the females, "want lust? The Great Old Ones can give you all these things. Come, COME, my students! You shall become a ghol this night! You shall bring back the gholish race!"
***********************************************************
The cultists were no de-robed and naked, standing atop Fang-Grinder's lair. They were facing the moon, and humming. The gravekeeper's body was upon the ground, in front of the moon. His skin had been cut with Fang-Grinder's khopesh, and had been inscribed with all manner of occult pictograms. Fang-Grinder opened his book and began to read.
"My reign beneath the graveyard, my kingdom's underground
disease of necrophagia, child of Ancient Gods.
My shape, a living fear
my eyes, reflecting horror
my growl will, make you creep." The cultists lifted thier hands toward the moon and began to chant.

"Let us gather under the moonlight
prepare our feast this unholy night
come my brothers, follow my signs
this is the feast of ghols."

Fang-Grinder nodded, and the cultists jumped down and began to eat the dead man's flesh. Fang-Grinder lifted his book high and roared.

"I growl into your coffin
licking mylips for flesh
the highest of repulsions, the sacrilege of death.
I'm the cremator from ashes
I've will be born and mankind is destined
for my supper, your corpse is my rebirth.
I love to crunch your bones one by one
ripping you to shreds
suck the eyeballs of your socket
feeling the taste.
Robert, Fanagan, Melissa, Austin, Courtney, and Trae! Your mind and soul shall be ripped apart and you shall be reborn in darkness. And you shall know forever that the wailings of the mad are but the birth-cries of the new man-the old man gone like dust in the desert wind. Cleansed of the lies of mankind, the new man-the man of darkness-is free to absorb the beauty of nothingness, to glory in the stark night of the utter void. As your useless reason dissolves, Rejoice!"

The cultists began to change, thier backs curving, thier claws forming, thier teeth sharpening, thier legs becoming stronger, thier organs re-arrenging. Thier human blood was forced out of every edifice, now being replaced with the black bile of a ghol's heart. Soon they were tearing the body to pieces, rending and ripping everything. Fang-Grinder chanted to the moon god.

"Ia! Namma, lord of the Ghols. We rejoice in the success of this Rite of Chaos given to us by you. We thank you for watching over this rite. Deliver unto your new children their weapons!"

From the sky six khopeshs fell and stuck into the ground. The new ghols, now finished feasting, rejoyced and picked up thier new weapons. They found new names enscribed upon them, and Fang-Grinder lead them into thier new home, to finish thier education in the occult, and to sew for them thier stachels made of skin.

Akira watched Mandy sending a small fortune in colloidal silver Black Talon-esq rounds into the target range that dominated a fairly large percentage of his lower floor. He frequently watched the girl who had at one point been fairly fanatical about getting his head mounted on her wall, his heart over her fireplace and his turning the rest of him to ash. As she holstered the pistol, she turned to him and called out, "Hey bat-breath, unless you want to find out what it feels like to have your eyes boiled out, I suggest you go somewhere else."
"Fine, but please try to leave the range in one piece this time." He reply as he headed away from where she was.

Since coming to work as his nominal secretary and in the minds of most who had reason to pay attention, his mistress or lover, Mandy had gotten various buisnesses he had a controlling interest in to manufacture specialized weapons for dealing with those of the less than human persuasion. A couple of his favourites, in a sense, where the vamp-grenade, her colloidal silver rounds and her multi-purpose wolf and bat bullet.

Heading upstairs to get a drink, bottled not bodied, he wondered about the rumours he'd been hearing recently and made a mental note to see about getting them checked out.

Heward licked his lips nervously, then spoke up. "Sir, you're never gonna believe this... but whatever we chased was a monster. Like... a fairy-tale kinda thing. It was sucking some poor girl's blood from her neck like... a-a-a vampire, and then we shot the damn thing at least twelve times, once in the head. It just got up and went driving." He ran a hand across his scalp. "Whatever it was, it survived that crash. It looks like it just walked away..."

Creedy glanced at Quinn and frowned, blowing smoke from his nostrils.

"Officers I'm going to ask you to come with us please." said the agent, "I'm sure you're familiar with the drug PCP? It often enables users to withstand pain and accomplish seemingly superhuman feats...we are in the middle of an ongoing investigation and would like your testimony."

"Sir, this was not a PCP user. He was shot in the brain. Even a dusthead would go down with the kind of punishment he was dealt." Heward looked to MacNelson to back him up.

Ryan shrugged and said, "I agree with him, sir. I've had to take down PCP users before. Gunfire works, even if they can't feel it..."

Creedy opened his mouth to say something when another patrol car pulled up to the scene, sirens blaring.

"What is the meaning of this? This is not your investigation, Agent Creedy, the next time you Feds want to interrupt my Officers, you let me know," barked Patricia Ryan, the Chief of the NSPD, even before she had gotten out of the car.

"Ah, Ms. Ryan," Creedy sneered, "what a pleasure. I assure you I was simply questioning these officers on how they allowed a killer to evade them...but perhaps now I should make this an issue for internal affairs?"

"Shove it up your ass, Creedy." the chief snarled, then turned to MacNelson and Heward, "Ryan, Jimmy, go back to the station and wait in my office. Don't worry about these hyenas."

Quinn whispered something in Agent Creedy's ear, and the Fed nodded.

"Something's come to our attention, we must be going," then with a nod at Heward, "We'll be in touch."

Heward and MacNelson walked back to their squad car, a bit numb with simultaneous shock and relief. They strapped in, Heward started the engine, and they looked at each other for a second.

"What... the hell... was that?" Heward said, his voice tired.

"I don't know. Let's do what the chief said and get the fuck out of here. Sound good?" MacNelson looked white as a sheet. Well, more than usual, anyway.

"Yeah, sounds good." The two drove back to the NSPD is silence, tires whispering on the wet pavement. Everything seemed to be in a bit of a dream state as they clambered out of their car, traded tired greetings with the officers on duty, and slumped into Chief Ryan's office.

Fang-Grinder and his children watched in silence as the police pulled away. Tonight they had broken into an orphanage and eaten nearly 16 children, 3 of them infants. Their bellies full, they had stopped to study the ways of the uniformed men, so that they could prey upon them later.

Fang-Grinder tilited his hide forward, and they moved yet again. Leaping over rooftops like nimble monkeys, thier khopeshes gleamed in the moonlight. They peered down the many alleyways, looking at the treats below them: hobos, crackheads, punks, and other riff raff.

Fang-Grinder's simple mind however was occupied. Who was this man that had given his children the amulet? What did he want? Where would he meet him? Fang-Grinder noticed the position of the moon, and loped towards his lair, to offer a prayer to Lumma.

Desmond was roused from sleep by a loud knocking. "Yes?!?"

"Sir, the cardinal requests your presence immediately." Bayne's eyes snapped open at this. DeGrasse normally let a man get his sleep. He threw on a single piece robe to cover himself, grabbed his staff, and was out the door in less that half a minute. "This way, Mr. Bayne."

Bayne was shown into DeGrasse's office. "What need have you of me, Cardinal?"

********

A cloaked figure, one that looked like a man but moved in a slightly more animal way, jumped into the light of the moon. He landed silently on a rooftop, and ran to the edge, only to leap again to the next building. His line was an oblique angle, designed to allow him to double back in case he was being tailed. When he judged it necessary, he turned, and made his way to the high rise outline of the hotel. Getting near enough, he leapt, clutching the wall, and scurrying up it. Finding an open window at the top, he dove in, only to find himself standing in the presence of Alexander Kane.

"Kane! What the Hell did you do?" he demanded, pulling his hood back. As he spoke, his teeth receded somewhat, his eyes returned to their normal brown, his hair straightened, and his beard receded to reveal a handsome Italian-American face. "Erik's liutenant was mauled. Now he's after me, claiming I had something to do with it. I can deal with one opposing pack, but if Morris falls in with him, I'm a dead dog! Who. Killed. Langford?"

Our Lady Rectory...

"Yes, send Brother Tristram up to my office... thank you Sister." DeGrasse put the phone down and looked up at Bayne, his sharp blue eyes glittering...the Cardinal was excited, though he hardly showed it.

"Desmond I believe the Demons are gathering their forces for a final confrontation...that is why I called you to New Salem. They have a new leader, I have not been able to find out who- or what- it is, but I'm afraid it is a Greater Demon... one of satan's lieutenants... that is why we must move quickly. I've been informed by my connections in the NSPD that there have been a string of animal maulings recently- the werewolves are becoming more active, and they are unified...but there is something else, perhaps something more worrisome, that our dark friends have unleashed...something not at all of this world...something from a different plane of existence. There are walls between the worlds Bayne- barriers between Heaven, Earth, and Hell and everything in between... and there are rats in the walls, big ones. I believe one of those rats has chewed his way into our city, where the walls happen to be particularly thin...What do you know of the Cult of Namma?"

Hotel Nero...

Kane sat crosslegged on the huge, down filled bed of the presidential suite, absently shuffling a deck of cards.

"Howdy partner!" he said in a voice eerily similar to John Wayne's, his grey eyes darting to Vincent, "Lost yerself a cowhand, didja? Well, don't worry old hoss ole Al's got the situation in contrrrrrrrrrrooooooolllll.."

The thing on the bed cackled and restacked the cards in his hands. He smiled his joyless smile and winked at the werewolf.

"Your friend Langford," he said, slipping back into his usual, jolly tone, "Ran into my newest pal. Listen up Vinny, you might learn something. In the begining, that great big pain in the sky said let there be light and-boom-an infinite number of realities sprung into existence. Universe upon universe was sent spiraling out to fill the beautiful emptiness. It's our job to conquer this world right here, to make it ours. The Big Guy Downstairs, however, has friends in all these realities, all working to make these realities His realities, not god's. All I did was invite someone- well, more of a something- from one of these Other Places, to our place... and he's gonna help us out...but right now we need to leave him alone, let him do his job...let DeGrasse worry about him and not about us. As for Erik, dont worry about that big bad wolf...cause I got some good news for you Vin- ya ready?"

The demon's grin widened,

"I'm giving you a promotion. From now on you're in charge of the vamps, ghouls, and the wolves in this here town- and their human friends. Second only to moi... Fail me, and I'll skin you alive. Here's the deal Vin...New Salem, by this time next year, will be a gateway to Hell Itself...all we gotta do is get rid of those who would stand in our way, those who have the power to keep the Infernal Gates sealed. Destroy DeGrasse, his followers, and his cathedral, and the way is clear..."

Hotel Nero

Vincent nodded at the first comment, but was utterly surprised by the second. "Thank you, Master. I am grateful. Though I must ask, what shall I do if this other being causes trouble that exposes one of my pack? I cared not for Erik, he has been my opponent for many years, and his liutenant Langford and I have fought, but this creature is brash and not at all discreet."

Our Lady Rectory

Desmond was startled by DeGrasse's question. "Only what our travels have told us. It is most parrallel to a demonic cult, but it exists in another plane where a few sorcerers have traveled. If this creature be from a plane of existence parrallel to our own, then I will have to consult the ancient books. Though if a demon has summoned it, then our enemy may be in commune with the Prince of Darkness himself."

Desmond sat, the full realization of what he said sinking in. "Father," he said, looking at the cardinal, "if this be true, then we may all face death. Hear my confessions."

Hotel Nero...

"Bind Erik with silver chains, brand the symbol of the Great Eye to his chest, and offer him as a sacrifice to our friend...you'll find him in Trinity Cemetery in the O'Dim Family Tomb. Go at 3 am, offer Erik as a sacrifice...our friend will undoubtedly begin spouting irrelevancies and praying to Our Father Below in his own...unique...style. Listen respectfully to his rantings, tell him Erik is a gift from 'Nyarlathotep'... he'll understand." Kane said quickly... "Now go, I've got things to do and so do you, get out."

Our Lady Rectory...

DeGrasse nodded,

"Tell me your sins, my son...."

"Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum..."

A cloaked figure sat alone in the shadows of the ground floor. His whispered words echoing from wall to wall as he grasped a rosary in his sullen hands.

"Adveniat regnum tuum.
Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra..."

The sound of walking permeated the silence as the steps grew closer. A sister of the church approached the angel of light... the angel of darkness. The sound stopped as the nun stood above the large bobbing figure of a fellow member.

"Brother Tristram... Cardinal DeGrasse wishes to see you in his rectory now," she spoke softly, but the true consequences of her words were heavy indeed. "Frater?"

"Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis
debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris..."

The pious man that sat before her was no ordinary man of the Church; he was an agent of God - a demon of demons.

"Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo...
For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory,
For ever and ever. Amen."

---

Two quick raps upon the heavy oaken doors and then the nun opened them to allow entry. Her figure was that of a child next to his imposing size. His faint smile to her as he passed through the doorway seemed slightly hollow... Hollow like the silver bullets he held in his treacherous gun beneath the habit.

"Pater?"

"Nyarlathotep differs from the other beings in a number of ways. Most of them are exiled to stars, like Yog-Sothoth and Hastur, or sleeping and dreaming like Cthulhu; Nyarlathotep, however, is active and frequently walks the Earth in the guise of a human being, usually a tall, slim, joyous man. Most of them have their own cults serving them, while Nyarlathotep seems to serve them and take care of their affairs in their absence. Most of them use strange alien languages, while Nyarlathotep uses human languages and can be mistaken for a human being. Finally, most of them are all powerful yet purposeless, yet Nyarlathotep seems to be deliberately deceptive and manipulative, and even uses propaganda to achieve his goals. In this regard, he is probably the most human-like among them.

Nyarlathotep enacts the will of the Outer Gods, and is their messenger, heart and soul; he is also a servant of Azathoth, whose wishes he immediately fulfills. Unlike the other Outer Gods, causing madness is more important and enjoyable than death and destruction to Nyarlathotep"

The children were ina circle around Fang-Grinder, within the "chapel" as they now called it. Tonight the body count reached 26, and thier bones littered across the floor. After they had come home, they had prayed to Namma, called Nanna by the Sumerians, and had begun...to dig.

They now had a two tunnels beneath the chapel, where they could hide and where more of thier number could stay. Leaflets had gone up, scrawled in blood and poor handwriting asking "servents of The Dark" to meet with "the children of Namma."

As the lecture ended they could sense more humans in the graveyard, but before they left they offered a prayer.

"Father Namma, lord, moon-god, prince of the gods,
Father Namma, lord of Uru, prince of the gods.
Lord, thy deity fills the far-off heavens,
like the vast sea, with reverential fear! ...
Father, begetter of gods and ghols,
who establishest for them dwellings
and institutest for them that which is dark....
Chief, mighty, whose heart is great,
god whom no one can name,
In all the heavens, who is supreme ?
As for thee, it is thou alone who art supreme!
As for thee, thy decree is made known upon earth,
and the spirits of the abyss kiss the dust!
As for thee, thy decree blows above like the wind,
and stall and pasture become fertile!
As for thee, thy decree is accomplished upon earth below,
and the grass and green things grow! ...
As for thee, thy decree has called into being war and strife,
and the peoples have promulgated thy law! ...
O Lord, mighty in heaven, sovereign upon earth,
among the gods thy brothers, thou hast no rival!"

((KAG, in order to expedite the RP you can tell what was said in confession in flashback or something if you want to.))

When the mage had finished his confession the Cardinal spoke,

"Desmond... your position in this struggle is unique. Unlike the clergy your power does not come directly from God, but from yourself, from your mind, from your soul. This allows you a great amount of freedom with your abilities...but it is also a great risk my son. Unlike a member of the Church, who can tap into the Supernatural only for good, you have the ability to choose. This makes you far more dangerous than even the worst fallen priest if corruption should slither into your heart. You must be careful Desmond, I have seen far stronger mages fall prey to the promises of evil, and become terrible sorcerers and necromancers. Whichever devil is in charge of our adversaries in this city, rest assured that he is a great liar... always remember that. I will not assign you penance, for I think we shall all soon be paying for our misdeeds."

DeGrasse sketched a cross in the air and muttered the prayer of absolution,

"Sin no more, my son."

No sooner had he finished then a knock came at the door and Brother Tristram stepped into the room.

"Pater?"

The Cardinal smiled and stood,

"Ah, Desmond, allow me to introduce my brightest pupil," he said, "This is Brother Tristram...perhaps the best demon hunter we have in the Knights. Brother, this is Desmond Bayne..."

NSPD Station, Chief Ryan's Office...

"Alright," the chief said as she sat down. She looked tired, and something else...maybe alittle afraid- strange for this usually energetic and autocratic woman, "Who wants to tell me what happened out there today, and how you two got that pain in my ass Creedy involved?"

A young man wearing a plain black suit stepped throught the door of the church and after looking around for one who'd taken holy orders approached a nun. "Sister, might I trouble you for directions to where Father DeGrasse is. I bear a missive I've been tasked to deliver to him personally."

Should she have even a hint of the 'witch hunter' or rather 'witch sniffer' talent alarm bells would ring as it was quite appearent to those with the sense to realize it that the man was often in the presence of one who was less and more than human and perhaps his will was not fully his own.

As if to further reinforce his point he lifted his left wrist to call attention to a briefcase with far more than the ordinary number of locks as well as a handcuff connecting it to his wrist.

Sister Vivian took a step back, wary of any stranger who would enter the cathedral at this time of night.

"The Cardinal is busy," she said tentatively, "You may wait here if you wish..."

Vincent left via the elevator, and headed towards Erik's huniting grounds. As he headed over there, he stopped at a payphone, and made two calls. "Gregor, bring silver chains, alley behind Rochester's. And while you're at it, I might need a change of clothes."

The second was much more controlled. "Erik, this is Vincent. I've been to Kane, and we're told to meet behind Rochester's...Yes, just outside your territory...Kane has the solution to Langford's demise, and a way to prevent our mutual enemy from preying upon any of our brood again...I don't care if you decide to show, but that's what Kane said. I'll be there." He hung up, and began walking towards the appointed place.

Gregor was already there. They had to wait for only ten minutes before Erik and his new liutenant, Harrison, showed up. "Well," said Erik, "what's this to be about? Is Kane here, or not?"

"Oh," said Vincent, calmly, "Kane wasn't actually going to show. I merely stated that Kane has the method to solve the problem of something eating us Lycans. Specifically, you."

"Traitor!" screamed Erik. "You betrayed me! You are both coward and fiend, worse than those slimy zombies we put down for fun or those repugnant vampires! I shall have your heart!"

"Not really," said Vincent. "Perhaps you would like to hear Kane's solution, yes? It's quite simple: Our problem is to be offered one, and only one, additional werewolf. Either you, or me. Gregor brought silver chains, and I have a brand. Here's how it'll play out. You just insulted me. I intend to defend my honor. Whoever wins gets both packs, and the joy of wrapping the other in those chains. Incidentally, should you beat me, Gregor will make a much better liutenant than Harrison. His loyalty is to strength, and he'll serve you blindly." This ellicited a snarl from Harrison, but Vincent went on.

"Getting back to our issue, however, it's quite simple. Winner makes the loser a snack for Langford's killer. I've told Gregor the necessary details, so, should you win, both of us will be able to tell you what needs to be done. Now, there is a nice golden lining to this situation. The winner becomes Kane's chief attack dog. So when all is said and done, and DeGrasse is gone, one of us gets the city, and every servant of the devil in it. So we aren't just fighting for our lives. We're fighting for the glory too."

Erik nodded. "Let's do it then, shall we?" He paced back, as did Vincent, and the two observers climbed up a fire escape to watch the sshow. Harrison had the duty of starting it.

"Erik, Vincent, Ready?" Both nodded. "Then let the battle for alpha dog begin." With a snarl, they launched themselves at each other, both transforming into giant, hairy beasts of the legendary werewolfs. Even as their claws met, both had entered that hybrid wolf-human stage of their skin changing, the seven foot tall bipedal animals that walked and fought like the most vicious of men yet bore the heads, claws, and coats of the wolf. Erik got first blood, but Vincent merely leapt with the blow, and regressed to the feral human stasis as he climbed the walls of the narrow alley. Erik reached for him, only to miss as Vincent jumped down and landed his elbow onto Erik's skull.

Dazed, the giant beast shrunk, revealing Erik in his own feral form. Vincent leapt upon him, and began laying out blow upon blow, drawing blood from Erik's face and his own fists. The wounds healed rapidly, but the ferocity of the attack left Erik in a stupor. Vincent stood, victorious. "For what's it's worth, I'm sorry about Langford. He had honor." Gregor leapt down and handed Vincent the spare clothes, a godsend for his naked body. He donned them as Erik was chained up. Harrison stood behind him. "Notify the others, Harrison. I'm not one to play favourites. We work for Kane now. Harrison nodded, and left.

Gregor had secured a van. Injecting the Lycan with a sedative, he hoisted Erik and carried him over. "What now?"

"Vincent took out a cigarette, lit it, and inhaled. "Brand his chest," he said, handing him an ornate wrought iron brand of a large eye. "then we take him."

The two arrived at the cemetary just before three A.M. It wasn't hard to find the ghol. They dragged the barely breathing Erik between them, making their way suredly to Fang-Grinder. He was finishing a prayer of some sort, and as he did, he noticed the newcomers.

"Honored guest to our realm, our Master bids us to bring to you this sacrifice, and a directive. We bring you a powerful werewolf, a gift from Nyarlathotep, and his word. He tells that this gift must be your last werewolf, for he has need of the Hell Hounds, and that he shall provide other prey to you, more succulent and better suited to your liking. Simply avoid our scent, and all shall be well, and you shall be rewarded." They left Erik, and after bowing slightly, backed into the darkness.

"What, what was that thing?" Gregor asked.

"A Devil spawn from another plane parrallel to ours. They are called ghols, not to be confused with our ghouls. Apart from the obvious physical differences, they're abilities would apparently be more than this reality's ghouls. It is enough that he follows our master. Come, we have work to do."

"An honor to meet you, Brother Tristram," said Desmond, politely. "It refreshes one's spirit to be in the presence of a kindred hunter." He leaned on his staff slightly, weary from the discussion he had just had with the cardianl about their new threat.

"It is somewhat pressing, but should it be absolutely unavoidable, then there is nothing to be done by complaining about any delay." He replied as he took a seat on a nearby pew.

"An honor to meet you, Brother Tristram," said Desmond, politely. "It refreshes one's spirit to be in the presence of a kindred hunter." He leaned on his staff slightly, weary from the discussion he had just had with the cardianl about their new threat.

"You speak too kindly of me pater," Tristram replied as Cardinal DeGrasse introduced the brother to his new associate.

Turning to Desmond Bayne, as the man had been identified, he quickly eyed him up and down before extending his large hand. On his outstretched palm a black cross had been emblazoned, a permanent fixture of his faith. "I sense a great blasphemous threat arising... it is good to know that there are still allies out there in this time."

"I pray hope that I have not interrupted anything," he added after in his Italian accent. "I was told I was needed."

I pray hope that I have not interrupted anything.

"No need to worry, friend. I was just finishing my private business with the Cardinal. Excellency," he said, turning to Cardinal DeGrasse, "unless you would prefer I stay, I shall go and begin ransacking the library for more definitive answers."

The Cardinal turned to Tristram. "Go with him, study this new threat, follow its movements and keep an ear to the news... murders, cult killings things like that. Hunt this abomination and send it back to its infernal master, keep me informed and go with God."

As the two left the room, Sister Vivian stepped into the Cardinal's office

"Excellency, there is a man here to see you...he says it is urgent," she said, then lowered her voice, "He is a familiar, I think...he stinks of Vampire."

DeGrasse leaned back, cocked the pistol under his desk and nodded at the nun...

"Send him in."

"Cardinal Degrass, I have been tasked to deliver this missive to you." Were the first words from the man's mouth as he was shown into the office. Unlocking the briefcase he pulled out a plain manilia folder and placed it on the desk before stepping back. Within was a plain typed page with a basic signature on the bottom.

Dear Cardinal DeGrasse

You may not know who I am, but I do know you and would like to meet with you in person to discuss certain issues of mutual interest. Knowing what I do of you, you have undoubtably realized the nature if not the name of the one writing this message. As such, I would request that you take the restrictions of my kind into consideration on wherever you choose to meet, thought it might be simpler to consider me an exteme albino rather than what you know I am.

I wish to meet in peace and preferably in a neutral location but should you desire the advantage or simply are untrusting as is well within your right, I wish to invoke the laws of hospitality and swear upon my siring that I shall do you no harm without a direct physical assault with mortal intentions upon my person by one of your people or yourself.

A.A.

If the Cardinal knew anything of traditional vampiric culture he would know that the oath was as close to unbreakable as an oath could be.

As Tristram followed Desmond into the library, Desmond stopped for a moment to speak with his companion.

"Brother Tristram, I know not what you know of me, so allow me to be frank with you. I am member of the Order of the Cloak, a sorcerer descended from one of four men that received a quarter of the Cloak of Christ at the Crucifixion. What we are searching for is, how shall I say, subjective material. The cardinal, for good reason, believes that there might be an enemy from another plane of existence that parrallels our own walking within this plane.

"If you would prefer to not partake in this endeavor with me, I would understand, and in no way would I judge you the lesser man for it. But the cardinal has tasked me to find information about the Cult of Namma, an organization that, for lack of better terminology, is a parrallel to the true Satan worshippers of our own world. One of their champions, a powerful villain of some sort, is the threat that has passed into our world. Before we can go hunting, we have to try to understand what it is that we shall be facing." Desmond paused.

However, after getting a single breath, he went on. "If you would help me, I would be glad of the assistance, though I warn you that the books we must read are kept here under stringent lock and key, and I confess that I wish God would spare us this ordeal. The other knowledge that is contained in those books is equally dangerous, and all of it is repulsive enough to make a person's skin crawl. If you would help me, then all I ask is that before we begin, we extend a prayer to Saint Jerome for guidance this night."

The Cardinal leaned back in his chair, frowning. After a few moments silence, he spoke:

"St. George's Pub, ten minutes to dawn tomorrow. It will be dark enough inside for your...employer." he said quickly, his nostrils flaring with disgust, "Now get out."

OOC: Sorry for the wait...
"Alright," the chief said as she sat down. She looked tired, and something else...maybe alittle afraid- strange for this usually energetic and autocratic woman, "Who wants to tell me what happened out there today, and how you two got that pain in my ass Creedy involved?"

Heward quickly pocketed the rosary necklace he used in times consternation, such as this. "Well, sir, you're not gonna believe this... but we just shot a monster."

MacNelson spoke up. "I think that thing was a vampire, Cap'n. A real, live vampire." He and James shook their heads disbelievingly.

"Anyway, we shot this thing a dozen times," Heward continued, "And then chased a few blocks. We found its car wrapped around a telephone pole, sans the vampire. Then that guy, Creedy, showed up, before any black-and-white's could show up." James paused for a second. "Captain, what the hell is going on?" His voice showed signs of nervousness creeping at the edges of it.

Pat ran a hand through her firey hair,

"Listen...this city...there are places where the walls between this world...and Others... are thin, where some things from Other Places come through. I know this sounds stupid, but maybe not so stupid after what you boys saw out there tonight? New Salem has alot of secrets, most of them dark...I don't understand half of what goes on in this town...and I don't really want to, I just do my job. What I do know is this...you two aren't lying about what you saw, and now you're both in trouble. Carson Creedy and his lackies are dangerous men, and now you're on their radar." the police chief sighed and shook her head, "You need to get to Our Lady of Serenity, the Cathedral? Go there, both of you...you aren't safe here... I can only do so much."

Police Chief Ryan stood and sighed,

"Listen, get to that Church, ask for the Cardinal...he'll be able to help you. I have to go, there was a murder in the children's hospital...Christ these things have been acting up lately. Good night, good luck, I'll call you both tomorrow...and be careful, both of you."

Heward nodded. He said "Yes, ma'am," and stood. He turned to his partner.

MacNelson stretched, patted his knees, and got up. "Call us if you need us, Pat. And, thanks for your help. That Creedy guy wanted to take us away. Who knows where we'd be if it weren't for you." James nodded in agreement.

The duo walked out of the office, in a bit of a daze. It was on odd feeling, to know that you're being hunted. They were used to doing the hunting.

They said little on the long drive to the Cathedral. Neither needed to even glance at the map: they were both faithful Irish Catholics, and had been going together to Church every Sunday for the past year, right before their Sunday patrol started.

Heward parked the car in the near-empty lot, and the officers got out, and walked up to the darkened church. The sight of it wasn't nearly as comforting as it usually was, bathed in darkness as it was. The both walked up the front steps, and, after trying the locked door, MacNelson rapped on the glass pane, hoping for an answer.

Meanwhile, James kept an eye out toward the street. He could almost feel Creedy and his goons breathing down his neck, even if they weren't even close.

"Of course." He replied with a half-bow before departing to a buisness office.

***************

Meanwhile Akira was receiving a through reaming out from Mandy after she'd found out what he'd done. She loathed the Church, actually most churches, as she blamed them almost as much as the actual killers of her family. They'd had an agreement that a few of the faithfully militant would be providing additional protection as the more skilled were either ill or recovering.

When his pager beeped he held his hand to forestall her, and give her a chance to breath. He wouldn't have believe a human could contiually yell for so long before. "It's already arranged, and don't get involved as if you attack the cardinal, I'll have to protect him and I wouldn't want to do so."

***************

The next day at fifteen minutes before the forecasted dawn-break, Akira stepped into the St. George's Pub.

In front of the Cathedral, Later that night...

"Help!" screamed someone down the street, "He's got my baby!"

A woman, wide eyed and hysterical emerged from the midnight gloom and ran up to the two officers, "Help me, it was a madman...they took my son, HELP!"


She sprinted away towards a nearby alleyway not waiting for a response.

"This way!"

"Honored guest to our realm, our Master bids us to bring to you this sacrifice, and a directive. We bring you a powerful werewolf, a gift from Nyarlathotep, and his word. He tells that this gift must be your last werewolf, for he has need of the Hell Hounds, and that he shall provide other prey to you, more succulent and better suited to your liking. Simply avoid our scent, and all shall be well, and you shall be rewarded." They left Erik, and after bowing slightly, backed into the darkness.

"What, what was that thing?" Gregor asked.

"A Devil spawn from another plane parrallel to ours. They are called ghols, not to be confused with our ghouls. Apart from the obvious physical differences, they're abilities would apparently be more than this reality's ghouls. It is enough that he follows our master. Come, we have work to do."

Fang-Grinder had added nearly eight new children to his church that night, and gladly took the still living body. After simply grunting to the strange dog smelling men he dragged the being into...the chapel. 14 ghols now were hunched and chanting, praying to gods older then the sun. Blood, bones, and body parts were everywhere, and a trapdoor fashioned from skulls led the way to the underground tunnels. By now they ran the route of the entire graveyard, and the ghols had cleaned out every grave of it's body. Now, with this living piece of meat, Fang-Grinder would offer a glourious sacrifice.

They chained the man to a crudely crafted altar and began to peel his skin away slowly. His screams were defeaned by the thickness of the chapels walls, and the laughter and gibbering of the ghols. Still alive he was, and he would be alive for quite some time. The ghols forced a liquid down his throat to keep him from passing out, and continued. Next they cut off his arms and legs, then quickly binding them up in cloth. Then they cut a massive hole where his face once was, all the way to his forehead, carefully avioding a few holes to breathe from and a small hole for him to be fed.

This man would go mad in a few days. He couldn't kill himself, couldn't run, couldn't speak, and couldn't walk. He was the same as a dead man, except he was now trapped within his mind. He would be fed from a tube in the chapel on a diet of meat and blood, and the placed in a solitary chamber where he could never escape. The god of madness would feed off his thoughts, and bring power to Fang-Grinder and the ghols.

Glory to the Old Ones.

((demented as usual, Zambistan))

St. George's Pub, Castle District...

Cardinal DeGrasse, dressed in a normal priest's habit and black trench coat, sat in the farthest booth from the front of the slightly run down but charming diner/bar eating a plate of fried eggs and hash in his usual slow but deliberate manner. Under his coat was a crucifix, all he would need as defense against his visitor if things became ugly. Johnny Cauffield, the owner of the pub, sat behind the bar reading the paper. His left hand, out of sight, rested on a sawed off shotgun full of blessed, silver slugs. The two other diners in the Pub, who sat at a fair distance from the Cardinal, were DeGrasse's two guards- Brother Isaac and Brother Job, and both carried concealed automatic pistols.

"Go with God..."

A cruel pun of faith and reality intertwining to form the precarious situation before them. To "Go with God" was to follow in his divine glow, worshipping the power of the almighty... accepting him, in more ways than one.

Desmond stopped for a moment to speak with his companion.

Though a faithful and trusted member of the Church and its wing of angels, Brother Tristram was still in the dark about when it came to much about the more... "obscure" themes of the world. The Order of the Cloak, the Cult of Namma, this plane of existence... he had heard of none of them before the moment, and now he was entrusted to work in name of God to bring the proper order to His greatest creation. Sorcerery, for example, was one of the "obscure themes" that Tristram was poorly versed in. Some, he had heard, said it was the power of divine intervention manifested into humans; others had said that a few chosen had been gained access to the primordial streams of energy - the source of all existence; perhaps it was neither or somewhere in-between. It was one of those things he understood little of and was becoming more acquainted with everyday - like his latent ability to access the expressions defined by certain patterns of neuron's firing in the cerebrum of other beings...

The one thing he was sure of, though, was faith beyond faith. God had given him a task to root out evil and send the demons of the world back to judgment where He would be waiting flanked by cherubim and grasping the great sword of heaven. There was no turning back - no turning his back - on the mission at hand. "I am with you until mine eyes have seen the glory of the Lord."

"I warn you that the books..."

"I am sorry to say you will face this particular horror alone," Tristram broke in. "I am spared the temptation and cruelty by my lack of... 'capability'."

The Bible memorized... and not a word of it read.

I am sorry to say you will face this particular horror alone," Tristram broke in. "I am spared the temptation and cruelty by my lack of... 'capability'.

"It is not temptation, but rather the disturbing nature of it that neither of us shall be spared. If a horrendous crime has ever caused you to wonder as to how God could allow such a travesty, then steel yourself. Much of what you will read has occurred in other places, and it is more horrendous than words can describe. I leave it to you. Your eyes are with me until they see the glory of God, but I wonder if they will follow as we trespass upon the depravities of Lucifer."

Desmond turned to the book stacks, and moved to the back, where a small door was locked. He produced a key, and unlocked the door, then knelt before it. "Saint Jerome, patron of libraries, those that keep them, those that add to them, and those that search them, hear our prayer. Send us your guidance, bequeath your wisdom, and with the light guide us through the darkness of our ignorance and temptation. Amen." He crossed himself, and stood, opening the door, and entering.

"It's good to see you Cardinal." Akira commented as he walked over to where the priest was sitting. Taking a seat across from DeGrasse. "I'm sure you're wondering why a vampire might wish to speak with a Cardinal, but seeing as you are eating, I shall let you finish before getting into why I so wished to meet you."

The Cardinal's sharp blue eyes gazed at the vampire with a mixture of pity and disgust.

"Speak," he said, "I've lost my appetite."

"I apologise if my presence makes you uncomfortable. I will then be brief. There are any number of forces, thought I suspect they share a common source, stirring up trouble among the factions that are in opposition to you that are also beginning to cause problems for myself."

He paused for a moment to consider how best to go on.

"I also have some responsiblities that are being made more difficult by these who are in opposition to you. I must wonder why you hold, what must be a purely professional, bias against one you know little about."

"Despite your pretensions, regardless of what you think you believe...you are at bottom a child of Hell. All of your kind is a perversion of humanity, a mockery of God's creation. Hide it all you want beneath your philosophy, when the Devil requires your service you will render it to him...you have no choice...you surrendered your ability to choose a long time ago for what you think is immortality, but what is really only death." spat the Cardinal, "But undoubtedly you deny this, very well. The selfishness of Hell's servants has been one of my greatest weapons...what is it that you want?"

"While I know enought about theology to know that it is never a wise idea to argue with a priest, I must ask, which is worse. To lead a life as virtously as possible avoiding as far as possible the compounding of the burden of orginal sin or to take your own life and commit a mortal sin and thus ensure condemation to hell for do not Catechisms 2281 and 1035 speak against suicide and the fate of one who bears a mortal sin without confession." Akria replied pointedly.

"I have never killed in anything other than self-defence nor have I taken blood not given freely. As to what I wish, is simply in exchange for some measure of aid on my part in matters you can not deal with, I wish to for some measure of aid on your part in matters I can not deal with."

DeGrasse smiled slightly, his fox eyes never leaving Akira's pale face.

"What can you offer me?" the Cardinal asked, "What do you know of my adversary?"

"For one, he seems to be gathering those who've been your traditional foe under a more or less united banner and from the seeming of it is quite likely a demon or demon-esq being that is quite powerful." Akira replied, "I can also provide certain resources you might not have access to yourself. Including weapons that are quite a bit easier and cheaper to make than your consecrated silver bullets and those like them."

"Alright," said DeGrasse carefully, "What is it you want?"

"Well, beside some method of contacting you that isn't so cumbersome, I can't think of anything right at the moment, but that might change with the situation." Akira replied

DeGrasse produced a cell phone from his pocket and handed it to Akira.

"Speed dial 3," he said, "And you'll reach me. Is there anything else?"

"At the moment, no. Since you're breakfast is going cold and my presence turns your stomach, I might see you later thought I know you would prefere not to see me again. Gloria Patri Cardinal." Akira replied before departing. The phrase had three potential meanings for one literal translation, a Christian, a Vampiric and an Infernal meaning.

Leaving DeGrasse to wonder if he'd meant Father in Heaven, Father in Hell or his own Sire, he caught sight of the false dawn which encouraged him to step along as while not as fatal as to those of a kindred nature it was still unpleasent.

New Salem. A town slowly slipping into darkness and terror. Criminal rates have gone up, corruption seems to have increased and it seems that people are losing faith in their religion.

A demon's play ground...

“Looks like some one's been having fun,” Carl Arkan said to himself amidst the backseat of a black limousine.

Arkan had been a very successful businessman from day one. He started out as a mail-room clerk and soon started running around the offices grabbing coffee, snacks, whatever the higher ups wanted. But he showed them his brilliance in the field, making the medium sized business global and competing in the world market. It was not hard to make his way to the top from there…especially when you really aren’t human…

“Sir, a woman screaming-” spoke the driver in a slightly alarmed voice. Carl pulled a cigar out of an inner pocket of his black tuxedo suit and lit it up with a match.

“Continue on. Let the holy deal with it,” the billionaire said in a bored voice as they passed the church. He glanced at the beautiful structure with his piercing green eyes and tossed the smoking match on the sidewalk before leaning back in his seat and letting the window roll up. “Besides…I have family matters to attend to.”

The limo wound its way through the dark streets, the moonlight being the one of the sole sources of light as they neared the large, luxurious Hotel Nero. The nearby area was much darker than usual…

The car door opened up for the glossy black-haired businessman who stepped out and looked up at the large hotel, a thin smile on his face. Without giving the doorman a tip, he stepped inside and smiled at the receptionist.

“I would like to speak with a Mister Alexander Krane. Tell him…his brother is here to see him…” Carl said, his smile growing wider.

Hotel Nero, the lobby...

"Little brother..." said a cheery, slightly sarcastic voice behind Arkan, "I'm so glad you've come."

Kane took Carl's hand and shook briskly, "You didn't think I'd wait in the lobby for you?" he asked, grinning.

The two 'men' looked at each other silently for a moment, Carl's smile thin and smarmy...the smile of a married man guiltily enjoying an affair, Kane's broad and predatory... the smile of a pedophile offering candy to a child.

An onlooker would have noticed a strange similarity between the two...not necessarily in appearance- Alex was a bit taller, slimmer and much paler than Carl, nor in wardrobe- Kane wore a white silk suit with an unbuttoned collar and a black tie loosely around his neck, Arkan was the epitome of neatness in his black suit and perfectly knotted red tie. No, their similarity was in their eyes, though Carl's were peircing green and Kane's dark grey. Some say the eyes are the windows into the soul; looking into the eyes of these two 'brothers' was like looking into an empty house. Both had an odd feeling of cold emptiness about him...as though there was nothing underneath their masks of skin.

"We have a great deal of work to do," Alex said in his happy, slightly taunting voice, "I hope you're up for it, bro."

"I half expected you to be at penthouse party enjoying the wonders of the human flesh," Arkan chuckled, smoking billowing out of his mouth. "It can get quite wondrous you know...but it can grow old and tiresome."

"By the way, Sorry I missed your soiree. I was previously engaged with other matters, not to mention the ineffeciency of roads today..." Carl added before furrowing his brows and puffing on his cigar as his empty eyes seemed to enter a dream-like state ever so briefly.

"Work? When am I not up for it...it seems to be what we live for," Arkan replied with a very dark smirk.

((I hope the description i gave of your character in my last post was okay, blastit, if you don;t like it I'll change it. Sorry to do it w/o asking))

Alex nodded, his smile fading into a smirk.

"Come with me," he said, turning towards the elevator, "We have alot to discuss and this isn't the place."

Once they were in the elevator Kane punched the button for the top floor and the cage began to rise.

"What have you been busying yourself with these days?" Alex asked, "I met recently with Our Father Below...he says you've been doing His work well...I hope not too well Carl, for I do not wished to be replaced."

Though his tone was playful, Kane's dark eyes were deadly serious.

ooc: No, it's great lol. I love it

Arkan smiled confidently at Alex and nodded. "Of course not, my brother. Although I may be doing well, many of my plans get...undermined by some blessed figure. It is, highly annoying..."

"But in the business world, I am doing very well. I am a very rich man with a very rich company. And with money comes power, brother, as you probably already know."

"Unfortunately, what seperates us both is your patience. Much greater than mine. I look for the short term and attempt to carry out with Father's deeds in a speedy fashion. In business, time is fast and you've got to be faster."

Arkan glanced at his brother, their eyes meeting briefly. In truth, there was always a power struggle, someone always wanting to be top.

"My brother, to replace you is out of the question. It seems you already have New Salem under your thumb. Besides, I am behind you all the way, brother," he chuckled after blowing a smoke circle. "Care for a cigar?"

Alex laughed. His underling's humility was false of course...all of the Infernal Father's servants were liars...but at least Arkan understood what his place should be.

"I don't smoke Carl," said Kane, "It's a sin."

With a flip of his wrist he produced a cigarette, lit it, and stuck it in his grinning mouth. The elevator reached the top floor, and the two men stepped out. Alex led them to the Presidential Suite and opened the door. Inside was ornately decorated and luxuriously furnished- fine silks, down pillows, plush carpets, plasma televisions. The room was also, for apparently no reason, freezing cold.

"Come in, li'l bro," laughed Kane, and then shut the door, "The time has come, the walrus said, to talk of many things...of ships and sails and sealing wax, and whether bees have wings. Tell me Carl, what do you know of one Andre DeGrasse, Cardinal of Rome?"

Carl smiled and walked in the lavish room, looking around to take in his surroundings. It was quite exquisite, even for someone used to such luxories.

With another puff of smoke, he turned back to Alex and smiled widely. "I almost expected it to be blazing hot in here..."

"Andre? He's a holy man. Well respected by his peers and his people. Popular indeed...why? Is he bugging you, big bro? We could always get someone to shoot him...mafia, police force...and perhaps one of my mercs if you so please...would need a payment however," Carl chuckled as he walked to the window and peered out at the few passing cars.

"Money is no object, my friend," replied Kane and, with a wave of his thin hands, produced a flurry of hundred dollar bills from thin air, "But I'm afraid DeGrasse is well protrected, he is a clever fool, if you follow me. No, the only way to dispose of him is to appeal to his sense of self sacrifice. Our Father wants New Salem to become a bridge between this world and Ours...in order to do that we must depose DeGrasse and take from one of his lackies a very powerful relic- the sheep god's Cloak. Our most powerful weapon, as always my friend, is confusion. The fools in the Church are focused on a Ghol I summoned into New Salem- you know of the ghols, right Carl? The followers of Namma? Anyway, the more they hunt them the less attention they are paying to our...activities. I wish to further confuse the Cardinal, and you are going to help me..."

"Sounds like I don't have much of a choice," Carl chuckled as he watched the money flutter to the ground. "I am curious however, would we be able to touch this relic? Would any lackey of ours be able to touch it?"

The buisnessman paused to smoke his dwindling cigar. "Ghols...marvelous. They achieve violence, terror, and feeding at the same time. Their stench is appalling however." His nose wrinkled up as if he could already smell the creature and took another puff of his cigar. "So, what exactly do you have in mind? Turn his own people against him? I'm sure that not all his people are true believers. Money can sway a good many people and the clergy are, thankfully, only human..."

"Nothing so simple, Carl... we've been corrupting clergy for a long time now, I have all the spies I need in DeGrasse's offices." Kane chuckled, "No...I plan to divide and conquer. I'm placing you in charge of all operations at Hotel Nero, your second will be a promising young Werewolf name Vincent, he has my orders to report to you...Listen to him, Arkan, he is no fool. Continue harvesting souls for the Dark Rites ahead and fighting the Church and its allies at every step. Aid the Ghol I've summoned...and it is most important that you keep DeGrasse and his thugs focused on the Ghol and nothing else we are doing... I, meanwhile, have other business to attend to.
Fail me, and I'll gouge out those pretty green eyes and you'll need a seeing eye dog to lead you through Hell..."

The demon leaned in close to his servant, so that Carl could smell the reek of his breath- a mixture of pig manure and over fried bacon.


"Fail me, Arkan, and I will send you screaming down to Our Father Below, to face His wrath. Have a super day."

OOC: I'm back for good! And check out this ritual!

IC:
The chapel was now filled with 30 ghols, all chanting in thier skin robes. Bones were everywhere, and the amount of blood would have made even lucifer squirm. At the head of this nights rite was Fang-Grinder, with a wonderful treat: a preist.

As his servents chnated Fang-Grinder leaned down and spoke in the tongue of man. "Tell me priest of The False God...are you afraid? Look around you. What fate will befall you?" The preist turned away, but Fang-Grinder grabbed him and forced him to stare into his eyes. "I am older then your sacred book. I am older then the hebrews. I am older then Atlantis. The gods I know possess power unparalled, and you shall feed them."

Fang-Grinder grabbed his khopesh and hunched over the bound priest. "You love your false god? Then I shall send you to him, on wings." Fang-Grinder's voice became a deep roar.

"Spirit of the Fire, Remember!
GIBIL, Spirit of the Fire, Remember!
GIRRA, Spirit of the Flames, Remember!
O God of Fire, Mighty Son of ANU, Most terrifying among Thy Brothers, Rise!
O God of the Furnace, God of Destruction, Remember!
Rise Up, O God of Fire, GIBIL in Thy Majesty, and devour my enemies!
Rise up, O God of Fire, GIRRA in Thy Power, and burn the sorcerers who persecute me!
GIBIL GASHRU UMANA YANDURU
TUSHTE YESH SHIR ILLANI U MA YALKI!
GISHBAR IA ZI IA
IA ZI DINGIR GIRRA KANPA!
Rise up, Son of the Flaming Disk of ANU!
Rise up, Offspring of the Golden Weapon of MARDUK!
It is not I , but ENKI, Master of the Magicians, who summons Thee!
It is not I, but NAMMA, Slayer of the Serpent, who calls Thee here now!
Burn the light and the lightdoer!
Burn the Sorcerer and the Sorceress!
Singe them! Burn them! Destroy them!
Consume their powers!
Carry them away!
Rise up, GISHBAR BA GIBBIL BA GIRRA ZI AGA KANPA!
Spirit of the God of Fire, Thou art Conjured!
KAKKAMMANUNU!"

Fang-Grinder then proceeded with the sacrifice. He began by cutting the ribs of the preist by the spine, taking glee in his screams. He toom his claws and broke the ribs so they resembled blood-stained wings, and slowly pulled the lungs out past the ribs. The preists screams were manical, pleading with saints and hesus to help him. Finally, Fang-Grinder toom out a box of salt, and dumped it all over the open wounds.

The screams broke a nearby window, and was met with much delightful gibbering by the ghols. They would wait for him to be near death, and then devour him alive.

Soon, Fang-Grinder thought, soon I shall summon our master.

Desmond shut the tome he was reading. The Cult of Namma. It had told him what he needed to know. He rose, and spoke to Tristram. "I have found what I needed. Gather what you have found, but I must now speak with the cardinal."

Desmond left for Cardinal DeGrasse's office, and stood outside as he waited for the cardinal to return. Dawn had just broke, so he would be back soon.

Vincent walked into the Hotel Nero lobby, entered the elevator, and inserted his key to get him to the penthouse. After last night's job, he had hunted, a rather extraordinary pursuit that culminated in his slaying a skilled but ultimately failed woodsman.

As he entered the penthouse, he immediately smelt the newcomer. It had the same brimstone scent of Kane, though the physical markers were only slightly different. As he walked in, he found the source: another demon, clearly on close terms with Kane. "Alex, its done. Your monster has Erik, and only your Father, and our enemy, knows what is happening to him now. What do I do next? Kill some of DeGrasse's toadies, or throw them off the scent?"

"I have found what I needed. Gather what you have found, but I must now speak with the cardinal."

As his new acquaintance left, Tristram looked around for a moment at the plethora of tomes, books, manuscripts, and other bound pages of literature. "Gathered?" He hadn't found a thing. No matter though, Desmond had apparently taken what they needed to hunt this beast of the devil.

He exited the archives room and followed Desmond back to the Cardinal's office so they could begin his hunt in earnest. His eyes darted back and forth, a precaution against the unnatural, and yet they seemed never to move beneath the shadow of his habit.

The Rectory, that morning...

Cardinal DeGrasse walked briskly to his office, hoping to catch a moments sleep, only to find Desmond and Tristram waiting for him.

"What is it?" he asked tiredly, "What have you found?"

Hotel Nero, Presidential Suite...

"Meet Carl," Kane said to Vicent with a smile, "He's my little brother, I'm leaving you in his capable hands. I have other matters to attend to, good day."

Alex walked briskly towards the door, then turned and, smiling his hungry smile, purred, "Remember, friends, confusion is our greatest ally. Keep the Church in the dark, keep them focused on the Ghol, have them think we are doing anything-everything- other than what we are actually doing. As for me, kids, wish me luck, I'm going deep into enemy territory...toodalo..."

Akira found himself being slammed against the just closed door, his arm wrenched behind his back. "You are an impossible idiot." His attacker growled before kicking him twice, once in the ankle the other in the knee before releasing him.

"It's good to see you as well," Akira replied without turning, "Mandy. You didn't have to beat me and I know that if I took you it'd just cause problems."

"I'm not taking about you going alone, but going this freakin late, or rather this freaking early." She answered as she kicked him the shin. "Did you at least get anything out of this meeting?"

"I got his phone," Holding up his hand to forstall her reply, Aryae continued, "And before you ask, I'm going to get it looked over by the techies before using it or anything. "Now if you excuse me, I need a drink and a nap."

With that, the vampire slid past the hunter and gave her a familiar pat on the hindquarters. Normally that would have gotten him a heavy blow to the purely masculine portion of the human anatomy but fortunately he was already out of range by the time she went to strike.

What have you found?

As Desmond and Tristram entered DeGrasse's office, Desmond set the book down, and opened it, and began to read.

"The Cult of Namma.

"A dark cult that worships the evil gods that no longer walk this place. OFten called the ancient ones, these supposed gods in turn serve some unknown and yet more powerful dark god to their own ends," Desmond looked up, and stated, "Basically, it's a cult that worships certain demons, but on another plane."

Bending back to the book, he continued. "Many are the tales of this ancient cult, for it nearly enveloped the world with its evil centuries ago. Itr was led by a single ghol, the Fang-Grinder, a beast of such despicable taste and such ferocity that he became king of the ghols, the followers of these ancient ones.

"Yet, they were eventually stopped in their war campaign of conquering by the hero Mauriac of Madrigal and an army of those that opposed this evil. Since then, the cult has been hunted, and those that stll follow it now remain in the shodows of secrecy."

Desmond flipped to another page. "Now, here is what was written about Fang-Grinder.

"A ghol king, a tyrant amongst even his own kind. His origins are not known, but it is known that as a ghol, he was more depraved and more svage then any other in recorded legend. He would drink the blood of anything, and eat the flesh of anything, even engaging in cannibalism. His soul had rotted away to nothing, so he was useless to his own masters wallowing in Hell. It gave them no pleasure, so instead, they would restore his health whenever he was on the verge of death. Thus they kept their agent alive. He was killed by Maurial of Madrigal, a warrior that had, in Mauriac's youth, fled from him in battle. However, after his demise, his body was not recovered, and through proper black magic, it is believed that he could be ressurrected.

"As to his habits, Fang-Grinder always offers prayer to his masters. He will accept followers and make them ghols as well. His mind is that of a feral animal, easily provoked, and his bloodlust is furious. He haunts graves, stealing bodies, and in times of need, will seek out a tomb for refuge, for thier he can be restored."

Desmond sat back. "This is what we know about the Cult of Namma. If there is a ghol about, then we use what we know about Fang-Grinder, and hope it applies to our quarry."

The Cardinal sat at his desk, his hands steepled thoughtfully under his chin.

"The ghols are grave dwellers, they feast on the dead and use the descrated bodies in their black rites." he said, "We must act quickly, I know little of Namma but I do know that it's Cult frequently invites other...guests...from their realm over to ourside. That can't happen. Search the city cemeteries- Municipal, Trinity, and the Holy Rood. Brother Tristram knows where they are... take my car. Once you find this abomination, be cautious, call me. Now go with God."

Fang-Grinder....

Fang-Grinder awakened from his prayers. There was no one around him. He reached for his Khopesh, and looked for intruders.

Son of the Darkness, High Preist of Namma, Hear me...

Fang-Grinder bowed his head to the floor, gibbering prayers to his god. Finally he once again heard his true masters voice, and awaited his command.

You have done well, my child. My followers grow, and the ghol race now consists of 40! This graveyard is your kingdom, for I have seen your hidden tunnels, your temples and chapels, and your sacrifices. The time has come to summon the Avatar of the Old Ones. Let his anger destroy and burn this world, as you tried to so long ago. Atlantis no longer holds us. Hyperborea's jungles now lie frozen. The cities of Antartica hewn from Pre-Cambrian rock no loger sway the stars. Ultima-Thule and her Immortals have left this verse.

The world is finally free for our taking.

"What would you have of me my god? What must I do to bring forth the Avatar?"

In your chapel I have placed the dreaded Necronomicon, and with it you shall see the most secret of rituals. From these you shall bring my Avatar upon the Earth. Hide it well my son, for the servents of the False One will hunt you....

Trinty Cemetery...

"FANGEY BABY!!" screeched a mocking, hysterical voice from the tomb high above the Ghol's tunnels, "Come on up and say hi! Hahahahahahahahahaha!"

A ghol bounded up the tunnel to intercept the intruder...there was a flash and the creature was sent hurtling back down, covered in maggots, centipedes, and worms.

"Come up, son of Namma." the voice of Alex Kane repeated, no longer screechy but low and dangerous, "We need to talk."

Arkan frowned at Alex as his breath pounded his human senses. He had faced their "father" many times before and each time it was worse, much worse. And just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, it did.

He may have been a veteran at the punishments...but he had no desire to feel them again...

Carl puffed on his cigar quietly as his brother turned around to leave and walked to the frigid desk, took a seat on the smooth leather chair and kicked his feet onto the table while resting his head on his hands behind him.

Suddenly, another man burst into the room whom he assumed was the Vincent he was to work with. He casually took his cigar out of his mouth and nodded his head in a light bow to the newcomer.

"If you are as good as my brother leads me to believe, I shall look forward to working with you," he said in a calm, collected voice. He remained silent after that, his eyes never leaving Vincent as the smokey haze lifted over his eyes.

Suddenly he smiled again and lifted his feet from the desk to lean over it instead. "So, tell me Vincent, tell me about this town and about yourself."

Trinty Cemetery...

"FANGEY BABY!!" screeched a mocking, hysterical voice from the tomb high above the Ghol's tunnels, "Come on up and say hi! Hahahahahahahahahaha!"

A ghol bounded up the tunnel to intercept the intruder...there was a flash and the creature was sent hurtling back down, covered in maggots, centipedes, and worms.

"Come up, son of Namma." the voice of Alex Kane repeated, no longer screechy but low and dangerous, "We need to talk."

Fang-Grinder flew at KIane and knocked him to the ground the force of a bear. His khopesh was at the man's throat, his jaw open, displaying his sharp and blood drenched teeth. His eyes seemed wild. He coghed as if his lungs were turning to jelly, and he spoke.

"How dare you defile the sanctity of my chapel! You kill my followers on this hallowed ground? I should send your soul to the fire god!" Fang-Grinder leaned in closer, drool dripping on Kane's face, and the stink of gore upon Fang-Grinder's breath.

"You better have been sent from Narthylotep himself, or by the gods, you shall see a hell beyond your understanding!"

"Sent by Narthylotep?" grinned Kane, unphased by the blade at his throat, "My poor, misguided friend..."

Fang Grinder flew backwards and upwards, slamming into the tomb's vaulted ceiling and falling back to it's bone littered floor.

The thing that some knew as Kane, others as Narthylotep, stood slowly, smiling its hungry smile. He dusted his suit, straightened his tie slightly, and looked down at the Ghol king; his cold, crazy eyes glistened in the candle light.

"You've done well, Fang. The Ancients are happy with your work." the man stepped foward and extened a slender, spidery hand to the beast laying on the ground, "But your work is far from over. The agents of our Enemy are coming, pal, and you must be ready to meet them..."

Fang-Grinder chuckled to himself. "He-Of-Many-Forms? Well then, if you are who you puport to be, allow me to test." Fang-Grinde raised up his khopesh which began to glow with a strange green light. His eyes glowed as well, and his voice changed. "Lets see if you can be contained in a magic circle as Narthylotep can!"

"Arise! Arise! Go far away! Go far away!
Be shamed! Be shamed! Flee! Flee!
Turn around, go, arise and go far away!
Your wickedness may rise to heaven like unto smoke!
Arise and leave my body!
From my body, depart in shame!
From my body flee!
Turn away from my body!
Go away from my body!
Do not return to my body!
Do no come near my body!
Do not approach my body!
Do not throng around my body!
Be commanded by Namma the Mighty!
Be commanded by Enki, Lord of All!
Be commanded by Marduk, the Great Magician of the Gods!
Be commanded by the God of Fire, your Destroyer!
May you be held back from my body!"

A circle of green fire encircled Kane, and green chains shot forth to capture his arms and legs. More ghols began to pour forth from the many graves, and they began to chant with Fang-Grinder, thier eyes glowing as his did.

"May the mountain overpower you!
May the mountain hold you back!
May the mountain conquer you!
May the mountain frighten you!
May the mountain shake you to the core!
May the mountain hold you in check!
May the mountain subject you!
May the mountain cover you!
May the mighty mountain fall on you,
May you be held back from my body!"

Rock shot up and encased the captured Kane, etched with strange sigils of power, all glowing green. Fang-Grinder now chanted a new hymn, and a strange bllue light began to swirl overhead.

"Spirit of the Wanderer of the Wastes, Remember!
Spirit of the Planet of Time, Remember!
Spirit of the Plane of he Hunter, Remember!
NINIB, Lord of the Dark Ways, Remember!
NINIB, Lord of the Secret Passages, Remember!
NINIB, Knower of the Secrets of All Things, Remember!
NINIB, Knower of the Ways of the Ancient Ones, Remember!
NINIB, Horned One of Silence, Remember!
NINIB, Watcher of the Ways of the IGIGI, Remember!
NINIB, Knower of the Pathways of the Dead, Remember!
In the Name of the Covenant sworn between Thee and the Race of Ghols,
I call to Thee! Hearken and Remember!
From the Mighty Gate of the Lord of Gods, MARDUK, Sphere of the Great Planet,
I call to Thee! Hearken and Remember!
NINIB, Dark Wandered of the Forgotten Lands, Hearken and Remember!
NINIB, Gatekeeper of the Astral Gods, Open Thy Gate to me!
NINIB, Master of the Chase and the Long Journey, Open Thy Gate to me!
Gate of the Double-Horned Elder God, Open!
Gate of the Last City of the Skies, Open!
Gate of the Secret of All Time, Open!
Gate of the Master of Magickal Power, Open!
Gate of the Lord of All Sorcery, Open!
Gate of the Vanquisher of all Evil Spells, Hearken and Open!
By the Name which I was given on the Sphere of MARDUK, Master of Magicians,
I call Thee to Open!
IA DUK! IA ANDARRA! IA ZI BATTU BA ALLU!
BALLAGU BEL DIRRIGU BAAGGA KA KANPA!
BEL ZI EXA EXA!
AZZAGBAT! BAZZAGBARRONIOSH!
ZELIG!"

"Tell us truth, oh great god. Is this He-Who-Has-No-Form? Is he Thou-Which-Cannot-Be-Known? Answer us, oh great old One!"

OOC: I'll let you rp the answer, since I don't know if he actually is or isn't.

Kane grinned and began to.... change....

"Fool," screamed the voice of a thousand lunatics, "Narthylotep? Hahahahahahahaha!!!"

The thing before Fang Grinder no longer looked like a man, it was a formless darkness...out of which countless demonic faces leered at the ghols. Fang and his minions were looking at true form of the god of madness...

"I am Narthylotep."

"I am Despair."

"I am Beelzebub."

"I am Baal."

"I am Chemosh."

"I am Pazuzu."

"I am Cain."

"I am Nero."

"I am Madness."

"I am Chaos."

The litany of names went on for what seemed like an eternity, countless titles were screamed from the formless abyss until finally...

"I am Legion, for We are many...."

The lunatic laughter rose to a screaming pitch, the chains summoned by Fang Grinder shattered into a flurry of green sparks. Flies filled the tomb in a horrible cloud, the buzzing louder than a rock concert.

"Narthylotep, yes," bellowed the void, "But not only him, others as well. We are the Left Hand of Lucifer, Older than the Ancients. Thousands of voices scream in the dark, Son of Namma, can you not hear their beautiful anguish?"

One of Fang's acolytes who had not yet become a full ghol was thrown off of his feet and sucked into the hungry emptiness. His horrified face floated in the darkness for a moment then, joined the other leering masks in void. The darkness, it's hunger satisfied, began to take shape...the shape of a great Eye with flames licking the edges...and then the image was gone. Alex Kane, smiling his predatory smile and wearing his classy white suit, took shape again. He licked his lips, his empty eyes glistened.

"Satisfied?"

"Search the city cemeteries- Municipal, Trinity, and the Holy Rood. Brother Tristram knows where they are... take my car."

Tristram's cloaked hand leapt forward and seized the keys as they flew through the air with considerable agility. "His will be done."

The Brother and Desmond exited DeGrasse's offices and sought out the stairs on their way down to the Cardinal's transportation. "We must act quickly," Tristram spoke, thinking aloud. "Three cemeteries to choose from, but which first." In order to narrow it down to only one, he had to assume that the beast they chased was calculating in its movements and actions, otherwise no amount of contemplation would help them find it.

"Municipal, unlike the other two, is not connected to the Holy Church. Do we assume it would stay away from blessed cemeteries, or be arrogant and blasphemous? Seeing as it is already a blasphemous creature, I would assume the latter," Tristram continued as they reached the car and he hopped into the driver's seat. Despite the seriousness of the situation, it seemed rather comical to see a member of the Church in his habit driving a car.

They roared down the streets, ignoring the laws of society as to waste no time in their hunt. "That leaves us with Trinity or Holy Rood. Trinity is larger... more bodies... more places to hide. That's my guess. That's where we head."

Only twenty minutes later the car carrying the two hunters pulled up to the dark cemetery. Tristram killed the engine, but left the lights on facing into the cemetery to provide some light. "It is time we take the utmost of caution," he spoke quietly to his partner. He wasn't taking any chances; his hand slipped inside his habit and produced one of his two silver-laden magnums. The hunt had begun in earnest...

Hotel Nero, Penthouse

Vincent reached over to where one of Alex's men stood, and grabbing a cigar from the man, took it, lit it, and began smoking. "Kane said something about you showing up. What do you want to be called? And as far as the city goes, I'm here to see if I can start cleaning house. Your brother basically put me in charge of everything here that ain't a demon. I figure, long as we need a good distraction, why not send some of our more, individualist, brethren out as a first sacrifice. Get rid of the dangerous ones, and keep that asshole DeGrasse guessing." Vincent smiled wikedly.

Trinity Graveyard

Desmond cast out with High Sight to see what was going on. He didn't like what he saw. "Brother Tristram, you were right. I can not sense the hollowed auras of the peacefully departed. Their bodily temples have been removed, and solemn grace of dignified repose has been disturbed." Desmond opened his eyes, and drew a sword. It was an alloy of titanium, silver, and mercury, and carbon, forged and cooled in Holy Water. Raising his staff, he walked around the car, ensuring that Tristram was within the circle. He muttered slowly, speaking Latin softly.

"There," he said. "I have invoked the Holy Ghost, and woven a spell of vengeance to protect us. Those souls whose bodies have been desecrated still have wrath. It may help us." Desmond remved a phone, and dialed Cardinal DeGrasse. "Father, we're at Trinity Cemetary. Whomever our guest is, he happens to be here. I can sense no bodies, no resting of the dignified dead, and their souls call for retribution. Send your knights."

"It's always pleasant that my brother thinks of me as he does. I feel so loved when it comes to family," Carl grinned as he smiled pleastantly at Vincent. "As for my name, I go by many- not as much as my Alex, mind you. For now, however, just call me Carl or Arkan... or Sir if you are into formalities such as that. In time, perhaps my other names will make themselves evident."

"Alright, this is good. You take a burden off my shoulders by leading the non-demons and your plan for the individualistic creatures is quite good. However, what if these beasties decide that they are too good for us and change the orders for their own benefits? Perhaps throw a few trusted within the mix to keep them in line or atleast warn us of this treason."

Arkan leaned back on the comfortable chair and let out one last puff of smoke. "And if possible, I would like some sort of list of all our minions scattered around in this city so that we may get a hold of them easier should need be."

((Zambistan, your post))

Vincent nodded at Carl. "You have an excellent point, Carl. I have a couple of liutenants that will at least prevent too much suspicion of a set up. I'll keep them back just enough to ensure that we only kill those that we want. But as far as the list goes, well, I'm still working on it. Your brother would be the one to ask, though."

"Two more questions before I am through questioning you," Arkan said as he tossed his cigar into a nearby trashcan. "First, Do our enemies know if vampires, werewolves, excetera, are unified- which I assume we all are for the most part. If they don't know of this, perhaps we should keep it that way until we deem the use of its surprise necessary."

"Finally, where is our gracious Cardinal's church? Is it the large one a few minutes away? I forget its name..."

When Desmond unsheathed his sword, Tristram wondered whether it would be of much use against the demons of unholy speed and acrobatics. However, a moment later Desmond proved to have some useful talents - that is, if they actually worked when confronted with hell's servants.

"This place... it wreaks of corruption," he whispered through the cold night air. "Shall we hunt or wait? I leave the call to you..."

"I have no idea how long it will be until DeGrasse's reinforcements arrive. He advised us to wait, but," he trailed off as he slipped the phone deep into an inner pocket. His Sight still searching, it began to show what could only be described as evil, tendrils of black smoke and corruption emanating throughout the graveyard.

"Brother, I'd rather not be a sitting duck. We go in." As he spoke, Desmond began to walk into the graveyard, his sword out, feeling the slight magnetic pull of his spell channel through the hallowed blade.

Just as the two began to enter the cemetery, three black sedans pulled up. Twelve people unloaded from the cars, all of them wearing black robes and hoods similar to Brother Tristram's... except for Cardinal DeGrasse, who wore a black cassock and white collar. The brothers were armed with all manner of weapons- shotguns, pistols, machineguns, and a katana. DeGrasse clutched his cane, a sliver crucifix hung around his neck...they were all the protection he'd need.

"Silence that spell..." he hissed at Desmond, "They can sense it. We'll have no trouble finding the darkness in this cemetery."

The Cardinal turned to the eleven brothers behind him, "Get ready."

O'Dim Tomb, across the cemetery...


Fang Grinder bowed to Kane, who laughed lightly.

"Our enemies are coming, my boy," said the demon, "Get your minions ready."

The thing in the white suit walked out of the tomb and raised his long, spidery hands above his head. The ground writhed, rotting hands plunged up from the dark earth. Ghouls, zombies, and skeletons emerged from the squirming ground. The air shimmered throughout the graveyard...screaming and groans filled the air and lesser demons began to materialize.

"Kill them, children." Legion said softly to the unholy horde. The abominations screamed in perverse joy and, turning from their master, made their way towards the parking lot.

Mandy sighed it had been slow recently and she couldn't even take out her fully justified, in her mind, frustration out on Akira. She kept up her pace with the confortable weight of the tools of her higher, but most grisely, trade in thier places. She doubted the beasty, a ghoulie from all appearence, was going to lead her to what she wanted to kill but it was better than nothing and she felt like killing something.

A single round removed it from existance, confirming it was a ghoulie, and a relatively weak one at that. After taking a few seconds to make sure any of its companions weren't alerted, something she doubted as none had been leaving signs, she turned to leave when she noticed something happening further down the street near the cemetary.

About to put it down to a cabal of necros, and amaturish at that as they had an extra member and it wasn't the right time when she noticed the cossack and coller. With a flash of disgust, she decided to observe these priests to see what they were up to.

Lower the spell. They can sense it.

"I know," said Desmond. "I want them to come to me. Tristram, this is your choice, but I'm going to draw off their attention. The spell is a ward, but channeled through the blade, and I can erect a barrier if need be. If you want to come, then follow."

Desmond turned to DeGrasse. "Father, we've always been dependant upon distractions. I can be an effective one. If you give me one minute before following, then we can at least try to prevent them from scattering and outflanking us. Like moths to a light, and a can of Raid held at the ready. It's been tried, it works, it gives your men the surprise element that they need."

DeGrasse was about to respond to Desmond when the parkinglot was swarmed. Werewolves, vampires, lesser demons, ghouls, zombies and countless other abominations rushed at the Knights.

"Foward!" cried one of the brothers, and the warriors of good charged.

Gunfire filled the cold night air, swords glittered in the moonlight.

"We must find the Summoner!" cried the Cardinal to Desmond and Tristram, who were engulfed in a sea of the damned.

A werewolf burst out of the dark tide and flung itself at the clergyman, who- with remarkable reflexes- thrust his crucifix at it. The cross flared with white light... the power eminating from it was palpable, an electric thrumming that filled the Knights with hope and the Damned with dread. Desmond's spells, Kane's conjurations, and Tristram's bullets were nothing compared to the raw power issuing from the crucifix....

"Get back." said DeGrasse simply,

The wolf screeched and burst into a flurry of embers.

"Foward!" yelled the Cardinal, hoisting the glowing cross above his head and advancing on the demons in front of him, "Find their master!"

Desmond flitted through the zombies, cutting with his sword and blasting with his staff. It wasn't fast enough. He barely registered the Cardinal's action as he began trying to cleave a way forward. The zombies were picking themselves up. Striking his staff on the ground, he was able to temporarily clear a space, enough for him to inhale for an incantation. "Fuego, Fuegas Veritas!" A butchery of Latin, but it was the spoken insulation that he needed. True Fire. His blade glowed as he moved, spinning to slice through the undead, watching as each contact point erupted into white fire.

He ran forward, this time leveling his staff outwards. "Aero Fulgur!" he roared, and lightning began blasting forth from his staff. He had to stap and stand to resist the backwards force, but he managed to clear those in front, keeping pace with the Cardinal. "Looks like a wonderful night for a party, eh Padre?"

As the patricians of God were descended upon by the wicked summonings of an unknown demon, Tristram's dual silver guns were out and flaring. The fifty caliber rounds popped off, one-by-one, with perfect aim, taking down the odd vampire, werewolf, and ghoul.

When one clip ran out, it seemed as if by magic it was replaced by another one, but in truth it was pure skill and talent on the behalf of the faithful brother. Though not an endless supply, Tristram carried a right stock of silver clips in the depths of his habit, and had managed the skill to load them through his large sleeves without ever touching them.

DeGrasee called upon His light to guide them out of evil and give them protection from the undead and demonic throng. Tristram, however, had his own protection - though nowhere near the extent of the holy light - hidden beneath his dark cloak. Holy tattoos that served as wards and caused a burning in those full of sin who dared touch the markings of God.

"We must go down... the depths is where they will hide. Search out the tombs...!"