Masquerade: The Autumn Court

[Imperialisium]

The fighting outside the Church was a blurr as Anna and her forces held a perimeter by sheer brutality and firepower. The corrupting, frenzied, blood thirsty influence of an Archduke of Hell driving the denizens of Los Angeles to insanity. The Rothai wove like painters with their blades, creating grisly artwork using only red; while the Black Legion laid down withering firing lines. Anna herself was a display of destructive power. Leaving a bloody charnel path wherever she went. Meanwhile, John and Nikolai, The Templars, and the others battered their way through the entrance of the church. Kicking a cultist back through the heavy doors with a resounding thud Nikolai stepped into the Church and grimaced. The interior just as demonically corrupted as the exterior crowd. John and the rest stormed in after. Dispatching the last cultists in the main entrance rooms shortly afterwards.

Then silence. Well, silence for the interior. John checked his ammo and moved cautiously. Nikolai watching his back with a short sawed off shotgun.

"Pretty silent in here guys," mused Nikolai. The group moving further into the Church. Reaching the main assembly hall were most of the services of the Church would have been held. It was eerily silent. Even with the gunfire and cries of the outside it seemed dull. As if some unseen force was smothering the audio of the outside environment. A rattling of chains and both John and Nikolai snapped their weapons up. Their eyes witnessing the grisly horror dangling from the chandelier. A corpse, hung upside down on a wooden cross, throat slit but body long drained dry. Held to the wooden cross by nails and fish hooks. A ghastly scene that was at minimum a hateful, spiteful, mockery of what this Church was supposed to represent.

Pattering of flesh on stone and the group could feel the air in the room chill. A shadowy figure dove into their midst. Nikolai was hoisted up and thrown bodily a dozen meters. While two of the Templars were batted aside. Spinning to a stop the group laid eyes on this new opponent. A human figure with black eyes, sickly yellow irises, and red pupils. Skin bulged with reddish veins and a stomach churning feeling of corruption could be felt. A man possessed. This was no cultist or frenzied crowd. This was a Demon ensconced in Human flesh.

The figure grinned, exposing yellow teeth, and with snarling fists dove for Alexei and Morri. Nails elongating into horrible claws.

[Luminesa]

The fighting outside the Church was a blurr as Anna and her forces held a perimeter by sheer brutality and firepower. The corrupting, frenzied, blood thirsty influence of an Archduke of Hell driving the denizens of Los Angeles to insanity. The Rothai wove like painters with their blades, creating grisly artwork using only red; while the Black Legion laid down withering firing lines. Anna herself was a display of destructive power. Leaving a bloody charnel path wherever she went. Meanwhile, John and Nikolai, The Templars, and the others battered their way through the entrance of the church. Kicking a cultist back through the heavy doors with a resounding thud Nikolai stepped into the Church and grimaced. The interior just as demonically corrupted as the exterior crowd. John and the rest stormed in after. Dispatching the last cultists in the main entrance rooms shortly afterwards.

Then silence. Well, silence for the interior. John checked his ammo and moved cautiously. Nikolai watching his back with a short sawed off shotgun.

"Pretty silent in here guys," mused Nikolai. The group moving further into the Church. Reaching the main assembly hall were most of the services of the Church would have been held. It was eerily silent. Even with the gunfire and cries of the outside it seemed dull. As if some unseen force was smothering the audio of the outside environment. A rattling of chains and both John and Nikolai snapped their weapons up. Their eyes witnessing the grisly horror dangling from the chandelier. A corpse, hung upside down on a wooden cross, throat slit but body long drained dry. Held to the wooden cross by nails and fish hooks. A ghastly scene that was at minimum a hateful, spiteful, mockery of what this Church was supposed to represent.

Pattering of flesh on stone and the group could feel the air in the room chill. A shadowy figure dove into their midst. Nikolai was hoisted up and thrown bodily a dozen meters. While two of the Templars were batted aside. Spinning to a stop the group laid eyes on this new opponent. A human figure with black eyes, sickly yellow irises, and red pupils. Skin bulged with reddish veins and a stomach churning feeling of corruption could be felt. A man possessed. This was no cultist or frenzied crowd. This was a Demon ensconced in Human flesh.

The figure grinned, exposing yellow teeth, and with snarling fists dove for Alexei and Morri. Nails elongating into horrible claws.

Alexei - Nightmare

Alexei remembered a couple of Halloweens when he actually went trick-or-treating with his parents. His costumes were never anything frightening-at worst, he was once a tiny ghost, about as frightening as Casper. His parents also never dressed as anything scary, and tried to keep their sensitive child away from the more gruesome displays some people had on their front lawns. Yet every now and then, a morbid display of fake corpses, fake blood, and giant demons rendered some of the larger houses' lawns. Conor saw these houses, and steered his curious little boy away from them, especially if he saw they were actively scaring children.

"Papa, why is he jumping-out at the other children?" a much smaller Alexei asked his father, who was dressed as Boba Fett for this particular Halloween.

"Because sometimes, Alexei, some people cannot scare those who are their own size, so they scare the ones who are the easiest to spook. Those people are called 'cowards'."

How strange that he recalled this memory, as he walked into perhaps the most morbid, blasphemous scene he had ever witnessed in his time as an Inquisitor. Even his encounter with the Rose Woman was not this revolting. Blood splattered the walls, the smell of decay was an unholy incense rising to the ceiling, smoke made the church look burnt and blackened by sin. The altar was damaged, the statues were covered in wicked symbols and entrails. Alexei felt his body go numb with the sensation that this was no ordinary evil. Seeing the man hanging from the ceiling, however, was perhaps what sent all of his nerves into a screaming agony. A mockery of the crucifixion. A body hung upside-down from the ceiling, rotting, caught in a pose which framed his last moments of horrific agony. The shadows around him, and the smoke rising, covering his body in soot...all of it made the former Inquisitor shudder. "...Father forgive us...Father...forgive us...for the evil we have allowed...forgive us..."

He did not have much time to pray, however, not when the onslaught began with Nikolai being thrown halfway across the church. The shadow not only reached the vampire, who would recover regardless, but it knocked aside two Templars without much trouble. It stopped only long enough for Alexei to raise his sword and to take a look at this...monstrosity. It had a humanoid form, but it did not have a human face. Twisted with wicked, insatiable malevolence, its grin radiated sickness. A demon faced the former Inquisitor and his Garou companion, and it charged like lightning. Alexei murmured a prayer, and allowed his Faith to begin working for him. A glow emanated off his body, and he now engaged the monster. Evil's claws were sharp, but his Faith would be sharper.

[Morrdh]

Morri

Even in her dire wolf form, Morri grimaced as they entered the defiled church and laid eyes upon what was contained within. She felt repulsion when she saw the...thing that was waiting for them, a thing that oozed corruption. It reminded Morri heavily of the numerous fomori she'd fought, humans infected by evil spirits in the employ of the Wyrm called Banes. The source of infection was different here but the principle remained the same, which didn't make it any less dangerous.

The thing snarled and charged them, Morri stepped forward and began to change as she did so. She rose on her hind legs as her torso and limbs bulked out, her form changing to be bipedal as her own claws lengthened and sharpened. Though she wasn't all that fond of her Crinos form, there were times when it was useful like now. It mean losing some of the agility afforded by her other forms, but it more than made up for it with sheer brute form.

With a howl she shot her arm out, aiming for the creature's side. Her intent was to throw it off-balance, partially to make it vulnerable for a follow-up attack but mainly to keep it away from Alexei as much as possible. Morri knew she stood a better chance off going toe-to-toe with the creature than the Inquisitor did, but even for her it was going to be a tough fight.

On your left! Came a voice inside her head, one that Morri instantly recognised as the pack's other Ragabash Cal. Still playing up the trickster aspect of their mutual Auspice, Cal was actually moving round to Morri's right as a shimmering blur to help outflank the demon thing. Anyone other than Morri probably would've looked to their left, thus making their opponent look in that direction to help distract them but she and Cal knew how the other worked. Lashing out at the demon again, she simply replied in her head. Yer late.

Oh you know, traffic... Cal responded as he lept at the demon from behind, his own claws slashing at the creature's back.

[Luminesa]

Morri

Even in her dire wolf form, Morri grimaced as they entered the defiled church and laid eyes upon what was contained within. She felt repulsion when she saw the...thing that was waiting for them, a thing that oozed corruption. It reminded Morri heavily of the numerous fomori she'd fought, humans infected by evil spirits in the employ of the Wyrm called Banes. The source of infection was different here but the principle remained the same, which didn't make it any less dangerous.

The thing snarled and charged them, Morri stepped forward and began to change as she did so. She rose on her hind legs as her torso and limbs bulked out, her form changing to be bipedal as her own claws lengthened and sharpened. Though she wasn't all that fond of her Crinos form, there were times when it was useful like now. It mean losing some of the agility afforded by her other forms, but it more than made up for it with sheer brute form.

With a howl she shot her arm out, aiming for the creature's side. Her intent was to throw it off-balance, partially to make it vulnerable for a follow-up attack but mainly to keep it away from Alexei as much as possible. Morri knew she stood a better chance off going toe-to-toe with the creature than the Inquisitor did, but even for her it was going to be a tough fight.

On your left! Came a voice inside her head, one that Morri instantly recognised as the pack's other Ragabash Cal. Still playing up the trickster aspect of their mutual Auspice, Cal was actually moving round to Morri's right as a shimmering blur to help outflank the demon thing. Anyone other than Morri probably would've looked to their left, thus making their opponent look in that direction to help distract them but she and Cal knew how the other worked. Lashing out at the demon again, she simply replied in her head. Yer late.

Oh you know, traffic... Cal responded as he lept at the demon from behind, his own claws slashing at the creature's back.

Alexei - The Eagle and The Wolf

In the flash of seconds that hurried past when the battle began, Morri had bulked herself in her Crinos form, and took only a moment to prep for the battle ahead. Alexei was glad to have muscle alongside him, even though Nikolai and John were already struggling. The more power they had, the better. His Faith was something, as well, though he hoped that Reynolds would hurry to help. With the Templars already having to get back to their feet, this fight was going to become bloody in the blink of an eye if someone did not halt this abomination from simply flashing through the church. Alexei grit his teeth as he pressed to the opposite side of the demon from Morri, and he thrust his sword to slash into the demon's side. Words of a prayer rushed through his head, along with the adrenaline that made his body electric.

Morri's allies were always reliable, as Cal appeared from thin-air and took to his own Crinos form. Even if he had not recognized the other Garou from his wolf-like body, his hair-color and size made him think that he could not be Connor. He gave the Ragabash room to hit, and twirled behind the demon, waving his sword before it cut a gash into the demon's humanoid body. The long, clean ripple that he left was infused with his own Faith, and Alexei took a step back to prepare himself for a third strike. He needed to be able to parry, to keep from flying into a pew and breaking his back.

"Morri! Where is Connor?! We need him about now! You need to contact him! We're going to need more muscle!" the former Inquisitor called. He moved a little further back, knowing that his location could be deciphered by his shout, even if the demon was currently outnumbered in combat. He had to believe he could fight. He had to believe he had God's power, in order to keep his Faith strong. Yet they still needed Connor. One man's Faith, as powerful as it could be, was not enough in this sort of battle.

[Morrdh]

Morri

Morri co-ordinated her strikes with Cal, taking it in turns to lunge out of the shadows from random angles to try and keep the demon-thing on the back foot. Their link through the pack's totem made this possible, it also allowed them to do so with no actual spoken words. Both made repeated slashing attacks on the thing, dashing past and lashing out with their claws as they did so. It was hard to tell what, if any, effect they were having on the creature that was no doubt infused with unholy resilience.

Morri heard Alexei call out, though the nature of the Crinos form made it next to impossible to make a verbal response other than grunts and growls. But nevertheless, Alexei had a point; Where was Connor?

Oi! Grandpa! She called out to the pack leader through the totem. Where the feck are ye?

[Kingdom of Irhk]

Morri

Morri co-ordinated her strikes with Cal, taking it in turns to lunge out of the shadows from random angles to try and keep the demon-thing on the back foot. Their link through the pack's totem made this possible, it also allowed them to do so with no actual spoken words. Both made repeated slashing attacks on the thing, dashing past and lashing out with their claws as they did so. It was hard to tell what, if any, effect they were having on the creature that was no doubt infused with unholy resilience.

Morri heard Alexei call out, though the nature of the Crinos form made it next to impossible to make a verbal response other than grunts and growls. But nevertheless, Alexei had a point; Where was Connor?

Oi! Grandpa! She called out to the pack leader through the totem. Where the feck are ye?

Connor Mac Domhnaill

As a whisper that quickly shifted into a violent crescendo that threw natural and supernatural citizens into a noisy frenzy, Connor crossed the city, his eyes holding, at some degree, the disbelief of how deep his knees - and his mission - were drowned in a colossal pool of extra-dimensional shit. There were a lot of things he hated in LA: the heat, the concrete that constantly asphyxiated him, the lack of his former brother-in-arms, the complete absence of perspective towards an even slightly better future, or a return to his home...

Few of his pack were already with Morri, resident troublemaker, worried for the security of her city - given the demon's presence and hers - and eager to join forces with some of the sworn enemies of the Garou, in an event that certainly wasn't ordinary. As the rest crossed the city, headed towards the church, one of the few groups that dared to rush towards the eye of the storm, the situation kept becoming darker and darker. The rumble from inside the church spoke more than any of his allies, be they temporary or permanent, would speak.

It was through the totem that Connor heard the call of the young Garou who seemed to have a particular proclivity for peril, and no other words were needed. Knowing very well his Auspice, in a rampant Crinos form, Connor rushed, loud growls announcing the arrival of their heavy hitter, as his red fur pelt covered his strongest form. In a fluid move, he quickly gained speed, turning his momentum into a powerful shoulder barge, creating distance between his group and the creature, before letting out a loud howl.

The Garou, at last, arrived.

[Imperialisium]

The Demon was crafty, and while backfooted by the ferocity of the counter attack, it soon began to evade them with greater and greater efficiency. Its face, momentarily showing concern, began to sneer as it flitted around their attacks. Its shadowy form wreathing its body in eldritch power as its eyes bore a bloody crimson glow around pale white orbs. Iris and pupil merged into one large black spot. Its skin sickly yet firm. Pallid. Like the flesh of its host was struggling to truly contain its raw power. The arrival of the other Garou caused it to leap up to the ceiling. Landing upon a weeping monstrosity of a decadent angel depicted to have sodomy with a younger male. Another grisly reminder of the sheer corruption that had twisted this once simply furnished Church. A mockery to all Christians the world over.

"My Master cannot be stopped. You have all failed!" It bellowed with a hoarse, putrid, phlegmy laugh. Its grin showing way more razor sharp teeth than normal for a Human mouth. The battle outside erupted through the windows as glass shattered. A 40mm grenade had detonated against the outer wall of the church near the windows. Its concussive force rumbling through to assault the ears at the speed of sound. Zipping gun fire could be seen clearly outside as the forces of Anna's Black Legion, alongside her armored vampires, waged a bitter struggle against what seemed to be Los Angeles and corrupted units of the Californian National Guard. A Legionnaire hefted a disposable rocket device and sent it zipping against what seemed to be the oncoming sound of rotor blades. A boom, a high pitched whine, and the church rumbled as dust and debris fell from ceiling to floor. Something big and heavy had just struck the church. Even worse, smoke rose from every block, frenzy and panic gripping hundreds of thousands if not millions of civilians. In the distance a blossom of fire as someone ignited a gas station's fuel tanks. The boom of sudden combustion tearing asphalt asunder as wreckage fell to earth.

To the rest of America it seemed Hell on Earth was spreading from Southern California in the form of crazed violence, anarchy, and gang warfare to such a degree that the LA Riots were but a paltry pathetic excuse of a disturbance. No doubt there was more, as surely the Camarilla and Sabbat across America would have taken note. Activating sleeper agents, renewing battle lines, and furiously heightening their previously stalemated conflict for control of the Continental US into a fresh bout of unseen blood shed. As above, so below.

The Demon leapt and bashed its way into them. Nails like claws as it swung, twirled, and swiped in a deadly dance of inhuman grace. It was sorely outnumbered. But it seemed to not be outmatched.

[Morrdh]

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Amidst all the chaos and carnage that was engulfing the city, they came.

Dark, spindly figures that slithered their way through the maelstrom of violence that now claimed dominance over Los Angeles. An aura of dark menace clung about them, the cold dread primal fear born out of the blackest nightmares.

All converging on the church.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

He could taste it.

The iron tang of blood in the air.

It took him back, to another life in the rotten heart of what was once the world's greatest empire. The chill, fog-bound cobbled streets snaking like a cobweb amongst dank, decrepit rookeries and dark satanic mills.

So many lives...ripped...snuffed out by the cruel hand of fate.

He glanced up and saw the defiled cathedral before him where the fate of the city, if not the world, was to be decided.

Yes.

There was...ripping....to be done.

Rip. Rip. Rip. Rip.

---

Battle was joined in silence.

The shadows seemed to darken and slither in the nave of the cathedral.

Darts of pure silvered, dipped in holy water, flew through the air to strike the demon creature.

Then came the chittering.

First by ones and twos came crawling arachnids of all shapes and sizes, though their number grew ever greater. Tens. Hundreds. Thousands.

Heedless of the other combatants, the chittering horde of spiders converged on the demon like a tidal wave of insects. Clung they did onto the creature's limbs and torso, spinning their silk as they sought to engulf it in a cocoon.

There came another noise, quiet yet reverberating at the same time as it made it's way along the nave.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

---

Morri

"Oh trust ye ta be fashionably late!" Morri quipped at Connor through the totem. "Now tear this bloody thing's head o'!"

She moved off to one side for a chance to take a quick breather, as the rest of the pack waded in, and to glance round to take stock of the situation. Anna's two compatriots appeared to still be down, though it was unclear whether they were just hurt or where actually dead. Thankfully Alexei appeared to still be fine, do doubt thanks to her and Cal's efforts in trying to keep the demon-thing busied. Though a chill suddenly ran up her spine as she senses the atmosphere in the cathedral take on a more darker and sinister, right before she spied dark spindly figures congregating in the shadows. She really couldn't tell who's side the newcomers were on.

She yelped in surprise as a horde of spiders brushed past her feet, swarming towards the demon and that was when she saw it.

Rather him.

Him with his slightly skewed top hat and slim, but long black coat.

And that damnable walking stick!

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

[Luminesa]

Alexei - Open the Floodgates

Alexei had not fought a demon this swift in quite some time. The Rose Woman had been much bigger, and had played with her food. Mikhailov had been fast, but cocky. Many demons were small and fast, but not durable. Yet this one flung itself around the church as if it was bouncing on a trampoline. The darkness of the cathedral made tracking him challenging, but the former Inquisitor's faith continued to shine bright. His eyes flitted around the room, watching the being's movements. He did not respond to its taunts. He could not respond to Baal himself at the moment, but could only fight his underlings with all the fierceness of his sword. He waited for the monster to come crashing down from the ceiling, which it did as the blast of the Legionnaires battling outside rattled the bones of the mighty cathedral.

The explosions almost rang Alexei's ears until they could no longer hear, but he fought through the headache, and took a step forward. He crouched slightly, as the monster came down from the ceiling, and positioned himself for a leaping attack. Its nails slashed and diced the air around them, but did not immediately reach its opponents. And now with Connor and Mr. White joining the fray, they finally had the numbers to potentially kill this monster. Yet before they did, the former Inquisitor would show why his fellow Hunters had once feared him.

His feet shot off the ground, his toes launching him as if he weighed less than a bird. His eyes sharpened with the light of broken glass, and he met the demon's ferocious attack with his own. Steel cut through taut, rotting flesh, and he made an enormous gash into the monster's stomach, which was bare due to the demon's all-out offensive attack. He swung hard, and then slashed upward. He aimed to make a cross, so that the demon's insides would simply fall and glue the creature to the ground. That Mr. White had summoned spiders to chase the creature did help in this regard. He grit his teeth, and murmured not in English, but in Russian. "The stomach of a demon is as empty as his words, is it not?" Alexei taunted to the demon.

Yet this Russian was not the language of his mother, who he hoped was somehow safe in the midst of this turmoil. No, this was the language of a much older, more obscured time. When darkness and snow blended together in the distant steppes, when Tsars chanted the name of Muscovy, and when vampires raised in slavery rose to strike down their masters, who were almost as cruel as themselves.

Epeiosa - Superunknown

Epeiosa could not help but feel uneasy, even as she stood on Astorias's Golden Road. She was supposed to be safe, here in this metaphysical realm in which only select individuals could travel. Yet she knew that the Earth below her was not well. Demonic energy had touched her, and she shuddered at the idea of what had been awaiting even the Technocrats who had invaded the museum. Simone was also still down there, fighting anything and everything that entered the museum. She walked over to Astorias, her face pale with fear, and she tugged at his arm. "...Astorias...they...there's a demon down there...in that museum...I felt it...Father would have known what that was too...I'm...I'm afraid...We can't just leave Simone in there, can we?...There must be something you can do!" she begged.

[Luminesa]

Mikhailov - Requiem for a Dark Dream

One Day Ahead

Mikhailov fell in-between dreams and nightmares as he spent his time recovering from a year's worth of torture. He took time - all the time he could get. Remembering that clocks existed was a shocking sensation. He could hear ticking sounds all over Silvanus's hideout. Their ticking sounds reminded him that time had passed. A whole year. Being a Mage caused for him to struggle at times to remember he was a human being, and yet he knew that he did not have an endless current of existence. At least, not until I become an Archmaster... he thought.

He found some of his old journals in the hideout - perhaps Michael had taken them into this new place. When he flipped through them, he noticed that some words had been highlighted and circled. The little Doll has gone through my books then... he considered. He turned the pages, regaining some idea of his memories. His experiments, which caused a pang to his conscience every now and again. He knew that Silvanus had read those journals. Of course, he did not mind. Now he lived with his punishment, being commanded and led by a facsimile of the man over whom he had obsessed. Yet he was willing to pay any price, anything, to remain alive now and to continue his progression to Archmastery.

Silvanus had weakened during that previous year, due to events unfolding in Los Angeles. He had a job for the Mages - something about undead and a prophecy that was threatening to explode. The Mage was willing to fight in his stead, as long as he was needed. Then he needed to find Alexei. If Los Angeles was still in one piece, he would find him. He was sure of that fact. The young former Inquisitor with his messy ivory hair and sky-blue eyes would be in the thick of the battle, seeking to find him as well and to defeat the demons stretching their wicked wings over the city.

"That cavern...or Los Angeles...both have pressing matters...and I have the Magic to fight demons and undead...which to take first..." he murmured. He knew that Michael was watching him from outside the door. He had heard the shuffling of feet as they had stopped in the doorway. When the Doll entered to check him, he would have his answer.

[Luminesa]

Mikhailov - Open Wide, O Earth

Space and time folded and unfolded before Mikhailov like origami, as he focused his Magic toward his plan. Silvanus needed him to go back into Los Angeles to cleanse the city of demons. The Russian Mage had never expected that he would have to be one to fight demons, save perhaps for those in his heart. Yet now was the time for him to use his Magic to shine. Space had revealed the demon's presence within the crypt of an enormous church in Los Angeles. Around that church, apocalyptic chaos spewed, bubbled, and writhed within the hearts of the raging crowds. They fought, set things aflame, and screamed blasphemies against God. Even Mikhailov, whose heart had hardened over many years of dark, Magical experiments, felt the stir of anxiety in his heart.

"...Kostya?..." Michael walked into the room as Mikhailov was getting dressed.

Mikhailov turned to stare at him. He had covered his scars carefully underneath a cornflower-blue buttoned shirt and a white blazer, opting against a tie as he had stared at himself in the mirror. White pants and boots slimmed his body and made him appear almost glowing. "...Yes?"

"...You are going away from here so soon?..." The meek Doll sounded nervous as he entered the room.

The Mage gave him a doting smile, as he found a golden brooch on his dresser and stuck it into his lapel. "...Don't worry. When I return, demons will be destroyed and Los Angeles will be stripped from the grasp of Hell. But for that to happen, it looks like the Inquisition will have to make room for a heretical Russian who hasn't attended services in...far too long..." He chuckled, trying to remember the last time he had attended a Liturgy. He sighed, thinking of how Alexei sang hymns so easily...and so beautifully. "...I hope God will be satisfied with my croaking voice." Whether or not he was playing a humble figure to enchant the Doll, Michael found his words to be tender and approached him to embrace him. Mikhailov allowed the embrace, wrapping his arms around his back and stroking his hair. "...You have been a good servant, watching over me while I heal...But now I go to fight...and you watch the fort," he instructed. When he felt Michael nod in his arms, he smirked. "...Good."

He stepped back, and took a breath. He imagined the place of darkness and corruption, the hiding place of Belial and his cult. A desecrated church which needed an exorcism. Mikhailov closed his eyes, and he activated Space. When he awakened...

The smell was terrible.

He had seen the ugliness of slums in the USSR, had smelled waste and death many times, and yet this scent was no earthly gore or decay. Mikhailov had to catch himself as he stood in a corner, and he made sure to breathe silently before presenting himself for battle. As a proud Obrimos, his appearance had to be as powerful as possible. He would dazzle and terrify his enemies, as he had terrified the two Mages who had attempted to reveal the Masquerade. What were their names again?...No matter. He could hear fighting far above the crypt. Swords - the Inquisitors, and Alexei. Guns, no doubt some of the corrupted forces and Anna's own army. He heard a bomb, or some sort of incendiary device, outside the church. Yet now he had to focus on the wicked silence before him, the scent of Hell growling awake and seeking to swallow a city whole. He took steps forward, using Forces to give them an extra echo.

"Of old Thou didst bury the pursuing tyrant beneath the waves of the sea.
Now the children of those who were saved bury Thee beneath the earth,
but with the maidens let us sing to the Lord,
for gloriously has He been glorified."

Mikhailov's deep, untrained voice was not as sonorous as Alexei's, but he sang with strength a hymn he had not heard in a long time. And yet the song seemed to rattle his own bones as he moved, and gathered light around himself. Perhaps he did have a trickle of faith, or maybe the innocent child buried deep in his heart had reminded him of the words. He drew a sword, which glittered with diamond light, and his icy-blue eyes shone like stainless steel.

"Isaiah saw the never-setting light of Thy compassionate
manifestation to us as God, O Christ.
Rising early from the night he cried out:
'The dead shall arise.
Those in the tombs shall awake.
All those on earth shall greatly rejoice.'”

The Mage did not see himself as any sort of savior, and he certainly thought he was too wicked to be singing the Canon of Holy Saturday toward a half-open Abyss surrounded by cultists. However, Forces glowed around him, giving him an illuminated appearance, and the cultists of Belial would have found themselves blinded by the light. Before they could react, Mikhailov rushed forward and slashed into a cultist, hoping to overwhelm the group while they were blinded.

Alexei - Redemption Songs

Alexei continued to battle alongside Anna's army, Connor's forces, Morri, and now Mr. Whyte, trying to slash down the demonic being that was threatening to cause them severe harm. Yet the Magic he felt from below was unmistakable. The wicked demon Belial was becoming stronger, causing more hatred and pandemonium to leak onto the Earth. Yet at the same time, the former Inquisitor could have sworn that he heard something far below. Some sort of singing, a man's deep voice chanting a hymn. He heard references to Isaiah and Christ, and his eyes widened. Had an Inquisitor managed to reach the crypt? He wondered if Reynolds had managed to sneak down there, or if one of the Templars had found a way. Yet he could not dwell on this shadowy figure that had joined the battle. Right now, he needed to keep his mind as sharp as his sword, and his eyes flickered back to the evil around him. He whispered a prayer as his lips were inches behind the flat of his blade, and then swung once again at the demonic creature facing him.

[Morrdh]

Morri

Despite the fact that it was increasingly becoming heavily outnumbered, the demon was proving to be a nuisance to take down. Morri and the other Ragabash, Cal, kept up their darting strikes as the rest of the pack got stuck in. Mr Whyte and the other Changelings darted out of the shadows to strike at the demon before retreating back, though Morri was sure she saw a flash of silver each time this occurred. Somehow despite all the punishment that was being dished upon it, the demon remained very much in the fight.

Morri became aware of what sounded like singing, the few words she caught reminded her of attending church with her family when she was younger in Ireland and then later Britain. It sounded like the singing was coming from the crypt beneath the church, supposedly where the cult was performing it's ritual. Was the singing the cult? Where they running out of time?

We need ta get down ta the crypt. She called to the rest of the pack via the totem. Preferably in the next few minutes.

[Imperialisium]

The Church

The Demon was indeed a threat unaccustomed to the attackers. But it was not invincible and certainly not the most powerful of its kind. For the walls of the Abyss were only fractured, cracked, in certain areas. Which only small essence could seep through and escape to Earth. A large saving grace for Earth, for the walls of the Abyss are what keep the greater forces which go bump in the night contained. One such being would be Belial, Earthbound, Archduke of Hell among other lofty titles. But to his cultists he was the Great Devourer. And from his ravenous hunger would he consume the fallen world and reshape it in an image of bless for the faithful followers of his own personal adherents.

So as they slashed, assaulted, and used other more arcane methods of attack upon the Demon its defenses weakened. The body it wore opening with weeping wounds and trailing entrails. A grisly afterthought being that the person possessed felt every injury, saw every action, but could do nothing as the Demon laughed. Realizing it would be beaten in time but its part in all this finished. As it was slain by the hail of assaulting persons waged against it. A black plume of smoke and brimstone crackling with noir energy erupting from the now definitively dead man's mouth. A cackle on the wind as the Demon fled.

The Crypt

The blinding light which erupted into the room did indeed blind the cultists in the room. Their yells interrupting their solemn chants and dark prayers. Mikhailov's assault fortuitous in that not one, not two, nor three, but four cultists were slew before any resistance could be offered. A futile one, cultists were not trained soldiers, merely the pawns to their dark overlord. Their fists and fire arms inaccurate. Their daggers untrained. The last cultists in the crypt slid from Mikhailov's wet blade with a sickening squelch.

How unseemly of you, Sorcerer.

The voice was deep, imposing, like a hot knife plunged into Mikhailov's skull.

I see you. Mikhailov. I see your past, and your future, for you are ultimately apart of an uncaring Universe.

The dark miasma above was expanding slowly. The hole wide enough for dark vaporous clouds of Belials essence to seep through. A dark visage of grotesque hunger flashed into Mikhailov's mind. I can bring back all you lost, Mikhailov, all you wish to gain. All I ask in return is for you to finish the prayer. As if on que a dark bloody page landed gracefully onto the altar beneath the miasma. While scenes in Mikhailov's mind struck with all the force of a bolt of lightning. Wants, desires, regrets undone. A vision of what could be.

[Luminesa]

The Church

The Demon was indeed a threat unaccustomed to the attackers. But it was not invincible and certainly not the most powerful of its kind. For the walls of the Abyss were only fractured, cracked, in certain areas. Which only small essence could seep through and escape to Earth. A large saving grace for Earth, for the walls of the Abyss are what keep the greater forces which go bump in the night contained. One such being would be Belial, Earthbound, Archduke of Hell among other lofty titles. But to his cultists he was the Great Devourer. And from his ravenous hunger would he consume the fallen world and reshape it in an image of bless for the faithful followers of his own personal adherents.

So as they slashed, assaulted, and used other more arcane methods of attack upon the Demon its defenses weakened. The body it wore opening with weeping wounds and trailing entrails. A grisly afterthought being that the person possessed felt every injury, saw every action, but could do nothing as the Demon laughed. Realizing it would be beaten in time but its part in all this finished. As it was slain by the hail of assaulting persons waged against it. A black plume of smoke and brimstone crackling with noir energy erupting from the now definitively dead man's mouth. A cackle on the wind as the Demon fled.

The Crypt

The blinding light which erupted into the room did indeed blind the cultists in the room. Their yells interrupting their solemn chants and dark prayers. Mikhailov's assault fortuitous in that not one, not two, nor three, but four cultists were slew before any resistance could be offered. A futile one, cultists were not trained soldiers, merely the pawns to their dark overlord. Their fists and fire arms inaccurate. Their daggers untrained. The last cultists in the crypt slid from Mikhailov's wet blade with a sickening squelch.

How unseemly of you, Sorcerer.

The voice was deep, imposing, like a hot knife plunged into Mikhailov's skull.

I see you. Mikhailov. I see your past, and your future, for you are ultimately apart of an uncaring Universe.

The dark miasma above was expanding slowly. The hole wide enough for dark vaporous clouds of Belials essence to seep through. A dark visage of grotesque hunger flashed into Mikhailov's mind. I can bring back all you lost, Mikhailov, all you wish to gain. All I ask in return is for you to finish the prayer. As if on que a dark bloody page landed gracefully onto the altar beneath the miasma. While scenes in Mikhailov's mind struck with all the force of a bolt of lightning. Wants, desires, regrets undone. A vision of what could be.

Alexei - Into Sheol

The gruesome combat against the horrific being, with its rotting skin and wicked grin, came to an end with a few more slashes and cuts. The being had felt itself weakening after the voice sounded in the crypt, and Alexei watched as he saw a flash of light in the creature's eyes. A flash of humanity. With a sickening feeling building in his stomach, he realized this had been a man possessed. Of course, he had threatened to kill them, and they could only defend themselves. Yet as the bloodied, gashed body dropped in front of them, the former Inquisitor ran to catch it. He could feel that the skin's structure was compromised, and the body almost fell apart in his arms. The smell was worse than almost anything a human could bear. Yet he had seen a human chopped to pieces many times. Now, he could only pray that even as he heard a demon's deep cackle surround the group, the man's soul would rise to Heaven.

"...Forgive us, sir...for what we have done, for what we have failed to do...May your soul rise to Heaven, and sit next to Abraham...Pray for us who now face the Devourer himself..." With his prayer, he repaired some of the dead man's gashes, and he laid the body in a pew. He would have to come back for it later, to try and bury it. Yet now, the party had to finish their job, to save Los Angeles. He got off the ground, wishing he could wipe some of the blood off his arms and clothing. He looked like a killer - and in this moment, he had been one. His soul felt so tense he could cut it with a knife. And yet he knew his job was ugly. It had to be done, it had to be...for us to get into the crypt...Forgive us, Father...forgive us... he prayed.

He then turned to the group, pointing toward the sound of the chanting. "The crypt must be down there! Anyone who can break into it, we need to do this now!" he called. He then hurried toward the location, following the echoes of two deep voices communicating with each other. Alexei had heard screams as well, which means that more people had died. He shuddered as he thought about what he would find when he reached the bottom of the crypt.

"...Christ went into Sheol...to save all souls from their limbo...and now we go, to destroy the demons keeping Los Angeles in limbo..." he murmured.

His bloodstained sword in hand, the former Inquisitor led the way.

Mikhailov - The Happiness of All Mankind

The screams were terrible. Shrieks of agony as the light struck them from every direction, burning and blazing them almost to cinders. These were men, mere cultists who had decided to follow an evil path in search of power. Yet they had met their end by another power, that of Magic burning as bright as the sun. As the light from Mikhailov's Magic faded, he had to take a breath and gaze at his own work. He had truly stepped into the jaws of the Devourer. In its mouth were these dead men, their souls sent to judgment. Now he stood gazing first at the floor of the demon's mouth, and then at the teeth, deep in the gaping maw.

A deep voice reached his ears, and clawed its way into his soul. Like a radioactive mist, it penetrated everything - his clothing, his face, his skin, his very bones. His heart paced, even as he kept a calm, methodical face. The Mage had plenty of Magic left, but he had to remain calm and focused. However, his desires were met with a force that could topple civilizations. Insatiable greed whispered in his ears, a bellow of hunger that he had never heard from even the hungriest beggar in the slums of Moscow. Mikhailov knew he had heard words, he had heard a horrible taunt. He was part of an uncaring universe, the demon roared.

An uncaring world.

"YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT HARD WORK! NOTHING! You think you can come home and be LAZY?!"

Fist after fist, blow after blow. His own mother - or, at least, the woman who had become his mother. The woman who gave his name. He braced his head, but the punches came relentlessly. Irena Mikhailova was always angry, always stressed, always hoping she could move further in the world. When she couldn't, she blamed her child. Her husband, Efim, acted much in the same way. Their lives were bleak, their work bleak, but their bright and intelligent son was too bright at times.

Learning Magic had only dissociated him further from the world.

His schooling, his studies, his attempts at romance, they were all a blur. He was not meant to be a part of this world. That line echoed in his mind, chilling him, making his body feel as if it was an ice sculpture standing among the living. Warm skin, happy smiles, curious gazes, soft hands. He saw a figure stand before him, melting away the ice. A pretty young blonde with innocent eyes. She gave him a blue scarf, her eyes glittering with hope in a better world.

"...Katya..."

Involuntarily, his mouth breathed her name. As if he had fired a gun again, however, speaking her name caused for the scene in his mind to be drowned in blood. The blue scarf became purple from the blood, her body mangled but blurred by tears. His gun still warm in his hands. She had been buried with pink and blue roses. Now the wicked voice echoing in his head promised her back...and more. He could have his whole world. He saw the beautiful blonde standing next to a slim man with long, moonlit hair. Next to him, Silvanus with his chartreuse eyes, holding out a blood-colored rose. On the other side was Alexei, his sparkling-blue eyes much like Katya's and his messy ivory hair rippling behind his back.

He heard a voice upstairs calling for everyone to follow. The soft, firm voice echoed loudly, hoping to rally the troops down into the depths with him.

"...Alexei..."

Mikhailov turned his eyes back to the present, and realized he had been sweating. His dreams were on his fingertips, on the tip of his tongue. He could taste and savor them, the delicate rose-petals and the softest kisses. All he had to do was open his mouth and speak the cursed words, and the dreams would become real...or so Belial said. He gulped down the desire to scream, "Yes," even though his stomach rumbled and his tongue was desperate to speak anything to get out of this torture. His skin felt as if it was burning under his clothing. He removed his jacket, and saw his shirt had been drenched. Now was the moment, the most important moment of his life. He would decide the lives of millions with his next words.

"...The prayer, eh?..." he questioned, finally addressing the demon. He trained his sword, whirling it in his hand slowly, glancing into the metal of the blade. "...The prayer...heh...the one on the altar?..." He approached the blood-stained altar, stepping slowly over the bodies. He could feel blood squelch under his feet, the sickening iron scent as it left stains under his perfectly-white boots. He stared down at the page, his eyes scanning the words. "...Hm...You know what...this isn't a prayer I remember from my childhood..." he whispered. He then looked toward the gaping maw, and he placed his hand on the page. Forces started to burn the page, and off the altar came a burning flame which began to engulf the crypt around Belial. He would sear him away, the flames representing every ounce of sheer will his body could not speak. "...Eat your prayers and drink your own blood, and go eat rats and dung in your hole away from our Earth!" he yelled, causing the flames to burst with power around the demon. He would sear every inch of its existence and cauterize the gaping hole, keeping him out of this world forever.

This time, he would be the hero.

[Parcia]

Jonah.

He’s not sure how it happened, but they had gotten separated. As things went to hell Jonah found him self in his small armored Bronco speeding down a vary, vary chaotic LA as the world seems to be literally go to hell. He drove, weaving through traffic as his two blades guarded them with their rifles, taking accurate shots on those that showed malice to them.

They turned a corner and saw the church and Jonah gunned the accelerator, jumpin the curve and swerving around the church’s drive way before screeching to a halt. The three dismounted, his blades giving him cover as he threw his helmet on and grabbed his duffle of guns, ammo, and his crown jewel, the Machine Gun.

Jonah threw open the doors to see the events happening inside and frowned. “Deal with this, I’ll cover the rear!” He turned to close it before stopping and calling out. “Remember your promise, kid!”

Slamming them shut, the three sprinted to the parked Bronco and took up positions. His two blades climbed in to the back, lowered the bullet proof windows just enough to use them as cover and began laying down lead at the oncoming mob of possessed and corrupted forces as they came down the road. Jonah him self opened the two front doors, released the mechanical latch holding them on their hinges, and promptly slammed them in to the asphalt, embedding the lower edges in to the ground in front of the truck with his back to its engine block.


Something...wyld was in the air, the laws of reality that had governed his life so far with an oppressive yoke were slackened and he wagered, as he set up his prize Machine gun, that it had to do with the events happening around him. What ever, it just meant he was feeling stronger for once.

He pushed the thought to the background of his mind how ever as the mob surged down the road, throwing all manner of things and even starting to take pot shots at him. He saw civilians, police, fire fighters and even National Guardsmen advancing towards him with malice in their eyes and hatred on the wind.


He smiled, knowing today was going to get all the more eventful, and started firing off 4 to 5 shot bursts from the MG42 and steadily whittling down the mob, saving longer burps of fire for larger, tightly packed groups or those actually shooting back at him, their own return fire either denting in to the armored doors in front of him, or whizzing over head and glancing off the reinforced hood and windshield of the Bronco.

He grunted and roared as a bullet slammed in to his helmet and momentarily ceased his suppressive fire. Not for long though, as he retook his aim and started sending most of the ammo belt down range vary quickly.

[Imperialisium]

Holding The Line

The fighting outside the Church was a frenzy of rounds zipping through the air. The occasional detonation of a grenade, and the screams of frenzied combatants and those seeking to hold the perimeter. Anna was a blur of vitae powered fury. Uniformed or civilian she cared not whose vitals decorated her blade. The sun, masked by the thick haze of pollution and blazing fires, generating black intoxicating clouds, allowed the Rothai freedom of movement even during daylight. The vampiric warriors hacked and slew their way through scores of crazed Humans. While the disciplined ranks of Anna's Black Legion gave withering fire into any who dared approach. But it was a battle that could not go on forever. Legionnaire casualties were beginning to mount and for every Demonhost slew a toll was paid in vampiric or human life.

Belial's seeping influence, corruption, had turned many into crazed insane abominations of bloodlust and Jonah gluttony. More than once scenes of utter depravity would be displayed amidst the fighting. Of cannibalism in back alleys. Of wanton arson and destruction setting shops and homes alight. Neighbor turned on neighbor, or joined the ravening hordes as the dark power of an Earthbound about to break free seeped into the very conscious of Man and Woman.

But not all of it was without malign intelligence. Indeed, the corrupted National Guard shot back and even displayed what passed for tactics. Forming their own packs, for coherent squads and platoons was too generous, that assaulted positions with a modicum of methodology.

Even as Jonah held his portion of the perimeter with courage and stubbornness characteristic of his personality. Inflicting a literal killing field upon the foe. It only served to attract more attention. Even when supported by Anna's troops and various Templars they were out numbered and forced closer to the church with every minute. Even with Anna's skill in sorcery she was tied up dueling three Demons wielding their own sorcerous powers against her. Making her unable to stop the sudden display of spraying gunfire at Jonah's position. But, it was not the rounds of machine guns or rifles that did the deed. It was not the rocket propelled grenade fired by a pack of National Guardsmen that conducted the loss. Jonah weathered them all. It was the simple shot of a high powered sniper rifle. Even as a fireteam of Knights Templar moved to support Jonah, led by Gabriel Montferrat, who would witness with sorrow first hand. In momentary eye contact as the side right eye and back of the head of the valiant Ogre exploded in red ichor. Did Jonah have a realization? Of this final moment and the shouting of Gabriel who was trying to move towards him amid the torrential firefight raging around them. Even as he was pulled inside the church by a pair of Legionnaires. Even as the one eye could see, if Jonah's visual functions still were processing, the Legionnaire shake his head side to side to his compatriot while speaking into his mic.

The Crypt

Belial screamed, a horrified wailing bellow of rage, at the insolence displayed by Mikhailov. The Abyssal fracture began to recede. The ritual broken and unfinished. But the wail continued. The psychic backlash striking Mikhailov with all the force of a freight train as Belial lashed out in revenge. By the time the fracture closed Mikhailov was not standing. The psychic backlash having burst a blood vessel in his brain. Inducing a sudden and violent embolism. A sight that the others in the church would see upon approaching in their chase into the crypt.

The Silence After

A pulse rocketed from the church. Doubling over, barreling others into the pavement, as Belial's psychic might gave one last torrential burst. Demons screeched and scattered in all directions. Their human hosts sheltering them from the hostile environment of Earth as they fled. The scores of crazed Humanity near the church simply collapsed, comatose. Those further afield found themselves waking as if from a deep, vivid, nightmare. Those fortuitous souls that had resisted the vile corrupting power of Belial would witness a sudden, as if at the drop of a dime, stop to the world gone mad around them...

[Parcia]

Death is an...interesting event to experience. He didn’t see the shot, nor the shooter, but felt the impact as he sent the belt of ammo down range.

There was no pain, strangely enough, but he suddenly went cold, vary, vary cold. He watched his vision fall back and found him self staring up at the sky as his vision began to blur.

Oh...oh shit. This is it. I uh...well, damn. Off to hell then, or perhaps back to the Fae realm? You still around here, Pitmaster you fuck.

Nothing. For once, the echo of his master was gone, no snide remarks, no more incessant laughing. He didn’t feel like he was dying, but the more rational side of him chalked it up to what’s left of his brain simply turning off.


But the rage. It was still there. That seething, burning, smoldering fury of the beast still sat in his heart.

He saw him self on the floor, the others starting to gather around him, his two blades guarding their master even unto his death. Loyal lot they were, he felt him self smile, in some weird corporal way, and saw that he had a smile on his face, minus the hole were his right eye was.

He had prepared for this. The Hellwalker did not put off making final preparations. The Blades each carried a copy of his will.

It was a simple document. To his friends and comrades...

He left his more pop culture items to Mori. His relationship with the little red head was short, and often violent, but he had liked her, secretly envied her youthful belligerence. She go this music, his tech, the like.

To Her alpha, he left a postmortem extension of an alliance between the White Lotus and his pack, guaranteed through Ping, one of his blades and the KJ next in line to take it’s leader ship.

To the Russian, the scrappy, faithful lad, he left most of his weapons and gear, save his hammer, he wanted that and his crossbow to be left to his children, along side Master Wang’s sword and his Kukri. Bu the got everything else, and a small letter apologizing for his actions and simply asking him to keep his promise to Sofia and his thus unborn Children. He also asked her to look after Angela, he wagered she wouldn’t really stop messing with it the Nosferatu net, and wanted her to be kept safe.

To Ana...a simple note. ...”To the fossil who opened my eyes to this world of Darkness...fuck you. I mean that, from the bottom of my heart. I await your company in the fiery pits of hell when some one much better then my self finally stakes you for good, damnedable methuselah.”

There was a separate note, a much, much longer letter he left to Sofia, and a few for each kid. they would be delivered to them by the KJ at a later point, but he had left instructions that should he wish to, Alexi could take them to Sofia and the kids.



He looked upward as he started downward, through the earth and in to the void beneath it as he figured what was his soul began it’s decent in to Hell.

Then he felt a shift, something...else. He had closed his eyes and waited for the fire to start, but. When he finally opened them, he found him self looking at whom had plucked his corporal form from the mortal realm.

“Hell, it’s about time.”

[Morrdh]

Morri

Morri and Cal dash ahead into the crypts, both in an almsot but not quite invisible blur to scout ahead. They were certainly getting close to...something, something truly evil and darker than anything Morri had encountered before. There was also a boiling rage and a wailing that she more felt than heard, something that she hoped didn't mean that they were too late and all their efforts had been for nought. Then suddenly...

Silence.

The rage, the wailing, gone.

The crypt proved to be eerily quiet and slightly gloomy from the dim lighting, there seemed to be...nothing.

Confused, Morri halted in her tracks and let the blur drop before she shifted back to her Homid form. When the others arrived, she asked in a puzzled tone. "We....won?"

[Luminesa]

Holding The Line

The fighting outside the Church was a frenzy of rounds zipping through the air. The occasional detonation of a grenade, and the screams of frenzied combatants and those seeking to hold the perimeter. Anna was a blur of vitae powered fury. Uniformed or civilian she cared not whose vitals decorated her blade. The sun, masked by the thick haze of pollution and blazing fires, generating black intoxicating clouds, allowed the Rothai freedom of movement even during daylight. The vampiric warriors hacked and slew their way through scores of crazed Humans. While the disciplined ranks of Anna's Black Legion gave withering fire into any who dared approach. But it was a battle that could not go on forever. Legionnaire casualties were beginning to mount and for every Demonhost slew a toll was paid in vampiric or human life.

Belial's seeping influence, corruption, had turned many into crazed insane abominations of bloodlust and Jonah gluttony. More than once scenes of utter depravity would be displayed amidst the fighting. Of cannibalism in back alleys. Of wanton arson and destruction setting shops and homes alight. Neighbor turned on neighbor, or joined the ravening hordes as the dark power of an Earthbound about to break free seeped into the very conscious of Man and Woman.

But not all of it was without malign intelligence. Indeed, the corrupted National Guard shot back and even displayed what passed for tactics. Forming their own packs, for coherent squads and platoons was too generous, that assaulted positions with a modicum of methodology.

Even as Jonah held his portion of the perimeter with courage and stubbornness characteristic of his personality. Inflicting a literal killing field upon the foe. It only served to attract more attention. Even when supported by Anna's troops and various Templars they were out numbered and forced closer to the church with every minute. Even with Anna's skill in sorcery she was tied up dueling three Demons wielding their own sorcerous powers against her. Making her unable to stop the sudden display of spraying gunfire at Jonah's position. But, it was not the rounds of machine guns or rifles that did the deed. It was not the rocket propelled grenade fired by a pack of National Guardsmen that conducted the loss. Jonah weathered them all. It was the simple shot of a high powered sniper rifle. Even as a fireteam of Knights Templar moved to support Jonah, led by Gabriel Montferrat, who would witness with sorrow first hand. In momentary eye contact as the side right eye and back of the head of the valiant Ogre exploded in red ichor. Did Jonah have a realization? Of this final moment and the shouting of Gabriel who was trying to move towards him amid the torrential firefight raging around them. Even as he was pulled inside the church by a pair of Legionnaires. Even as the one eye could see, if Jonah's visual functions still were processing, the Legionnaire shake his head side to side to his compatriot while speaking into his mic.

The Crypt

Belial screamed, a horrified wailing bellow of rage, at the insolence displayed by Mikhailov. The Abyssal fracture began to recede. The ritual broken and unfinished. But the wail continued. The psychic backlash striking Mikhailov with all the force of a freight train as Belial lashed out in revenge. By the time the fracture closed Mikhailov was not standing. The psychic backlash having burst a blood vessel in his brain. Inducing a sudden and violent embolism. A sight that the others in the church would see upon approaching in their chase into the crypt.

The Silence After

A pulse rocketed from the church. Doubling over, barreling others into the pavement, as Belial's psychic might gave one last torrential burst. Demons screeched and scattered in all directions. Their human hosts sheltering them from the hostile environment of Earth as they fled. The scores of crazed Humanity near the church simply collapsed, comatose. Those further afield found themselves waking as if from a deep, vivid, nightmare. Those fortuitous souls that had resisted the vile corrupting power of Belial would witness a sudden, as if at the drop of a dime, stop to the world gone mad around them...

Mikhailov - Redemption Song

Mikhailov stood in the fire, glaring down a demon all alone. Iron in his bones and electricity in his eyes, his Magic created a storm of lights. Every color exploded around him, lighting the crypt in celestial hues. The demonic altar burned, the paper was ashes, and the seal of the demon blazed with Magical fire. The force of his attack was tremendous, and the Mage could not help but grin with glee. Finally, after all this time, he got to summon the Magic he could not use around Sleepers. The fire was amazing, it made his blood sing. His heart pounded and the sweat caused for his spine to shake. "This...THIS is the power of an ARCHMASTER. BOW DOWN TO REAL POWER!!!" he roared, laughing as he raised his arms in the air.

Quickly, however, the salvo of power overwhelmed Belial, and the moment of glory reached a crescendo. The demon shrieked with rage, writhing against the powers that sought to re-seal him, until finally he could rage no more. The fire proved to be successful. The wound in the earth cauterized itself shut, and the fire settled and fell away as the last echo fell. Lightning was still floating in small amounts around the room. The glittering light danced around the Mage's head, and he could hardly believe what had happened. Beautiful. He was left alone, glancing at the beautiful silence. The world also fell silent outside the dark crypt. Beautiful.

For a brief moment, he felt his heart stirred to something as he watched the final lights trickle down and fall away. A tear fell with them. He could not believe the power he had just used to defeat a demon, and alone. He took a breath, and he decided to finish the song he had started to chant before he had approached Belial:

"Be amazed, O heavens!
Be shaken, O foundations of the earth!
Behold, He that dwell in the highest
is numbered among the dead and sheltered in a lowly tomb.
Bless Him, O youths, Praise Him, O priests!
O people, exalt Him above all forever!"

"KOSTYA!"

Mikhailov turned around as the last echoes of his hymn finished. The dazzling light had fallen around him, and the scent of ashes had filled the now-blackened crypt. Standing alone had been the Mage, dressed in his pristine, beautiful Mage robes. He stared back at the group as they entered the crypt, and his eyes fell on the person who had called his name. In the silence, the Mage and the former Inquisitor were reunited. "...Hey," he greeted, with a cocky grin.

As soon as he had made sure that Morri would be alright entering the crypt and standing nearby, the former Inquisitor rushed to see Mikhailov, nearly crashing into him. The Mage grabbed him before he could hit him, and pulled him into a tight embrace. Of all of the things that had been proof he had done the right thing, feeling the younger Inquisitor returning his embrace was the best part so far. The silence had cemented it, but the hug had finished it. "...Alexei..." he whispered, putting a hand in his hair.

Before they could continue their reunion, however, the Mage felt something terrible in his head. An earthquake had ruptured, but in his skull. He jerked away from Alexei to grab at his head, clenching his teeth. "GGH...Ah...AHHHHH!...AHHHH!" He thought he had been struck by lightning, but he knew this was worse. Something had gone wrong in the aftermath. When he opened his eyes and saw the images of Alexei and company wavering in front of him, he knew he had suffered backlash. "...Ggh...quick...heal...me..." His voice was slurred. "Help..."

A clock was now ticking in his head.

Alexei - The Healing Hour

"Kostya?..." He grabbed his shoulders and looked him over. He had thought the danger was finished. The crypt was empty, the demon was gone. And yet Mikhailov's face looked stricken. His pupils had dilated, and he had screamed in pain while grabbing his head. Quickly, the former Inquisitor grabbed his head and began to pray, using his Faith to heal the wound. He began to pray over him, his Faith glowing in his veins as he recited Psalm 23. He had murmured this prayer many times, and had forgotten the words many times. His breathing was quick, as he knew that the Mage had suffered a terrible wound.

"...Though I walk...through the valley...of the..." Alexei gulped, continuing to pray only to find himself forgetting again.

Mikhailov found himself smiling, even though he was in immense pain and felt himself becoming immensely dizzy. "...Shadow of death?" he murmured, grasping his friend's arms.

"...Shadow of death. I fear no evil...for You are with us..." With Mikhailov reminding him of the words, he continued to pray, hoping that the injury would resolve. He had enough Faith left, as the battle with the demon-possessed man had ended mercifully quickly. Even so, he looked over at Morri, Reynolds, and the two Templars nearby as he finished the prayer and continued to stabilize him. "...Please, help us...get that body out of the pews and...hopefully we can find a place...to bury it...get...emergency services, please..."

[Imperialisium]

To An Unlikely Faithful

"Aye, seems so," responded Reynolds to Morri.

"I am indeed with you," came a sudden voice from behind the group. John, Reynolds, and the Templars turned as if thinking another foe lay in wait. Weapons at the ready. Only to rest their gazes upon a handsome blond man dressed in a white tuxedo. A simple scarlet bowtie gird his neck under the collar. His short skin fade blonde hair accented his piercing ice gray-blue eyes. Twinkling like distant stars in the night sky. There was a radiance about him, a certain solar flare, as if his mere presence bore light into the dark cavernous dwelling of the Angelus Temple crypts. Bathing the horrendous scene in stellar contrast.

"Who are you?" said John darkly.

"A bit of a cliché throwaway line, don't you think?" said the newcomer. Though, the words were incredibly aloof in tone. As if he weren't actually speaking to anyone in the room, or at least no one in particular. John, however, kept his hand gripped on his pistol as he aimed down the sights at the man's chest. Ideally, he'd put three or four rounds centre mass before the newcomer could draw his own weapon. Whatever that may be.

"I won't ask again," warned John. Some of the other Templars pointed their own guns at the man. As if the trio would form an impromptu firing squad.

"Guns are a bit useless against me. But I appreciate the enthusiasm. I, however, don't mean you all any harm. If I did all of you would be quite dead minutes ago." The aloof tone remained, bordering on even polite. As if the weapons raised at him were not even there. "I am here to see if the deed was actually done in time. Seems such. But your friend...," the man took several steps forward to come next to Mikhailov and Alexei, "Your friend won't make it, even with your belief in your faith, its not quite how the game works." Kneeling down those ice-blue eyes stared into Mikhailov's own glassy pair. An expression of curiosity on the man's face. If he even was a man, "After all, the Reapers are already on their way for you."

"Can't you save him?" Another voice entered the room. It was Anna. Her armor and sword drenched in the gore of her victims.

"I might," replied the man nonchalantly.

"Lucifer. He overcame Belial's corruption is that not enough." More a statement than a question.

Lucifer exhaled slowly, turning his head to look at Anna in the eyes, "Hmmm, I always did have a soft spot for the sacrificial lambs..."

A hand reached out and touched Mikhailov. The crypts erupted into blinding white light. Mikhailov and Alexei would awake at the nearest hospital. The rest would come to their senses, that they were standing outside, around the body of the fallen Ogre for whatever purpose had also been snatched and placed outside by whatever power Lucifer had unleashed. As for the eponymous man in the white tux, there were no sign. Only the flickering fires of a wounded city and its distraught, confused, population.

[Morrdh]

Morri

Thanks to her sixth sense, admittedly it didn't always help her avoid trouble, Morri was aware of the strange man in white before he spoke. It seemed the man just materialised out of thin air, reason enough for the others to be somewhat curt with dealing with the newcomer. Though Morri felt that they were in the presence of something very powerful and something seriously not to be messed with, in some respect not all that dissimilar to Belial.

Then Anna arrived.

A mixture of fear and loathing of the kindred swelled up inside of Morri, though the vampire had 'helped' them Morri still couldn't bring herself to trust the leech. But she listened, her eyes going wide at the man being identified as Lucifer. Morri started to cry in disbelief. "Ah-..."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"....feck!" She finished, blinking her eyes to clear the aftershots of the flash of white light. It took her a moment to realise that they were no longer in the crypt, rather the whole group had been teleported outside of the church itself. It took her a fraction longer to realise what laid at their feet before she gave a hoarse cry and sank to knees.

Despite their differences, she had grown fond of Jonah but more as a trusted ally than a friendly comrade. But now the Ogre laid still, his lifeforce seemingly drained away. One more tally to what the city had loss this day.

Their unlikely, fragile alliance had won the day but some of their number had paid the price dearly for that victory.

[Luminesa]

To An Unlikely Faithful

"Aye, seems so," responded Reynolds to Morri.

"I am indeed with you," came a sudden voice from behind the group. John, Reynolds, and the Templars turned as if thinking another foe lay in wait. Weapons at the ready. Only to rest their gazes upon a handsome blond man dressed in a white tuxedo. A simple scarlet bowtie gird his neck under the collar. His short skin fade blonde hair accented his piercing ice gray-blue eyes. Twinkling like distant stars in the night sky. There was a radiance about him, a certain solar flare, as if his mere presence bore light into the dark cavernous dwelling of the Angelus Temple crypts. Bathing the horrendous scene in stellar contrast.

"Who are you?" said John darkly.

"A bit of a cliché throwaway line, don't you think?" said the newcomer. Though, the words were incredibly aloof in tone. As if he weren't actually speaking to anyone in the room, or at least no one in particular. John, however, kept his hand gripped on his pistol as he aimed down the sights at the man's chest. Ideally, he'd put three or four rounds centre mass before the newcomer could draw his own weapon. Whatever that may be.

"I won't ask again," warned John. Some of the other Templars pointed their own guns at the man. As if the trio would form an impromptu firing squad.

"Guns are a bit useless against me. But I appreciate the enthusiasm. I, however, don't mean you all any harm. If I did all of you would be quite dead minutes ago." The aloof tone remained, bordering on even polite. As if the weapons raised at him were not even there. "I am here to see if the deed was actually done in time. Seems such. But your friend...," the man took several steps forward to come next to Mikhailov and Alexei, "Your friend won't make it, even with your belief in your faith, its not quite how the game works." Kneeling down those ice-blue eyes stared into Mikhailov's own glassy pair. An expression of curiosity on the man's face. If he even was a man, "After all, the Reapers are already on their way for you."

"Can't you save him?" Another voice entered the room. It was Anna. Her armor and sword drenched in the gore of her victims.

"I might," replied the man nonchalantly.

"Lucifer. He overcame Belial's corruption is that not enough." More a statement than a question.

Lucifer exhaled slowly, turning his head to look at Anna in the eyes, "Hmmm, I always did have a soft spot for the sacrificial lambs..."

A hand reached out and touched Mikhailov. The crypts erupted into blinding white light. Mikhailov and Alexei would awake at the nearest hospital. The rest would come to their senses, that they were standing outside, around the body of the fallen Ogre for whatever purpose had also been snatched and placed outside by whatever power Lucifer had unleashed. As for the eponymous man in the white tux, there were no sign. Only the flickering fires of a wounded city and its distraught, confused, population.

Alexei - Walls of Confusion

Alexei had never thought he would meet the Devil face-to-face. Perhaps he thought that the Rose Woman was the closest thing. After all, she was cruel and sadistic. She had twisted and blasphemed all that was beautiful and holy. She had used his father’s image against him. The Devil seemed he would do all of those things, and had during his lifetime. The former Inquisitor had felt it. He wanted to stand and to confront him, but he needed to stay near Mikhailov, who now was lying in his arms on the floor and gripping his forearms with waning strength.

Yet Lucifer did not wait for him to stand, and instead came to take a look at Mikhailov. How strange that Mikhailov finally met an Angel, but it was a fallen one. Two in one day, in fact. They were even dressed similarly, and had matching ice-blue eyes. Yet the Mage’s eyes were losing their sight and he could hardly tell the other blonde man from the white-haired man holding him.

The former Inquisitor clung to his Faith. No matter what the Devil said, he could stabilize him. He could protect him. This time, he would. He found himself instinctively hugging Mikhailov closer, and he did not even notice Anna walking into the room. Later, they would talk. For now...for now, he needed to care for at least one of his friends.

But something happened as he blinked down at the Mage’s weakening form. They were no longer in the dark, burned crypt, but in a hospital room. Fluorescent lights beamed down, and an EKG beeped quietly. Mikhailov was wired to all sorts of tubes. He was out of his beautiful Magical clothing, and now in a simple hospital gown. Alexei sat next to his bedside, as both of them blinked and stared around the room.

“...Alexei...”

“...Kostya...you’re alive...You...you fell unconscious after you...had a headache?...”

“...An aneurysm, possibly...agh...the pain is gone, at least...” He turned and stared at Alexei, and their eyes clicked.

Before they could speak anymore, Alexei put his arms back around the Mage, squeezing him deliberately. They had all been so close to death, and now the battle was over. Belial was gone. The former Inquisitor shuddered and sighed, and he buried his face in Mikhailov’s shoulder. “...We won...we did it...We won...thank God...we won...” he whispered.

Mikhailov just stared down at him, before he decided to return the hug. Alexei was so soft to hug, and his long wavy hair tickled his nose as he rested against his forehead. They were at least two people now at peace in Los Angeles. Of course, neither of them had discovered Jonah’s fate, and Los Angeles was still shell-shocked. Yet at least for now, they could enjoy each other’s company. “...Alexei...you don’t know...how much I’ve missed seeing your face...I dreamed that...I saw you again...while I was in that place...”

“...What place?...”

“Heh...Don’t worry about it. Not now. When we go to see your uncle and check on him...then I’ll...tell you everything...” He sounded strangely tender, as if he knew he had narrowly avoided death again. He was glad to be alive, but he hated that he kept coming so close to death in such painful ways. “...I will...I should...I hope you will understand...I...do care for you, Alexei...”

Alexei stared into his shoulder for a moment. Mikhailov ‘cared’ for him. That was a very kind thing to say, and he was glad that the Mage felt that way, yet he wondered if he was trying to say more. For now, however, warm, embryonic silence would fill some of that gap. They were close together, sharing the warmth of relief and peace. Tears fell down both of their faces, and that was the only language they spoke.

[Luminesa]

Alexei and Mikhailov - Aftershock

Time passed, at least what felt like a half hour. The day continued to be chaos outside of Mikhailov's room, as beds filled with patients who needed to be revived, checked for trauma, and admitted for long-term treatment. Others clearly needed to see a psychiatrist, as they had talked about doing things while under the control of...something. Some otherworldly force, some aura of rage and hatred. Some people were muttering about the Santa Ana winds, even though it was early in the morning and the day was perfectly clear and sunny. Regardless of whatever was the cause, Los Angeles hospitals were filling fast. The former Inquisitor could hear the pandemonium outside of the room, and he shivered. Mikhailov, who had walked into the eye of the hurricane and had barely survived, was lucky. Far too lucky. Many others were...not so fortunate.

"...Perhaps I can go outside and help with all of the havoc...There must be something I can do..." Alexei murmured. Part of him did not want to leave the sweet stillness of this room, after he had seen the horrors that had invaded and stained that enormous church. For once, he liked the bare walls and the mind-numbing, fluorescent lights. They gave his mind time to relax. The very thought of walking back outside into the agonized city made his body quake softly.

"It's your decision. I'm sure that I'll be fine, I'm not having my kidneys extracted or anything," Mikhailov chuckled. He would have decided to rise and help Alexei, but he was still dizzy and recovering from what had been a harrowing affair itself. Thus he tried to give Alexei an encouraging smile. "...If you do choose to go out, maybe sneak me a glass of something from the kitchen, hm?" he inquired.

"...I'll try...I also have to call my mother...and Morri...She's probably wondering where I went..."

"Morri?"

"I'll introduce you later. Maybe she'll come visit...And who knows...maybe after things calm down, you can come meet my mother?"

Mikhailov chuckled. "Oh I doubt she'll like me very much, but if it makes you happy. Now, stop chattering with me and go help. I can tell it's making you anxious to just stand here. I'll be fine..." He wanted to tell Alexei to stay, but he knew he would just be restless while others suffered outside. He smiled and ushered him to go out, and so the former Inquisitor nodded and hurried into the hallway.

Alexei managed to find an overwhelmed young nurse and offered to volunteer. As he found her in the lobby, he saw that the room was standing-room only. In any normal circumstance, Alexei would have needed to jump through hoops to be a volunteer, but time was a-wasting and so were many patients. She ordered him to help transport her patients, to change any linens in their rooms, and to give directions to new patients. He never thought he would be given a crash-course in volunteering at a hospital, but he listened carefully and hurried to follow her orders.

When he did find the time, however, he managed to send a couple of texts. After a brought an elderly lady to her room and settled her there, he clicked away at his phone to let his mother know where he was. "Mother? I'm at the hospital, I'm helping with patients. It's really hectic. I'll talk to you later. Love you!" He then clicked on Morri's name. "Morri! Are you still at the church? I'm at the hospital with Mikhailov. Text me when you can!" He then hurried down the hallway to continue his tasks.

The Mage in his own quiet room simply watched TV and relaxed in his bed, shocked that he was somewhere comfortable and not being probed by strange agents in psychotically-white cloaks. The middle-aged nurse who came into his room was hurried but chipper, grinning as she took his vitals and asked him if he needed anything. When he mentioned needing a glass of juice, she nodded. "It's a very busy day, so if I take too long to come back with your juice, please don't hesitate to beep for me and I'll be back as soon as possible!"

"Of course. Thank you." When she left, Mikhailov watched the door close. He wanted to be able to walk soon. He had so much to tell Silvanus, who was now sleeping through this day that was, for quite some time, tainted by the Devil's evil. Now, at least, the healing could come. "...His power...should be back..." he murmured. He gave a chuckle. "...Oh...he'll be quite proud when I tell him, I'm sure..." Pleased with his work, Mikahilov then settled more into his bed and relaxed his weary body, waiting for Alexei to return.

[Imperialisium]

Anna

Even as her forces vacated the city. Anna approached the small forlorn congregation around the fresh corpse of the Ogre. Jonah Slaid. It had been a relatively quick but not pretty death. As evidenced the blown out eye socked and hole in the back of Jonah's skull. The Templars approached, and made the sign of the cross before their leader spoke, "We will take his body. Give him last rites and a proper burial in hallowed ground." Anna however eyed the Ogre before knelling down. Grasping the fallen MG42 she arranged it much like a fallen Knight would have their blade when composed for burial. She said nothing, not even a whisper, though. Perhaps it was just her way of saying goodbye.

Standing up swiftly she turned to Morri. "I will give you forty-eight hours, Miss Morrigan, out of respect to the late Mister Slaid. At which point I will collect my payment from you in person," half turning she eyed the young Garou and the others before smiling, "See you soon."

A cold breeze blew through as a portal knifed into existence. The courtyard of a castle clearly beyond. Evidently, Anna was returning to her castle until it was time to collect from Morri. What this meant for finding a substitute payment, unclear. However, if there was one who could still use a lingering bond to speak to Anna in regards to the deal, it was Alexei. And he was indisposed with the critically conditioned Mikhailov. The latter of whom would not be able to stay on Earth for long. To have your Second Awakening was to incur Paradox at a much higher rate than a normal Mage. Even if it brought much power and prestige among magisterial circles. Indeed, Mikhailov like his forebear Archmages would likely have to ascend to the sub-realms adjacent to the reality of this Fallen World.

[Morrdh]

Morri

As she sat slumped on the ground, Morri half-listened as Anna spoke. It was only after the Kindred had finished speaking and then departed that the realisation of what the vampire had stated struck Morri. "...Ah."

"We need ta go home, back ta the docks, soon as." Morri said hurriedly to Connor. "Actually, right now."

Realisation of a whole load of other things hit her round the same time; Connor's anger, the punishment rite, Connor's anger, her trip with Alexei to the Umbra, etc. These were consequences that she was going to face, though right now Anna was one that topped the list. An offer made in desperation to enlist the aid of the Kindred Prince of LA was turning out, in hindsight, to have been a rather foolish act. Anna may have acted regardless of whether she was approached for aid, after all it seemed like she already had her own planes in motion for dealing with Belial.

Right now Morri had but two days to try and wiggle out of the deal somehow.

Once the pack arrived back at the Irishman's Rest, Morri made a beeline for her room and found that Alexei had sent her a message on her phone. Quickly dialling Alexei's number, Morri waited as the phone rang and then said regardless of whether it was Alexei or his answering service. "Anna wants payment. Me."

"Got two days ta find something else fer her 'fore she collects."