Re: Dresden Files: Caught in the Undertow

[Cracklord]

Sartorious
The big one steps forward. If this was a movie he'd throw off some snappy one-liner. But it's not, and he just wants to hurt someone. So instead of letting you show off your wit, it throws it's fist in a demolisher of a punch, hard enough to crack stone. No technique. Just a sort of burning feral anger, raw brawler's instinct and street fighting. Interesting.

[Colesign]

Bartholomew Dee

{Well, almost certain death is averted, and Dee looks even more crazy than he did before}

Bartholomew just stares at what has happened, and at the five black piles of sludge that used to be barbarians.

"Huh." He mutters in shock, then quietly turns and walks through the Way. However this works out, he's not going to abandon his friends.

He doesn't mention the First Law Cowl had just breached in an un-White Council-ish fashion.

As he makes his Way through the...Way, he catches up to Lindquist and the Empath.

"I guess I should have trusted the judgement of you guys." He says quietly.

[industrious]

Nicodemus and Deirdre

"Hello, my daughter."

He speaks in a slow, measured tone. Calm, cool, and collected. Malice drips between the spaces between each word.

"Father..."

She's already on the defensive, already ataken back. Too afraid after years under his thumb.

"You'be been a naughty little girl, Deirdre. You know what happens to naughty little girls."

"No...no...get back. Get Back!"

She shifts into her demonic form, razor-edged strips hurling at Nicodemus. He simply stands there, letting them cut into his flesh, letting them strike him. And then, his shadow simply reaches upward, and surrounds his daughter, abruptly binding her into one place. It oozes and swarms over Deirdre, leaving only her face untouched.

"Very naughty."

"Father...please...no...I'll be good...I promise. I promise!"

"I believe you. And it really does pain me to see you misbehave. To not have learned your lesson after all this time. I am so very disappointed in you, Deirdre."

Nicodemus takes his cane, rips a hole into the Nevernever. The runes that were hitherto invisible light up in faint scarlet light, smelling of sulfur, ash, and brimstone. And inside the portal, Lara and Thomas can see Darkness and faint scarlet light.

"I hope that this time, you will learn your lesson, my daughter. I will check on your progress in six months."

Deirdre, alternating between shrieking curses and groveling apologies, is dragged into the portal, which seals itself shortly thereafter.

[draxx]

Thomas
"I'm... I'm not with her." He says, backing away a step and holding up his arms. He flashes his sister a desperate look.

Cowl
The portal closes, and Cowl lets the other three go up ahead. He waited, herding you into a huge cavern, like the maw of some great dragon with the earth for it's bones. In the earth, and under the earth. The marks on the wall were the red of wet clay, hand-prints, finger-marks, and, here and there, crude representations of animals, people and birds.

Cowl stood in the center, in a circle of stones that had once been a great fire, atop coals and ash and soot, and he spoke. "You had questions. Here it is safe to speak of such things, we are hidden from their attention. So let me speak. I am the true last servant of the inescapable. And while The White Council do indeed count me in their ranks, I also have the distinction of serving alongside several other, more enlightened and forward thinking people. To that case..."

He reaches into his robe, and removes a bag that jangles of coins, and drops them in the circle of stones. Nine tarnished denarii gleam softly, like a diamond in a chimney sweeps ear, all so recently given to him by Tessa. Then he gestures again, and knives are revealed. One for each of you. "Take one. I'd offer guns, but gunpowder does not combust here, and electricity does not conduct. But then, there is an intimacy to knives. An honesty that I appreciate." He hasn't changed. Not really. He's the same man he always was. But somehow it's like a viel has been ripped from your eyes anyway.

As he speaks, he spreads wide his arms, and drums start. Thrum, thrum, thrum, came the ceaseless monotone of the drums: war and death (they said); blood and lust; human sacrifice and human feast! The soul of Africa (said the drums); the spirit of the jungle; the chant of the gods of outer darkness, the gods that roar and gibber, the gods that men knew when dawns were young, beast-eyed, gaping-mouthed, huge-bellied, bloody-handed, the First Gods. The Black and Red gods of horn and fang and claw (sang the drums).

All this and more the drums muttered deeply as a light began to burn. Somewhere in your souls a chord is smitten as they boom out unceasingly, and you feel a strange tingle in your bodies. Cowl turns, staring at each of you. "You haven't long. Ghouls live here. They have been called, and the hunger grows in them. They will come. Nothing can prevent that. If you stay, you shall be devoured, your strength, such as it is, added to theirs, and your deaths will be terrible. I leave you the knives as a courtesy, if you prefer you may simply take your own lives, and save yourselves a great deal of agony." He pauses, and lets that sink in, as his soft voice compels you to listen. None of you dare interrupt. After a moment, he speaks again, the drums still booming in the background.

"You needen't all die. There is a door, but I have left you nine keys. Each will only work for one of you. If you do take it, then do whatever it asks you, or die horribly. However, there are eighteen of you, and, I only have enough coins for nine of you, so we'll be having..."

He gestures to the knives again. "...Try-outs."

With that he turns and walks over to the gleaming door. At the last step, he paused and turned to look at you again." Those that survive can look forward to a new life. I will teach them real magic, once they prove themselves, and they will never be at the mercy of another again. You do not have long, so get started."

Then he is gone, leaving you alone with the grim pounding of the drums, slowly speeding up and gaining power. Or maybe that is your heart-beat.

Fix
Unnoticed, the child of Summer watches with predators eyes, crouched beside the road at the edge of the gate, and seeming no more then a stump of rotten to any who take the time to examine him, and none do, for their eyes drift over him like he's not there. It's gaze unceasing, it watches until it is played out. Having seen enough, it fades away, and walks bet to the gardens to find Fix.

And when Fix hears, he sighs, rolls his eyes, then goes to find Sanya.

Karrin Murphy, Billy and the Alphas
Mere moments after the portal closes and the church is deserted, sirens can be heard. Karrin Murphy arrives to investigate the reported disturbance, a few friends slinking along beside her, grey lean shapes that strike a primal fear in men. They don't have any idea to make of what they find.

But Billy recognizes the scent. Cowl, Dresden had called him. The man responsible all those years ago for the ghosts, zombies and dead things.

[AnimeKid]

Sartorius

Hmmm, The big one was a natural brawler. That piqued his interest a little. With a quick side-step Sartorius dodges the blow and sticks out his leg to trip his bigger and clumsier opponent. Once he is down on the ground he brings his leg up high and slams it down quickly and powerfully onto the guys back. He then takes another sip out of his wine glass which has not spilled a drop of liquid. "Next."

[Colesign]

Bartholomew Dee

As the drums start playing. Bartholomew Dee clenches his fists and utters forth four words:

"I. Told. You. So."

Just as Cowl turns to leave, Bartholomew charges at him.

"Hey, Assbutt!"

As Cowl turns his head back, Bartholomew tries to throw a black powder material at his face.

Most of it is pepper. An attack so basic that most magical defenses don't take it into account.

{A homage to one of the Other Great Occult Investigators in recent years. I acknowledge that Dee will probably get bitch-slapped down, but it's what he would do.

And just so I don't pull things out of my ass, I'm going to specify the equipment Dee is carrying with him for consistence's sake. On the OOC page.}

[draxx]

Cowl
Most defenses. But in Cowl's line of work, if your defense is not perfect, you will not live very long at all. The darkness that hides his face serves as more then just a mask. It also serves as a face-shield, in the event of an attack just like that.

He waves his hand vaguely at you, and a mental blow brings you smashing to your knees. hammering your mind so much you stagger under the pressure, losing all momentum. He stares at you another moment then turns and walks over to the silvery portal, stepping somewhere else.

[Colesign]

{It was a long shot. Hey, at Least Cowl didn't use his 'Instant Fondoo Party' spell on Dee! Now he only has to worry about the impending attack of Ghouls!}

Bartholomew Dee

The Street Magician gets to his feet, head still pounding from Cowl's psychic attack.

"Owwww. Owwww."

He opens up the duffel bag and begins pulling stuff out. He sticks a weathered bayonet through his belt, and pulls out a long oak stick sharped at one end, with a thick twist of cloth wrapped around it. He also pulls out a bag of salt and a jar of a yellowish liquid.

"Okay guys: I've run into ghouls before: they're vulnerable to damage to the spine and head and neck, and they should be vulnerable to Fire and Holy stuff as well {The RPG sourcebook does say that Ghouls are vulnerable to Holy stuff}. We need to stick together and fight as a unit. And don't take those coins: I'm pretty sure they are evil artifacts that'll corrupt people, and I'm guessing Mr. Ringwraith wants his own set of Nazgul!"

[draxx]

Dee
Fortunately, you're right, they don't all fall on each other like feral animals, desperately seeking the coins at the expense of their closest friends. A few throw them longing looks, but for the most part keep their backs to them. Even Mort, who couldn't be holding his knife less confidently if he practiced it.

That's the good news. But it's easy to hold at first. A few people make jokes that get either pregnant silence or far too much laughter, verging on hysterical, and before long they all fall silent.

The drums beat does not slow. It does seem to grow, however, until it drowns out everything but the pounding blood at your temples. The darkness is in your soul (laughed the drums); the darkness is all around you, you cannot hide, you cannot fight; you cannot escape, you are prey, you are afraid, you are dead (sang the drums). The, with a last crescendo, they stop.

But the silence is only momentary, there is a scream. Tyrone put his back against the wall precisely because he’s seen enough horror movies to know the black guy dies first and that the badguy sneaks up on him. The walls part behind him like a curtain, and he’s yanked back. He screams, loudly and in terror, and then there are terrible sounds, sickening sounds like a pig gorging itself in swill. His screams are cut off for a gurgel, but his legs, still visible, keep twitching, until they are dragged into the tunnel, and the rock closes behind him, leaving only a wall.

[Colesign]

Bartholomew Dee

"Tyrone!" Bartholomew yells as his friends gets yanked into the Darkness.

"Godamnit No!"

He falls silent, then shakes himself. He pulls out a lighter and ignites his torch.

"Shit and Hell. Everyone take some Blessed Salt: if you can pour it in a bottle of water, that's cool."

He takes some salt and puts it in the bottle of yellow liquid. He passes the bag around.

"We've got two options here, guys. Stay and defend ourselves: maybe figure out how to get through the Ward over the Portal. Or we run: try to find a part of the Nevernever close to reality. If anyone has some convincing arguments, voice them now: otherwise I'll choose."

[Cracklord]

Lara
"Of course you're not." Lara replies moving over to Thomas, and staring at him levelly. "Because that would mean you've betrayed me. That would mean you were working against me. And then, well, then there would be consequences. Of course, it's not the case. We both know how much you love your family." She pats his cheek, and nods to her chauffeur. "Take my brother home. See that he doesn’t get into any more trouble."

Sartorius
They pause, showing you more respect now that you have showed your own ability. A few make threatening movements, but none come to anything, so you don't rise to the bait.
"Well, that was impressive." Says one with an oddly articulate voice, that seems out of place amongst these, which can only be identified as super-barbarians.
He steps up. Unlike the others, he is dressed in a denim jacket and jeans, the modern clothing slightly incongruous. He has the same look, the same features, hair and deep-set eyes, but rather then the feral anger so many exhibit his sparkle with inteligence. "Jeet Kune Do, I'd say. Impressive, you know your tecniques, though hybrid styles tend to depend apon rapid assesment. You look fast. How fast are you?" He strips off his jacket, then cracks his knuckles.

Kincaid
His eyes snap open with the dawn, and he immediately begins checking to make sure the house has not been broken into, or in anyway influenced. Windows, doors, the fabric of reality, floorboards, attic, nothing is overlooked. When he's satisfied, he fixes breakfast. Eggs. Easy over. He pours her a tall glass of milk, then folds a napkin.
He checks to make sure she's still asleep, then removes a T-Bone steak and eats it raw in two bites, without cuttlery or anything else. He takes another and eats that too, figuring he needs to bring up his bodymass with all the healing he's doing, then drinks a couple of glasses of water.
That out of the way, he sets the table, and begins the long process of going through her study, salvaging what can, and planning the removal of the rest. When he's got it all into a pair of rough piles, he gets onto the internet and begins ordering new furniture and replacing what she destroyed. Some of it is irreplaceable, so he makes a note to figure out some new aspect of setting.
Now that all that is out of the way, and the house is running smoothly again, he sits back on the couch, and waits.

Marcone
"I'm sure we're both honest people who'd never consider working against the establishment." He replies, doing his best to understand what she was demonstrating. "Or falsifying records and lying about capabilities. That would be wrong."
"But ignoring the rules a moment. You can substitute mental discipline for certain foci, correct? So would it not be possible to create an intricate enough setting to pull this off with far less then the usual components, if we assume the means to get ahold of whatever is needed, regardless of what it is?"

[industrious]

Elaine

"Of course it would be wrong. I'm just saying that if this ritual isn't pulled off right, you're automatically breaking the Laws; you're imposing something over her normal soul."

Her hand gropes for a glass of water; she ends up spilling most of the pitcher but downs the half cup she's able to pour.

"You'd need some very elaborate foci and setting to do all this substitution. A greater circle would probably be able to handle it."

Nicodemus

"Little Maggie's eldest," he remarks. "How wonderful to meet you at last. Face to face."

His right hand blurs into motion, and the cabbie that Thomas had taken to the Raith Manor slumps over, a throwing knife lodged in the man's throat.

[Cracklord]

Marcone
"Alright. I can arrange that." He says honestly, tapping his fingers as he considers. "If we were to complicate the circle even further, say by using crystals to refract light, dvergr silver, and what-have you, would it serve any purpose in further assisting the ritual?" If it's a long-shot, he'll still try it. He'll just make any expense go.

Lara
She beckons over one of the guards. "You know, there are better ways to avoid attention. Drop him in the caverns. Usual spot. Then have his taxi reported missing, and arrange it to be at the bottom of Lake Michigan within a week."
She then looks at her brother, and gestures over to the limousine. Her intent is very clear. "I think that's enough for tonight, don't you? Get out of here."

Sanya
"Of course." He replies. "You know there is no need to ask. Just drop me off back at the chruch, if you don't mind."

[industrious]

Elaine

Her eyes widen.

"Do you know how much all of that would cost?"

More money than she's ever seen in her whole life, at the very least. A greater circle costs at least 1 million in materials; more in time and effort and even more if one cannot create it on one's own. Those capable of doing so were rare, and their services did not come lightly.

[Cracklord]

Marcone
"I am afraid I do not, but I can assure you I do not care in the slightest. I am a very well-connected man, and have considerable material wealth. I can afford to purchase whatever you can conceive of needing. If you wish, I will even let you keep the circle once I am done with it. As long as you agree to bend the laws a little.”
He spreads his arms. “I am not asking you to do anything morally wrong, whatever the letter of the law says. I just want you to help me save the life of a little girl. Is that really so objectional?”

[AnimeKid]

Sartorius

Sartorius calls over a servant and places his wine glass on the tray. He then strips off the jacket to his tux and hands it to the servant as well. His muscles tense slightly as he says, "Fast enough." He then decides to mess with the man. He accesses the ability that all white court vampires have. The ability to use the emotional energy they have stored up to dramatically increase their speed, strength, and regeneration. Sartorius chooses to use this trick now. The best thing about it was that he had a virtually limitless supply in a fight or if their was a crowd to the fight. So at the same time he expends energy he drains more from the watching thugs. He speeds forward with his supped up speed and strength and throws forward a left straight towards the guys stomach.

[Colesign]

Bartholomew Dee

{Response? Is draxx narrating the caves?}

Sanya

Sanya drives Forthill to the 7-11 quickly, and then back to St. Mary of the Angels.

Whereupon he notes the shattered door.

"Bohez moi."

He rushes in, sword drawn.

[Cracklord]

Sartorius
You hammer his chest, almost cracking a rib, but leave yourself open as you do. With far better footwork then you'd expect, he steps aside and hammers four blows into your right kidney, so quickly it almost felt like one blow, and hard enough to take you bodily off the ground and send you staggering back.
He lets you regain your ballance and stop swaying, shifting his eight from foot to foot and bounching a little as he warms up. His fists are raised defensively, and his sholders hunched forward.
Now that's more like it.

Dee
Sandbox game. Anyone who wants to is.

[industrious]

Elaine

"There is no spirit to the Seven Laws of Magic; there is only the letter. And if a Warden was ever to find out what I had done, should I fail, then I am a dead woman. And worse. The ritual would become black magic, would stain my soul and cause me to slip, to walk along the slope that divides monster from man. Unless you have things perfectly, and I mean perfectly done, then I can't have any part in it."

Ivy

She wakes up with a yawn, and a stretch of her arms. She purses her lips, sniffs the air. Waits for a moment.

"Breakfast!"

And the covers fly off as she sprints towards the kitchen table. She's adorable when she does this. Of course, telling her this wouldn't exactly be beneficial to Kincaid's health. She had this one stare, the sort of stare a girl had that could make any man feel very, very small. He had caught her practicing it one day.

[Cracklord]

Marcone
"Only reasnoble. I will allow you to examine any preperation I make, and will even beg your consultation on every step. I shall even pay your fees for every hour you do so, undertaken while you recover. And I shall leave you free to step out of the preperations if you feel it is beyond you."
He says reasnobly, steepling his fingers. "Now, lets go through what you would recomend, assuming you had all the resources you can imagine."

Kincaid
"Don't stuff yourself, shorty." He says. "Take small bites." That said, he dumps her requested items on the table. Books, old, slightly moth-eaten clothing, crumbling rock, the lot.
"We'll go through this after you finnish, alright?"

[draxx]

Thomas
"Right. I'll do that then." He says, still staring at Nicodemus, then edges into the car. He doesn't take his eyes of him until they are well away. Then he leans back, and sighs. "Could we make a stop off before you leave me home? Please?"

Fix
He beckons Sanya over. His neck is healed, with red marks and bruising, but not so much as a sign of the cuts that where there before. He looks profoundly miserable. "I had them followed. For a while, at least. here isn't any point anymore. Thomas ran into Nicodemus." He makes a popping sound.

"He's alright, don't worry. But she sure as hell isn't." He waves his hand, and Billy walks over. Murphy hadn't made excuses for his pressence on the crime-scene, but nobody seemed to be complaining.

Billy Borden
"It was a man Dresden told me a little about. Cowl. Part of a group called the Circle, that Dresden calls The Black Council. He took them someplace underground. I tried the catacombs, but it turns out the church doesn't have any." He shrugs his broad shoulders.

Dee
Something like a big fishing hook sinks into the side of Mortimer's neck, and pulls taunt. He screams in agony and terror as it tears into the meat of his neck, then drags him a few steps forward before he hits the ground, tugging futilely at the cord. He's dragged off the same way Tyrone went, and still no sign of your aggressors.

Ghouls are not stupid. There are Bull Ghouls, big, primitive, and functionally immortal, and then there are the slighter, smaller ones, that are smart enough to learn speech and even disguise themselves as people. Unlike their larger kind, who simply tear theur opponents limb from limb, they favor ambush tactics and killing in a sneaky, unexpected manner.

Two down right in front of your eyes, and you haven’t even been given a sign of them. You’re all feeling a lot less brave. You find yourselves glancing at the coins when you think the others aren’t looking. They are so very tempting, enticing even. It’s not evil to want to live, is it? You have the willpower to say no. You can always toss them aside once you get out of this death-trap…

Darla goes down, screaming, a triangular piece of metal lodged in her neck. Unlike the others, she isn’t dragged away, she simply lies there, convulsing as she bleeds out. It's to make you more afraid. Now that your imagination is running wild, it's letting you see exactly what you are threatened with. They still don't reveal themselves, that would break the spell of hopelessness by giving you something to attack. Instead, they make you feel helpless.

And it's working.

Cowl
"No luck so far. Perhaps we need to convince them of the significance of the threat before we set the stakes. If they cannot be convinced to kill each other, the demons will have a harder job of lowering their inhibitions, afterall." He says dispassionately, watching through the tiny glass marble he had been rolling around his fingers ever since he acquired it from the most unlikely of places. He fealt that it was the most valuable thing he owned.

"Perhaps I should raise the stakes a little more." He mused.

"Don't bother. They'll get the point soon enough, and start scrambling for them with everything they have. If they don't, do it, we can always drag in another batch. Your ghouls get fed, we weaken the council, and the ones we get will be the best." Tessa is small and petite, somehow seeming indulgent and sensual despite being sixteen (younger than her daughter appears), and having yet to really blossom into a woman. She is Egyptian, and dark-skinned, with well-formed, clean limbs, flawless skin as soft as silk, and delicate, even features, with the air of beauty beginning to blossom. She's in her human form at the moment, because he will not talk to her in her other form. She wore white cotton, and gold. She’d been a slave, and she’d longed to be more, when she was alive. Now that her circumstances were different, she appreciated the opulent splendour she’d always wanted.

Cowl doesn't spare her a glance. He's still looking at the assembled Denarians-to-be. "How much good will they really do?" he asks softly. "Look at them. They are all indecisive, all tied up in each other's opinions of them. So much so they won't even save their own lives. What use will they really be?”

“You’d be surprised, what can be found in the smallest of things.” She replies.

Ebenezer
“Alright.” He says. The drink isn’t doing his work. He puts it aside and gets drunkenly to his feet. “Let’s say I go along with your plan. What good will it do? Another big evil dead, a new one comes, the Council keeps rotting on the inside. I should have listened. Should have helped him out when he needed me. What good will it do now?”

[Cracklord]

Ebernezzar
Wizard Listens-To-Wind slams his palm on the table, making it jump. What patience he has for his friend has worn out. Grieving is fine and expected. Self-pity is inexcusable. "I came to find a wizard. I see only a drunken sot, who takes a bottle to his lips, and lets the alcohol drink away him. Stop living through your apprentice, be a man, and do some good, or stay here and rot."
With that he turns and opens the door. He then sits on the steps and waits. He doubts it will be more than a minute before his friend begins the long, arduous process of coming to his senses.
Once that’s done, perhaps they can talk.

Lara Raith
"I despair sometimes." She says, shaking her head. "I wonder if I can continue to tolerate his actions. He’s my brother, and yet I doubt, somehow, he has the families’ best interests at heart. And the company he keeps…” She sighs, and lifts her eyebrows. “Well, perhaps it would be best, for both of us, if I let him go his own way.” You’re not sure exactly what she means. All you know is that even when she was a little wisp of a girl running around her father, she had Margaret McCoy and her father wrapped around her little finger, and already knew far more than either of them guessed. She seems to have become exponentially more dangerous since then.
“But where are my manners? I am now your host, and I had best ensure you remain entertained. Might I show you the grounds? It is so rare I have esteemed guests, and I do not get the opportunity to show off as much as I’d like.”

Thomas
"No sir. M'fraid not sir." He replies, not so much as glancing away from the road for a micro-second. He's travelling at exactly five kilometres an hour bellow the speed limit, rarely changing lanes, and not paying you any attention at all.
He stops outside your apartment, gets out and opens the door. This might damage your finely crafted persona a little, and your reputation besides, though since you’re planning on losing the place anyway and returning to the fold that might not be such an issue.

Father Forthill
He swallows, then crosses the police line and breaks away to learn what he can. Apparently, there is a chemical weapon on the grounds, and the area may be contaminated. A full sweep is pending, yadda yadda yadda, terrorists suspected, yadda yadda yadda. How terrorists were supposed to get their hands on the sort of weapon that the over-funded American army was nowhere near developing was not established.
He just smiles, nods, and acts polite and shocked, while quietly relieved that nobody he knows seems to have gotten hurt. However, he does not attribute it to divine intervention. Something happened here, and he doubts it is anything to be glad of.

[draxx]

Thomas
"Of course not." He says to himself, staring at the leaving car, then turns and walks up to his apartment. "Damn it."

Justine is not there. The entire place smells of her, and a hunger rises in him. A hunger that has not been sated in nearly a decade. He knows he should be glad with what they have now. It's more then he ever expected. But he wants her more then anything. And having her unattainable is killing him slowly.

She's not here. Where is she? She wouldn't have stayed at the church, and she wasn't at the Raith household. Alarm bells ring in his head. He looks around, then remembers the phone and runs over to grab it.

Ebernezzar
It's two minutes before Ebernezzar staggers out, and shoves his head in a rain water barrel. He soaks up the water, holding his breath, then pulls it up, and shakes it, droplets splattering everywhere. More lucid then he's been in half a week, he looks at his friend, for the first time his formidable mind at work behind his faded blue eyes.

Walking over to the hatstand by the door, he grabs his staff where it's leaning, then turns and looks at his oldest and closest friend.

"I needed that. Thanks. Nobody else'll talk to me that way. Come on then."

[AnimeKid]

Sartorius

As he stops swaying from the blow he hears the pounding blood in his ears. This man had not only taken a punch from his powered up form, but had also managed to strike and hurt him. This was what he was looking for. A real fight to get the old blood pumping. Now that he knows this guy isn't a pushover he gets up into a basic stance with his feet spread apart at shoulder width and both arms out stretched, the left being slightly less extended than the right. His eyes then focus on his entire body. One thing that he learned while fight all his years was that you couldn't just focus on one part of your opponent or you'll never be able to react in time. He then speeds forward towards the right side of his opponent. Then just out of arms reach he quickly kicks to the side, so hard that it puts a large crack in the floor, and moves to the left. As another precaution when he strikes he sends his left fist careening towards his face while his right soars downwards towards his stomach, looking to strike the exact same place he did last time. Another thing that he learned in his years of fight was that people tend to automatically block punches towards the face, leaving their torso open, and with how he changed directions he might not even block the blow to the face.

[Colesign]

Bartholomew Dee

"Mortimer!"

As the hook sinks into Mortimer's Flesh and begins to drag him into the darkness, Bartholomew leaps forward and hacks at the length of rope with his Bayonet until it parts.

As he drags Mortimer back, Bartholomew takes a mouthful of the blessed lantern oil, lifts up his torch, elevates his head to an 80 degree angel, and breathes Fire, a gout of flame that reaches outward into the darkness where the hook came from.

Sanya

"Catacombs?" Sanya asks William Borden, as he examines the spot where the Practitioners were being sheltered. His faces firms. "If there are no catacombs here...this Cowl must have taken them to a place in the Nevernever."

He turns to Fix. "You have taken many wounds, and done much to aid me and Thomas. But still I must ask you: can you open a Way to where Cowl took the talents? If nothing else, we can quickly examine the area for clues of their wherabouts."

He takes a step forward and hears a squishing sound. He looks down to see a pile of black, sticky, organic sludge.

"Eewww."

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