Case File 1: Heartbreak Hotel

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Ringmaster, Nov 22, 2015.

  1. [​IMG]

    Location: The White Chapel. New York City

    Time: 7:00 PM

    "In the absence of light....Darkness prevails. These are the words of the organization I had helped founded, both as reminder of our duty as well as acknowledgement of the world outside our fires and our stone huts. Though many nightmares and creatures exist to some extent, to forever plague humanity there are many more, who seek to live only to live peacefully. To that end was borne the Unseelie Accords, which today rules us all. But every now and then, a new generation appears for those who seek to break the truce- To bring our world out of the shadows and into the light."

    "This is something we cannot afford and so my son and others, called to duty come to this place. There are things that go bump in the night my friends."

    "You are the ones who bump, back."



    It was late evening by the time you all made it. The hour and certain men in suits, prevailing on bringing each of you to this place. A place that all of you knew, as a matter of course. The White Chapel. So named by the Church and as a matter of course, neutral territory. A fitting place for figures of our world to meet in secret, to decide things that would affect all the communities of this city who lived in the shadows away from prying eyes. Guards in the alcoves nodded and opened the doors, revealing the spacious interior. And waiting at the far end would be two people.

    One of them, a nun. One of the three Executors of New York City, agents of the Burial Agency connected to the Church and subsequently, representatives of authority.

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    The other would be far more familiar to some, if only by reputation alone as he rose up from his seat, aided by the nun.

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    "Good evening to you all. My name is Professor Bruttenholm. Director of the The Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense of the United States of America. Each of you are volunteers or hired, for your experience as well as your stock in trade for something that may very well, violate the statue of secrecy we have imparted upon the world as a whole. Identify yourself, your purpose for being here and we shall get started."

    In the direction of Hellboy, he smiled. There would be time enough for talk, but for now there was work to be done. He hoped his smile would convey that much to his son.

    By his side, the nun would cross her arms as she went first, describing herself.

    "My name is Sister Mercedes. Or Sister Mercy, Executor of the Burial Agency and White Magus of the Church. My role is that of one of your contacts in this city, alongside two others. I will impart intelligence, whatever resources that lay within my power and on occasion if required, assess and ensure that by your actions, the veil of secrecy remains intact and our troubles vanish."

    @C.T. @Thuro The Assassin Potato @BarrenThin @TheSpringwoodSlasher @OrlandoBloomers @Schnee Corp Lawyer

     
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  2. This wasn't Hellboy's first rodeo by any stretch of the imagination. He'd been kicking paranormal butt all across the country and even beyond it. So, taking up this job seemed like clockwork to him. But as he followed in behind the others, Hellboy could help but glance around the church and give out a whistle of appreciation.

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    "Pretty fancy place you got going on here. No, really I mean that. If demons and other spooks aren't scared away by all the religion just oozing off the walls, I imagine they'll be too distracted at how damn nice the place looks. For as long as they can before we end them packing, anyway." Shifting one of his hands so it'd be residing within the pocket of his jacket, he'd give a small smile towards the Professor as he spoke up and said his piece.

    Not even taking into account the fact that Hellboy had been raised by Bruttenholm like his son since he was summoned by the Nazis back in WW2, he had quite the hefty amount of respect for the guy. Even as old as he was, he didn't back down from any threats be they from the ugliest son of a bitch this side of our reality or humans messing with powers they didn't quite understand. But now wasn't the time to coddle the professor but to listen in on what he and the lady had to say.

    Once Sister Mercedes said what had needed to be said, Hellboy nodded. Pulling out a cigar from his pocket, he'd light it and plop it in his mouth.

    "Basically, you'll give us the rundown on what beastie or baddie wants to make a mess for me and these guys to clean up, that right?" Pulling out the cigar and puffing out a small tuft of smoke, he continued. "In exchange, we'll keep things on the down low and don't let joe smoe walking down the street know what we do. No problems here, been punching the things that go bump in the night for quite some time. Like to think I'm pretty decent at it."

    @C.T. @Thuro The Assassin Potato @BarrenThin @TheSpringwoodSlasher @OrlandoBloomers @Schnee Corp Lawyer
     
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  3. "...Huh."

    So this was it. The White Chapel. One of the cornerstones of their silly little religion, neutral meeting ground deep within the bowels of New York city. How completely...underwhelming. The surrounding church was beautiful to the untrained eye, resplendent in faith and it's towering structure. Huge pillars, holding a ceiling far above them. Makes any person who enters feel small. Testament to their beliefs. This is a refuge of God. Any human within has to realize how tiny they are. Forced humbleness. Pfft. He scoffed, turning away. "Nice?" He questioned Hellboy out of the corner of his mouth in slight disbelief. "It's certainly quiet."

    He exhaled, lighting up a cigarette.

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    He knew little of the BPRD besides rumors. However... "Sister Mercy? Heh." He shook his head. Ironic name. "Must have stirred up something awful to come running to me with the BPRD involved as well. Well I'm here. To burn the skeletons in your closet and hide the ash. No one knows or questions. I get it. Can't let some of the craziness out to the general public. So, what is the craziness?" He blew out a puff of smoke, turning to the others.

    "Kiritsugu Emiya. I just wish to know names and skills."

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    #3 C.T., Nov 22, 2015
    Last edited: Nov 22, 2015
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  4. Ichabod was a wide eyed puppy as he went into the church, slurping on the cup of water he'd insisted they stop at a tap to retrieve, simply claiming at the time, "It's free, as all water ought to be." The English Captain America had yet to be in a place quite like this, though he'd seen many an architectural marvel in his time. Just the potential to learn the history of this place left him giddy, with a goofy grin spread over his features.

    He went out of his way to investigate the room around them. So much so that he almost completely missed everything they said, only managing to catch the latter half when he stopped to take a loud, slurping drink, making sure not to waste any of the water as he scrounged the bottom for any left.

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    The first thing he saw left him blushing red with embarrassment. That would be Mercedes's outfit. Frankly, Ichabod still held the way people dressed in this century with distaste, even after all this time. There was so little subtlety to it. That was why he wore the same coat and (regularly washed) clothing all the time; they were simply preferable. He just stood there at a loss for words for a while.

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    When he did speak, there was a stern tone to his voice. "I hope you know that dress is... incredibly inappropriate for a member of the clergy, Sister." After regaining his composure and adjusting his jacket, he moved to the topic at hand. "Now, you want us to hunt monsters. That, I can handle if you give me the right equipment and enough time. I would ask... why us, though?" He cast a slightly wary look Hellboy's way, implying an additional 'Why him?' It wasn't that he couldn't see the possibly of a benevolent monster. He just had yet to meet one. "And what are we going after?"

    He paused, looked around... and suddenly became very aware that he hadn't introduced himself to, well, anyone. Suddenly, his momentarily serious demeanor was replaced by one of goofy embarrassment, a stupid, apologetic grin forming on his face. "Oh! Apologies! My name is Ichabod Crane." He began to bow. However, the earlier giddiness had returned and, combined with current embarrassment at his rudeness, the usually practiced move was awkward and shaky. "Yourselves?"

    I swear he's actually really good at what he does.

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    #4 BarrenThin, Nov 22, 2015
    Last edited: Nov 23, 2015
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  5. Spotify

    Ian stood, swathed in his usual dark trenchcoat, looking like a pariah as he stood in stark contrast to the bright, beautiful church around him. It was a good analogue for the man himself if he were to be completely honest. He rarely was... but they would find that out soon enough.

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    "A beautiful church." He mused aloud, more to himself than any of the people present. "How many lies hold it's walls up?"

    "You must have either a lot of money or a very special problem if Mr. Irons sent me to you." He said to the women, focusing, or perhaps simply narrowing his focus down to her. His father rarely wanted money, wealthy as he was. Although he was sometimes willing to do favors for his magical trinkets, if it was beneficial or it intrigued him. But the problem, that sounded more like something Father would send him to fix. The man was no great altruist, but he was a fan of solving magical and mundane threats before they came to be a danger to him. But enough on that, there would be time for retrospection later. Now to answer the women's question.

    "My name is Ian Nottingham, though somehow I have a feeling you already knew that. And my purpose? My purpose is the same as yours. To smite down the unwilling, to do the deeds you do not want the world to know about. As long as I remain in your employ this is who I will be, then gone like the fleeting shadows we chase when you have finished with me."

    Always cryptic, always mysterious, Ian was not the sort of man that you could trust. Or know. His devotion to his creator, his father, was unwavering, steadfast, torturous. He would kill an innocent and save a monster if the man commanded it, and yet disobedience was not something he could contemplate. Not with his upbringing. This is what he was, and he was now working for those who serve God.

    Truly God has a deep sense of irony.

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    #5 Thuro 116 Pendragon, Nov 23, 2015
    Last edited: Nov 23, 2015
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  6. Sister Mercy cocked one eyebrow at the party as a whole, though to the questions and Emiya's statement she sighed and spoke.

    "We are currently unsure. But the diplomatic repercussions alone prevent us from acting alone to uncover the truth- Hence a a compromise was reached. Rather than one party, we would create one consisting of several experts. People with whom no one would have reason to suspect any sort of treachery in the city- Something you all should be well aware of. As to why Mr. Crane? You all...Have a certain something to bring to the table. In the form of Agent Hellboy, some legitimacy to represent the BPRD. "

    She nodded at the demonic agent before continuing.

    "Mr. Emiya and of course, Mr. Nottingham both have no ties to any faction in this city and thus no reason to falsify any findings, to say nothing of the protection they'll offer the rest. Finally? We have....You. We understand you've some experience in the field, regarding...These situations."

    The professor took over now, stepping forward as he spoke.

    "This happened a few weeks ago, two to be precise. A tour in the Chelsea hotel stumbled upon what looked to be some form of grotesque ritual. Seven bodies, though only three were reported. Three humans, three vampires...One mage. Identified by her ring. They were all in advanced stages of decomposition from the looks of it."

    Folders were passed over, revealing pictures. The bodies....If they could yet be identified as such were horrific. Putrid flesh captured on camera, covered in cockroaches, like some twisted cadaver hives of horror. No wounds the report listed, but considering the bugs? It was difficult to say. The placement however, suggested that they simply laid down to die. A second clue would be the following. A name carved into the wall, the name?

    CROATOAN
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  7. His bumbling look was quickly replaced by seriousness once again. "I have experience with a great many things. You'll have to be more specific." As Ichabod took the folder and began to pace the room, his face quickly contorted in a disgusted grimace. These pictures were ghastly. Three innocents. Three... vampires. He'd never encountered such creatures himself, and couldn't help but think of those dreadful Twilight movies, but, with everything he'd seen, the Englishman wasn't surprised by the news of their existence. What was all this for?

    Then, he noticed something. It appeared his knowledge of history would come in handy after all.

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    "Croatoan... the only clue to the fate of the lost colony of Roanoke. I've dealt with the lost colony before, or, at least, a ghost of it. The Horseman of Plague was involved. Are you suggesting that he has returned, or does this mean something else entirely?" There was almost a hint of hope to his voice. Anything would be better than Plague's return. Ichabod and Abbie had defeated him once, but there was no guarantee they could do so again.

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    #7 BarrenThin, Nov 23, 2015
    Last edited: Nov 25, 2015
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  8. [​IMG]

    Noticing the look Ichabod had sent his way, Hellboy couldn't help but roll his eyes slightly. Not too many people knew about him and the BPRD liked to keep it that way. But every now and then he'd get a wary glance and heard mutterings around BPRD HQ about him being the 'big tall red and ugly guy' But of course with the Professor here, Hellboy wasn't about to make a huge fuss over it. Still, a look like that warranted a comment even if the guy hadn't done anything but give a wary stare.

    "You got somethin to say, pal? I know, red skin and horns right? Looked just like I walked straight out of the Bible and into the fancy little squad we got going on here. Or maybe you noticed that I had something stuck in my teeth." Hellboy mused jokingly but it was also meant to mock whatever concerns Ichabod may have had over Hellboy's presence though the good ol Sister helped to probably assuage some of Crane's concerns. Either way however, didn't mean he couldn't mess with the guy. Pulling on his gums while holding his cigar out, he'd speak. "Lemme know if you find anything." He'd joke once more before putting his hands at his sides once more.

    "Or say what's on your mind next time you stare at someone, otherwise you might give off the wrong impression." He'd quip before placing the cigar back in. "Yup, that's me. Red representing the BPRD."

    As the folders were sent their way, Hellboy skimmed through them and winced. Nasty stuff. Wasn't like there was a lack of it in his line of work, but never made looking at the sights any easier. Still though something had to be powerful to take down vampires. They were real pains in the asses to deal with, specially old Hungarian ones that were under the servitude of the goddess Hecate. Made things a whole lot more complicated. But, hopefully she didn't have her claws in on this mess.

    "So, we go in, squash some bugs, find the thing responsible for unleashing those bugs, and go home. Everybody's safe and sound and it's a job well done on our part."

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  9. "You make it sound easy. Where mages and vampires are concerned, it never is easy. Trust me on that. I know it well."

    "For whatever purpose this perverse ritual was, whoever or whatever was behind it wants to be found. Or wants us to play to it's tune. Follow the trail left behind. Less investigating work and more walking into a trap."

    @TheSpringwoodSlasher @Thuro The Assassin Potato @Saint Guillotine @BarrenThin
     
  10. "Mr. Crane, we're not entirely sure. Croatoan is a name that has long been researched by those of us who study such things. Even to this day, its still unsure if it refers to a demon, to a Fae Lord....Or even to one of the Knights of Plague, such as the Rider you encountered. Certainly, the insects and the name would be damning evidence of such, would it not? That is where you all come in as a whole. If this is such an enemy, steps will be taken to stop it- You will not be alone, make no doubt of that. But in the event you are caught unawares, your group will have power enough to at least fight this thing to a standstill, whatever it is. Theories are still being worked out and moreover, are included in your folders."
    "Would that it would be so easy my son. But essentially, yes. At the same time, we must keep to the Accords and respect the boundaries of those who live and are involved in this city, regarding the Moonlit world. Not all see us as allies, some might even have agendas of their own. The key is to strike a balance between when to talk...And when to strike with all your might."

    He smiled fondly.

    "I'm sure you all won't have any problem with the latter, once the time arrives."
    "I will pray to the Lord for your safety, Mr. Emiya."

    Remarked Sister Mercy sincerely as she adjusted her glasses and cleared her throat.

    "Besides we, the local Executors we've also took steps to ensure that some of your people are likewise placed in a supporting role. Mr. Sapien for example, will be a source of Occult Lore open to you all. You may either visit him at the B.P.R.D. Safehouse in person or contact him on the comm we'll provide you all with. In the meantime, is there anything more we may answer for you?"

    @C.T. @Thuro The Assassin Potato @BarrenThin @TheSpringwoodSlasher @OrlandoBloomers @Schnee Corp Lawyer
     
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  11. "Excuse me, Mister Hellboy." Ichabod approached the larger man rather brazenly after that, standing tall with his hands clasped behind his back in a very militant posture. "If you want me to speak my mind, no, I do not trust you. I have never encountered a creature such as yourself that turned out to have the world's best interests at heart. That's not to say I'm not willing to give you a chance, however." The Englishman never broke eye contact. "In fact, I look forward to you maybe proving me wrong."

    "Trust is the only currency with any value, good sir, and I will not give it away for free."



    Ichabod paled. "Not a Knight of the Plague. The Horseman of Conquest."

    "No, nononono..."

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    "Then Conquest has returned. If he has... then disease and death with follow with him, and, no offense to you other gentleman, but that's not an issue you can just stomp on." Ichabod resumed pacing. "Pray to whatever gods you worship that I'm wrong, for the only way to stop this Horseman is to contain the disease. Something that it might be too late to do."

    "There is no mystery of Roanoke. At least, not anymore. They were the epicenter of Conquest's disease. When one of the children of the village died, she trapped it in time, preventing the disease from spreading and, thereby, Conquest from acting. When we cured the village of the disease, Conquest disappeared, as did Roanoke. Could this be a summoning ritual? Or even a sign of his return?" He seemed to be talking to himself with the questions.

    "Sister! Professor! These other theories; the turf war, the new player... We need to eliminate them. If it turns out to be one of them... good. That's better than Conquest's return."


    That appeared to make Ichabod brighten up again. "Is Abbie here?"

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  12. [​IMG]

    As Ian took his folder and peeked through his lips grew back in something of a grimace, though he didn't appear truly fazed by the murders. Too much death on his own hands for that, though it was usually much cleaner when he did it. He didn't move like the Ichabod had however, more he was rooted to the spot out of a cold fascination. A sort of appreciation for the technique, though not the waste that it had been.

    "These murders. I don't know the ritual, but whatever they were doing was large. Three from the mundane world, three from ours..." He used the word ours instead of theirs. Although he was a technical human, having never bonded with the Witchblade and becoming truly supernatural, he still considered himself part of the magical world. A more fitting place for him than this normal place of meaningless death and decay. "And one from both."


    Nottingham didn't comment on the bickering between the demon and the man, but he did glance up sharply at him when he started talking about the Horsemen. While they'd never been particularly interested in those myths, hearing that the actual bringers of the apocalypse were here and operating without Vorshlag Industries hearing a word about it was unsettling. He planned on speaking to the other man about it later, when he had a chance, a free moment.

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    But as his fingers trailed down on to the blade at his side, he couldn't help but feel anticipation at the thought of a fight. The chance to kill something, and release a little of his own darkness. But, he always won a fight by going in prepared, not swinging wildly and hoping for the best. "If we are not strong enough to kill whatever is inside, then does the thundering sound of cavalry arrive? Or do we pass to the next world with nothing more than a crying of a dead mother?"
     
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  13. "Believe me when I say that no conventional weapon with kill Conquest. Certain things will, of course, but they're specifically designed to do so." He shook his head. "Again I'll say, pray that I'm wrong."


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  14. "Apologies Mr. Crane, but while we were able to gain you, someone like your friend in her official capacity would draw more attention."
    "An astute observation Mr. Nottingham. Perhaps there is a method to our unknown enemies madness?"
    Silence followed these words and then thoughtfully, the Professor spoke.

    "In the absence of light...Darkness prevails. My friends, there is no denying that danger lurks and grows around us. Our enemies are unseen and unknown and most likely, more deaths will follow. But the only way to assure them a victory, is for good men and women to stand by...And do nothing. Which is no option at all, I assure you."

    As no other question seemed forthcoming, he then nodded and spoke.

    "For now, reconvene at the Shandor Safehouse. You all should be able to decide on a course of action from there."

    "May God be with you."

    The car provided looked like a regular Impala with blacked out windows. But the moment they entered, it was clear that it had been enchanted to provide much, much more room. Even Hellboy could enter without problems and while luxurious enough, there was also evidence that it was well protected. Runes of an unknown nature were etched minutely above the doors, the windows were bulletproof glass....And their driver? Well....The driver window that separated the passengers lowered as she looked them in the eye from her review mirror.

    "Hello. My name is Maiya and I will be your driver for the duration of your mission, in cooperation with the B.P.R.D. as my boss works with you to solve this case."

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  15. "Maiya." Kiritsugu greeted with a slight nod, flicking his cigarette to the ground and stubbing it out before entering the car. "We have a new safehouse, from the sound of it. Shandor. A next step." He leaned back in his seat, staring one by one at all the others. "I didn't get enough about any of you from the little information you gave and the general read I gleamed from your words and body language. So I'll ask again, consider it an out-loud dossier file. Names, strengths, weaknesses. We have enough unknown factors going into this mess without knowing what your allies are and are not capable of. Who wants to go first?"

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  16. [​IMG]

    Hellboy looked Ichabod over with an intense gaze that seemed like it was going to lead to something rather disastrous. Up until Hellboy eased the growing tension by gently slugging Ichabod in the shoulder and took another puff on his cigar.

    "Can't say I don't understand where you're coming from. All the creepy crawly monsters running around the place we call home? No doubt it's gonna put a few people on edge. Most people usually don't look twice if they get a good look at me and I'm on their side. Lookin forward to giving your opinion a complete 180 once all's said and done."
    "Been there, done that, hated it. With the second part at least. Ain't the vampire I had to really worry about. It was the goddess she served under who kind of had a thing against all of humanity, you know typical stuff. I reckon we'll be getting more than a few cuts and scrapes out of this."
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    "Welp, if we're doing a little show and tell, guess the big red guy will go first. Name's Hellboy, can punch things until they stop putting up a fight or moving. Whichever comes first I suppose. Also, never met a fire that could do more than be a mild pain in the ass." Hellboy's opinion in that regard got more and more solidified the longer he spent around his girlfriend, Liz when she got a bit angry. Reaching into his holster, he'd whip out his go to firearm.

    "This bad boy here's known as The Good Samaritan. Helps out a lot if punching isn't the answer. Which turns out to be a lot more often than I'd like to be honest. Weaknesses though, I guess it depends on who you ask. Some folks might say it's my temper, others might say it's me getting too cocky, honestly I think it's a lot more down to earth. Running into things that I can't beat with shooting or punching mean they're pretty big problems. What about you though, smiles? Professional looking guy like you's gotta have some kinks." He'd say gesturing to Kiritsugu.

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  17. [​IMG]

    Even with the mounting tension, Ichabod couldn't help but smile. The punch actually put him somewhat ease, and Hellboy's words only went on to solidify that more. Now, he still wasn't sure about the red man, but it certainly reassured him that he hadn't eaten a giant, stone fist at his blunt challenge. "I look forward to that, as well." Ichabod had no great stigma against the idea of a force of evil seeking to be good. The Horseman of Death himself was striving to regain his humanity.

    When Emiya spoke, Ichabod definitely noted a sort of... coldness. This was a job to him. Maybe there was more to it, but it didn't seem that way. Nottingham was different than anyone else there. Personal vendetta seemed to be at stake. Funnily enough, Ichabod found himself more worried by these two than what he presumed to be a demon.

    Ichabod nodded, then shortly followed. "As I said, my name is Ichabod Crane. I am the head of the Sleepy Hollow Historical Society, and a former professor of history at Oxford." He paused, considering revealing more about his past, but decided that, even in present company, the idea of him being from the eighteenth century would be a little hard to believe. "I am one of the Witnesses of the Apocalypse."

    After a moment, he pulled a pistol from its hipster under his coat. "Not as flashy as the 'Good Samaritan,' I'm afraid, but it gets the job done. I'd like to think I can do pretty well with this or a blade, being as I've fought the forces of Hell and done as well as any Regular could hope to, but I'm still only human. I doubt I could best anyone in this room, quite frankly."



    @C.T. @Thuro The Assassin Potato @Saint Guillotine @TheSpringwoodSlasher
     
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  18. [​IMG]

    "My name is Ian Nottingham, and the rest of my story doesn't matter. You will find out in time, or you won't." He leaned forward, leathered hands adorned with a single engraved ring clasped together as he spoke, shielding himself. Not from an attack, but from something else. "I am human but a cipher. I can be killed, but I have done more killing than dying. I am not as fast as you or as strong as the broken devil or as well learned as the Witness, but I was trained to never give up and never desist. Broken and put back together over and over. Like a puzzle written by the hand of fate."

    Cryptic riddles and half answers. This was how it was to work with the man. Did it come from a lack of self knowledge or too much of it? Ian couldn't be anymore sure than his companions.

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    "You wield knowledge. You'll outlive any of us in a war. I can kill a man with this..." His fingers trailed down to the sheathed broadsword that had formerly been tucked under his trenchcoat, now removed and sitting at his side due to the obvious struggle of sitting down with it. "...Or these..." He pulled open the folds of his coat open, revealing a pair of twin uzis hooked into holsters that sat against his sides. "...Or anything I can pick up. But while I can return a man to ashes and scatter them on the wind, you can destroy his entire world."
     
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  19. "Big, red. Self styled moniker of Hellboy. Strong and brutish. An oversized gun. Anger, cocky, confident. Good. We might have need of that, as long as it's controlled." He finished calmly, harsh stare making it clear random outbursts would not be taken lightly...before he relaxed, turning to the next.
    "A former professor. A man of knowledge and likely wisdom. Skilled with sidearms as well as blade. I hope your claim of fighting the forces of Hell itself proves accurate." Kiritsugu paused, looking from Ichabod to Hellboy. "Hellboy over here. Fought the forces of hell there." He pointed at the two, respectively. "Does this mean either of you has experience with the other? Established teamwork would be beneficial...a past as enemies, the opposite."

    "...Good." He replied simply with a smirk. "Rather poetic in fact. I care little for such romanticized views, but others find them attractive and draw strength from them. Whatever it takes. You actually remind me of one of the old poets' work. You'd probably like it. Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho', We are not now that strength which in old days, Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are; One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will, To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield." He turned back to Hellboy. "As for your earlier statement..."

    "You can say that." He remarked, lifting his briefcase lightly. "I come prepared."

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    "They call me the Magus Killer. My actions warranted that title because I am damn good at it. I know how a mage thinks...and more importantly, how a mage doesn't think. Honor in battle, fair duels to the death, idealized views of combat. Arrogance. Discounting of conventional weaponry. All tools of the trade. Contrary to what they believe, there is no honor in battle. A battlefield is hell itself. There's no hope to be had on one. There is nothing but unspeakable despair. Just a souless crime we call victory, paid for by the pain of the defeated. But humanity has never recognized this truth. And the reason is that, in every era, a dazzling hero has blinded the people with their legends, and kept them from seeing the evil of bloodshed they bring. True human nature has not advanced a step beyond the Stone Age."

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    "...Still. In light of that truth, I fight to change that. I strive to be a hero. Not like the ones of those legends, but a true one. Not to save everyone. Such a task is impossible. Saving as many as you can, however, is more feasible. I've stuck to my most basic rule: the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. One dies to save ten. Five die to save twenty. Six hundred die to save a million. A thousand die to save billions. If I have to carry all the evils of the world on my shoulders, on my conscience, so be it. So that the day may come with a miracle and no one will ever be forced to choose this path again. That's who I am. That's the kind of man you're working with."

    "As for my weapons: Calico M950. Submachine gun, laser sight, sound suppressed. Walther WA2000, super heavyweight, semi-automatic sniper rifle of the highest class and performance that is the pinnacle of the latest electronic techniques. It costs $12,000 due to only being one of the 154 units produced. It is a rifle with a compact size measuring a little over ninety centimeters in length with the bullpup structure of the gun barrel with a gas-operated magazine measuring at a length of sixty-five centimeters. It fires a .300 Winchester Magnum cartridge that has an effective range of up to one thousand meters. Various other firearms, explosives and other pragmatic convention weaponry mages refrain from using." He smirked slightly.

    "As for my own "Good Samaritan", I wield the Thompson Contender. Everything else can be bought and replaced, this can not. It represents me as a magus. It uses bullets infused with my origin, powdered from two of my ribs. 66 bullets in total, highly valued and can not be wasted. Let's just say they're especially dangerous to anyone who wields magic. Speaking of, I wield innate time control. I can forcefully speed up everything within me, giving me reaction and speeds far beyond human limits temporarily. I can also stagnate, reducing bodily functions to escape detection. Along with a few other tricks."

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    "Any questions?"
     
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  20. Well. That was... insightful. At least Nottingham wasn't an arrogant ass, creepy though he was. Ichabod simply nodded in answer.


    The Englishman shook his head. "No, I've never seen anything like Mister Hellboy." Despite Hellboy itself being a moniker, not a name, Ichabod felt it would be improper not to pay him some respect. "Unfortunately, few things I've fought can even be killed, save by special means. So all I can do is hold my own, usually. The Horsemen are entities I've had to do this with before."


    That... was a lot to take in, but Ichabod had no trouble grasping any of it. He did feel a little less crazy sharing, though. "... Forgive me. Even with people like our red comrade here, I felt like you might think me insane. In light of that torrent of information, though, my story feels almost mundane. I was born before the Revolutionary War. When I said I was a professor at Oxford? I meant nearly two hundred years ago. My military experience comes from my time as a British Regular, and, later, my time serving under General Washington."

    "Before you ask, no, I'm not nearly two hundred years old. I was sent to hunt a Hessian soldier. The Horseman of Death. We mortally wounded each other, and, thanks to my wife's witchcraft, I woke up in a cave, walked out, and nearly got hit by a car. The Horseman had been bound to me. As long as I was 'dead,' so was he. It would have been less jarring if I'd known she was a witch, granted."

    He adjusted his coat, then looked at Emiya's guns. "Mister Emiya, I would not recommend placing too much faith in your weapons if I'm even in the neighborhood of the threat we face. Shooting a Horseman is about as effective as poking a bear with a slightly sharp stick. You'll stop him in his tracks, yes, but you won't even hurt him a little."




    @C.T. @Thuro The Assassin Potato @Saint Guillotine @TheSpringwoodSlasher
     
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