Chapter 001: The Enlightening

admin_jared Fri Mar 26, 2010 9:58 am

Some received the notice by conventional mail; some came across it at work or school. The remaining few found it randomly as if the message manifested from thin air, in a pocket or purse. It didn’t matter how it was delivered, just that its words were not easy to overlook. The urgency of its subject matter was blatantly clear through the strokes of the penmanship. The Shadow plane was destroyed, and the full force of the Horde now set it’s attention on it’s sister realm.

Margaux Bontecou Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:10 pm

Los Angeles held no memories of consequence to Margaux Bontecou thus far - she had only been here a few times and it was always a short visit here or there for a photoshoot or networking of the sort. So the amount of surprise, bewilderment, anger, and confusion that slapped Margaux clear across the face when she found that note sifting in her purse as she left a go-see for an up-and-coming fashion designer she'd taken interest in could hardly be explained. Even the very script was familiar. She knew the Horde. She even knew what Penthouse they were speaking of, though she'd never set foot in the place before. Sure, it had been used by the other Arcane families, but the only place Margaux had ever had to set foot in that belonged to the families in joint was Azoth Estate.

And to think, she'd been so sure all of this was behind her.

When she'd lost her abilities, when the Divination line had been wiped out entirely, her Ancient now deceased, she figured she was free. She hadn't had a hint of trouble since being freed from that life, other than the few emotional aspects of adjustment and missing her family, since every last one of them had passed. And while she didn't want to believe this note - wishing, hoping this was some sort of joke or perhaps hallucination - she knew in her heart she needed to go. It was unnerving, and not something she wanted to deal with. But if her life was in danger, what other choice did she have?

Instead of heading straight to the aforementioned Penthouse, Margaux got herself a coffee and headed to her hotel room, changing into a pair of royal blue, pointed toe flats, a pair of skinny jeans that probably cost more than her life was worth, a long-sleeved white collared shirt and a black cardigan to go over it, since the weather was nice but not that warm, and certainly not hot enough to keep her small, undersized frail body from still feeling cold. A caramel machiatto was in order, as well, and she stopped quickly at a Starbucks on the way to get it before heading off, Louis Vuitton bag placed neatly on her shoulder, covered by a waterfall of long, blonde hair. Light red lipstick left its print upon the lid of her coffee as she mindlessly navigated the streets towards her destination.

---

It didn't take long before she arrived, staring blankly at the door, confused, as to what it was she should do from here. Walk in? Knock? Surely she wasn't going to have to knock - that was so... arbitrary, something so beneath the life she was used to. Important people don't have to knock. And so she stood, waiting.

Gwendolyn Harris Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:11 pm

Forunate Isles Penthouse

Gwendolyn Harris was quite happy minding her own business. She didn't pry into other peoples lives and she liked it when no one pried into hers. She had become a bit estranged from most of her friends and didn't even like talking to her parents much. Her only source of comfort nowadays was her brother, for which she was very thankful. But even today, she just couldn't stand being in the company of others. She missed being normal, she missed having friends, she missed not getting confused and frustrated. After spending a few hours pacing about her room, she got dressed, throwing on a pair of chucks, jeans that were just ever so slightly baggy, a purple tank top and a thin black hoodie. Brown locks were left loose, falling in large, natural curls to her shoulders. Eyes had black liner caressing their soft shape, mascara bringing out already prominent lashes.

Her feet banged heavily against the stairs as she took them quickly, messenger bag in the process of being slung across her chest. Keys were flawlessly taken from their hanging spot on the wall and she was almost home-free out the door when a voice called for her from the kitchen. "Gwen?" "WHAT!?" Nearly screamed at the poor girl. "Sorry, it's just... You have some mail here. It's marked urgent. Doesn't look like it's from the government or anything... I just thought it might be... about... your accident..." Her roommate let her words trail off and Gwen sighed, apologizing under her breath for yelling as she grabbed the letter and then headed out the door. She got halfway down the street before stopping in her tracks, staring at the awkward cursive script that claimed her life was in danger.

Again.
As if she hadn't had enough troubles this year?

For some reason, whatever receptor in her brain that registered danger did not decide to chime in for this particular situation. Paranoia would get the best of her in the end, anyway, and curiosity was always a bit of a fault for her. She would give in to the curiosity eventually, unable to get rid of the thoughts that would intrude her mind for weeks, possibly months after she tossed the letter into the garbage can. In any case, it was tucked neatly back into its envelope and into her messenger bag as she abandoned her plans and headed for this Penthouse she was requested to go to.

Converse squeaked on the overly clean floors of the building, making her way through it and up stairs or elevators or whatever until she found herself actually using that strange crystal that had been given to her to enter this penthouse floor area place. Then? Gwen noticed that she was standing behind... an incredibly beautiful woman, waiting in front of the same door she had been instructed to go to. Instead of making her presence known, she hung back in the hallway, leaning against the wall, ready to bound away whenever she felt it was necessary.

Gavin Sterling Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:11 pm

(FORTUNATE ISLES PENTHOUSE)

No matter how many memories were produced or resided in this penthouse, none seem to even shake his amnesia. Wandering down the symmetrical hallway Gavin veered right and instinctively took to the master suite. The handle was still marginally warm and the door itself wasn’t completely closed in to the frame. In his current state he learned quickly to read every detail of an environment or person in order to fool those that weren’t privy to his aliment. Fortunately this also provided insight on reading the difference between a dangerous position and a non-threatening scene. The set-up of the door suggested maybe the owner had just left, maybe even in haste. The moonlight blindingly bathed the entire bedroom and Gavin rushed for the drapes in an attempt to recover his darksight. Angling the pull of the cord it swept shut allowing him to focus his vision once again. Finally remembering the stains on his clothes he approached the closet in search of something to change into. He could hear Logan searching the rest of the house doors opening and shutting all over the perimeter. His dirt covered fingers fumbled with the ends of his shirt lifting it up to analyze the process of the healing. Each bruise and open wound had pulled itself shut and transformed itself to a healthy glow. Returning his attention to the closet he was troubled to find mostly female attire. Though a slightly worn black cotton v-neck shirt beckoned from the left end of the wardrobe rack. When his fingers grazed the article he was suddenly shot with a pulse that felt as though his eyes and skull had dropped to the ground despite the sturdiness of his structure.

A

Logan stood in the door way with a sideways grin. He spoke up once he noticed his partner might have returned to reality “Her again?” Gavin nodded in response, though he wasn’t sure if it was the same woman. Every memory was a kiss or a brief caress. Nothing of detail was ever gleaned. Even with his memories there was no proof that the visions came from the forgotten past, it was just as easy to assume they came from the future. Gavin brushed off his curiosity and headed for the master bath.

Logan Kilmartin Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:13 pm

-FORTUNATE ISLES PENTHOUSE-

Logan stood at the bathroom door and tried to talk over the sound of the rushing water. “There’s a painting of some of the old families in the den. I’m going to go out on a limb and say this is one of those arcane safe houses.”

Gavin didn’t reply … and Logan didn’t expect him too. How could the guy get sentimental? It was kind of awkward for the hunter dealing with anything related to feelings. He tried to be as understanding as he could, but Logan’s place was slitting the throat of a hostile shadow kind or burying a blade into the back of a Kreelock skull.

An obsidian fertility statue sitting on a table in the hallway outside the bathroom caught the hunter’s eye. Lifting the artifact in his hands he tried to access the value. Hunting wasn’t a cheap gig and he figured the Arcanists owed him for babysitting their golden boy. Not that he had any complaints about helping his friend, but neither jobs afforded him a decent paycheck. The penthouse wasn’t the first family haven the two took refuge in, Serik directed them to a renovated warehouse in Sacramento a couple months back while tracking a gang of Djinn. He could still hear the shrill of Lorelei’s voice on the phone when she discovered he pawned about every heirloom that their previous digs harbored. At least this time he knew better than to answer an unmarked number. Attention back on the current treasure he honed in on it’s worth again. It was kind of hideous in that primitive museum junk kind of way though he could appreciate the size of her jugs. Flipping it over in his fingers he lost his grasp and the statue collided with the marble floor and broke into three pieces. In a brief panic he kicked it under the table. Gavin escaped the steam filled room. The shirt was a perfect fit, but the jeans Logan had found in a guest room were a little baggy. A buzz from the front door security system alerted the presence of someone in the hallway. He recognized the sound and started towards the foyer.

He was surprised anyone might actually be using this place for a base. After the fall, Logan had kept in contact with a small number of the alchemists. Although he respected that without their abilities they were safer turning their backs on this calling. It was like a solider trained to fight with a gun and showing up to a war with only their fists. Some tried their hand in the field without their abilities, but those ones normally just went down kicking and screaming. The two went for the door expecting an assault. Alison was still out there and she had a taste for the former Conjurer. Logan took point answering the door while Gavin kept to the shadow with his handgun prepared. As the hallway was exposed Logan breathed out the word “Marqaux?” choking on his words.

Margaux Bontecou Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:13 pm

It wasn't like she didn't know someone was lurking behind her. Peripheral vision aided her in seeing that it was just a little girl. Well perhaps not little, but young and probably not harmless. She decided to ignore this for now, especially considering if the girl had any real power of the sort, Margaux would be doomed anyway. She couldn't fight back anyways, and she knew she never would again. This point... both relieved, and irritated her. On the one hand, she could be out of danger forever, and that is what she had believed these last two years. Now, it seems she was wrong. Now she was in danger from a magical source and there was no way for her to really defend herself.

She couldn't even see it coming.
Not anymore.

This new element of surprise is what irritated Margaux the most. She was never surprised by anything, and it was an adjustment she wasn't really enjoying getting used to. She didn't like being surprised. At all. So when a familiar face opened the door and sputtered her name like it was something dirty in her mouth, her previously calm features rearranged themselves into something a little more hostile. "Logan. Zat reaction tells me you aren't very pleased to see me." French accent remained heavy even over the last two years, since she still lived mostly in Europe and had grown up her entire life speaking every language with her French accent. It wasn't something that was easily going to go away. "Believe me, darling, I wus just as surprised as you are now, to get zis letter I discovered in my purse zis morning." She retried the letter from her bag, showing it to him. She let the moment come and go, before announcing irritably,

"Well? You are going to invite me in, non?"

Margaux was simply not someone you left standing in a doorway for very long.

Gwendolyn Harris Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:13 pm

She was sure that woman had seen her. Positive. However, nothing was happening. Gwen stood there, tense, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and back again, chewing on her lower lip until the point of it almost bleeding. Stop being so nervous she thought to herself, trying hard not to explode just from impatience. When was something going to happen? Something was going to happen, wasn't it? Gwen took a step forward, faltered, and returned to her previous position and stance.

Then, something did happen. The door opened, and a man spat out the name 'Margaux' and then the woman replied, clearly dissatisfied with the response to her presence. She spoke condescendingly to him in a french accent. It almost made her giggle, but she kept herself from responding in any way until the woman was practically ordering to be let in. It was at this point she retrieved the letter and the stone from her back pocket, taking awkward, little steps forward until she was closer to the door and more 'in the light' so to speak. She cleared her throat.

"Um... excuse me? I... have the same letter."

She pushed it forward to show that she wasn't lying. The fact that she wasn't the only one with this letter made her feel more at ease and less at ease at the same time. So she wasn't being lured into a trap by a singular, psycho killer who wanted her dead or something. However, there was now something clearly after her wanting her dead regardless. Hopefully these people could help, and were not... The Horde, or whatever, since they were the point of evil which wanted her disintigrated into a pile of nothing.

"Can I come in too? Or... uhm... should I go?" Blush stained her cheeks as she stood with her toes pointed inward, chewing on her lip and staring idly at the ground with those startlingly light green eyes.

Riley Cameron Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:14 pm

(Riley continues from here..)

FOLLOWING A MYSTEROUS LEAD
THE GRAVEYARD, LOS ANGELES

The look of terror on the boy’s face didn’t do much other than give away how frightened he was. Where normally he’d have any unwanted emotion perfectly masked, now the look of disdain was painted on his features for all to see – or, at least, for Penn to see, considering the rain was so heavy that it was serving as a shield from whatever had attacked them. Pushing himself up, he let go of his wound and offered a hand to the fallen stranger, pulling him up the rest of the way out of the grave.

“A zombie?” The thought wasn’t completely insane. Some may have labeled the statement as out of the ordinary, but Riley couldn’t justifiably rule it out. With the attack he had been through, he deemed anything possible. The stranger nodded towards a building in the distance, and Riley peered with squinted eyes in order to make out the mausoleum. “Do you think we can make it there before the zombies attack again?”

The worry in his voice was evident. Perhaps moving to Los Angeles hadn’t been the brightest choice he had made, but he didn’t have time to dwell on that. He wrapped an arm around the older man’s waist, helping him towards the building in the distance. Halfway there, sudden warmth rapidly spread throughout Riley’s body, originating from the spot where Penn’s flesh was touching his bare skin. Curious as to what the sensation was, Riley didn’t question it – his only goal was to get to the stone building. When the man collapsed to his knees upon arrival, Riley stood for a moment and looked down at him, not sure what to do. The graveyard was in chaos; with the grounds flooding and tombstones flying, it was like a scene out of a horror film. If Riley hadn’t any sense, he would have actually stood in awe.

The sight of Carolina had the blond worried – though he couldn’t make out her face through the rain, she did look familiar. He was torn, not knowing what to do. His fight or flight instinct was beginning to kick in, and since no corporal enemy could be seen, Riley knew he’d be sticking with the latter. Trying to push open the mausoleum doors, he found them stuck. Pushing forward with any amount of strength he could muster, he managed to break the hold and he toppled forward, barely catching himself before he fell. “Get in here, I’ll help whoever is out there.”

He walked back outside, making sure the doors stayed propped open, even though that meant that rain was sloshing inside. He bent down, taking Penn’s arm and pulling it over his shoulder once again before helping the other stand. If his help were taken, he’d guide the other into the building before making his way back outside and into the heart of the storm. He didn’t know what was making him act this way, but the thought of helping the girl was above any others – though it was barely before ‘stay inside, shut the door, and hide’.

Logan Kilmartin Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:14 pm

-FORTUNATE ISLES PENTHOUSE-

With the immediate encounter being relatively unthreatening, Gavin retreated to the bathroom again to finish cleaning up. The Eldritch hunter stood in the doorframe looking over both girls, put out by the sight of them. The muscles in his left arm tightened as he deliberately blocked their entry. He knew too well, Margaux’s inability to be even moderately patient. Not to mention the effort she had to exert to hold up that waif-like frame of hers. When she murmured with that cheese-grading accent of hers he couldn’t fight the instinct to chew on his tongue.

“Well, I didn’t really expect to see you again period, aren’t you neutered?”

The corners of Logan’s mouth curled for a subtle smile relishing his wit and then swiftly abjured unable to sustain happiness in her presence. The chemistry between these two hadn’t always been this adverse. At one point he was enthralled by the doe-eyed frog-leg-eater, but he’d buried what they shared like all his other mistakes. The mention of a letter perked his interest and Logan ripped the piece of paper out of Margaux’s grasp, barely knocking her frou frou coffee out of her hand. By this point, his body retreated into the dim lighting of the foyer giving them room to cross the threshold. His dirty suede utility boots left particles across the marble floor leaving a faint trail. Unlike his partner, Logan hadn’t taken up arms with a monster so what filthy wear and tear he’d gathered came from hiking to Serik’s cave. His dark denim jeans and worn maroon Henley top cost about as much as two of Margaux’s macchiatos from a consignment stop in Van Nuys, which he didn’t seem at all embarrassed by.

“Who-ever sent this to you guys, isn’t home so you’re shit out of luck.”

Logan wasn’t interested in solving either of their problems. He didn’t have a beef with the little girl, but he wasn’t going to waste anymore time conversing with either of them. The letter didn’t match Serik’s handwriting and he’d come to expect this cryptic route as the Essentian’s M.O. The only certainty he could rely on at the moment was that if Amelie was moving in, than they weren’t staying.

Margaux Bontecou Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:15 pm

Seeing Logan again wasn't giving her the best of feelings either. She had been falling for him pretty hard, like she knew she was going to, after he'd given her a place to stay. The two had bonded quickly, even through their generally wit prevented them from seeming like they even remotely starting to like each other. Margaux had had to leave... she was so embarassed by it all...

Those thoughts were quickly forced out of her head as she was brought back to the reality of this man, standing there glowering at her and then asking such an absurd question like 'weren't you suppose to be exterminated?' The smirk on his face did it. Her brows narrowed and her lips pursed. She almost smacked him. And she definitely would have if she didn't have so much stuff in her hands. Which is perhaps why Margaux is almost always holding something. She doesn't exactly enjoy being violent, you know. It was never in her nature to be such a fighter. She didn't have the defensive and offensive abilities the others had, she was a fortune teller. She knew the future. That didn't mean she could knock someone out. "Oh, don't you just zink you are soooo clever, Logan. It is probably true zat I should no longer be alive, but I 'ave tried very, very 'ard to keep myself zis way. I am not sure ze possibility zat my entire fam-eel-ee is dead ever occured to you, non? Zat just maybe, it ees a sensitive subject?" French accent becoming slightly more problematic in the conversation. It almost looked like Margaux was starting to tear up at the mention of her family, but there's no way in hell she would ever let any of them see her sweat.

He took the paper from her and mentioned something about the guy who sent it not being home. Now that one of her hands was free she pushed him - she had a surprising amount of strength on her for such a small girl. And even if it didn't cause him to budge at all, it made her feel better. She was tiny enough to slip right past him anyway. "Ze letter said it wus important to come right away. I shall wait 'ere for ze person 'o wrote zis letter, zen. And you will not say a word about it. You will also let zat little girl in. She seems positively 'orrified by every-zing." Damn. Even without her abilities she could predict the future pretty damn well.

You just don't say no to Margaux Bontecou.

Penn Rutherford Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:15 pm

(Penn continues from here..)

FOLLOWING A MYSTEROUS LEAD
THE GRAVEYARD, LOS ANGELES

Penn strained to get back to his feet and bolted through the open doorway. He was regretful of allowing the stranger to go after the girl alone but he was in no condition to accompany them. Inside the gigantic marble dwelling there was a “T” shaped hallway with a couple flower stands and some brass candelabras. The lighting fixtures looked sturdy enough to jam in-between the handles of the door, but the bottom half of the stand would have to be removed for the pole to fit.

Making his way over Penn’s stomach twisted and a rush of blood poured out from between his bruised lips. He bent over and clutched his throat choking as it came out. When it felt like the blood had subsided it left a coppery sting in the back of his throat. His whole body was completely soaked and tried to wipe his mouth on his sleeve.

When he was able to contain the effects of his injuries, he placed both feet on the ends of the stand. With his arms firmly gripping the hilt of the candle stand he snapped the gothic accent in half at the wooden base. Rushing back to the door his eyes were harder to keep open. It felt like dust coated the surface of his cornea, but no matter how many times he blinked, there was no relief for his vision. Penn stood there in agony, shivering and waiting for his new companions to return.

Carolina Kenyon Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:15 pm

(Carolina continues from here..)

The Graveyard, Los Angeles

Carolina, having fallen to her knees, scrambled to get up, her hands sliding in the muddy grass. She supposed that it didn’t really matter that her umbrella had been whisked away, it wouldn’t have done her much good now anyway. She was seriously regretting her decision to come. Her father and brothers would have berated her had they known, not that she was going to tell them. Carolina’s hands stung from where the umbrella had been wrenched from her hands. Fearfully, her gaze scanned the area around her looking for the perpetrator, not pausing on the umbrella laying bent a small ways away, but it was caught by a movement in her peripheral vision. And she was ducking again, this time falling on her butt just in time to keep a headstone from connecting with her head.

“Wh-what,” she gasped, her breath having escaped her in the sudden fear that lodged in her chest and throat. The rain didn’t help, but she barely noticed it now. Carolina did not want to die in a graveyard, you weren’t supposed to die IN it! That cut out quite a few jobs, didn’t it? Would they take her body to the hospital first? Seemed like a step backwards, really. Then again, if she didn’t die at all.. Well no need for any of that. She stood quickly, the thought of cars and snow and icy streets running through her mind. She needed whatever she’d done that cold winter night to happen again.

Her mind was racing, trying to find a way out of her situation. Running seemed like the right thing to do. So she did, her sneakers now ruined and mud covered slipping on the grass and the mud relinquishing them with a squelching noise. She dodged yet another tombstone. Carolina felt like screaming to the graveyard as a whole that it was supposed to rest in peace, damn it. Blue eyes darted about for an escape route but caught instead on a figure making it’s way toward her. Perhaps the person she’d seen earlier? The tombstones didn’t seem to be trying too hard to avoid him either, so he surely wasn’t causing all this, or she hoped not, since she decided that he was where she was running too.

Riley Cameron Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:16 pm

FOLLOWING A MYSTEROUS LEAD
THE GRAVEYARD, LOS ANGELES

Casting one more glance behind him and at the struggling form of Penn, the New Yorker frowned. This day was not turning out to be anything like he thought it was going to. Having just flown in to Los Angeles, he was supposed to be moving into his new penthouse and getting settled; being attacked in a flooded graveyard was not on his agenda. The rain seemed as if it were beginning to pelt harder, the droplets stinging as they slammed into the slender boy’s face. If Riley were more of a man, he may have even grunted, but to him that was a caveman attribute – and even though he was parading around in the stormy weather, he didn’t like to think himself barbaric enough to actually make the offensive noise.

Without thinking too much more on it, the blond headed back out onto the battlefield. The gravestones were flying fast and, while they didn’t seem to have any targets, they were on dangerous looping cycles. The contact from one could easily knock out, or even worse, someone – and Riley was beginning to think that was the point. The water that rose above the ground engulfed his feet, the muddy earth feeling as if it were attempting to grab hold of his members as they tried their best to glide across the grounds. Where any other time the model would have had dainty footsteps, right now he was having to trudge across the graveyard – or rather, swim across it.

By the time that the blond noticed that Carolina was running towards him, Riley caught sight of an ethereal glow through the weather. As soon as he had glimpsed it, it was gone; had it just been an illusion? The shrieking laughter that accompanied the otherwise thunder-clapping field caught him off guard; the sound was enough to make him cringe, raising the hair on his skin without effort. Carolina was close, and when her face was readable and Riley recognized the girl from the café, he didn’t spend too much time questioning why she was there. Grabbing hold of her wrist, he shot the poor drenched girl an exasperated glance before pulling her in the direction of the mausoleum.

“What the fuck,” were his only spoken words. The blond could offer no valid reason for his presence in the ongoing disaster, but whatever Carolina’s reason for partying in the flood was, he wasn’t going to question it. By now, the headstones seemed to freeze in their paths, and as the two ran past them, Riley caught himself reading the eerie names etched into the stone. Abrams? There were a few normal names scattered about on the tombstones here and there, but the ones that seemed to start aiming towards the running pair only had the one word carved into their sides.

A root caught his foot, and the boy toppled forward, splashing into the muddy grounds as he released his grasp on Carolina. Pushing himself up, he started running again, frightened to think of what would happen if he stopped for even a moment.

Logan Kilmartin Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:16 pm

-FORTUNATE ISLES PENTHOUSE-

“Sensitive? The Diviners were all cold-hearted bastards. They deserve their graves.”

Margaux’s attempt at flimsy punch was surprisingly decent, but still laughable in comparison to being clocked by a Kreelock. It was a surprise she didn’t sprain her wrist doing so. He gave about as much of a rat’s ass about the stranger in the hallway as he did about Margaux. So no response was reflected to the French girls prompt of common courtesy. He walked off into the den, and around to what he suspected was the library. Even though the wooden bookshelves had existed for years in this space, the natural scent from their adolescent lives tantalized the noses of anyone whom dared enter.

He wasn’t there for anything in particular, before greeting the unwanted guests he’d been curious as to what information could be found here. Information meant money; sure it was hard to convince people that magic was real, or that monsters roamed the streets. Having the right contacts is what made the difference, allowing the Eldritch hunter to move and trade his supernatural plunders.

Penn Rutherford Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:17 pm

FOLLOWING A MYSTEROUS LEAD
THE GRAVEYARD, LOS ANGELES

Standing at the doorway, Penn’s state was gravitating further away from manageable. He’d attempted to shake off most of the injuries, but no human body could take as much punishment as this. It was hard to keep his mind clear or alert to his surroundings. He kept wandering into the question “How did I end up here?” and “How is this possible?” Luckily it seemed as though his newfound allies were almost to the building, and he was ready to shut the doors and lock them in for protection.

Even if that plan worked, there was no guarantee he’d survive. The ornate pole grew heavy in his hands, though his fingers clenched tight to accommodate the struggle. Penn wasn’t expecting that the monster would turn its attention towards him, especially when there were two perfectly good marks with a clearer shot. The headstone had broken into various pieces so it was only a fraction of it’s original self, but when it hit him, the impact was severe enough that it might as well have been the whole unflawed obelisk. Penn couldn’t remember the sequence from standing to lying flat on his back, but he felt the weight of it. He stared up at the ceiling and the gaudy angelic ceiling mural stretched across his line of sight slightly out of focus.

Riley Cameron Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:17 pm

FOLLOWING A MYSTEROUS LEAD
THE GRAVEYARD, LOS ANGELES

The gravestones that were being angrily guided towards the two small frames dashing frantically were falling just short of reaching their marks. It would seem that the haunting enemy’s luck would increase as well as her aim, as one tombstone managed to cut right in front of the blond dancer. It collided with his left kneecap, and the velocity and force behind it caused a sickening splitting sound as it made contact. His favorite curse word flew out of his mouth as his body dove into the ground again, his arm catching a sharp-edged rock on his way down. His skin tore easily, and the blood that seeped from his body mixed with the mud, tainting it a gory crimson.

With the way events were panning out, Riley wanted to lie there and give up. He had tripped twice in the past five minutes, and while they were gaining on the mausoleum, it didn’t seem as if they were getting there anytime soon. Mustering up the courage to continue on, he pushed Carolina forward, urging her to go ahead and not worry about him being behind. Grabbing hold of his wound and rubbing his knee where it had been hit (ignoring the dark bruise that was already beginning to form on his dirty skin), the blond stood and looked towards the sky. Why was this happening? Exactly who had he pissed off to deserve all of this?

The tackle from his side cut him off from his thoughts, and he found himself eating dirtcakes – something he had always looked down on the other four-year-olds for doing on the playground – the back of his head pounded against the gravel and the impact caused his vision to blur. Whatever was on top of him was ghastly looking and its skin was in little shredded rivets. The demon-creature atop his body had a snarlish-grin, and though it was bald, dark locks began to form on its head. Soon, long, brown tresses fell down to its shoulders, and its skin smoothed out into the face of a seemingly young woman. Her eyes bore into Riley’s, though her smile never faded.

The scream that released from her was unexpected, though the frigid energy that erupted from Riley’s hands hadn’t been something he had been counting on, either. The globe of energy slammed into the woman, and the chill from its presence even affected Riley, causing small streaks of ice to race up his arm, encasing some of his clothing. The rain that was falling around them froze over into sharp icicles, which ripped into the woman holding him down. Whatever was going on, Riley had no idea, other than the she-demon was not happy with it. She slammed her fist downwards, clawing at his chest with her sharp tendrils.

Reaching for anything around him, Riley’s hand grabbed onto a frozen shard of rock fragments, and he thrust it forward and into the side of the woman’s neck – though it didn’t tear into her flesh as deep as he had hoped, it did illicit a reaction from the beast. Her skin melted back into the horrifying sculpture from before, but the woman did seem to fly up and off of him. Taking his chance, Riley scrambled to his feet, all thoughts of perfect composure fleeing his mind. He reached the mausoleum and checked to make sure Carolina was within before he slammed the heavy door shut, pulling all the locks he could find.

Was it over? Probably not, but he turned around, back against the door and out of breath. The building would have to work as a safe house for now – at least until they could safely get out of there. Eyes fell upon the form of Penn’s fallen body, and he rushed over, bending to his side and studying his face. “I’m no doctor, what do I do?” Casting a frantic look towards his female companion, he desperately hoped she knew what to do in a situation like this. Riley tried slapping the older man’s face a few times, though he wasn’t thinking about the consequence of doing so. He didn’t even pay attention to the red marks that were beginning to form on the unconscious stranger’s cheeks.

The rain outside continued to fall, the wind picking up and howling like a mythical beast. “I got a text,” were Riley’s last words, offered as an explanation of why he was here in the graveyard, though the question hadn’t been asked. “I got a text and I followed it like an idiot. What the fuck is wrong with this town?” Reaching into his pocket, he felt around for his blackberry. As he pulled it out, his fingers came in contact with a heavy object also lodged inside, and when he brought both in front of him, he found it to be a crystal wrapped inside a mysteriously dry letter. “Please don’t tell me this is another cryptic message.”

[-1 spell point; Dire Winter spell]

Margaux Bontecou Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:19 pm

Margaux nearly dropped her brand new, still very, very scalding-ly hot coffee all over herself. She paused, gasping, jaw dropped all the way to the floor, hearing what Logan had said about her family. It took quite a few minutes, standing just inside the penthouse, to try and regain her composure. But it was a lost cause, her composure was not going to be regained in this instance. The coffee cup was brought backwards and then thrown, with force, at the back of Logan as he made his way towards the books. Then, whatever else was handy, was also hurled at him. This happened to be the passkey she had to use to get into the place.

"YOU VILE, 'ORRIBLE, INSENSITIVE FILS DE PUTE!" Which meant he was a son of a bitch. But when she was that frustrated, english just left the building. "Je ne peux pas sentir toi!" She spat in his general direction, still seething with anger, ready to pick up whatever else was next to her, ready to throw more things at him, hurt him in any way possible. The anger was bubbling high and emotions were taking over. She wasn't used to this - normally she'd be able to see this kind of thing coming, but now she just, couldn't. In one of... very, very few moments of true humanity, Margaux's eyes filled with tears. Her defensive stance faltered, and it almost looked as if she were about to start bawling. But that's not Margaux's M.O.

Instead, she let her hands drop to her sides, took a deep breath, and let her face rearrange itself into a calm, non-emotional expression. "If you 'ave a very 'ard time being decent, zen I prefer if you did not speak to me at all, Logan. And to zink, I wus almost 'appy to see you..." The latter muttered under her breath.

Lorelei Ashford Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:20 pm

Continuing the Search
Rodeo Drive, Los Angeles

Instinct told her that she wasn’t just grasping at straws. The mind could play its tricks, Lorelei Ashford knew that better than anyone—she was the enchantress after all. Had determination and stubbornness clouded her mind? No, she refused to believe that. The essentian was alive, he had to be. It didn’t matter that Serik wasn’t the man on the video. Over the last two years she had honed her skills since she had to rely purely on her own legwork. She could no longer persuade those around her to reveal what information she needed. She couldn’t communicate or seek the aid of the animals to direct them to Serik’s lair. Lorelei wasn’t useless though. Just because she didn’t have her powers at the moment did not mean that she couldn’t find out where that bastard ran off. It would just take longer, which unfortunately led to her current state of impatience. The situation was never to her liking, that much was obvious. Yet, this was no time to let her emotions get the best of her. She had to think clearly and tune into her senses, which had dulled but not disappeared completely. The string around her neck would hang, as the weight seemed to grow heavier.

Behind dark rims, she would allow her emerald gaze to slide up and down the sidewalk. Brayden stood in front of a shelf of books, eyeing the assorted covers that were neatly stacked. She used to enjoy leisurely afternoons in the safety of the dormer window in her bedroom where a book would lie in her lap and a blanket would be curled around her petite form. It had been her little reading nook, strewn with assorted cushions and pillows and the window would overlook the vast backyard. That corner of her room had always been her sanctuary, her escape. She no longer had that luxury anymore as reality crashed down all around and the busy street of Rodeo Drive brought her back to the world. Lips firmed as she reached around Brayden to grab one of the folded maps of Los Angeles standing in the lazy Susan beside him. Eyes rolled towards the heavens, they were at a bookstore after all. “Really Abrams? You didn’t see the maps right there?” A huff and a shake of her caramel locks, Lorelei would proceed to flip open the map and study it. The essentian was ultimately not part of this plane, yet he would have been among human kind to learn something of their culture. Palms would lean against the edge of the shelf. “A cave? We might as well call ourselves the Goonies.” Hunting treasure, a cave, and bad guys on their tails—the cliché 80s movie was a stark reminder of how ridiculous this mission was.

Brayden Abrams Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:20 pm

(Brayden continues from here.)

CONTINUING THE SEARCH
RODEO DRIVE, LOS ANGELES

Sam Breyand. Breyand. Brayden. The anagram was so close to home for the Evoker that it was a little eerie for him to think about. Of course, just because he had picked up a book whose author had a similar last name to him didn’t mean that any divine message was being sent to him. If it was, he wasn’t catching on that quickly; or if he was beginning to read the signs, he didn’t let on to the fact. He had questioned whether or not Serik was truly gone on multiple occasions over the past two years, though the end result of any of his research had always turned out null. Either the trail had gone cold or the activity he was following hadn’t been anything the Essentian would have been involved in – and, at the end of the trail, the culprit had always been a Wendigo or something else nasty.

The thoughts of Serik still being alive seemed to crowd his head as he juggled the book from hand to hand. He had witnessed the body of the Essentian being destroyed in front of him; or at least, he thought he had. Truthfully, he had ran from the sight once he had come to terms with what was happening, to continue fighting the Horde that plagued Sunset Glades. Even though he was powerless, he had refused to give up on the fight. To this day, he still wished he had been able to do something about the destruction around him. Maybe Serik really was still alive; if he were, Brayden honestly didn’t know how he’d react.

Lorelei did seem to be hinting that she thought he was back, however. With each step forward she made in her investigation, she was steadily getting closer and closer to just flat out telling the Evoker her beliefs. He had already guessed it, though he wasn’t sure if he was so willing to believe that she was right. He had never second-guessed the Enchanter, but he was trying not to get his hopes up. If Serik were alive, would things be better? Would they be able to get their powers back? So many scenarios were running through Brayden’s head, that his only solution to salvation was to drop the book. At the sound of the plopping of the book against cement, he was pulled from his thoughts with one realization: the signs were all lined up, and they really were on a mission to track down the Essentian. If Serik truly were gone, a new one would have been called. That was their mission, restoring what was rightfully theirs, and had been so since their births.

Lorelei Ashford Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:21 pm

The layout before her was a topographic map of the surrounding area. The lines and curves illustrated the various hills and trees one would find if they were heading to a certain destination. With the tip of her finger, Lorelei would slide the pad of her index finger across one area as she circled it. “Right here looks promising, there’s little to no residential homes in the area and it’s far enough from the city to—“ Her head and attention snapped towards Brayden as she heard the slap of a hard cover book hit the ground. “Are you even paying attention?” From the expression on his face, he seemed…distant. Bending over, the fitted jeans would cling tighter as she retrieved the fallen novel. “What’s wrong with you?” With the book clutched in one hand, she would wave it in front of his face to get his attention. About to toss it back on the shelf, she paused as the author’s name in big yellow letters flashed across the shiny black backdrop. Sam Breyand? Drawing the book to her line of sight, she turned the cover as she read the About Author section that appeared universally in every book ever written—at least in the modern world. Whether intentional or not, the name was an anagram. Very few knew the relationship that had been forged between Evoker and Essentian. Lorelei knew though. Supposedly Sam Breyand lived in a Los Angeles home, other than that, the usual information that was expected appeared in the text and a swift shut would follow. She would then shove the book back into Brayden’s hands. “Hold on to that and don’t wander off.”

Their other two companions were the furthest things from her mind at the moment. Her mind was on a mission and they would have to keep up with Lorelei if they wanted to come. Reaching in her back pocket, her hand would curl around the familiar feel of her iPhone. Fingertips blindly punched in a number and the phone would ring two times before a women’s voice answered the other end. “Hi, yes. Can you tell me the current address listing for a….Sam Breyand? That’s B-r-e-y-a-n-d.” There was no guarantee that they were on the right trail, but at this point it was better than no trail at all. The click of her heels echoed against the pavement while hailing a taxi. The trip would be much faster that way as she piled into the vehicle and gave the location to the driver. There was no known listing for the author anywhere in the state of California. Gritting her teeth in frustration, her determination would fuel her as she opened the browser to scan the Internet for any traces. In less than twenty minutes, they stood at the edge of the city with rolling hills spread out before them.

Brayden Abrams Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:21 pm

CONTINUING THE SEARCH
RODEO DRIVE, LOS ANGELES to THE MOUNTAIN AREAS

”Are you even paying attention? What’s wrong with you?” Did Lorelei really expect Brayden to be daydreaming whenever they were on a mission? Sure, maybe he had been guilty of it a few times a few years earlier, but both of the two former Arcanists had hardened with the turn of events they had been thrown through. He took missions seriously, but the realization had struck him so hard that he had lost control of his thoughts and actions and actually dropped the yellow and black book. He hadn’t been paying attention to the maps because he was drawn to the object that seemed to hold so much within its pages. “I’m not going anywhere.” The book felt foreign in his hands. Truth be told, he had no desire to be holding it again, but he didn’t dare put it down lest he yield the wrath of the brunette bombshell. As the girl walked off with her iPhone, the Evoker cringed looking at the contents he cradled as directed.

Lorelei didn’t seem to be waiting on anyone, though Brayden quickly caught on that she was about to hightail it. Obviously she knew what to look for and he was going to follow her instinct; it was rare that she was ever wrong about a lead. Though he didn’t want to hold onto the book any longer than he had to, he still kept it due to the word he had given his friend. Pulling cash out from his back pocket, he pulled a teen walking past him to the side and held out a couple of tens. “Go inside, pay for a book like this, and you can keep the change.” The kid seemed honest enough, and at least Brayden was making an effort to pay for the book he would basically be thieving. Picking up his pace in order to keep up with the girl, he slid into the taxi right after Lorelei, shutting the door behind him. If Adelina and Afton were following them, they were taking another taxi – this one was big enough for three people, but that was pushing it. Two to the backseat was fine for the last standing Abrams.

The hills that rolled out before them held no significance to Brayden, but the beauty of it all had him fighting back awe. They didn’t have time to sit and admire the scenery with the mission they were on, and so far the Russians hadn’t shown up to be dropped off – had they stayed behind? Had they just gone back to the Penthouse? Whatever there dilemma was, it wasn’t of Brayden’s concern at the moment. The only name that raced throughout his brain was “Serik” and that wasn’t in his liking. He wanted to be finished mourning over his losses, all of them; while it was good to remember those who had fallen in battle, it wasn’t healthy to mull over those who had perished. The thoughts still haunted Brayden whenever he was alone or attempting to sleep without the pills – he didn’t need the distraction now.

As the two friends trekked through the mountainous area, an anxious feeling crept into his stomach. If they were right, then things would quickly be turning around for them. Soon, everything would be better.. at least, Brayden hoped that he would be able to cope better. Whatever lied in the hidden caves of the area was a mystery to him, but it couldn’t be any worse than what he had been through so far.

Lorelei Ashford Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:22 pm

Hollywood Hills

Brayden Abrams had always been the Boy Scout. While he passed survival training and could rough it out, there were the predominant traits of a Girl Scout—sunshine and cookies. He could never break a rule, nor could he do physical harm to anyone that didn’t deserve it. Lorelei may have been in a rush but she hadn’t missed the short exchange between the Evoker and the teen. It was one book; he wouldn’t have gone to hell for taking it with him. Despite the small amusement she might have had over her dear friend’s predicament with his baser tendencies, there were other things on her mind. The Hollywood Hills were the perfect cover for someone trying to hide themselves away from prying eyes. Unfortunately for Serik, that fact along would lead Lorelei and Brayden to a direct bulls eye. Impatiently her foot tapped against the carpeted floor of the taxicab, traffic had delayed them slightly. She could just taste her old powers, while she didn’t know if the essentian was actually alive, some part of her could feel their existence out there. Maybe it was all in her head, a figment of her imagination—but some ungovernable force drove her right to the scarce foliage of the hills that towards above them.

Lorelei and Brayden stood in the shadow of the blinding white sign of Hollywood at the base of the hill that towered above their heads. She remembered that the caves were located on the opposite side of the ridge, out of sight from the main street that would wind up the hill and lead to the viewing platform. As Brayden piled out of the cab, she would leave him to deal with the fare. “Since you’re feeling generous today…” The comment was thrown over her shoulder, as he would only see her back. In haste, the Enchanter would begin the journey towards the caves. The sun was shielded behind thick gray clouds; rainstorms had plagued the west coast. Beneath her feet, Lorelei could feel her heels sink easily into the soaking wet grass and mud. Lightly cursing under her breath, she wouldn’t say a word to Brayden. By the time they reached the halfway point, she stopped abruptly. Raising her hand as she held it out to stop him, she thought she heard something. Every muscle in her body tensed as she strained to hear what was out there.

In the distance, a low grumbling noise could be heard moving in the opposite direction. Nodding her head in the general direction, fingertips would pull the zipper of her bag open as she reached in to pull out the cold steel barrel of her shotgun. Cracking the barrels open, one by one she would slip two cartridges into the empty firearm and close it. Quietly they would follow close behind and out of their line of vision.

Brayden Abrams Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:22 pm

CONTINUING THE SEARCH
THE MOUNTAIN AREAS

It seemed his punishment would be being left behind to pay the fare of the taxicab, but Brayden didn’t particularly mind. He was being hospitable. Lorelei might have forgotten her manners over the past two years, but Brayden hadn’t, considering he was back to working with the public. One had to have common courtesy and bedside care manners down pat to work in the medical field, but Brayden extended it beyond work hours. Handing off cash to the driver and telling him to keep the change as a tip, the Evoker gained a quick step in order to catch up with his childhood friend. If they hoped to make any gain on where the cave hiding their target was, it would best be found together.

As they silently trekked along, the man took notice of how Lorelei was just as unhappy about the ground situation as he was. He wasn’t particularly fond of stepping through the mud and wet grass, and the marks they were leaving on his shoes only served to irk him further. Who the hell hid in caves back behind the Hollywood sign, anyway? Given, it was a somewhat genius spot to hide at, but the surrounding area wasn’t exactly the best to be walking around on. If Lorelei’s hand hadn’t come up to stop him, Brayden probably would have kept on walking. It was her sharp senses that had caught the movement, but it was Brayden’s eyes that first set upon what she was hearing.

Just up ahead, a green-skinned creature with ogre-like features was journeying in one direction. The look of determination was evident, even though the creature was foreign. What exactly was that? The Horde was nothing that Brayden had seen before, and for someone who had been through two wars with the creatures, that was something that made the surgeon very weary. With Lorelei brandishing her shotgun from her bag, Brayden bent down to pull up the right leg of his pant, pulling off a strapped dagger and holding it up for future defense. Fortunately, the hills offered a perfect obstruction of view so that the creature couldn’t catch sight of the two, and Brayden took advantage of this by making sure he stayed out of its line of sight.

Steadily, they crept along, and Brayden made sure to avoid anything that would cause him to give himself away. It didn’t take long for them to reach a large cave, though the muddy path had Brayden cursing in his head the whole way. The creature halted in front of the cave, appearing to be cautious in making its choice to enter the cave. Could this be where their real target was hiding? With the Horde being so careful before entering, one could assume so. But now that the two former Arcanists were at their wanted destination, Brayden wasn’t sure how he felt.

The possibility of a new Essentian being called caused the Evoker to experience mixed feelings. On the one hand, there was a chance of getting his power back; but on the other, he would have to deal with a whole new entity, one that was chosen to replace Serik. He was still sour on the subject. “After you, milady.” He whispered to Lorelei, waving a hand in front of him to give her first reign. Chances were, she was already starting the journey to kill the creature and get answers out of it, anyway.

Lorelei Ashford Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:22 pm

The Cave Beneath the Sign
Serik's Haven

Every single sense within her was high and alert to their surroundings. Out in the open with what little cover they could manage, the arcanists were walking twenty feet behind the big ugly as the terrain sloped downward. On higher ground, they had an advantage against their mystery opponent. In the two years she had been actively hunting on her own, Lorelei had never come across a creature quite like this one. Big ugly was putting it nicely. While there was very little out there that could unnerve her, the oily glazed skin was pulled so tight against their head that it resembled a bad face-lift. Bulky with sharp, razor like teeth, and eyes that sunk into the skull, these were new to the mortal plane—to her at least. One glance towards Brayden confirmed that same conclusion. Where was he headed? She knew the road to the Essentian wouldn’t be easy; the petite huntress had spent two years searching him out of one hideout after another. By the time she had arrived though, he was long gone. The trail had grown quickly, yet fate for once had smiled upon her. It was ironic in the end—after all this time she would end up right back here where she left the eldest of the Abrams. Right under Brayden’s nose and he wouldn’t have known better.

Deep down in the pit of her stomach, she knew she had changed. Every day that crept by would be a growing reminder of that fact. Time couldn’t be rewound, nor could it be saved. This is what she was and while those dearest to her had returned for those brief moments, it wasn’t enough to awaken the dead soul within her. Traces remained, but the whole could never be brought back. There was a time when her snide comments had been light banter; gentle prods to tease her long time friend. Unconsciously she gripped the shotgun tightly, avoiding a lifeless tree branch that had probably broken off a while ago. The mud did nothing to sate her mood and in fact only annoyed her. Tracks would be left behind for anyone to follow. She might have done her best to cover her’s but Brayden didn’t seem to be focused on the mission or where he planted his feet. Her unconscious understood; he may not have fully understood her intuitions or her obsession to find out all she could about Serik, but in the end it would mean something. Standing on tiptoe, her long lashes would blink over dark hues as she looked around the trunk of a tree. In the distance she could just make out a dark cave and the unknown creature heading straight forward. Her nature dictated that she wait until she learned more about creature until running after it into a darken cave. Will and suspense had been a powerful combination within the enchantress. “I should have known you wouldn’t have the stomach.” Long locks we tossed about as she shook her head this way. He was being silly of course, and yet, her mind wasn’t on the friend standing beside her. Serik had to be there. It was a hope, a wish. But if…breathing in deeply, her chest rose and fell before taking off after the Kreelock. She may not have been able to see it clearly, but it entered the cave and was engulfed in shadow.

Only one thought entered her mind—finally. With every step her took, the faster her heart pounded against her chest. Lorelei may not have looked back but she could feel Brayden right on her heels. Palms rested against the cold stone wall of the cave as she turned her back against it to lean on. Carefully and with minimal movements, she curled her head around the entrance to have a glance. The Kreelock stood only a few feet away, she was close enough to it to….Acknowledging her temporary partner she signaled for him to wait, she would deal with the thing. Holding the gun by the barrel, she slipped inside. Breath bated, everything happened in a blur. She walked up directly behind him and swung the gun and grabbed the other end with her free hand as she created a chokehold. With all of her might, she pulled back and used what momentum she had to swing him into the opposite wall. With the heel of her boots, she dug one into where she thought the small of their back would be—if you could call it one. A swift kick to the jaw would be paid as the Kreelock was bent parallel to the floor. Without thought, she pumped the barrel of her gun.

Penn Rutherford Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:23 pm

FOLLOWING A MYSTEROUS LEAD
THE GRAVEYARD, LOS ANGELES

“Hey! Hey! Are you.. are you trying to k-” a deep cough rose through his lungs abruptly and emerged interrupting his words. “-ill me faster.” Penn’s eyes glazed over as he searched for something to focus on to stay awake. A snapping noise followed and ventured across his body. Pearly blood stained teeth clenched tightly grinding to resist the urge to scream. Every wound in his body laced itself together and reformed to its rudimentary condition before the encounter with the Lich. If not for the ripped clothing and blood stains there were no evidence of prior damage.

Penn sat up tightening the muscles in his abdomen to steady his posture while eyeing his strange accomplices. It didn’t even feel bruised when he moved. He focused in on his breathing as if something didn’t seem right. He wasn’t sure how he’d managed to recover the way he just did. It was like a miracle, although religion was the last thing Penn considered as an explanation. He spoke in a whisper with a shaking in his voice; the cold clothing still had its effect on him regardless of being back in good health. His new foxhole buddies seemed just as puzzled as he was about the sudden change, but Penn didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, especially if the gift saved his life.

“I think I received the same text.”

Both hands fell to his side pockets with perfect symmetry and neither felt the bulk of his phone. There was a good chance it fell out in the grave previously, or somewhere in the yard. No matter where it had landed, it had to have been destroyed by the rain.

While the young blond male examined the contents of his pockets and what looked like a blackberry, Penn garnished his second wind. He leapt to his feet yanking the ripped shirt off his body, gathering a bulk of the fabric behind his head he removed the article and dropped it on the marble floor. Thoroughly soaked it hit the ground with a large smack, which almost startled him as well. Bare-chested freezing he took off down the marble hallway. A blurry reflection cast on the surface of the grave drawers in the wall. It smelt like dried roses and embalming fluids, or whatever chemicals were used to preserve the dead. He’d hoped there was an office or some sort of device they could use to call for help.

It never occurred to him during this process that anything they reported would have seemed unfathomable anyway. The two doors at the end looked just as secure. Unlike the one they entered in these ones on either end were held tight with a chain and several locks. If Penn had learned anything from scary movies it was always safe during the daytime and so his plan was just to sit this out. At the end of the east hall he looked out through the barred-window seeing, nothing out of the ordinary but the rain.

The sound of shuffling caught his ear to his left, but he calculated that his mausoleum mates were the source. Abruptly a marble coffin shot into his direction, but stopped just shy of completely leaving the wall it was attached to. Penn backed, up as a rumble gradually built from all the surrounding drawers.

“Uh.. guys!”

[-1 spell point; Regeneration Spell + Penn]

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