Once I had arrived at the swamp, I decided the best way of going about this would be to ascend the trees. No one ever looked up and if they heard anything from above, it would likely just be written off as some of the local wildlife. Even if they did... well... I could handle them before they could alert anyone of my presence. I was well outside of the swamp, so my light magic wouldn't be too noticeable... I walked up to the largest tree I could find and snapped my fingers. An intricate silver glyph appeared below me. I pointed my index finger at the sky and slowly, it, and myself, began to rise into the air. I stepped off of it as soon as I was able to reach a branch that seemed to be able to support my weight. "Perfect." The glyph faded away and I began to hop from tree to tree, getting closer toward the heart of the swamp. If there was a jump that I couldn't make, I would make a small glyph appear in the air to use as a stepping stone. Just small enough that if it let off too much light it could be simply mistaken for the branches swaying and allowing a little more light into this dreary swamp. I soon came upon the mercenary group. It... really wasn't that difficult to find them though. They made no effort to even hide their presence. A five year old could have tracked them down. I decided to follow them for a bit, just to see if they might actually have an idea of where they were going. As soon as they split up, I knew that they probably didn't. Though, I decided to stay with the group on the left for a little while longer. More because there was more tree cover on their path. Thankfully, it didn't seem like any of them noticed my presence. Eventually, they came across an abandoned town, and in the distance, I could hear gunfire. "Dammit... there's nothing I can do... if I'm right, then these guys're about to be ambushed as well..." If I left, there's no guarantee that the other group would be alive when I reached them, and if this group were to be attacked and I left, then there would be a greater chance that they would be injured or killed by the time I made it back to assist them. As much as I had a distaste for the Maniacles, I couldn't well leave people to die. I got to the highest branch that would support my weight and began to watch the town, looking for any signs of life and the imminent ambush that was undoubtedly about to take place.
“And there he is, right on time,” Evangeline whispered to herself with a sly smile. She could sense the detective’s presence, despite being nearly a mile away from the happenings in the swamp town. Her telekinetic tendrils were fanned out, like invisible webs blanketing the entire area. She sensed light magic and glyphs. She sensed the way he moved, carefully making his way along the treetops instead of trudging through the muck like those Maniacle morons. It fit the detective’s modus operandi. If it wasn’t him, it was at least someone worthy of attention. I suppose this is the part where I go after him, confront him, make some smart ass remarks about how he has offended me, and then kill him, she thought. But that would be crude… and this tea is simply too good to go to waste. She was sitting atop the roof of a half-collapsed shack, comfortably sipping at a cup of Earl Gray. The brand new patio set she had brought with her looked very out of place in the rundown swamp. Transporting two chairs, a small table, and a tea set was child’s play for her. Oh, the joys of telekinesis. The comforts of home followed her everywhere she went. “Should’ve brought my butler,” she thought, as she wondered how to let the detective know his client had arrived. She still saw herself as his client. He hadn’t turned her down. No one turns down Evangeline Albright. That thing on the phone was just a misunderstanding. I’ll send an invitation, she thought. I’m sure he’s thirsty after such a long trip. With a wave of her hand, the tea set levitated away and flew through the trees. She sat quietly sipping from her cup while the teapot, a tray of pastries, and a second cup and saucer zipped through the branches, headed straight for her favorite detective. It came to a stop in front of him and hovered in midair for a moment before the teapot upended itself and poured a steaming, watery message in midair: “would you like some tea, detective?” The words hovered there long enough for him to read them, then splashed into the cup.
Clayton sniffed. With the curse of vampirism came various improvements in the senses, including an animalistic sense of smell. It was nothing like the movies, however, where Wolverine or some other hero knew where to go by his nose. There were a lot of smells, most not so good. Clayton noticed, however, that there wasn't much of a gun powder scent. It was likely that the ambushers hadn't used guns, and the only gunshots they heard were from the Maniacles rifles. There was also a slight, clean, city scent. One that didn't entirely fit here. Regardless, it was likely the cultists were expecting them to attack from one side. The best way they could get an edge would be if Thomas, Pam, and Keenan went through the center, Aeon went around right, and he himself took right. Or better yet, if the melee fighters of their group lured the cultists and they did a little ambush of their own. "Thomas, Pam, Keenan. I say you go after those mercs, then fall back while we wait with our rifles." Clayton expected resistance to his assuming command, but no hurt trying. Besides, nobody else was giving any amazing ideas. "Me and Aeon will then pick them off.."
A Caucasian male with shaved head, deep-set green eyes and worn, scarred hands felt the minds of the five strangers with his own as they scrambled around the village. So far they had not noticed him, but he was no master spell caster. Even when they did see or sense him, he hoped his normal clothes and demeanor would be enough to fool them into lowering their guard. The jeans, grey long-sleeve shirt, running shoes, and a worn pea-coat were comfortable and loose on his body, and carefully selected to convey a sort of uninteresting mediocrity. It had worked on the group of mercenaries who tried to go around and invade from the fishing area. Some got captured, others killed. His brother's and sisters all had their own ways of serving their god. He preferred a slow buildup leading to a quick slice, but they all had their own brushes and strokes to paint with. He could feel two new minds now, moving through the swamp with unknown intent. He wished he could have met them before now. Or, maybe he had. Everything went red when the moment of truth came. He would approach them later. "Wasting time." He thought to himself. He scryed quickly, intent on learning as much as he could from his prey, and planning his method of attack once the moment came. The shotgun vampire did not trust the mages, while the super-strong sex fiend seemed to be bored. The one with the enormous gun might be a shape-shifter, but he could not be sure. The Ancient would have been his first target. The wellspring of experience and old blood was aged and nourishing, the flavor so easy to sense. Even if he was not a blood mage, he would have felt the ancient's power. But, his first kill would have to be Keenan. He could feel the name, a rare morsel to pick from someone's mind so clearly, but that was all he could feel. Keenan was unknown to him, and he did not know why. Keenan would have to die first. He raised his left hand to his peacoat, resting it above the tattoo above his heart. The image had been carved deep, before the cuts were branded shut in the image of a strange, twisted, disgusting mockery of a fetus. "Look here, child..." His voice cracked. He realized he might die this day. "Look here, child." He whispered again. "I am Nathan Cromwell, called Slave by my cult. Either my body, or these five, my bloody gift to you." ----------- A Caucasian male with shaved head, deep-set green eyes and worn, scarred hands opened the door on one of the houses, his face a mask of relief and thankfulness as he spoke to the five mercenaries. "Thank god you're here!"
Clayton almost laughed. Surely, the other cultists would be bitching about this guy to each other, and how he couldn't just stay with the plan. They wanted to ambush, it looked like, and this fucker just steps right up and calls the mercs out for a fight. On top of that, the guy was full of himself. Going on with some crazy appearance and psycho religious lines. Honestly, Clayton didn't know whether to be amused or irritated. Regardless, he could hardly stand the guy much longer than when he started his little rant about his cult, his god, and being named Slave like some sort of BDSM crap. Clayton immediately aimed his auto-shotgun and shot a couple rounds, expecting this guy was just some untrained pawn, albeit especially full of himself and annoying. The gunshots echoed in the village. Smoke rose and vanished into the foggy air, as the shells bolted toward the shaved head cultist.
It had to be real. It had to look, sound, and feel real. As soon as the rounds struck the illusion, Slave put more energy into it. He had seen people get shot. He knew what the mercs would expect. A gentle jerk, the expression of shock and fear, a gentle collapse to hands and knees, clutching entry wounds in the chest. No blood yet. People did not 'explode' in clouds of gore in real life. That would come later. No, the illusion just cried out, fell to the ground, wracked by pain and fear. Slave walked. Slowly, carefully, leaving another illusion in the spot where the vampire had heard him chant to his god. The Ancient would have heard him as well, and they both might have smelled him already. He watched the other mercs, the two mages and 'Keegan', carefully from within his building, ready to learn more about the enemy. The first vampire was not joking around. There had been no theatricality, grace, or subtlety to his attack. He had simply shot the illusion, with only a small twitch beforehand to indicate he was about to act. Slave watched his doppelganger start bleeding on the ground, crying and begging for help. He watched the four other mercs, waiting to see how they reacted...
No. It was a trick. Clayton realized the moment the doppelganger collapsed that something wasn't right. How could he have been so stupid? These cultists, assuming Maniacles was correct and all these fetus god cults were connected, had managed to take down squads of trained tough ass mercenaries in full suits of power armor. It was actually very unlikely, in fact, that any would make such a blunder as this cultist seemed to have made, without it being part of some deceptive strategy. Clayton lowered his gun for a moment, contemplating what their next move should be, when he heard it. They all did. The low, deep, inhuman scream. "MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATTT!!" It sounded like an oversized dog that was in immense pain, then deepened at the end into an eerie growl. A large, bluberous, yet very muscular humanoid thing slowly lumbered towards them out of the fog. It's face was covered in a crude mask of that looked partially rusted metal and partially gore. Not flesh, gore, as if the grotesque innards of a freshly killed person had been fused with crap metal to make the mask. It's mouth was visible, however, and much larger than a person's could possibly be. In one hand, which was as big and beefy as a fat man's head, he carried half a still-living Maniacles merc upside down. The merc's other leg was completely missing, and the forearm on the same side seemed to have been bitten off. Yet still, the merc was struggling, squirming in the things grip. That is, until it grabbed the merc's head with the other hand, and bit directly into the rib area, which was still partially guarded by armor, tearing basically half the whole torso off and chewing it all, meat, bone, even the metal, as blood dripped down it's chin. Then, letting out another horrible yell, it charged at the group of mercs, still holding the now mostly eaten Maniacle merc, and not even flinching as Clayton unloaded on it.
A day or two prior Serra's power armored feet clanked along the hallway alongside the much smaller feet of Keenan, wary as they headed down a bloodstained hallway after a target Manicles hired them them to deal with, well hired Serra anyway, she in turn hired him for assistance when she found out she was dealing with another ancient vampire. This particular vampire had been a bit troublesome, hence why they were hired instead of a regular team being sent, and the reason for the difficulty became apparent, at least to Keenan when he went ahead just a bit to eek into the room and identify the target, the moment he did, however, his eyes went wide and he turned around to face Serra and stuttering "R-run" before sprinting away at full speed, leaving Serra to only follow in confusion, taking long strides just to keep up. when Keenan finally stopped running Serra was finally able to ask "who was that then?" with a sigh Keenan responded "well, depends on your faith, Loki, Hades, that kinda thing" "oh, well shit, what now then?" "Manicles got any other jobs?" a few second of tapping on a small tablet "They got something going on in...New Orleans looks like, something about cults, could always drop in on that" Keenan shrugged "why not?" ------------------------- Currently Keenan rode on the back of Serra's armor as it slogged through the swamp, making it through mainly because of the wider soles and the power of the servos. Eventually the two started to hear gunfire ahead and slowed down, Keenan rising up a bit to try an look from where they were "It looks like they're fighting something, something big" "Good a time as any to crash in on the party right?" Serra's guns furled out onto the arms of the suit as Keenan jumped into the trees. They kept moving that way, Keenan keeping himself hidden in the trees while Serra headed straight for the combat. She made herself known first, opening up with with the Minigun as soon as she was in range.
"Dammit." I shoved the tea set that had appeared before me as I watched the scene unfold. I knew the second that man had come out of the house he was an illusion. It was flickering unnaturally, at least in my vision. I didn't know if that mercenary knew though. Didn't seem to matter to him. The illusion went down, pretty convincing, for an illusion at least. I hadn't yet located the caster, and I didn't really have time as this... thing came through holding dead bodies, eating them. "Well, this isn't good..." I sighed and snapped my fingers. A glyph appeared beneath the beast, chains shot around it, wrapping around it tightly, pulling it to the ground and crushing it with enough force to crush bones and rend flesh. I pulled the black box from my back and hit a small button on the side and held onto it with one hand as it began to unfold. I routed through my pouch and pulled out a faintly glowing red bottle. Soon, the box unfolded into a scythe and I smashed the bottle against the blade, flames cascaded around me and the blade grew a red tint. "Alright, let's go..." I jumped off the branch, towards the monster. A glyph appeared in the air between me and the monster, flames trailing slightly behind the scythe. Instead of being a physical barrier, I passed right through it. The scythe's blade gained a bright silvery glow. "Flames of Purification!" As soon as I was within reach of the monster, I brought the scythe down in a great sweeping arc. Unfortunately, I hadn't aimed quite well enough when I jumped out of the tree, instead of bringing it down onto the beast's neck as I intended, I brought it down into it's left shoulder, and not with enough force to be able to cleave a straight path to its heart. In fact the thing was too tough, despite the power of my own attack, the best I did was leave a gaping gash on it's shoulder, my scythe embedded within it still. I hung on, planting my feet firmly onto the monster and quickly dug out a red cylindrical device, a bomb, from my pouch and pressed a button on it, a small indicator on it began flashing red and I quickly smashed it into the wound and then tore my scythe from the creature and leaped off of it backwards, I hoped that would add a little more "Oomph" to my attack. I quickly backed away from the monster toward the mercenary group. "Those chains won't last long, this abomination is probably the result of several unholy rituals. He won't be easy to take down, it may also look like a great brute, but looks can be deceiving. Be careful and don't underestimate it for even a second. If any of you need anything, tell me now and I can supply you, don't worry about what it may be, trust me, I've more than likely got it." I then took a quick glance around. "Oh, and that man you shot, he was an illusion, the real one is around here somewhere, ready to attack us while we're distracted, do keep an eye out for that, yeah?"
Clayton snorted "So THATS what it is..." He said, in reference to the cultist he had gunned down. While Clayton had a terrible history with mages, being that a group of mages gone mad had turned him into what he now was long ago, he was a reasonable man, and knew holding a grudge against the entire..."species," if they could be classified as that, was as ridiculously absurd as the ritual that had given him his "gift" of neigh immortality. That all being said, Clayton still hated certain forms of magic, in this case illusion. It changed the game. What now was real? What was a trick? A loud shot rang out on the battle field, and a blood spurted from a newly made wound in Clayton's leg. He didn't finch, but looked down casually at it, to notice a red dot moving up. He dive rolled as soon as he noticed, and at the same time yet another loud shot rang out as a bullet crashed into the mud. They had fuckin, snipers. And it looked like this cued the other cultists to appear out of the woodwork, showing up through the fog on rooftops and out from behind obstacles, and begin firing shots of their own, with everything from glocks to shotguns and a couple even had AK-47s, though none had anything as sophisticated as the Merc's had. The hail of bullets Serra was raining down on the monster seemed to be more like throwing rocks at a normal grown man, as the chains tightened, but it was the chains that met their demise and not the monster. The gains snapped, sending debri in all directions, even injuring some of the cultists. "EEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAATTTTTT URGHARMMRMA!" It shouted in it's deep, ravenous voice, as it charged for Joe, ignoring the gunshots slamming into it. Now it was a real fight. Smoke filled the air. Blood spattered the ground. Nothing Clayton wasn't familiar with. He bolted quickly to the wall of a barn that cultists were standing on top of and using for cover. A shotgun barely approached his rib, but with his lightning quick vampire reflexes and enhanced strength, he grabbed the shotgun by the barrel, disarmed the cultist, and knocked him on his ass, kicking the head hard enough to fracture the skull and leave the cultist bleeding to death. Can't let his fist fighting proficiency get rusty, after all. Clayton was now on the enemies side of the fight. He could take out the shooters on the ground and get rid of that nuisance, or he could climb up on the buildings and start taking out the gunmen up there. He noticed some cultists using the chaos of the shootout to sneak around to the flank and behind the Mercs. So he decided to climb up and...get a better idea of the battleground they were working with.
So, he shunned her hospitality. Tsk, tsk, tsk. That tea set was her favorite, imported from Beijing. No, not from a sweat shop. It was made by an actual Chinese craftsman. Cost a fortune. And that damned detective just broke it. Fortunately, Evangeline Albrite was a woman of wealth and taste, not prone to fits of violence. Years of cultured upbringing had instilled in her an innate calmness. But still… she felt an overwhelming urge to rip this man in half and jump rope with his intestines. She really liked that tea set. With a sigh, she stood up and stretched. Even a master of psionics must maintain proper form. I would hate to get a finger cramp or break a nail, she thought. Ugh, life is just so difficult sometimes. She levitated up until she was hovering well above the treetops, then began to drift toward the action. People were shooting, but she didn’t care about any of that. A few bullets even flew toward her, but they halted in mid-flight, turned 180, and went zipping back toward the shooter. She didn’t really care about the cultists. This wasn’t about them anymore; it was about that damned detective. She spied the detective, wrangling with a massive man-beast-thing. Disgusting. I suppose I could help him, Evangeline thought. I could also sing Happy Birthday while doing a handstand on a thimble wearing a bear suit and a hula hoop. Now guess which of those things I’m going to do… Correct answer: neither. She drifted down, like a descending angel, and landed softly on the roof of a building. This, of course, did not please the gunmen on said rooftop. They began firing at her. With a sigh, Evangeline stood by with her hands on her hips and tossed her long silver hair over her shoulder, ignoring the hail of bullets. Each one struck an invisible wall, stopped, turned around, and was returned to sender. “Just stop, darlings, you’re embarrassing yourself,” she said. “I’m trying to watch the detective die but it’s hard to see through all this lead.” And that's when she noticed the man climbing up the building. "You there," Evangeline said, waving at him, "I demand that you to make them stop."
"Geez, you really need to chill out, friend." I quickly pulled out a glowing blue bottle and quickly uncorked it and splashed the liquid in the surrounding area in front of me. Quickly, the ground froze, it even went beyond where the liquid had splashed, the moisture in the ground freezing, mist was beginning to form and cover the area, due to the heat and humidity in the air meeting the now freezing ground. I quickly stepped on the ice and slid around the monstrosity as it came charging. At the same time the explosive lodged in its wound went off. "Take a load off!" Five glyphs appeared in the air behind it and five more right in front of it on the frozen ground, spears flew up from the ground and stayed there, and five more launched from the air. Each was aimed at its arms, legs, and its head. If this went right, with that explosion and the ice, it hopefully was already off balance, with a little more... "encouragement", the spears will send it down to the ground and force it to impale itself on the spears waiting for it. With the lowered visibility due to the mist and my continued movement on the ice, I hoped that it would make it more difficult for any shooters to hit me.
Clayton jumped up from where he was, grabbed the ledge of a window, then launched himself into a roll onto the roof, all so he could take out the cultists on the roof. But the cultists lay dead. Wounds dotted their bodies, from the very guns they used to attack the mercenaries. "You there," Evangeline said, waving at him, "I demandthat you to make them stop." Then a very professional looking woman waved at him, demanding that he stop the gunners. This was, however, exactly what Clayton had planned on doing, but he hadn't come up here to be ordered around by some woman, who looked too...clean, weak, white collar to survive here. Still, she had taken out these cultists, and was likely a mage. A very powerful mage. "I'm not Maniacles. Whoever you are I don't take orders from you." Clayton called to her, before taking a look from the rooftop out over the gunfight. Things weren't going so well for the cultists. The main force of gunners appeared to have been on this roof top. Only a few others, one or two on the roofs of other buildings, and a couple idiots with pistols and shotguns (not the military type, mind you) were still trying to flank the mercenaries. The sniper still remained, however, and Clayton noticed this as a loud sniper shot rang out and a bullet pinged off of a Merc's power armor. Even the big fat Meat monster was getting blown up. The charge went off, causing the goliath to fall to its knees, but its shoulder still mostly in tact aside from the gash widening a bit. As ice spears crashed down on it, but shattered as they smashed into its limbs. It fell to the ground, but got back up, even more pissed off then before. "MMMEEEEEEAAA-" "Alright, Meat. Settle down, now." Came a voice that sounded truly Southern, but more of the classy variety than the setting would suggest. Suddenly, a dark red aura surrounded everyone, except for Meat. Somehow, this beast knew to stop it's attack, despite it's anger. Everyone was likely experienced enough to know what this aura was: blood magic. Their limbs stiffened so they could not move. Their magic became ineffective. Everyone was in a sort of stasis, and nobody would be able to dispel or resist this, not even Evangeline. A man who looked to be in his thirties walked in out of the fog, out of nowhere. He almost fit the Colonel Sanders physical profile exactly, wearing a white suit and on the pants of which the chain of an old watch was visible. The only difference was his hair was black and the face of a true asshole. "You guys can't handle a thing on your own, even with Meat's help. I gotta do everything for you." He said, scolding the cultists, yet releasing them from their paralysis, but leaving the Merc's, of course "Drag em to the old slaughterhouse. Can't do magic in there. Be sure you tie em up good." The man looked around at the intruders of his town, noting their strength and signs of health "They will make good sacrifices." ------------------------------------
With his better holding them and neutralizing their power, Slave could do anything he wanted. He remembered his place. Slave removed his doppelgangers, strolling to the center of the town with his hands in his pockets. The a few surviving cultists revealed themselves, weapons ready but relaxed. "Take that off of them." Slave gestured at the mercs wearing power armor. "And search the Alchemist and 'headmistress'." Slave wanted to read their minds, to tear open their psyches and look at every little morsel. He remembered. His. place. "Evangeline Albrite." Slave had known one of the cultists she had quartered. There was another story, but Slave was on the edge of her mind, lapping gently on the shores of memory. It was all he could have hoped. The weak said she had done it to protect others. The envious ones. The afraid. He knew the truth. She was like him. Touched. "Bind them." He thought about the slaughterhouse, and what was to come.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, friends! I'm just a simple alchemist here collecting reagents for medicine. I saw those men in trouble and just sought to do my civic duty! I mean, I only saw that huge hulking monster and thought "Oh no, I need to help!". I'm truly sorry for whatever trouble I've caused. I need to still find the ingredients for and get back to my workshop to brew the medicine, a little girl's life is on the line! If I don't hurry, then she could die!" God please let these men be that thick. Please let them have a heart. Though, it's unlikely they do. Their minds more than likely already have been taken by the madness. What was one innocent life compared to the "great" machinations of their gods? But hey, it's worth a shot, if I can get away, then I can assist them from the outside, it'd be more than what I can do from the inside...
The southern gentleman just smiled with amusement at Joe's pathetic attempt to save his own life. "Don't you see how small our lives here are when the cosmos are under threat! Out work her-" A cultist began ranting at Joe but was cut off by the Colonel Sanders wannabe. "Annie! Save your breath!" He snapped, then scanned over the scene, as did Clayton. The fog had fooled Clayton. There were many more cultists than he saw. He could have sniffed out a lot, but he assumed when he tried that they were just dirty hicks with a strong body odor. "Go now! Take them to the slaughterhouse. Chain them up when you're there. It will be a while until the ritual, so we must ensure they cannot escape." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- And hauled off they were, to a partially destroyed, rusted, dirty concrete building which must have once been a place to produce meat. Inside, Clayton sighed at the horror movie cliche of the surroundings. Meat hooks hung from the ceiling, rusted, but still sharp. One room, the room he was placed in, had a table with a rotating saw machine. Did they make burgers here or cut up logs? The cultists wanted to split them up best they could, but the building wasn't big, so the merc prisoners were merely split into pairs. Clayton with Joe, Aeon with Pam, Thomas with Evangeline, Keenan with Serra, all into different creepy, concrete rooms. Once the cultists left, Clayton immediately began thinking of a way out of this mess, but what could they do? Magic wouldn't work in here, thanks to whatever machine or enchantment the cultists had in this fuckhole. He tried using his super vampire strength, which should be able to break any chain they would use to hold people, but all it did was wear him out. He examined his chains. In his time as a merc, he had heard of metals from...other worlds, that Maniacles and even ROSE had gotten their hands on somehow. These metals were strong, of a foreign element to those of this world. This chain must be made of one of those very metals; strong metals that were unbreakable to even the strongest vampires and mages. Regardless, it wasn't silver. His strength was still in tact. The chain wasn't attached to a ring on the wall, it was going into the wall. These cultists had gone through a lot of trouble to prevent captives from escaping. He had a potential ally here, however. On the other side of the room, a mage, the mage who put a gash into the monsters shoulder, was also chained up. "Who are you? You're not from ROSE, and you don't seem like the Maniacles type. There must be a reason you attacked the monster though." Clayton said.
I looked around the room in silence. "Hm..." The chains were made of foreign metals. The composition was close to some that I had managed to synthesize with alchemy. To put it bluntly, this stuff wasn't going to break anytime soon if it were on par with the stuff I make. Unfortunately, it wasn't just attached to a ring on the wall, but going inside of the wall. However, that might not be impossible... it just determines how far in it is. With enough time and effort, the chains could be dug out. However, by the time we did that, they would long have heard us and have begun either sacrificing us, serving us up to their little pet, or just outright killing us. "Who are you? You're not from ROSE, and you don't seem like the Maniacles type. There must be a reason you attacked the monster though." "You, are absolutely correct. Not affiliated with any mercenary group, especially not the Maniacles. Joseph Hikari Nobunaga, ex-student of Merlinus Academy and owner of Atelier Nobunaga and the Nobunaga Detective Agency, a pleasure to meet you." I smiled and bowed politely, well... as well as I could under my condition. "As for the reason I attacked the monster, it was truly to assist you. However, if you hadn't about to have been ambushed, I would already be infiltrating their little cult and raising all sorts of hell. I kind of just try to... disassemble these little sects as I find them. I'm mainly just looking for someone. Can't really give a description. The guy just loves to change faces and bodies and unfortunately for little old me, my power doesn't affect him." I tapped the side of my head, close to my eye. "So, gotta rely on good ol' detective skills to try and root him out." "Eheh, sorry, rude of me to ramble on like that, who are you?" I smiled. I wasn't panicked. I'd been in far worse situations than this, we'll be able to escape, I know it.
"Merlinus Academy?" Clayton had heard horror stories about the Maniacles mercenaries sent to clean the place up after the disaster that happened there "The place with all those gangs and cults, that got shut down?" Clayton looked over Joe "Holy shit, wait, I think I saw one of your shops before. Crazy you even survived that." A hint of a smirk appeared on Clayton's face, then faded as he looked around "Well, lucky you" Clayton ran his hand over the cement walls. Most vampires, including himself, had the strength to break apart concrete with ease, but not the durability. If he tried to break it apart with his fists, with the power to destroy concrete, he would only wind up smashing his hands to a bloody pulp, and then where would he be? "So, you wouldn't happen to be a buff mage would you?" He then remembered that no magic would work in here "Wait, nevermind, dumb question" He looked down at the chains that kept him, examined the lock. Even if the chains were unbreakable to him, and they were prevented from using magic, these were still ordinary key locks. Surely, then, they could be picked. He lacked that kind of expertise himself, but maybe maybe his new detective friend might have some know-how. "So...detective, know anything about tumblers?" He tried to keep his voice down. There were likely cultists guarding their rusting, eerie prison.
"Yeah... survived..." I looked to the side, a memory drifting from the depths of my mind. A large grotesque monster... throwing every last spell in my arsenal, and the contents of my atelier at it... I shook off the memory. "Oh, what's that? Oh, no, sorry, usually I either just break my way in or I get invited inside. However... when it comes to buffs..." I looked at my bracelet and grinned. "Catch." I pulled it off and tossed it to him. Since the bracelet's power was not the direct result of enchantment or magic, theoretically, it's possible that it couldn't be affected by an anti-magic field. "Try that, it might give you the extra "Oomph" You need... but if it doesn't and it busts your hand while you destroy the concrete... well... I'm an old hand with healing magic, I can repair you once we get out of the bounds of the anti-magic field, just like that." I snapped my fingers. "Oh, and if that works... well... I don't think we'll have to worry about supplies. Hehehehehe..." I patted the empty leather pouch they had neglected to take off my person. Probably assumed that since it was empty, there was nothing else that I could pull out. Oh boy, are they wrong.
I could hear the man through the wall. "I'm mainly just looking for someone. Can't really give a description. The guy just loves to change faces and bodies and unfortunately for little old me, my power doesn't affect him." I unlocked the door and walked into the dimly lit room. Candles burned along the walls, casting flickering shadows that played upon the men's faces. "Looking for me?" I asked, smiling at the man in black. This was the one who had put the Death Curse on me. I reflected on all of my fallen comrades, all of the innocents lost, all of the destruction that had laid my city to waste. Long ago, my people had enjoyed peace and prosperity. But now we were outcasts, living life on the run as our city had been left a smoking, ruined, empty wasteland. "I must say, I badly underestimated your willpower and abilities." Having endured such heavy losses, our sect had set out to find new land, a place that we could call our own. A place far, far away from these bloodthirsty brutes. "I find it a bit odd that with all you have, all the money and power this world has to offer, you would still come after us." I sighed, shaking my head. Of course, it wasn't just our destruction they wanted. They also wanted the Ancient Stones, stones so powerful they could open doors to other dimensions. So closely guarded were these stones that no Cultist ever spoke of them. Their location was so secret that only a few members knew where they were. The Maniacals had wanted the stones so badly that they'd breached every secure area within the sect during the previous raid, relentlessly tearing apart home after home in their frenzied attempt to seize what did not belong to them. They hadn't succeeded then. And they wouldn't succeed now. If they wanted the stones, they would have to give our people something in return. "You've put the Death Curse on me, Joseph. And now you're going to tell me how to get rid of it." From her camouflaged combat fatigues she withdrew a syringe and uncapped it before injecting the amber liquid into his bicep. "The truth serum will work momentarily. And when it does, you will tell me what I need to know." Every Curse had a magical Remedy. Some required special ingredients to be boiled in a cauldron before being consumed. Others required incantations. If only she'd known what was needed before now, this meeting would never have been necessary. As the drug took effect, he became visibly relaxed. "Joseph, tell me how to remove the Curse. Tell me what the Remedy is."
“Dammit,” Evangeline said once the cell door was shut and she was alone with… whoever the hell this guy was. Seemed to be a vampire or something. Great… “I was hoping they’d lock me up with that damned detective,” she said, to no one in particular. “That way, when the torture starts…” she smiled as if just thinking about it made her immensely happy, “I can watch him suffer.” But then she sighed, as if she suddenly realized this fantasy would not become reality. Evangeline tested the chains… sort of. She wasn’t about to overexert herself. Freeing them from this prison was someone else’s job and she sure as hell wasn’t about to break a sweat over it. Why couldn’t they make these a little looser? She thought. This is uncomfortable. How am I supposed to relax and wait to be rescued? She sighed again, reached into her pocket, and pulled out her smartphone. Within seconds, she placed a call to her assistant. “Hello, Stanley, darling, do you remember when I told you to cancel my appointments for a week? Better make it a month, dear.” It wouldn’t take a month to get out of here. But, once she was out, she wanted to take her time making these cultists pay for imprisoning her. She wanted to savor their pain and despair and allow the look of anguish on their faces to marinade in her brain juices and etch itself permanently into her memory. In other words, revenge is best served cold… and it must be given ample time to chill. “Oh, and by the way, do you remember that general we defended last year? The one accused of selling cruise missiles to black market dealers?” She smiled deviously, apparently because of something said on the other end of the phone. “Yes, that one. He owes me a favor. It’s time to collect. Trace this call and tell him I want a package, gift-wrapped with a nice big yellow bowtie. He’ll know what it means.” Evangeline returned the phone to her pocket and took a seat. She didn’t mind the dirty floors. Once she was free of this place and her power returned, she would be able to extract the filth from her clothing. She shut her eyes and tried to get some sleep, but it was difficult. Not because of the cultists. No, she felt like a kid trying to sleep the night before Christmas. She’d been a naughty girl this year, but Santa was going to bring her something big in… oh, ten minutes or so.
I could see what they were planning. Grabbing my cell phone, I dialed my father's number. "Hi, dad, it's me. Yeah. I'm in big trouble here. I need your help or I won't make it out of this alive."
I couldn't help but look at the woman that came before me and laughed as soon as she said something about a "Death Curse". "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." I waved my hand and stood up straight. "The thought that I'd lead anyone intentionally to their deaths is just... far too amusing." I crossed my arms and tilted my head. "I do believe you have the wrong alchemist, my dear, I can declare this with absolute certainty. I have never laid eyes on you, neither have I ever cast a spell on you, nor do I have the capabilities to curse anyone, nor do I have the faintest desire to do so, it's abhorrent to take a life if there is truly no other way to resolve a situation." "As for power, wealth? None of that means a thing to me. The reason that I'm coming after this little cult, is because of what I saw one year ago, on Gotha..." I looked down, clenching my fists tightly. "Do you know what I saw there...? People that I helped, that I laughed with, smiled with, fought with all of my strength to defend, just innocent people, living their own lives... they tore one another apart. All because of his son. He drove them to it. I'm not fighting for more power, for more wealth. I was happy enough when I didn't have any of that, I couldn't care less what little unholy treasures your cult possesses. No, I'm fighting now to defend all of humanity, so then no one has to live through that again. I will find him, and his daughter, and I'll kill them, with my bare hands if I must." I looked up, my eyes held no hatred, or anger, but determination. Finally, when she pulled out the needle and tried to slip it into my arm... the second it touched my trench coat, it met far too much resistance. It felt like she were trying to inject a brick wall... the needle snapped. "Oh, one last piece of advice. Never get too close to the animals, my dear." I quickly grabbed her, my arms squeezing her tightly to ensure that she couldn't run away, one placed firmly over her mouth to prevent her from screaming, letting her cell phone clatter to the ground before she could make her call. "Also, chain up all of their limbs, make sure to take everything from your prisoners, never come into a room alone with prisoners, and also, an anti-magic field works both ways, it's really just... not smart with what you did, at all, now we can escape, and go and put an end to your little sect before you go around and sacrifice more innocents for your false god and keep making horrific creations like that Meat fellow. Now, I don't blame you because frankly your mind is probably completely gone due to magical insanity, or perhaps it's the result of one of their little rituals, can't say for certain. How about you just take a niiiiice little nap and when you wake up when this is all over, go make some better life decisions, go to a mental hospital, try and keep the symptoms at bay." I shifted my arm to her throat and pressed down on her windpipe until she finally passed out. Then, I rummaged through her unconscious body, found the key, and unlocked the padlock on my chains. "That was easy." I always did seem to luck out in these situations...
In Clayton's experience, a mage without his magic was as useful as a shit flavored lollipop, but not this detective. Though his expression remained stoic, he was truly impressed. "You'll have to fill us in on what we're dealin with, what you know later. For now, toss me that key and we can work on finishing the mission. Also, keep it down. There are likely armed guards and maybe even a few vampire cultists outside this place." Clayton held out his hand to catch the keys, when he remembered something. He looked down at his chains, knowing Maniacles sold these to wealthy individuals and groups. While he always knew Maniacles was corrupt, he never really thought to much on the possibility...no...FACT that they did business with some of the cults and militant groups that they had fought with. The stones this cultist had mentioned though...it sounded like only the cult had them, to move through different dimensions, but did Maniacles have some of these stones too? And how likely was it that members of this cult had infiltrated the ranks of Maniacles, even the highest ranking members?
"You got it, boss." I grinned and tossed him the keys and then reached into my leather pouch and pulled out a steel rapier. "Oh, perfect, the connection's still intact." I made a few quick cuts in the air and then slid it into one of the belt loops. I looked down at the girl's cell phone and then began taking it apart, setting a piece of it in each corner of the room and sticking the SD card in one of the chain links. "Best that it takes her a while to repair her cellphone..." I looked at him. "Anything I can get for you? I've more than likely got it, along with some special... additions to help with our current predicament, my prices are merely... one bracelet, you should take this deal while it lasts." I grinned easily, I was more than likely referring to the bracelet I tossed him before we were oh so rudely interrupted.
