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High Fantasy Modern Storyhour - The Long Road (updated December 7)
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<blockquote data-quote="RangerWickett" data-source="post: 2720440" data-attributes="member: 63"><p><em>Halloween</em></p><p> </p><p></p><p>"Is it dangerous?" John asks.</p><p></p><p>Scarpedin follows up with, "Should I kill it?"</p><p></p><p>Balthazaar steps to the front of the group and gestures for the rest to keep back. He raises a defiant eye to the faceless creature.</p><p></p><p>"We want none of your tricks, fey. Step aside if you know what's good for you."</p><p></p><p><em>"I know many things."</em> </p><p></p><p>Its right hand eerily rotates, independent of the rest of its arm, from palm up to palm down. It points to John. </p><p></p><p><em>"The message is for you,"</em> it says, <em>"but you have refused it."</em></p><p></p><p>"What is it?" Nathan asks. "We can't very well pay for something if we don't know what it is."</p><p></p><p>Balthazaar huffs. "That's what it wants. It's a Secret-Keeper."</p><p></p><p>The fey cringes as Balthazaar names it. Despite being faceless, it looks almost chagrined. It shakes its head to Nathan and Scarpedin. The hood sways, and perhaps light hits something within its shadows, but none of them can see what it was.</p><p></p><p>Belladonna takes a cautious step behind Terry. "Should I start reciting Latin prayers? I hear the fey don't like that."</p><p></p><p>"Only in England," Balthazaar says, "where we hate the Catholics. Fey in New Orleans would probably give you a sermon. But this creature is not from here. Where are you from, fey?"</p><p></p><p>It bends at the waist in a strange bow, its lower robes actually floating higher off the ground. Hesitant, it withdraws its hand and tucks the lantern into its robes, then twists to gaze eyelessly at Terry and Robert.</p><p></p><p>"Balthazaar?" Terry says, his voice cracking.</p><p></p><p>"Ask it a question. Every fey has something that is anathema to it. This one peddles secrets and abhors questions."</p><p></p><p>"Alright," Terry says. "Um . . . how did you know to find us?"</p><p></p><p>Everyone turns to Robert, who looks like he's freaking out. "Why should I ask it a question? I don't understand what the-"</p><p></p><p>Then suddenly, while their gazes were turned away, the Secret-Keeper vanishes. After a shiver of concern passes through the group, Robert relaxes visibly. The cloud overhead passes, and they look around for signs of the fey.</p><p></p><p>John shakes his head. "Why can't I help think that we just screwed up?"</p><p></p><p>There is relatively little discussion as Balthazaar leads them on to the Bureau office. Fleur Square is eerily empty, a black blight, a muddy square patch of dirt surrounded by an iron fence here on Gaia, where the St. Louis cathedral dominates Jackson Square on Terra. Humans linger around it, but the magical races seem warded off by the iron.</p><p></p><p>"Balthazaar, Terry," Scarpedin asks, "tell me what it is with fey and iron. They seem to have some sort of aversion to heavy metals. Do you think we should get some titanium? Tungsten?"</p><p></p><p>"Ah, probably not," Terry says.</p><p></p><p>"Quiet," Balthazaar says. "We're being followed."</p><p></p><p>"Oh, right," Robert says. "Because the best thing to do when people are following you is to suddenly get quiet and nervous. That'll never tip them off. Seriously, you do this for a living?"</p><p></p><p>John laughs. "He's right, though. They backed off when the fey showed up, but there are two guys skirting the edge of the square, watching us. Don't look, Terry."</p><p></p><p>"Sorry," Terry says. "I'll act casual."</p><p></p><p>He is not good at acting casual.</p><p></p><p>"Wait a minute," Nathan says. "Who are these guys? How come people already want to kill us over 'ere?"</p><p></p><p>Balthazaar says nothing.</p><p></p><p>John says, "They want to kill Balthazaar, not us."</p><p></p><p>Robert sucks his teeth and winces. "Best news I've heard all day."</p><p></p><p>The building that houses the Bureau office is the same on Gaia as on Terra -- a bar on the outside, with offices within -- but here it's abandoned. Balthazaar checks the door with some sort of amulet to see if it's warded, and then he opens it. The group presses past him, slipping inside the darkened bar from the relative brightness of Decatur Street. A few passers-by watch them for a moment, then hurry away, not wanting to get involved in Bureau business.</p><p></p><p>Robert looks for a light switch, but finds nothing. He pulls a window curtain open, but the window itself is painted black.</p><p></p><p>Balthazaar lights an electric lamp and holds it up. There are candle mounts on the walls, unlit hanging oil lanterns scattered around the room, and heavy curtains over the blackened windows. The others turn on flashlights, but some of the lights don't work on the first attempt. Terry comments that he feels like he's in a horror movie.</p><p></p><p>Balthazaar shushes him, then points past the bar to the dark passage to the next room. Shadows cling physically to the walls of the room despite their flashlights, and there is definite magic about.</p><p></p><p>"The stairs are in the next room," Balthazaar says. "Keep close. John, keep an eye on the front door."</p><p></p><p>They take five steps inward, and are just passing a table with the chairs on top of it, when Balthazaar casually reaches up and catches the vampire that was leaping at him. No one else had even spotted it, but before it can even swipe at him, Balthazaar swings the creature to the floor and plants a foot on its chest, then draws a wooden stake and drives it into the vampire's heart. The undead screams and flails, lashing up with its hand, clawing Balthazaar on his cheek before falling still.</p><p></p><p>"Is that a real vampire?" Robert says. "Sh*t, you just killed a man."</p><p></p><p>"No." Balthazaar shakes his head. "This is just spawn. Undead, but a thrall to a true vampire."</p><p></p><p>"Are there any more?" John asks.</p><p></p><p>"Uh," Terry says, nervous, "I sense <em>something</em>."</p><p></p><p>Belladonna holds a cross and vials of holy water, looking around nervously. Nathan has a shotgun and flashlight and is sweeping the room methodically. John grabs the supersoaker full of holy water from Terry and quickly strafes one wall with a thin stream. Halfway through his shot, there is a sizzle and a hiss. The shadows on the walls peel away and another vampire spawn scrambles out of the path of the holy water. John sprays again, but the spawn leaps into the air and lands on the ceiling. It hisses at them and vanishes.</p><p></p><p>They all look around, but lose sight of it in the magical shadows.</p><p></p><p>"Screw this," Robert says. "Terry, can't you do something?"</p><p></p><p>"Light," Terry says.</p><p></p><p>He concentrates and whispers in Gaelic, and flames flicker to life in the candles and lanterns around the room, and the windows shatter, letting in light from outside. The magical shadows are burned away like webs, and the entire bar lights up like an old fashioned feast hall. A pair of vampire spawn cling the ceiling, one lurks behind the bar with a meathook, and in the next room are a trio of spawn, standing guard in front of a pale man dressed in frilly black.</p><p></p><p>"I was wondering when the Bureau would get its sh*t together and send someone," the vampire says. He glances to his spawn, then nods in the group's direction. "Tear them apart, but leave Balthazaar alive."</p><p></p><p>The vampire spawn begin to close in, reaching out hungrily with claws, blades, or clubs. The group is evenly matched in numbers, and they are surrounded.</p><p></p><p>Then the door from the street opens, and two more vampires come in, carrying pistols.</p><p></p><p>Scarpedin smiles. "Damn. It feels like home."</p><p></p><p style="text-align: center">* * *</p><p></p><p>Outside the bar that is the front for the Bureau office, a few passers-by watch through shattered glass as gunshots ring out, a shotgun blasts through the rotting flesh of vampire spawn, holy water is hurled and sprayed, and a crazed man with a longsword hacks limbs from the undead, even though he knows it won't kill them.</p><p></p><p>Sounds of the fight draw a crowd, waiting anxiously as screams ring out. Heavy objects thump wetly to the ground. Wood snaps and pierces with deep crunches through bone. Glasses shatter. Creatures groan. A woman calls for help, and several gunshots and ancient arcane words shout out an answer.</p><p></p><p>The door to the bar is flung open and a one-armed vampire scrambles out in panic. He turns for one glance back, and a hurled wooden stake drives through his throat. Before the vampire even hits the ground, a shotgun shears away his face, holy water vials crack against his chest, and an oil lamp is tossed and shatters onto the walking corpse. The vampire tries to scream, but with the stake in its throat it can only gurgles as its black blood is consumed by the fire.</p><p></p><p>The bar is quiet, and only intermittent sounds come out, of people making sure their enemies stay down. The crowd watches as the vampire turns to ash, then wait for a moment longer, still uncertain.</p><p></p><p>Balthazaar strides out of the bar, his face bleeding, ash coating his hands. He almost smiles as he sweeps a look across the crowd.</p><p></p><p>"There's nothing to see here," he says with finality.</p><p></p><p>The crowd backs away, and quickly finds something else to do.</p><p></p><p>This is what the Bureau is to the people of Gaia. Frightfully efficient, brutally mysterious. For the past two weeks, the Bureau has been all but absent, and the gangs of thuggish undead had begun to gain power. But now the word will spread. The Bureau is back in control.</p><p></p><p>Balthazaar watches the crowd disperse, a trace of a smug smile on his bleeding face.</p><p></p><p>"Excuse me, Shawshank Redemption," Robert says. "Could you get back in here? Or did you forget we're here to save you guys' butts?"</p><p></p><p>Glowering, Balthazaar turns back into the bar and closes the door behind him. It's probably for the best that the common folk of Gaia do not know exactly how the Bureau deals with its enemies. The truth can be embarrassing.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="RangerWickett, post: 2720440, member: 63"] [i]Halloween[/i] "Is it dangerous?" John asks. Scarpedin follows up with, "Should I kill it?" Balthazaar steps to the front of the group and gestures for the rest to keep back. He raises a defiant eye to the faceless creature. "We want none of your tricks, fey. Step aside if you know what's good for you." [i]"I know many things."[/i] Its right hand eerily rotates, independent of the rest of its arm, from palm up to palm down. It points to John. [i]"The message is for you,"[/i] it says, [i]"but you have refused it."[/i] "What is it?" Nathan asks. "We can't very well pay for something if we don't know what it is." Balthazaar huffs. "That's what it wants. It's a Secret-Keeper." The fey cringes as Balthazaar names it. Despite being faceless, it looks almost chagrined. It shakes its head to Nathan and Scarpedin. The hood sways, and perhaps light hits something within its shadows, but none of them can see what it was. Belladonna takes a cautious step behind Terry. "Should I start reciting Latin prayers? I hear the fey don't like that." "Only in England," Balthazaar says, "where we hate the Catholics. Fey in New Orleans would probably give you a sermon. But this creature is not from here. Where are you from, fey?" It bends at the waist in a strange bow, its lower robes actually floating higher off the ground. Hesitant, it withdraws its hand and tucks the lantern into its robes, then twists to gaze eyelessly at Terry and Robert. "Balthazaar?" Terry says, his voice cracking. "Ask it a question. Every fey has something that is anathema to it. This one peddles secrets and abhors questions." "Alright," Terry says. "Um . . . how did you know to find us?" Everyone turns to Robert, who looks like he's freaking out. "Why should I ask it a question? I don't understand what the-" Then suddenly, while their gazes were turned away, the Secret-Keeper vanishes. After a shiver of concern passes through the group, Robert relaxes visibly. The cloud overhead passes, and they look around for signs of the fey. John shakes his head. "Why can't I help think that we just screwed up?" There is relatively little discussion as Balthazaar leads them on to the Bureau office. Fleur Square is eerily empty, a black blight, a muddy square patch of dirt surrounded by an iron fence here on Gaia, where the St. Louis cathedral dominates Jackson Square on Terra. Humans linger around it, but the magical races seem warded off by the iron. "Balthazaar, Terry," Scarpedin asks, "tell me what it is with fey and iron. They seem to have some sort of aversion to heavy metals. Do you think we should get some titanium? Tungsten?" "Ah, probably not," Terry says. "Quiet," Balthazaar says. "We're being followed." "Oh, right," Robert says. "Because the best thing to do when people are following you is to suddenly get quiet and nervous. That'll never tip them off. Seriously, you do this for a living?" John laughs. "He's right, though. They backed off when the fey showed up, but there are two guys skirting the edge of the square, watching us. Don't look, Terry." "Sorry," Terry says. "I'll act casual." He is not good at acting casual. "Wait a minute," Nathan says. "Who are these guys? How come people already want to kill us over 'ere?" Balthazaar says nothing. John says, "They want to kill Balthazaar, not us." Robert sucks his teeth and winces. "Best news I've heard all day." The building that houses the Bureau office is the same on Gaia as on Terra -- a bar on the outside, with offices within -- but here it's abandoned. Balthazaar checks the door with some sort of amulet to see if it's warded, and then he opens it. The group presses past him, slipping inside the darkened bar from the relative brightness of Decatur Street. A few passers-by watch them for a moment, then hurry away, not wanting to get involved in Bureau business. Robert looks for a light switch, but finds nothing. He pulls a window curtain open, but the window itself is painted black. Balthazaar lights an electric lamp and holds it up. There are candle mounts on the walls, unlit hanging oil lanterns scattered around the room, and heavy curtains over the blackened windows. The others turn on flashlights, but some of the lights don't work on the first attempt. Terry comments that he feels like he's in a horror movie. Balthazaar shushes him, then points past the bar to the dark passage to the next room. Shadows cling physically to the walls of the room despite their flashlights, and there is definite magic about. "The stairs are in the next room," Balthazaar says. "Keep close. John, keep an eye on the front door." They take five steps inward, and are just passing a table with the chairs on top of it, when Balthazaar casually reaches up and catches the vampire that was leaping at him. No one else had even spotted it, but before it can even swipe at him, Balthazaar swings the creature to the floor and plants a foot on its chest, then draws a wooden stake and drives it into the vampire's heart. The undead screams and flails, lashing up with its hand, clawing Balthazaar on his cheek before falling still. "Is that a real vampire?" Robert says. "Sh*t, you just killed a man." "No." Balthazaar shakes his head. "This is just spawn. Undead, but a thrall to a true vampire." "Are there any more?" John asks. "Uh," Terry says, nervous, "I sense [i]something[/i]." Belladonna holds a cross and vials of holy water, looking around nervously. Nathan has a shotgun and flashlight and is sweeping the room methodically. John grabs the supersoaker full of holy water from Terry and quickly strafes one wall with a thin stream. Halfway through his shot, there is a sizzle and a hiss. The shadows on the walls peel away and another vampire spawn scrambles out of the path of the holy water. John sprays again, but the spawn leaps into the air and lands on the ceiling. It hisses at them and vanishes. They all look around, but lose sight of it in the magical shadows. "Screw this," Robert says. "Terry, can't you do something?" "Light," Terry says. He concentrates and whispers in Gaelic, and flames flicker to life in the candles and lanterns around the room, and the windows shatter, letting in light from outside. The magical shadows are burned away like webs, and the entire bar lights up like an old fashioned feast hall. A pair of vampire spawn cling the ceiling, one lurks behind the bar with a meathook, and in the next room are a trio of spawn, standing guard in front of a pale man dressed in frilly black. "I was wondering when the Bureau would get its sh*t together and send someone," the vampire says. He glances to his spawn, then nods in the group's direction. "Tear them apart, but leave Balthazaar alive." The vampire spawn begin to close in, reaching out hungrily with claws, blades, or clubs. The group is evenly matched in numbers, and they are surrounded. Then the door from the street opens, and two more vampires come in, carrying pistols. Scarpedin smiles. "Damn. It feels like home." [center]* * *[/center] Outside the bar that is the front for the Bureau office, a few passers-by watch through shattered glass as gunshots ring out, a shotgun blasts through the rotting flesh of vampire spawn, holy water is hurled and sprayed, and a crazed man with a longsword hacks limbs from the undead, even though he knows it won't kill them. Sounds of the fight draw a crowd, waiting anxiously as screams ring out. Heavy objects thump wetly to the ground. Wood snaps and pierces with deep crunches through bone. Glasses shatter. Creatures groan. A woman calls for help, and several gunshots and ancient arcane words shout out an answer. The door to the bar is flung open and a one-armed vampire scrambles out in panic. He turns for one glance back, and a hurled wooden stake drives through his throat. Before the vampire even hits the ground, a shotgun shears away his face, holy water vials crack against his chest, and an oil lamp is tossed and shatters onto the walking corpse. The vampire tries to scream, but with the stake in its throat it can only gurgles as its black blood is consumed by the fire. The bar is quiet, and only intermittent sounds come out, of people making sure their enemies stay down. The crowd watches as the vampire turns to ash, then wait for a moment longer, still uncertain. Balthazaar strides out of the bar, his face bleeding, ash coating his hands. He almost smiles as he sweeps a look across the crowd. "There's nothing to see here," he says with finality. The crowd backs away, and quickly finds something else to do. This is what the Bureau is to the people of Gaia. Frightfully efficient, brutally mysterious. For the past two weeks, the Bureau has been all but absent, and the gangs of thuggish undead had begun to gain power. But now the word will spread. The Bureau is back in control. Balthazaar watches the crowd disperse, a trace of a smug smile on his bleeding face. "Excuse me, Shawshank Redemption," Robert says. "Could you get back in here? Or did you forget we're here to save you guys' butts?" Glowering, Balthazaar turns back into the bar and closes the door behind him. It's probably for the best that the common folk of Gaia do not know exactly how the Bureau deals with its enemies. The truth can be embarrassing. [/QUOTE]
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