Fantasy The Dark Country

[X3 Infernal Infinity]

"The name is Revanin Crowsong... It's a pleasure to meet you Lazarus, particularly because you're the only one around here who seems keen on the term Native American..."


Revi had been quite surprised when the man had opened the door. As far as alchemists went Lazarus had pretty much fit the idea she had in mind; old and highly eccentric. With his stringy grey hair and intense demeanor he struck her as someone with a lot of wisdom. Judging by how fast he talked and how quick he was to blurt out information it was wisdom he was more than willing to share, a prospect that delighted her immensely. She chuckled softly fingertips gently brushing along the marking on her palm after he had released her hand. The Mark itself seemed pleased by her attentions as well as by the person in front of them, though she wasn't exactly sure how she knew that.


At the sound of another voice behind her, she dropped her hand to her side. She had been intending to ask Lazarus a few questions but she would prefer to do that when it was just herself and the alchemist so she could focus on his answers. Either way she already had enough to ponder with the bit of information he had already shared with her. Glancing back at the doorway she repressed a sigh. The other old man of the group, Reuben she believed his name was, had entered the alchemists lab as well. Though it should already be more than obvious she wasn't exactly fond of the man though as of yet she couldn't place why. Then again she wasn't exactly fond of most men.


That what a hellish childhood will do to you Revi...blurs the lines between good and bad until they're made a bit more definitive...





She almost chuckled at herself, pondering just why exactly she found it necessary to always remind herself of the obvious. Stepping further in the lab she moved to one side so as to be out of Reuben's way. She took this opportunity to study the place more intently and found it just as interesting as the man who ran it. The two seemed perfectly complementary, full of loose knowledge and chaotic half finished projects and thoughts.


I think I may have just found my favorite place around here...

 

[BarkWolfBacon]

As if he suddenly lost interest in Revanin, Lazarus rushed right past her and grabbed Reuben's hand, examining his Mark just as intensely as he had Revi's.


"Work is good, you know what they say about idle hands!" Lazarus let out a fit of laughter and then abruptly stopped, "My my, boy- the Cross of St. Peter on your Mark...many think it to be a sign of the devil, but they are wrong! Its a sign of humility, yes- or well it was supposed to be. Demons have a funny way of adopting things and twisting their meaning. Peter was crucified to, just like the Lamb. But he thought he was unworthy to be crucified like the Christ, and so he requested to be crucified upside down."


Lazarus made an exaggerated flipping motion with his hands, as if to illustrate what upside down meant.


He dropped Reuben's hand and grabbed his chin, looking intently at his face and frame. "You have the build of a martyr, yes? Not so much unlike St. Peter yourself! Well martyrdom has done anyone little good Mr. Waldegrave, you remember that!"


He took a step back and made a gesture towards a crucifix on the wall, seemingly becoming very frustrated.


"God martyred his own son! And all it did was slap a band aid on the cosmic tumor. I'm of the belief the problem isn't of Man's nature, but the nature of the Divine!"


His frustration was coupled with elaborate hand gestures, but he stopped abruptly and blew a lock of hair out of his face, trying to compose himself.


"But that is a discussion for another time, hopefully with booze- didn't anyone ever teach you to bring your Alchemist booze? Psh, manners these days!"

 

[MittyMittens]

Gypsy slows Jag down at seeing a town just ahead of her that she figured just had to be Salt Lake City. She was most definitely late. She pulls the letter with instructions out of her pocket, reading it over once more. Jag leads her into the town, keeping a hand on her gun after her last encounter. Her golden eyes scanned the buildings until she stops Jag at seeing The Brimstone Inn, she hopes tardiness wouldn't be something that laid grounds for her to lose this job. She traveled way too far to lose it over some stupid men in a town back. Gypsy dismounts Jag once she reached the inn, tying her reins up near a trough before giving her an apple from the saddle bag. She takes her katana from where it was strapped on to her saddle before slinging it behind her back.


Gypsy makes her way into the inn, looking around at all the types lingering around before reaching the bar. Brushing some dust off of her red peasant top, covered with a black leather vest before she leans against the bar counter. In terms of fashion she mixed her gypsy roots with clothing that was functional for her job. She had her black hair in a fish tail braid, topped with a concho hat. On her bottom half she donned a pair of tight black pants, with her gun holster strapped around her waist.


"Darkest whiskey a man can get"


Her voice was thick with honey as she asked for it, her accent rather suited her looks. And once heard her tanned colored skin was no longer assumed native american. She watches as the bar tender looks her over, probably surprised by the amount of women that had gained this particular occupation. The bartender sets the shot down in front of her and she downs it before grabbing the key and stands back up from her leaning position.


She makes her way upstairs to room 13, seeing the weathered man sitting at a desk she eyes him for a long moment before speaking. "I'm afraid I ran into some trouble on the road and I'm much later than I anticipated" She moves in further into the room. "Nadya Tsura but I only answer to Gypsy"

 

[Esoteric Truth]

Reuben tensed as the alchemist grabbed his hand and turned it this way and that, examining his mark. See, what'd I tell you? Ain't the devil's mark. But he don't know the whole truth, Reuben. He don't know that your mark is mockin' you. Makin' you look at your greatest pain. The thin man clenched his jaw and tightened his mouth as he looked back down at his mark. Suddenly his chin was grabbed and he found himself looking directly into the intense stare of the older man. Martyrdom? The hell does that mean?





"I'll be sure to. But if you don't mind me askin', what is martyrdom?" he asked, with a good degree of annoyance at himself. What a great display of his shortcomings this had turned out to be. He fetched a quick glance at the Indian, who seemed like she was rubbed he wrong way by him. Bet she don't know what it means, either. He hoped so, anyway. How humiliating it would be to be less educated than an Indian. He didn't have anything against them per say, after all they'd never done anything to him, really. He'd heard stories of them killing people, but he'd never really had the displeasure of encountering any such activity. The few times he'd seen them they were just quiet and staring or they wanted to trade.


Why did she dislike him, though? That was a better question. He'd scarce said anything to her. Perhaps she didn't really care for him one way or another, but to him it seemed like when he came into that room she stiffened up. Wasn't really his problem, though. She was the one who had to waste all that energy on hating him. And so long as she didn't say or do anything too stupid, that's how it was going to stay. One sided. He didn't want to bicker with some girl who was half his age.

 

[BarkWolfBacon]

"Martyrdom, Mr. Waldegrave, is what happens when a fool thinks he could better serve his cause dead than alive. Historically it has mixed results. Dying for one's cause may be considered honorable, but losing a cause's greatest force is often the fatal blow, no matter how it is written."


Lazarus began eyeballing their weapons and pulling out ingredients.


"Now, how many of you are there? You'll need to leave your weapons with me, they'll be ready for you in the morning."

 

[Major Cinnamon Bun]

Jo followed the others, but at a slower pace, looking carefully at the walls around her, not that there was too much to see. She hopped that she wouldn't need to spent too much time with this alchemist right at this moment. Just drop her weapons and go would be the ideal situation, minimal talking. Her headache, if that even what it was, seemed to be getting worse, or maybe different was the right word. Everything seemed brighter, or more in focus. It was hard to tell what exactly was going on, all she knew was that it was not normal.


The lab was quite a ways down the hall way and she could hear the conversations inside clearly, so she picked up her pace slightly. When she reached the door, she saw that it was open. That had to be the reason you could hear what was going on inside. Was the best rationalization she could make at that moment. The thought, however, was very brief, because the symbols on the door distracted her. They were strange and amazing, like nothing she had seen before, though that wasn't really saying much. Next Jo turned her attention to the alchemist who, similar to the door, was strange, but not in a bad way. There was so much around, so much to look, she couldn't begin to process it all.

 

[BarkWolfBacon]

DELSON'S OFFICE

​

Delson groaned as he saw the new recruit enter his office. "Damnit, woman." he sighed, gesturing towards the chairs in his office. "Whats your name? I'm sorry but this is gonna have to be quick, talk to the others if you need a run down. Long story short- some things stalk the night, and we are what stalks back.


"What you are about to drink, that vile shit on the counter- is the blood of Cain, the first murderer. God cursed him to forever seek redemption by hunting demons that broke into the earthly realm. Lucifer and God have been at war for eternity, and the ongoing conflict has spread over and begun to affect the physical world. Enoch, the scribe of Heaven, stole Cain's blood from the angelic vault and gave it to us in the hope it would give humanity a fighting chance. We have essentially been abandoned by the big man upstairs. The rest you can read in your bible."


"It's gonna kick like a mule, ask the others if you doubt me, and you'll pass out; probably have wicked nightmares that make you want to rip your eyeballs out. Then you're gonna some wierd ass voodoo mark appearin' on your arm for the rest of your life."


Delson demonstrated by showing her his Mark. "Oh and you'll probably develop some inhuman ability from this wonderful curse as well. Did I mention that we get paid the same as your average Saloon girl?"


He pulled out a badge from his desk and set it on the counter. He didn't mean to be so harsh with this woman, but his Mark was actin up, and he wasn't feelin too hot. Not at all.


What about her AND the Indian chick, hmmm? I bet your old heart would give out after a night with those-





Shut UP! Delson smacked his head, and hoped the woman took it for anything other than insanity.


"If you have any questions, or doubts. Nows the time to ask 'em, honey. Cause it's all downhill from here."





I bet you'd like to go downhill on her-





Shut your goddamned, good for nothin, piss pot of a mouth!


Delson wanted to shout, to drink until he blacked out, or beat someone near death. The rapid flipping of the Mark speaking in his head was growing to an almost unbearable level. He sat down and took a large puff on his pipe, wearily eyeballing the newcomer.

 

[MittyMittens]

Gypsy turns her gaze from the man to the liquid on the counter, an eyebrow raising curiously at it. It seemed to take on a life of it's own, moving this way and that. No blood I've ever seen moves like that. She nodded as he spoke, even though she wasn't staring directly at him, she took in every word he spoke. She didn't mind the curt way of his talking, she was late, he had things to do, and she'd rather be talked to harshly than in a pitied way. "Read the bible once, what a load of bullshit that was. A lovely fairytale at best." She couldn't help but laugh. "And I figured if there was a "God" he'd definitely not be paying much attention to this sad excuse of a country" She had abandoned religion, or whatever one might have called her beliefs from her old country, years ago. She lived by her own code of morals. Her stare moves from the bottle to the mark on his arm, leaning forward to get a better look, tempted to touch it but didn't.


"That's more than I get paid at times doing what I've been doing. Hopefully this is a more steady form of work" She thought about the inhuman ability part for a moment, but no part of her was feeling like she wanted to back out. She looked over the badge for a moment and chuckles a little at the idea of wearing a badge. Sure she hunted down evil men and in a roundabout way enforced the law but she didn't see herself as righteous. She knew the badge was just a symbol of what she was to become and it only had as much power as one wished it to have. Apparently now instead of ridding the world of evil men, she'd be ridding the world of evil itself. It couldn't be that much different from what she was doing now. If only she knew exactly what she was getting into.


She looks at him as he smacked his head, blinking a little but made no comment about it. "No questions, no doubts. Just pass the drink. It can't be much worse that what I've experienced already. And I'd like to get it good and over with since I'm already behind" Her gaze turned back to the bottle as she waited for him to pour whatever amount was apparently needed, curious as to how something like that poured.

 

[BarkWolfBacon]

DELSON'S OFFICE

​

He poured her two fingers, and it came out in a slimy thickness, not quite syrup but close. It was not as active inside the bottle as when the first group had arrived, but the ritual he had used to calm it was wearing off, and it moved lethargically inside Gypsy's glass.


He took a deep breath and sat down. "Most of the bible has been tainted by man, but some if it, apparently all the down right terrifying parts; got some truth to them. You'll find more often than not as you go that its the same way human history is. Written by the winner."


He slid the glass over to her and rubbed his head, grateful that the Mark seemed to have calmed down. Seems like she knows what shes doin, don't she? She'll need those strong guts.

 

[Esoteric Truth]

"Well I assure you I ain't about t' go lookin' for death. Dyin' for a cause sounds better'n dyin' from sickness, but I ain't suicidal. I'd prefer t' see my cause through to the end," Reuben replied, nodding to the old man. "Martyrdom sounds like an ugly word anyway." Would he die if it meant he could kill the thing that killed his girls? Most definitely. But if there was a way from him to survive that battle he'd chose that route. He wanted to kill as many demons as possible, to rid the world of their vile existence.


"There's me, her, another girl, an' another man. And I think Delson said another someone. So five, I guess. If I'm coutin' right," he murmured, counting the people out on his fingers. He pulled out his pistol and held it out. "This is all I brought. I packed light."

 

[Vudukudu]

John was the last to leave the room, trudging silently behind the others. He had never been particularly fond of attention, and he had learned that soft steps and staying in the back of the line was a good way to survive.


Even as all the others entered the Alchemist's lab, he stayed a few feet to the side of the door. He preferred to listen first, before going anywhere unfamiliar or odd. The lab was most certainly both, and in an earlier stage of his life John would have avoided it at all costs. But he needed his gun fixed up, or it wouldn't matter none.


He glanced down at the two leather holsters, one attached to each hip. The one on the left was a relic of the war, a Confederate officer's pistol that John had looted from the rebel's body. It was, for all intents and purposes, a regular pistol, and that was all it was used for.


The pistol on the right, however, was a tad different. It was a bit bulkier and far more ornate, with a handle made from buffalo bone that was inlaid with pearl shards. The most notable, and most lethal difference, however, was the secondary barrel that was located just under the main barrel and loaded independently. He had seen it on an antique market and figured having such a trick up his sleeve would be well worth his life savings if it would later save his life.


He wasn't keen on giving up either gun, even for a moment. But, as he well knew, there was no other way to get the job done. With a heavy heart and a suspicious glance towards the Alchemist, he untied both holsters and set them side by side on a table just past the door. With that done, he leaned up against a wall and scanned the room, examining every detail. Nope, don't like this one bit.

 

[BarkWolfBacon]

LAZARUS' LAB

​

"Alright, then everyone leave your weapons with me on the counter, I will have them ready by morning." Lazarus uncorked a blue liquid from a vial and downed the whole thing, his pupils dilating to almost frightening size. His demeanor changed, from distracted rambling to intense and focused. His posture straightened, almost military, and his voice became much deeper. The empty vile sat on the counter where he placed it, smoke pouring out of it as though it was hot metal dipped in water.


"You may leave once you give me your weapons, and retire to your quarters. Remember, keep the light." A thin smirk came over him, and it is clear that this is a very different man than before that blue potion.


But machines and burners began to be turned on, metal being melted and potions bubbling.


"It is time for us to get to work, Lazarus." Said the old man (apparently to himself.) 
(If you have not done so in a post for me already, please post what you are leaving with Lazarus so I know) thank you

 

[MittyMittens]

"Of course it'd be the terrifying parts that'd be true" She mutters to herself before looking at the shot of... well of apparently blood. She picks up and holds up towards Delson in a sort of a toast before downing the shot. She made a face, not fond of the texture at all. She definitely should of sat down before taking that shot. She felt herself fall to her knees at the sudden pain that wove itself throughout her body, comparing it to be kicked by a mule was the understatement of the year. She makes a groan of pain before darkness was all that was in front of her.


After a few moments she could see once again and looks around at her surroundings. She was back in the wagon with her family that fateful day. She smiled at seeing the faces of her mother and father talking about something happily and her brother doing inventory in the back. Her smile didn't last long as she heard those voices, the voices she'd never forget, commanding the wagon to a stop. The whole scene unfolded right before her again and she couldn't even move to attack no matter how hard she tried. She could stop them this time, she could kill them before they even drew their weapons. She watched in horror as each of member of her family fell in the exact same manner as before. She looks at the two men as they both turned their attention of her, baring down on her before turning into black smoke that engulfed her. She woke up with a "No!" before looking around at her surroundings.


She takes a deep breath, steadying herself again as she sat up from the floor and shakily got to her feet, only to sit back down in a chair. "If I ever find the one that got away, god have mercy on his soul" she thought bitterly to herself before speaking to Delson. "God damn that's some serious shit" She says in a very unlady like manner. She catches something from the corner of her eye and looks at the mark that had appeared on her arm. The swirls made itself into an intricate pattern to create crude rendition of a skull and cross bones. "Well would you look at that.... you don't seem that every day" She states letting her fingers trace along it.

 

[X3 Infernal Infinity]

"It's turning into a regular party in here..."


Revi sighed reaching up to run a hand through her hair. If she had to leave her weapons her for the night anyway she might as well do it now and get out of there before it got anymore crowded. Besides she really didn't want to keep Shadow waiting any longer than necessary. He'd get temperamental if he didn't know she was alright. She unholstered her pistols first, setting both down on the counter. She wasn't to worried about them. The pistols were pretty special, customized like all her weapons, but if it came down to it they could be replaced. Her sword however was a whole different matter. Her finger moved to the hilt of the sword she wore strapped across her back. It was impractical place to carry a sword of course when it came to drawing it, well at least it would be. But she didn't exactly worry about that since her drawing method was anything but orthodox. She pressed the flat of her thumb beneath the hand guard and gave a hard push upward.


The blade flicked up from the sheathe and as it dropped she caught the hilt, spinning the sword around. The blade was a katana, pure black in hue and elegantly made. The design of a raven in flight was engraved on the blade. It had taken quite some doing to procure the weapon which had been made specifically for her. It wasn't a typical katana either, rather it was a sakabato blade meaning that the back side was sharp and what would usually be the cutting edge was dulled. This worked better for the ambidextrous female as it allowed for her to use either hand depending on how lethal she intended her attacks to be. She sat the sword down gingerly and moved for the door. Before she headed out she turned one last time.


"Take care of my sword Lazarus and when I come back I'll bring a suitable gift..."

 

[Esoteric Truth]

"Sounds good," Reuben said in response, and placed the weapon on the counter. He was about to go ahead and take his leave when the man started downing some blue drink. His eyes became less human and more bug-like, the pupils widening so that the irises were a very slim sliver around a large pitch black hole. The gentle ranting man was gone, and in his stead was a firm and in-control figure that seemed to be an entirely different person. Even in how the man held himself he was different, and all Reuben could do was to look on in a mixture of horror and wonder. For a moment he stood there, gaping like a fish, before he seemed to regain himself and he clamped down his jaw, giving Lazarus a curt nod.


Reuben began to walk towards the barracks, which was at the long end of the hallway. The hallway was made of paneled dark wood, with lighting fixtures every now and then. It was a handsome place, but for some reason walking the hallways like this gave him a creeping feeling along his spine. Pro'lly 'cause you've been hearin' all this shit 'bout them demons. He walked stiffly up to the door and squinted his eyes at the plaque that was sitting on it. It was no use. It was hard to transfer the sounds of the words he heard to letters. Shrugging, he opened the door and prayed he was right.


The room he was met with was large and filled with multiple beds. Most everything was made of that dark wood, But there was one thing for sure and that was the fact that these beds were far nicer than the thin roll of fabric he'd been sleeping on. Looking to and fro he smiled, and then he stepped back and closed the door. Before he tried to claim a bed or anything he needed to get his things from his horse. And find a place to put said horse. Did they have stables here? He could probably ask Delson that. Reuben turned back around and walked back down the long hallway, turning left just before the alchemist and armory and straight until he reached room thirteen. On his way he'd seen one or two wandering Shadowguard, not the ones out of their group, but just some random stragglers. All of the ones he'd seen were tired and worn. Battlehardened.


The thin man turned the doorknob and opened the door just enough to peek the top half of his body into the room. He was surprised to find another recruit sitting in a chair. Another female. It was surprising to him how many girls had been recruited. He only hoped that they could pull their weight. Reuben tiredly lifted his head from the girl and looked up at Delson, sighing.


"Sorry t' interrupt. I was wonderin' if there's stables here for our horses."

 

[BarkWolfBacon]

DELSON'S OFFICE

​

"We got stables, theres a barn out back behind the building, Largest in the town. Should be plenty of room there, make your horse at home." Delson said.


He looked at Gypsy, glad another had come out of the Marking alive. "You're gonna need to leave your weapons with Lazarus, the alchemist. His lab is down the hall, that is probably where everyone is. He will fix your weapons so they work against the demons. Now I hate to be so blunt but I need you to go, I'm an old man and I think I'm done for the night."

 

[MittyMittens]

Gypsy looks over at Reuben, examining his features for a moment. He was definitely a worn man, one who was no stranger to physical labor. She could feel the doubt of that sigh, raising an eyebrow towards his underestimation of her, or at least that's what she read from it. She takes note of where the stables were and turned her attention away from him as Delson spoke to her and gives a simple nod, and made her way out of his office. She squeezes around Reuben and heads down the hall, taking her katana down off her shoulder.


She sees the others grouped around the alchemist's door and sighs a bit at seeing so many people in a tight space. She didn't do crowds but if these were the people she'd be working with then she'd better get used to them being around. She would be happy when she finished playing catch up with this whole scenario. At least she didn't lose the job with her tardiness. She notices the other females and Reuben's sigh was clarified a bit more, though it didn't make her feel any better about it. She moves through the others and into the room, placing her katana hesitantly on the counter. She notices the other, a fine weapon and intricately designed. Her's seemed boring and not nearly as fancy in comparison but it's sentimental value is what made it special to her. Her brother had given it to her as a birthday present the year before the incident, and she knew he had to of been saving for quite some time to buy such a weapon. She had considered to get it engraved once befoe but she felt it was tainting his memory and she would be devastated if something did happen to it, which is why she was so hesitant giving it up. She knew it was the only way or it would be nothing but a piece to sit on a mantle and collect dust, and to not be able to use again would be even more devastating. She gives a simple nod to the alchemist, eyeing the old man oddly. He was definitely a strange man but it was a strange room so it seemed fitting she supposed. She takes her time to let her eyes take in all the oddities in the room before exiting. She figured introductions could be given later, she needed to place her horse in the stable and retrieve her belongings from her. Gypsy was still on edge after the incident on her way here, and not knowing this town she wanted her things and Jag safely put up for the night.

 

[Vudukudu]

John grunted and shuffled out of the Lab, glancing at the newcomer disinterestedly as he passed her. He was simultaneously weary of and curious about the women in the group. In his limited experience, women had been unreliable at best and downright conniving troublemakers at worst. He wasn't eager to put himself in a dangerous position by affording them too much credit.


He passed a Shadowguard as he lithely slipped through the halls. The man reminded John of himself, in a way. His eyes carried the markings of grisly, horrible experiences, although John suspected they were far less mundane than the wounds he had seen on the field. For a moment, he considered leaving this place and never returning, but he already had the Mark. There was no turning back now.


He steeled his nerves and gave the man a polite nod, then continued his skulking walk. He hoped the others didn't think him odd for his stealthy gait, but it was a habit he had picked up as a scout during the war. In dark places, he preferred to keep his frame as small as possible to avoid notice. No doubt he'd spook someone soon, but they'd have to get used to his sudden appearances and vanishing.

 

[X3 Infernal Infinity]

Revanin sighed as she stood beside Shadow, the horse seemed more than content despite her lengthy absence, most likely due to the companionship of the other horses. Without a saddle or bridle the horse looked almost out of place, the only sign that it was owned being the deep blue blanket she draped over his back whenever she had finished a ride. She had never seen much of a point for either the saddle or bridle. She didn't carry anything that wouldn't fit on her person so she had no need for saddlebags and the saddle itself seemed pointless if she could hold her seat just as well without it. She didn't need a bridle as she preferred to give the horse all the freedom it needed. It new the ground better than she did and usually the two were in perfect synch. Walking up she made a soft noise and he snorted leaning his head down to gently nudge her cheek. She chuckled softly and reached up to pet him, forgetting that she was using the hand the Mark was on. At the sight of it the horse whickered uncomfortably and took a few steps back shaking his head. Revi sighed and dropped the hand to her side holding out the other. Shadow pawed the ground a few times but eventually came back sniffing at her palm. She rubbed the horses broad muzzle with her hand soothingly.


"There now... Don't be so worried, the Mark won't hurt you... It's unnatural I know but I promise it won't bother you one bit..."


In response she got a skeptical snort which made her smile, but when she lifted her marked hand again the horse didn't immediately shy away. Nostrils flared he sniffed at the hand, pawing the ground once again his hoof kicking up a bit of dust. She could tell he didn't like the symbols, could sense there was something off about the design. But ultimately his trust in her won out and he allowed her to touch him with her marked hand. Satisfied that such things were out of the way she led Shadow to the stables behind the building. Picking out a stall she set to work on preparing it and when that was done she led the stallion into the stall. She didn't frequently keep him in stables, much like her he was fond of the open plains and being able to see the sky. But for now it would be best for him to stay where she knew he'd be safe. Humming softly to herself she set about the task of brushing him down.

 

[MittyMittens]

Once downstairs and outside Gypsy makes her way over to Jag, untying the reins and leading her towards the stable. She looks back as Jag started whinnying in protest and pulling at the reins. She sees her eyes were full of fear looking down at the mark that had appeared on her arm. She quickly switches hands. "Shhh... it's quite alright Jag, it's nothing you need to worry about it's just me" Her soothing words soon calmed the animal and she continued her way to the stables. She makes her way over into one of the stalls with her, slipping off her saddle bag and Jag's saddle. She rummages through her bag, looking up as she heard humming. She didn't say anything about it as she spots it coming from Revanin and pulls out her an apple and her own brush for Jag. She slowly starts to brush Jag, sighing as a little as she would avoid the arm that had the mark. Once she was satisfied she had brushed all the dust from the trip off of her she puts up her saddle, and puts the saddle bag over her shoulder. She looks back at Jag one last time, petting her nose with her unmarked hand. "I'll see you in the morning. I promise" Her voice soft and calm.


Gypsy makes her way back inside the Brimstone Inn, heading upstairs to where they would be staying. She makes her way down the hall, eventually finding what their quarters would be. She notices it was a large room with several beds and she sighs at the idea of sharing a room, but she couldn't really complain. The beds were more than decent and she supposed it'd give her a chance to see all who she was working with. Entering the room further, she claims one of the beds that was furthest from the door, not having any desire to be woken up by people coming in and out, not that she had any intention of sleeping at this moment but for future reference. She sits down on the bed and takes her bag off her shoulder, laying it on the bed as she pulls out her own brush. She loosens her hair from it's braid before brushing through it, letting the thoughts of the day run through her mind.

 

[BarkWolfBacon]

Delson managed to shuffle his way out the office, grabbed his hat and duster, and climbed the stairs up to the bar in the building above. He nodded to the bartender, and was about to order a drink when his mind was suddenly invaded by his Mark's voice again.


You might be thirsty, old man- but I'm hungry.





It was hard to argue with the Mark this time, Delson hadn't been hunting in too long. He sighed and pushed himself away from the bar. The door to the bar swung as he left, the dark streets of Salt Lake City dimly lit and oppressive. The city had sprung up fast thanks to the Mormons, and the roads hadn't been well planned. Dark alleys and winding roads crisscrossed over its surface.


Delson put on his hat and drew his black duster around him a little tighter as it began to rain lightly. Of course its gonna rain, he thought, passing by the stables and out towards the shady part of the city. The Mormons were building a Zion to their religion, a place to call home, but the rapid growth had attracted less faithful individuals who had far more sinister plans. Around them the Red district had sprouted, a place of crime and debauchery that sucked in even some of the faithful Mormons. Sometimes desire was hard to resist.


But Delson knew why it had been so hard for the Mormon men to stay faithful and avoid the area. Running the the network of brothels that spotted the district was a possessed. Her name was Elizabeth Baston, and it hadn't been until a Shadowguard went missing after visiting the brothel that Delson had even considered a demon to be responsible for the growing influence of the Red district.


The streets of the Red district were lined with call girls under umbrellas, and Delson tried his best to avert his gaze from their ample cleavage clearly displayed. He used to be a man of the cloth, and he would like to think that meant he had more self control, although he knew in reality that wasn't the case at all. About 10 minutes after leaving Shadowguard HQ, he arrived at the brothel that Agent Michael had visited before he was found two days later, nothing but his Marked arm left of him. Delson didn't know if that was a message or if the demons simply couldn't touch the Mark.


Regardless of what the arm meant, he would put a stop to it. The rain picked up as Delson began to sneak around the side of the brothel. Soon he stood at the back of the building, and gazed up at the many lit rooms that covered the back of the building. Many of them had the shades drawn, silhouettes of the elicit acts behind them played out for all to see. But these establishments were laid out with the Matron's room at the very top, and getting to her from inside would have been near impossible without being obvious.


So Delson took an alternate route, his Mark tingling as he flooded his body with his power. He held his hat to his head and pushed off with his legs, jumping the 4 stories to the roof in one leap. Not a sound was made as he landed delicately on the roof, silently thanking the vampire he had killed that he had absorbed that ability from. The rain's pitter patter on the roof masked his steps as he listened into each room. Finally he found what he was looking for...silence. The Matron didn't have to sell her body, which meant her room was the quiet one.


Time to get to work, old man.





This is my favorite part! The Mark said in his brain as he prepared to enter Elizabeth's room through the window.


I suppose its mine too.

 

[Esoteric Truth]

Reuben gave a quick nod to Delson in thanks before he found the woman brushing past him. When she walked past, he noticed on her back she bore a katana. It was surprising that this was the weapon of choice for two of the three females, but he supposed it was for a reason. The katana was a thin long blade, so it was less heavy than a normal sword. Why anyone would want a sword at all was beyond him. Knives, sure, but swords seemed rather useless. It brought someone into fairly close quarters and disabled two hands. Even a sword that only took one hand didn't move as quickly as a knife. And if the goal was to still have some small distance between the enemy and oneself, there were guns for that.


The gaunt man shrugged and left the office, winding his way through the corridors until he reached upstairs. The bar wasn't as full as it had been just a few hours ago, but it wasn't empty either. He gave a curt nod to the bartender and exited the building, coming outside to find his horse patiently standing where he was tied. He knew many people who grew to be sentimental to their horses, who insisted that the horses didn't mind being ridden, but that wasn't true. As soon as a horse was broken part of them was lost. Sure they didn't mind being ridden because they'd be rewarded after. Or at least they wouldn't be punished. But no horse enjoyed any of this. Reuben was fine with that, he accepted that, because he used that horse for utility. He didn't claim to be friends with it.


The stallion was once grand, now the tattered remains of a beautiful creature. His body had been muscular and strong, the coarse short hair of a near-white color, just slightly tinted brown. His head was a deep brown-red color, the same color that was flecked all over the horse's body. Its long legs faded to a dark black that matched its long mane and tail. But now his horse was weak. It was thin, though not as thin as its owner, and its wiry main hung in dark thick stands. The tail, well, there was little of it left. It was not much more than a nub now, surrounded by that long wiry hair. A few strands still reached their old glorious length, and clung together like refugees from a flood.


Reuben untied the reins from the post and gripped them firmly in his hand. The leather was worn and soft under his hand as he lead his horse back to the stables. When he caught sight of it he couldn't help but let out a low whistle of appreciation. The barn was huge. Its massive form was splayed across a large swath of land, and he saw a few others walking their own horses into the stable. When he entered it himself he took care to find a stall that was unused and he pulled his horse into it. The gear he took off and laid on the floor beside his stall. After searching around for a little while, he found hay which he placed in the hay manger and took the bucket to the well, from which he filled it and hung it back in the stall. He hung the saddle on the wall of the stall and then grabbed up his things and left the barn.


When he got back into the barracks he claimed a bed and started rolling out his blanket and organizing his things. He didn't have much with him, just the last of his money, pictures of his family, and another pair of clothes that was just as grimy and awful as what he had on. No use changing into those. Sighing, he flopped himself down onto his bed, not even bothering to take of his boots.


One helluva adventure this'll be.

 

[Vudukudu]

John entered the barracks and stood in the doorway, his eyes flitting side to side as he scanned the room. Some of the others had taken beds already, more towards the back. He figured they must be light sleepers, or afraid of something unwelcome coming in.


John was neither of these things. He could sleep like a rock if he wanted to, and he had always had a reckless immortality complex. The bed nearest the door was still available, so he set his dirty, patchwork bag on the floor next to the footboard. It contained the few belongings he had, including his military-issue bayonet, a pair of black trousers, a grimy white shirt, and his silver drinking flask. Pack lightly and hope for the best.





With his bag stowed away, John lay down across his bed and stared up at the ceiling, tracing the woodwork seams with his eyes. He was used to waiting around for something to do, so this particular wait was nothing special to him.

 

[BarkWolfBacon]

The window was open as Delson kicked through the curtains, landing on the soft red carpet of Elizabeth's room. Soft candlelight kept the room with a warm glow, and Elizabeth Baston was lying naked on her large bed, soft sheets wrapping around her perfect curves as she sunk into the mattress.


"Well hello, darling. Twas a rather dramatic entrance for an older man, you must have some fire in your bones still." She was running her hands over her body, but Delson knew what she was doing. He drew his pistol, his Marked hand stretched towards her with his palm open.


Now just come closer.


Yes, my dear, come closer. The Mark whispered to him.


"Ahh, now I see." she whispered, levitating off the bed and to her feet. She began a slow walk towards him, her hips swaying and breasts bouncing seductively. "You are Shadowguard, yes? Very sexy...handsome for an older man too. Tell me, do you get much satisfaction in that line of work?"


"Yes, but it aint the kind your talkin' about." He said, a smirk coming to his face.


Her eyes changed dramatically, the iris turning a burning red, her pupils narrowing and becoming catlike. Two long fangs sprouted from her upper teeth, and a set of small horns grew from her head. It did nothing to diminish her seductiveness. If anything, the exotic look of it made her even more enticing. Delson began to sweat.


"A succubus then, like I thought." Succubi happenwhen a possessor demon took hold of someone using their desire and lust. They retain their identity, memories, and have normally invited the demon into themselves. The two become one personality, and emit an aura of lust that can affect entire neighborhoods, sometimes even cities, depending on the strength of the possessing demon.


She continued her walk across the bedroom, stopping just outside of arms reach. "I could take care of you, you know? I haven't hurt anyone, only provided them with their desires."


"Then what about my dead agent whose arm you left me?"


Elizabeth perked up at this, clearly confused. "Dead agent? You are referring to Jacob Michaels, yes? I knew he was Shadowguard but did nothing to harm him. I am saddened to hear that he has died, he was a kind man to my girls... Do you think me a fool? That I would invite such wrath down upon my head?"


Delson was surprised by this, the woman (demon, he corrected himself, she is a demon) was genuinely confused about Michael's death.


"Lower your weapon, Delson Cull, and tell me more about what happened to your agent." She grabbed a robe and covered up her naked body, her horns and other markings receding until she looked human again. Delson knew that all demons had some inherent thought reading capabilities, that is why they were so good at luring people over...they can see your desires, know you within minutes, and play you right into their hands. But Delson couldn't tell if this was a trap or not, and to be frank, he was too old to care. He lowered his weapon and holstered it, throwing his soaked coat and hat off to the side.


"Only if you have something to drink."


She smiled and sat down, pouring him a glass of wine. "I do. Now, Mr. Cull...tell me more about where and in what condition you found Agent Michaels."

 

[Vudukudu]

John lingered in bed for another ten minutes or so before pushing himself to his feet. He figured it would benefit him to learn the lay of the land around this place, maybe find some good places to kill time when he wasn't working.


He knelt down and retrieved his bayonet, then tucked it away inside his sleeve. The dull edges wouldn't scratch his arm, and the sharper point wasn't touching skin. The blade would be ready at the flick of a wrist if he needed it, although he certainly didn't expect to need it for his short venture.


John departed the building and stood at the front door, watching the citizens and possibly nefarious denizens wander through the streets and alleys of Salt Lake. It occurred to him that he would be unable to recognize a threat if there was one, and he wasn't sure if demons could detect his Mark. John knew he probably wouldn't stand much of a chance alone, and his knife wasn't inscribed properly anyway.


Just keep your head low, as always.





With one final glance in each direction, John stepped out into the street and began to walk, wandering aimlessly through the streets and back alleys to develop a sense of direction in this strange new place.