D.A.P.P.E.R. Case 1; Of Kings and Legacies.

Status
Not open for further replies.
At the shout of "CONTACT!" everything became hectic in a hurry. Over sixteen decaying hounds bounded out seemingly from nowhere. Carl reached in and pulled out his revolver, but only one bullet in the six chambers would be any use. Oliver's stern voice helped him keep his head as he half ran, half was pushed, back to the car. Carl studied them as he did so. Some of them were gaunt, clearly decomposing, their muscle fibers exposed in areas and their fur matted with their own and others' blood. The eyes, those that were in their sockets, glared red at them all, and as the troops took position to defend, they snarled and barked viciously just like their live counterparts. It was very unnerving to watch.

But he couldn't help being curious how their bodies functioned. Ever since his accidental zombie escapade - what had brought him into D.A.P.P.E.R. in the first place - he had wondered what could make a body whose heart no longer beat, whose lungs no longer breathed, and whose muscles were denied of oxygen, move about so freely. His Fae Glasses answered part of that puzzle as each Crypt Hound had an uneven aura around it. The aura seemed concentrated around the most exposed wounds, with tendrils flowing inside. Carl suspected it actually worked the other way, and that the aura was evidence of whatever energy was inside the Hound, keeping it alive, escaping. He would love to study this energy more closely.

However, back at the situation at hand, Carl had to keep away from them. One of the hounds came bounding for him as he neared the Toad and, thinking fast, he pulled out his salt container and poured some on and in front of the monster. The Hound whined like a typical dog and backed away, but quickly resumed barking. Not a way to kill the mutt, just to hold it back until he got to safety.

He needed no encouragement from Oliver to get in the Toad after that, quickly shutting the door behind him as he watched through his Fae Glasses in its secure presence.
 
Damnit! He knew it was too easy, he just knew it! Now that he and his team were surrounded by at least a dozen of undead enraged dogs and with nowhere to escape, he had to admit that he felt a bit nervous. Yes, he was gendarmier in Viena when trouble was hitting the fan, and the shit back there was way worse than it was right now, since the rebels had guns and all that, but it was a long time ago and most of his courage is not as strong as it used to be back in the day. Besides, he was fighting zombie dogs, so there's also that.

Wilbur did exactly what Oliver said and, after kicking away a jumping hound with his arm (and miraclously not getting bit, but with the cost of getting his right winter coat sleeve scratched), he dashed to the van to take position behind the firing line. There, he took out his TT-33 and began shooting at any hound that dared to approach the firing line. This has soon proved to be a challenging task, because the hounds were insanely fast and they didn't allow Wilbur to take a proper aim at them. Nonetheless, he did manage to keep some of them away from the fight, but only for a brief time, because the hounds kept returning after a while.

"And this is a "normal" operation, you say?" Wilbur muttered audibly (but only to the squadmates that kept firing at the threat) while nearly missing a hound to the right, "Now I wonder how the "dangerous" situations would look like."
 
The howls of his youth, they were just the same as back then. Only this time it was a awfull crescendo of them, bouncing troughout the courtyard as snarling beasts bounded back and forth, weering out the line of fire as DAPPER exterminator squads did what they were best at, namely staying stonefaced as they shot salvos at the damned things. One of the dogs made a incredible leap from its position to the left of them, but before it got all the way one of them angled his shotgun towards it and blasted it back. The dog skidded across the ground, then slowly began to get up. Half of its chest missing, but the same red eyes still glowing. One did not easily kill a ReAnimated in general.

"Sturdy things!" Josef leveled his gun to his shoulder, squared his shoulders and took aim. A light squeeze of the trigger and BAP BAP BAP. Three bullets hit square in the face of the allready again charging dog and it crumpled and fell. He quickly burst another three into it before he was satisfied. But around him, the dogs still running around, charing and trying to isolate targets but med with a wall of led. Second squad had taken a position according to the orders of their Captain, and their dicipline held. They had felled four dogs between the lot of them. As the two researchers got to the Toad, Josef bolted around back to the drivers side, sitting up and turning the ignition. The engine roared alive.

"GET IN!"
 
Miyoki was suddenly tense as the multiple Crypt hounds popped out of the ground. She could almost hear one of her trainers jeering at her. Be careful what you wish for, and all that. Instead of surging forward or rushing away from the scene, she stepped between Josef and the nearest Crypt beast, keeping a direct body between the two. She lifted her Katar up in front of her as a guard, one hand still bearing the already-drawn bottle of holy water. She lobbed it up in the air and then sliced through the bottle with both blades: further enhancing the potency of the anointed steel blades. It thankfully had the added effect of splashing water in the direction of several of the Crypt fiends, causing them to pause. She spotted the most daring of the Hellhounds as it charged at Miyoki, clearly thinking that she would be an easy meal ticket. After all, what human ever stood a chance against ReAnimated up close?

Miyoki's attack was swift, and it was brutal. She waited for the creature to jump at her, before she brought her leg around in a swift kick that slammed into the beast's head and stomped it into the ground. Before the hell hound had a chance to do as much as whimper, she slammed a Katar into its eye socket and through its brain, killing the beast instantly. Looking up at the Crypt fiends, she noticed a few of them seemingly pause: confused by the very concept that a human might be able to kill a crypt beast up close. She smiled, before lowering her stance in case another charged at her of Josef.

It was at this point that the orders came in from the boss that the driver and she should back off. She knew that the orders were more for the benefit of others than her, so she started to back up while keeping her eyes on the remaining fifteen fiends as much as possible. The sound of gunfire alerted her that team two was in position, and also heard the engine of the Toad. She noticed others moving towards the vehicle, and she hoped she could cover them as best she could, but she had a lot to keep her eyes on, after all.

As she stood a few feet away from the door, she heard the sound of a crypt hound's howling. It had circled around the group, and had snuck around to attack the melee specialist. She might have been bested, if it hadn't howled. She flicked one of the Katar's in the jumping monster's direction, but instead of cutting through it, she cut through air: and launched several droplets of the holy water at the creature. Sizzling flesh indicated she'd connected, and the beast was temporarily blinded by pain. Not seeing her anymore, it couldn't correct its course as she sidestepped and moved the blade of her Katar in its leaping path.

She didn't have to do much work: its momentum did the majority of it, after all. The Hellhound was bisected from head-to-toe, and she seemed to stare down the other hounds, daring them to come at her: to attack those already inside the Toad. She was playing defensive, more than anything. She could hardly let her team get attacked while she dealt with a few of the more bold Crypt hounds, not when there were so many important units and lesser fighters. She could exterminate later: for now, she played Bodyguard. Standing vigil and waiting to be the last individual that stepped into the Toad.
 
With everyoe quickly piling on towards the car, something changed in the crypthounds red eyes. A sign of intelligence as whatever passed for brains recognized a pattern. Two of the dogs darted out in terrible speed towards the protective semi circle by the door. The charge was purely suicidal, but as they howled and charged trough the hail of bullets untill nothing remained, the remaining 7 ran for the car in a joint manouver. Two of them broke to the left, and threw themselve over Shawn who had foolishly disobeyed orders and was out of position. Teeth sank into his ankle and his lower left arm as they tried to wrestle him to the ground. Another rounded the car, doubled back and slammed itself head first onto the sidewindow with such force it made Josef recoil from it. Luckily, the reinforced glass held easily.

Another pair jumped up ontop of the Cars roof and tried to get a advantage point as they bounded down on the lone scientist with the sage. Luckily for the young man, as their weight toppled him, the sage crushed against the cold hard ground and puffed up in a cloud directly into the attacking dogs nostrils. They yelped and backed off. Giving the good doctor and everyone else time to get into the car. Josef waited for their dear punching exterminator to take another one out. Then he floored to the entrence were the protective formation immedietly linked up with the back of the car and another hail of bullets heralded the death of the last few dogs. The carnage was total. There was dogs or bits of dogs strew out over the blood soaked snow. And the notion that more nasty thing were potentially waiting for them inside was making Josefs stumache turn. One Operative stepped up and saluted to the Captain. His insignia showed he was from third Squad. They had arrived back from their position behind the house. "Reporting, 2 losses captain. One dead. One wounded. Corparal Jensen set off a trap when examining the back entrence. Spike right trough the skull. Laced with what we believe is ghoul bile Sir. Jennings got hit in the left shoulder by another spike. She needs medical attention before ghoul fever sets in." He paused. "Jensen were our medic Sir"
 
As the car screeched to a halt, the Scotsman quickly flew open his car door and bounded out. He put his hand onto the nearby tree, looking straight at the ground and threw up. He had never been in a combat situation before and the smell of death clung to the air almost as much as it was on him. He doubled over once more before wiping his mouth on his sleeve before regaining his composure. His anxiety was soon replaced by the fear that he knows inhabits this castle. He was content in not letting in the other members not know what they were after, least they become touched as him.

As he rejoined the group from his session of removing his breakfast, he over heard the man from squad three give his report to the Captain. He winced at the mention of a spike through the frontal lobe and instinctively grabbed for his limited supply of mandrake he kept on him. Before D.A.P.P.E.R, he had no knowledge of ghouls so it was certainly something he had looked into before this assignment. He stepped forward, vial in hand and said,

"Captain, if you don't mind I can treat the wound of any potential Ghoul Bile that might be present."
 
Will lowered down his pistol and watched the fight's aftermath, and his eyes were briefly filled with melancholy when he glanced over Shawn's lifeless body. He has seen this scene a lot of times before, when he was still a stupid kid, working for the gendarmiers. He still remembered that day, back in Vienna, when one of his friends was shot down in the head on-duty, and how his body fell next to Wilbur, with his sight staring into the void. He tried to wake him up, call for help, to do anything to save his friend's life, but it was useless; that day, Wilbur stared into the Death itself, and it stared back at him, awaiting for its next turn to strike.

Since then, Will has had become the man he is today, cold and unforgiving with anyone who dared to cross his path (but it didn't mean that he was emotionless, though...). But let's get back to the story. Wilbur, noting that he was lost in thoughts about his dark past, shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind and get focused on the situation at hand. He has overheard the conversation between the Captain and the member of the Third squad that was happening a few meter away from him.

"So there's a back entrance, huh?" he muttered to himself. "Maybe I should check it out. But on the other hand, I don't want to achieve the same fate as Corporal Jensen, so I need to be careful." Sure of his decision, Wilbur headed to the captain and said: "Captain, I think I should go and check out the back entrance of the mansion, since I feel that it might be useful to us later on. I'll be cautious, so don't worry about my well-being. "
 
"Reporting, 2 losses captain. One dead. One wounded. Corporal Jensen set off a trap when examining the back entrance. Spike right through the skull. Laced with what we believe is ghoul bile Sir. Jennings got hit in the left shoulder by another spike. She needs medical attention before ghoul fever sets in." He paused. "Jensen was our medic Sir"

"Copy that. Stay clear of the rear entrance. Resume perimeter watch." Oliver ordered.

The news of the fallen didn't seem to affect the hardened veteran. This was not his first time loosing people under his command. Though, the loss of Jensen was grim. Deaths on missions were expected in DAPPER. However, many times men and women were saved by medics. The loss of Corporal Jensen upped the chances of more people dying. The captain scanned the area to look for more damage. He saw that Shawn was seriously hurt. The loss of an exterminator could be just as bad as losing a medic. Oliver hoped that he wouldn't die.

Oliver went to the toad and saw that Carl was still inside. It was best to keep people like Carl moving. It was bad for them to have time to think about the present dangers. Death and carnage rarely fazed the seasoned detective. He really had grown numb to it all. He could never decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Oliver gestured for Carl to come out of the toad.

Carl did a swift double-take as he was ushered out of the Toad, as if to make absolutely sure that the Hounds were taken care of. As he looked at the destroyed bodies of the beasts in passing, he saw the bluish light that had reanimated them float up and dissipate in midair. Where that energy went he couldn't fathom, and wasn't given time to.

"Come on, I need you to check on Shawn. He got hurt pretty bad. Let's go and see if we can do anything for him." Oliver said solemnly.

Kneeling down to where Shawn was breathing heavily, Carl pressed his glasses a little further up his nose and inspected the damage. If it were just an ordinary dog bite, he would've said that some basic military first aid might save his life, but his Fae Glasses could see the light blue aura from the Hound's bite working at his skin and muscle. The flesh darkened, shriveled, and ultimately died wherever the light touched, passing over it like a tiny flame of death. The spreading seemed to be without any signs of slowing down. It wouldn't prove much beyond what he was already seeing, but Carl checked the man's pulse, finding it growing steadily fainter.

"I am so sorry," he said to Shawn. He took off the glasses, not wanting to see the contaminating aura rot him any further, and did his best to avoid looking him in the face. Sometimes he hated this job. He turned back to Oliver. "Sir, there's...there's nothing we can do. The bite's slowly deteriorating the flesh, and I can't imagine it feels pleasant. I'd estimate he'll be dead by morning."

Oliver sighed heavily. He knew what he needed to do. He met Carls sorrowful gaze, then knelt by the dying man. "Shawn. You are going to die. There is nothing we can do to save you. You will suffer through the night and into the morning. I am going to stop that from happening. I'm sorry this happened. I will make sure that your body is transported to your family so you can have a proper burial." Shawn groaned in pain and tears seemed to well up in his eyes. As he stood up he turned to Carl. "It's the humane thing to do. Carl, turn away." With that he took out his pistol and shot Shawn in the head, ending his life. It wasn't sadness that Oliver felt. It was anger and frustration. Shawn might have lived if he had been in position. He knew it wasn't his fault. The man had made a foolish mistake. The hunter clenched his jaw and walked with Carl back to where squad one and two were standing. He cleared his throat to grab their attention.

"Listen up everyone. Shawn died because he was a fool and did not obey my command. This is not a game. If you don't take this seriously, you will die. I expect you all to follow my lead. I can't guarantee I can keep you alive but I can guarantee that you will die if you don't listen. I will not tolerate any insubordination. If I catch any of you out of line, Crypt Hounds will be the least of your problems." Barked Oliver. He could see the fear in many of their eyes. There was a near tangible silence that followed. The captain said a quick prayer for Shawns family, though he was not sure if it would even help.

"Captain, if you don't mind I can treat the wound of any potential Ghoul Bile that might be present."

"Go check it out. If possible transport her here. If she is going to turn, I need to know. Corporal Dusty, escort Duncan to Jennings. " Commanded the Captain

"Captain, I think I should go and check out the back entrance of the mansion, since I feel that it might be useful to us later on. I'll be cautious, so don't worry about my well-being. "

"Join up with Duncan and Dusty. Do not, I repeat, do not go in the back door. Gather some intel and get back here. We need to get into the castle fast. I want you back in five" Said the hunter, urgency in his voice. He needed Wilber to know that they can no longer waste any time. But still, any extra information that could be gathered from the rear entrance could be valuable.

"MIyoki, bag up Shawn and put him in one the vans. Take his weapons and distribute them as you see fit. Once that's finished meet me at the door. We're going inside in five minutes."
 
Last edited by a moderator:
  • Love
Reactions: Quiet One
Duncan was no doctor and had no prior experience in medicine beside that one time he dropped a knife onto his foot and had to stitch that up. Of course, that thought running through his head was certainly not improving his confidence. The only thing giving him any confidence is that he knew what needed to be done. He pulled the vial from its place on his belt as he strode around the corner and toward the back entrance where the woman was injured. He hoped that it was just a scratch... please let it be something simple... If there was a higher power, then it must of heard his pleas.

He approached the woman laying on the ground, her blood leaving an indication of her existence on the snow. Duncan crouched down next to her, his eyes shifting focus between her wound and her eyes. Her injury was surprisingly not too severe, a deep gash to be sure but it wouldn't have killed her if it had been just a normal injury. His spectacles , however, revealed the whole truth of the matter. Through his glasses, he saw the blue radiance emitting its foreboding light. The spike had indeed been laced with what he assumed to be 'Ghoul Bile'.

He went to work without speaking a word to those that followed him here or to the woman. He worked better when he could hear his own thoughts, often debating himself in his next choice of action. This required no debate, only solid handiwork. He uncapped the vial and grabbed a wooden shaft small enough to hit inside. He quietly began to crush the leaves into a mushy pulp as the woman before him laid in silent agony. He had read what the Bile does to the body and he knew time was of the essence. Without warning the woman before hand he quickly applied the mush to the wound and quickly silenced the woman by placing his other hand over her mouth. The blue aura of the wound quickly faded as the mush was worked into the wound.

After all this was said and down, he finally said, "She'll be fine now; just need someone to dress the wound before anything else gets in there."
 
Josef had seen death before. But he still hadn't gotten any more used to it. And now he was staring at the dead body of Shawn. The man was torn badly in parts, and his skin and flesh was allready showing necrosis. That could have been any of them had they been foolish enough to let panic set in. His eyes swep over the courtyard, the dog corpses had allready begun to disolve into miasma and they deteriotated befor their eyes. Josef swolled back some bile and opened the doors to his van with some hesitation. Two of third squad had joined to help Miyuki in bagging the mans corpse. He let them handle that as he linked up with the Captain.

Squad two seemed fairly ok, they were still on edge but were settling back into routine. One was making sure the door could be open, others primed their weapons onto the the hard oaken surface, waiting for it to swing open. They were soon in position, a display of pure dicipline if nothing else. Josef checked his gun and took position aswell. The squad command bellowed to the captain. "Squad Two are ready. Sir!"
--
Meanwhile, the now saved Jenkins smile weakly at duncan. "Thank you Doc." She spoke as someone else dressed her wound. "Saved my life." She was a big woman, all muscle. From the sound of her voice she was from somewhere deep in the hearthlands of Texas. She got up to her feet and groaned from the pain in her shoulder. "I can move. But I won't be any use inside if you have to be quick. I'll be better guard the stiffs and stick to the cars." She told some of the other squad members. When Will appeared, she motioned towards the door. "Basic trigger in the foilage near the door, some gunpowder get triggered by a spark and wham, 7 seven spikes shot from just above the door." She explained. " The door itself was of heavy oak, and slanted slightly as to lead downwards towards a cellar. There was the smell of gunpowder about from the trap.
 
Miyoki had become more than used to the violence of working under D.A.P.P.E.R. Hell, it was quite likely that she had the earliest exposure to the monsters they fought against out of all the ground forces present. Not that it was exactly a title she had ever sought. If she had the choice, she would happily have never met the monsters that she fought, to this day.

But hell, you make do with what you can.

She flicks some of the blood and miasma from her Katar's blades. She sighs heavily as she listens in to the signs of the people who had been killed, or who were injured. The news that a person had died in team three, and that a member of team two and team one had been injured had her clenching her fingers into a balled up fist. How had the entire group been caught out like this? She had done her job flawlessly, and yet they had already lost one, possibly three.

She stepped out of the car to see Shawn being taken care of by Oliver. The fact that he had to be put down like some dog was sickening, and Miyoki felt a bubbling anger settle into her gut. It was 'humane' he said? There was nothing humane about this. It was convenience, not humanity that drove this action. Humane would have been offering Shawn a chance to at least fight against the virus. Sure, the chances were slim, but even a miniscule chance deserved pursuit.

But, Miyoki wasn't in charge here. She was doing her job, and Oliver was doing his. She didn't have the right to argue against that.

What Oliver barked afterwards was what really pissed Miyoki off. Oliver shifted the entire blame onto Shawn, and suddenly Miyoki saw red. Was this guy for real? Did he honestly not take any blame for this? Where the hell was the Hunter intel? Where were the fire support units? How the hell had so many members of D.A.P.P.E.R been allowed to walk into a mission zone so blind? She worked very hard to repress her urge to go and punch Oliver in the jaw. She dreaded having to work directly with Oliver, because he was walking a very thin line between 'protected by boss status' and 'boss status with a broken jaw.'

Oddly, she didn't mind being given the job of bagging up the dead Shawn; perhaps because she knew that hers would be a compassionate hand for the poor soul. She did her job quickly, taking the help of the third squad members and going about her work silently. As the bag was zipped up, she offered the dead Shawn a little prayer of apology in the hopes that he might reach the next cycle of existence, whatever it was.

Leaving the body with the squad three members, as well as the weapons, she moved over to the front door of the building. She didn't hide the anger in her body language, and it was unlikely that the detective skills of Oliver would miss the clenched fists or the gritted teeth of the last exterminator on team one. "Hopefully you'll do a better job of spotting danger down here than in the courtyard…sir."
 
  • Like
Reactions: Digi-Guy
"Got it... boss." Wilbur hesitated to say the word "boss". Who the hell this guy was to blame someone else for his own poor tactical skills? "Oh wait, right. He is an american. Of course he is "flawless" and never makes any mistakes! Hmph, flawless my..." he frowned while following Duncan to the back entrance of the mansion. Along the way, Wilbur nodded at Miyoki in an affirmative manner, since he also noticed the anger in her eyes. Unlike the rest of the team, Miyoki was one of the few Will could trust (although not completely) and respect.

When he and Duncan arrived where squad three was, he carefully approached the booby-trapped door and checked it thorougly. "Hmm, it seems that the spikes come from the upper frame, but what made them trigger?". He sniffed the air, and he could sense a faint smell of gunpowder. He tried to track the source of the scent, but before he could find anything, he has heard a deep female voice behind him. He looked back, and saw that the woman Duncan was treating earlier (Sargeant Jenkins, if he remembered correctly), was standing up as if nothing has happened to her.

"Basic trigger in the foilage near the door, some gunpowder get triggered by a spark and wham, seven spikes shot from just above the door. The door itself was of heavy oak, and slanted slightly as to lead downwards towards a cellar." she said with her unusually deep voice.

"Thanks for pointing that out" Will said while checking the nearby bush to indeed see a trigger hidden in there. "That explains the source of the smell..." suddenly a thought crossed his mind. "Duncan, I would be very grateful if you checked the door for any magical activity. Just in case." then he turned to face Jenkins again. "Did you spot any other traps lying around here?"
 
Last edited by a moderator:
"Squad Two are ready. Sir!"

"Copy that."

"Hopefully you'll do a better job of spotting danger down here than in the courtyard…sir."

Oliver did not miss her tone or her body language. She was mad at him. His first thoughts were that of anger. How could he have known about the hounds? They came up from the earth, there was no spotting that. He was doing his best. Losses happened. Oliver did not like it any more than she did. Then Oliver's thoughts quickly changed. People had died. Good people. However Oliver couldn't allow that to affect him. Not now. He needed to be in control of his emotions. If he let himself fall into grief over the loss of his subordinates, what hope and strength could he offer his team? It wasn't that he didn't care. He cared more than people knew. It just wasn't something he could let bring him or his team down. No matter what happened, he had to keep his soldiers on task. Lastly the captain allowed for some transparency. At the end of this mission, when he had to give the report, the death count was on his head. Oliver made eye contact with Miyoki. She was a strong woman both in body and mind. She was an independent thinker. She was able to make sound and calculated choices. Oliver always appreciated that in people. After a few moments of silence between them, he spoke to her.

"As do I…..I'm doing my best to keep every one point here. Shawn isolated himself from help, so he died. However, his death is still on me. I have to live with that. By all accounts you are an honest woman. I value that. Miyoki, I wont always make the perfect call, but I am going to do my best to spot danger and keep as many alive as I can." The captain quietly confessed to Miyoki. He said it quietly enough that only Miyoki would hear it. Being that transparent with her was hard for the hunter. Most people needed strength and determination to keep them going forward. And that was easy for the seasoned veteran to do. However, Miyoki was not most people. She made him question himself, question his skills as a leader. Oliver needed more people like her in his life. Oliver felt like he had to be transparent with her, despite his desire to bottle up. Perhaps he needed to change how he led. Oliver stopped his train of thought there. Now was not the time for that. They needed to move forward. The captain pulled out his radio and spoke into it.

"I need everyone in position ASAP. Miyoki and I will take point. Duncan and Carl stay close to squad two when we go in. Wilber, take up the rear with Josef and Private Dusty ."
 
"Roger that Captain: Team three will secure and move to bring up the rear." The leader of Team Three spoke, he was a tall grizzly looking man in his early 40's. From the sound of his voice he was American. He was known as Jerimiah Lawson aka Grizzly. He waited for the Liason to finish his search before motioning for him to fall in. "We are needed elsewhere, captains orders."

--


Surveying the landscape around you, one could pick up on some irregularities. The burrows were all shallow, as if the dogs hand been dug down hastely and by hand. Where each dog had sprung up from was the hastely covered tracks of a pair of feet. Only one pair of feet aswell, pointing to one perpetrator.

Mansion Theme


--Phase TWO, Entering the Mansion--
Team two were ready. As soon as the door opened up for Miyoki and Oliver, they would be met with a smell of abosulete sterility. The inside of the house was in white. Everywhere there were the shine of white marble, polished to perfection. But the chock came from the decor. The entirety of the lobby was decorated with human bones. Bleached and carved to macabre perfection, there were a large staircase were the railing where carefully shattered and rearranged tibia and shoulder bones. They made a intricate and terrible deliberate pattern, the fact that you could only achieve this with bones after they had been removed from a body provided little relief. Other things, like the frames for the gorgeous early pieces of contemporary art were framed by bones of the smaller variety..

From the roof hung a chandelier made of spines and skulls, most of them to small to be from full grown men. The spines had been decorated by silver and golden thread that been chiseled into the white surface. Several of the others in the squad seemed more the na little spooked. One of them, took out his cross and kissed it. "It reminds me of a place in Mexico, Captain. We called it Casa Del Muerte." He cluthed his M4 hard as he spoke. "House of death." The man in question was named Hugo Alvarés, Mexican army corporal and one of DAPPERs many exterminators." Some crazy cult had kidnapped people under the Revulotion. Turned their mansion into..something" He stopped to stare for a brief second at a perfectly innocent looking coffee table, supported by a skeletal arms and hands at each corner. "Something like this. Only they weren't as good craftsmen.." He said with a look of complete dread on his face. As Josef entered, his eyes turned mainly towards the courtyard, his eyes immediately caught sight of a particular piece of decoration. A wheel of bones had been fastened over one of the doors. His eyes grew wide.

"This entire room, It is Death itself." He spoke. He must have wanted to achieve immortality..." He swallowed hard as he saw more signs all over. There where inscriptions in the bone, in a multitude of languages ,both dead and live ones. Then his eyes fell upon a skull that looked strange. He leant over and almost immediately stepped back. "Damphir." He said and pointed to the skulls smaller but still prominent teeth. Like a vampire, only less violent and more docile, the Damphir had always existed in Roma myth. The breed of a Vampire and a Human. Fully possible, but far less spectacular a creature then popular myth would have believed. They were short lived, consumed by their own dual nature. They were however, rare and perfect to represent both death and life in rituals.

"This is insane..." Josef mumbled to himself.

--
 
As Carl entered, having been positioned at around the rear of the party, the apprehension and unease he had felt after the attack by the hounds only grew as he saw what they were guarding. The skeleton work was so disturbing he momentarily took off his glasses so that the sharp relief that brought out the gruesome, artistic detail was obscured and made blurry, which was only a temporary relief as he had to put them back on eventually.

His Fae Glasses weren't helping. While to everyone else this was merely disturbing and a little frightening, through his eyes it became downright haunting. Barely substantial ribbons crisscrossed in the air, linking bones to one another, the bones that rightfully belonged together. The foyer floor, he saw, was made from interlocked hand bones. He recognized metacarpals and digits, and through his glasses they seemed to be reaching up with ghostly auras and trying to grab at something, anything. There was an abundant restlessness here.

"This is insane..."

"Yes it's insane," Carl replied. He was perhaps too loud and many of the others jumped. "It's insane and it's horrifying, and the worst part of it all..." he stopped and turned to Josef, "you can't even see."

He pulled out a blank tape recorder and pressed the button. He held up his hand for everyone to be quiet while the tape ran, absorbing the silence. He did this for half a minute before stopping the recording and hitting rewind. Wanting to put off listening to what he was sure he wouldn't like, he pulled out his vial and gave it a good shake. The pink was definitely more visible, but it only faded when he pointed it at the bones on display. If there was anything valuable or dangerous that would make sense. No one would leave it out in the open.

"The spirits - souls, essences, whatever - of these people still inhabit their bones, Oliver," Carl said. He sounded about as grave and troubled by this notion as he looked. "They're floating all over our heads, connected to their bones. This...shouldn't happen, and it bothers me. I don't like seeing them. It's worse than just watching their remains. Heaven knows what we'll hear."

He pressed the play button and out of it erupted moans that could only be described as ghostly. They were sad and long and echoed with suffering. He shivered where he stood until he couldn't handle hearing it anymore. There were words there, too, but he didn't care to listen hard enough to them. "And that's still not what I picked up earlier outside."
 
Miyoki watched the strange figure of Oliver, and listened to the quiet confession of the captain. She was still seething in anger at first, but as the reality that he was as out of his depth as she was in this situation set in, she felt herself lighten up. She let him finish speaking before she nodded to the man and ejected one of the Katar's blades, before patting him on the shoulder with the de-clawed weapon. "I don't expect perfection, Captain. No one can ask that of you. I ask that you respect the lives we may lose and I ask that you don't bear the burden alone." Miyoki offered a small smile to the man, before pushing the blade of her Katar back into place, hearing the satisfying 'click' of the locking mechanism.

"Let us get through this mission without any more deaths then, Captain. I will be honoured to have an honest man at my back." She turns to walk into the mansion, not letting any more words sway out of her. She had already said enough: risked charges of insubordination and risked splitting the team apart before the mission had even begun.

Inside the mansion, Miyoki was met by the unsettling sight of the bone-white décor. Being at the lead of the group had left her unprepared for the sight, and she felt a sudden revulsion as soon as she stepped into the space. It took a moment of concentration to repress the disgust crawling up her skin, and she knew something was not right. She had met death, and she had watched it unfurl in front of her very eyes. She had observed her parents die, and it had not troubled her. This room, full of mere bone, should not disturb her so.

Soon enough though, the revulsion was explained. The spirits of the dead lingered in the room, unable to detach from their bodies and begin the path to reincarnation. Her fists clenched hard at the explanation, and suddenly the angry fire from before returned. She was angry at the man who previously owned this mansion, and angry at D.A.P.P.E.R for not knowing of this…travesty earlier.

But what's more, she was angry at herself. She was useless here. She couldn't battle this tragic fate, and she couldn't right this foul misdeed. She was forced to accept that it had happened, and would likely need a serious degree of magic to fix it. She turned to the group, hiding as much of the annoyance as she could, so as to pretend to be unaffected. "There is little we can do here, except report to mission control. We should move on a.s.a.p."

In the meantime, she reached into a pouch at her hip, pulling out a second vial of holy water and applying it to the blades of her Katar. It seemed poignant to be prepared for more undead, and further improving the efficiency of the anointed steel blades was about the only distraction she had.
 
"Let us get through this mission without any more deaths then, Captain. I will be honored to have an honest man at my back."

Oliver nodded and smiled in appreciation. Myoki had an optimism that he hadn't had in a long time. Oliver kept his face expressionless, though his thoughts plagued him. Too many time people had died under his command. It wasn't that Oliver was an incapable leader, but the job was just so dangerous. Oliver has traded hope for realism a long time ago. But now, he could feel hope trying to come back into his heart, and that truly scared him.

Very few times in Oliver's career had he ever been shocked or taken aback by something he saw. He had seen brutal murders, the dead feasting on humans, and even something's he still couldn't quite explain. But sheer number of bones indicated that a massive amount of people had died. Judging by the shine and gleam of the bones, most of them were not taken from graves. People were killed and their bones were taken and glazed over with some kind of preservative. Humans did this. Not ghouls or spirits, but humans. The level of intelligence and artistic skills it took do all this was high. There was no way one man could do all this alone either. It appeared as if the architect was trying to please death itself. The Count….was not the man everyone thought he was. There was no way this happened after his death. This was how the count lived. Oliver had long suspected the count was more devious then people knew. The detective had even wondered if he might have cultish ties. Looking around the room, it now seemed certain. Whatever the ties were, it was most likely because the Count was trying to obtain some artifact from them.

Oliver looked over some of the paintings. Some were brutal and graphic. Others were more abstract, with some hidden cultish symbols. Oliver recognized most of them. The captain had encountered many cults in his time as in the Chicago PD. Many of the paintings resembled ones he had seen before and more than a few were ones he had seen in books he had studied. A lot of them he had seen in his case with The Umbrosis cult, a dark group of fanatics who reveled in death and darkness. Oliver walked over to a window and glanced where the dogs had come up. They looked to be hastily buried. Oliver cursed himself for not taking note of that earlier. This only solidified his suspicions. They were not to first arrive here. Either it was the Counts cult or another cult who had ties with him, was there in the castle like house. They were not alone. Not only did they have nether worldly creatures and traps to deal with, now it seemed there would be some psychotic cultists too.

"The spirits - souls, essences, whatever - of these people still inhabit their bones, Oliver," Carl said. He sounded about as grave and troubled by this notion as he looked. "They're floating all over our heads, connected to their bones. This...shouldn't happen, and it bothers me. I don't like seeing them. It's worse than just watching their remains. Heaven knows what we'll hear

"I imagine that was intentional. Do you suspect any kind of necrotic powers that were imbued in the bones to keep the spirits tethered? Perhaps by a cult?" asked Oliver.

"No one goes off alone. It seems more than likely that we have cultists here. We also don't know if there are any more traps lying around. Duncan, are you picking anything up over there? Wilbur, you seem adept at recognizing traps. Look around for any. Check doors especially. Private Dusty will accompany you. Once Wilbur clears the doors, we fan out and search this place top to bottom." Said the veteran just loud enough for everyone to hear.
 
The people spread out trough the macabre room at their captains orders. There guns at the ready, sweeping every inch of the massive lobby and its ghastly decorations. One by one their voice called out. "Clear!" As they finished their sweeps. Wilbur moved to the next door, sitting his hunches he felt around the sides of the door, around the edges of it. His fingers moved with practiced care and the gentlest of touches. He stopped and frowned as he felt a small irregularity. Upon a closer inspection it was a sofisticated trigger mechanism. He pulled his hand away and stood back up. He turned to the others with a face of concentration.

"Do we have anything we can clear this door with. There is a hidden mechanism here, I think its a trap." He said and stepped away from the door. A tall and wirey black man, with the heaviest afrikaan dialect josef had ever heard stepped up. He recognized him as Oto, who he suspected had taken the job to get away from the Apartheid state. Josef didn't blame him, he felt a sort of kinship with the marganilized and discriminated regardless of color. The two of them took position at each side of the door. Guns held to their chest, ready to spit led into the other room if need be.

"Clear" The little charge pops the lock and the trap goes of. Spike like the one outside, shoots out from the side of the now open door. Set around a average persons heigh headwise. Josef peers around inside. "There is corridor here. It's free of bones though. Looks clear." Just as he said that, strange scraping sound was heard then a guttural screach that made everything in the house clatter.

"Did... Did the air just grow cold." Oto spoke in whisper. As he said that, the scream came again. Louder. Closer. The temprature dropped another degree celcius. Suddenly, every lamp in he building and every electrical device indoors flickered to life, blinked, flashed brightly and then died. Darkness enveloped the room as did the silence. Nobody dared move.

Then, the lights turned back on again. The temprature stayed just as cold however.
 
Diplomatic Liaison Beatrix Votaw clenched her jaw, still tense from the lights going off. Her breaths came in wisps of air from the shivering cold, and it reminded her of the cigarette she desperately wanted. The gun in her hands was slowly getting cooler, the cross necklace against her collarbone doing the same. Beatrix's survival instincts were screaming at her to run out of the house, but she ignored them. She'd been doing that for two years now, anyways.

Generally speaking, though, it's not good to be dead.

The silence was deafening as people glanced around at one another, all tense and highly aware of the lack of orders they were receiving since the events occurred. Beatrix's attention remained on the corridor. The scream that came from it had rattled her, although she had a feeling that there was a lot of magic in the seemingly empty hall. It frustrated her to no end that she didn't have any fae glass handy. The tool would be extremely helpful in easing her curiosity.

Nobody was moving. Beatrix swallowed, looking around to pick out some of the researchers in the group. When she spoke, she addressed the majority of the operatives in the mansion.

"Has the source of the paranormal activity been defined?" Her voice was strong, steady, and professional. Not that she was great at remaining confident, of course- she just loved pretending.
 
When the lights went out, Oliver immediately went into a defensive crouch and readied his pistol. He listened intently for any sign of attack. The shrill scream verified his suspicions. They were dealing with a spirit. When the lights came back on and the screaming stopped, the ex-detective had already pulled out one of his sawed offs and loaded in rock salt rounds. Oliver had taken out his sacred cross necklace out from inside his shirt and let it hang from his neck. Next he pulled out his EMF detector flipped it on. The readings were high, higher than when they first walked in. Whatever was in there was getting closer to them, and was causing the temperature to drop. Oliver put his reader back into his jacket then put on his fey glass goggles. Typically the captain didn't like to wear them. It was a bit overwhelming. But in the moment, he needed to gather as much information as possible. The myriad of colors of the spirits tethered to the bones was almost too much for him. He ignored it as best he could and looked around to see if he could see the evil spirit. There was nothing there, but that didn't comfort him at all. He slipped off the goggles and then turned to his team as one of his liaisons asked a question.

"Has the source of the paranormal activity been defined?"

"It's a spirit, Liaison Votaw. My bet is a wraith. Every one, switch to anti-ghost round and ready your lights. Keep your holy relics and other means of defense out as well. Josef, Miyoki and I will take point. Liaisons and scientists will be guarded by team two in the middle. Team three will be taking up the rear, be sure watch our backs. We need to find the wraiths anchor and destroy it. We should be able to use fey glass to track down the source. Should the wraith drain our radio batteries and get separated, stick to the whistle code. Let's move out." Ordered the veteran captain.

The whistle code consisted of three calls. Three sharp whistles meant they needed back up. Two whistles meant they engaged the enemy. One long whistle was a call for a response. It wasn't as good as radio communication, but the system had saved lives before when radios went down. In each squad there were at least two people who could whistle loud enough.
Oliver led the group down the corridor. The temperature was dropping. Things were getting dangerous. Oliver kept slipping his goggles on and off, trying to track the wraith. As long as he kept vigilant, it would be possible for him to either locate the anchor or spot the evil spirit. Oliver had made sure that someone in team three had fey glass and was watching their backs. The hunter was no scientist. He could not tell you what everything was when viewing through fey glass but he could follow a trail. When his fey goggles were on, he could pick up a faint trail. Whether it was the wraith or some cursed artifact he could not tell yet. At least there was no overwhelming amount of spirits like there was in the bone room.
 
Status
Not open for further replies.
Top Bottom
Back