Realistic or Modern Brethren IC

[Pilgrim59]

[div class=fyuriwrapper][div class=top][div class=headermain]PROJECT BRETHREN[/div][/div]

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[div class=header]GUIDELINES[/div]

Welcome to Project Brethren!

I. Be advised, standard RPN Rules and RP Expectations are in effect.

II. You have your right to exercise how much you may write. There is no limit, aside from basic one-paragraph requirement.

III. Bear in mind, some episodes may exercise round-robin posts (1 person per round, until GM posts again).

IV. Please include your character's name and location[/i] with every post for clearer navigation and reference.

V. May add more when I feel like it. Mlem.


[div class=header]ROSTER[/div]

BAILEY LARUE - "Reverend" - Chapter Master - ( Pilgrim59 )
CLAYTON JUNGINGEN - "Cyclops" - Knight - ( Archie )
DARREN WARREN - "Bucktooth / Dee-Dubs" - Initiate - ( Kabboom )
MILA REISS - "Rosenrot" - Knight - ( Trappy )
SCIPIUS ANDRELLION - "Ranger" - Knight - ( darkborn )
VENTUS AMARIUS - "Castle" - Initiate - ( Spiderverse )

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[Pilgrim59]

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[div class=fyuriwrapper][div class=imageheader][div class=header]Episode 1: Sundae Church[/div][/div][div class=fyuricredit]code/design by @Fyuri[/div]

Reticent heels and shuffling boots echoed throughout the streets of Arlington. Upon the city's lake sat a park, a place of respite for the weary. Across from the lush green are mighty high-rise buildings and what is perceived to be the gentrification of the local neighborhood. Where the setting sun retired in the West, mankind's machination began their work. Nothing short of a miracle, in hindsight, as to how humanity had evolved from simple torch to grounded currents. Imbued with a multitude of sparkling lights and colorful illumination, the city have yet to relinquish its voices. America never sleeps.

Unexplained phenomenons are the talks these days. From social medias, to morning headlines, the inheritors of Earth have yet to find peace. Some would classify these events as evident proof of global warming, while others, zealous in their studies, would proclaim the beginning of the end - the inevitable Rapture. But even now, officials have yet to act, dormant in their ways, to be only awakened by crises of personal magnitude. Where the world turns a blind eye, there are those that would act in their stead. They were called Crusaders.

The recently established Arlington Chapter have been inactive ever since their activation. Where some would believe that the Chapter's purpose was to bring about a revival of the Crusader's mission, the dwindling Daemonic activities throughout the world in the last two years would prove otherwise. Being one of the most diverse Chapter of the modern era, the Arlington Chapter remains static. A blessing to some, while a curse for others. In a capitalistic city, where gray eyes are settled on wealth, will the Crusaders' hopes be rekindled? Or will they be consumed by the world's negligent hands?


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[Pilgrim59]

Bailey LaRue
Solomon Coffee Shop
Interacted: N/A
Mentioned:
Mila ( Trappy ), Scipius ( darkborn ), Ventus ( Spiderverse ), Darren ( Kabboom ), Clayton ( Archie )
​

At the day's end, the lounge fell into silence, with the window signs turned. The lights dimmed, and its inhabitants, relinquishing their troubled minds, as they met in the back. A congregation, united by prayers. The small group lent their ears to the passionate voice of a young pastor. Their eloquent voice subsided, prompting everyone else to take heed. The crowd lifted their heads, and proclaimed in unison. Signalling the end of the service.

Amen

"Let us worship the Lord." the young reverend said softly with a slight smile, before turning to grab her guitar, alongside the other members of their small praise band.

The soft insertion of the lead guitarist and drums, would pave way for the vocalist to raise their voice. When all was said and done, the silver-haired reverend found herself putting the chairs away, only to be greeted by a familiar elder man.

"That was another great sermon, Reverend!"

"All in a day's work. You seem troubled, Mr. Walton."

"Thank you for doing these services in John's place, bless his heart. He would be very proud of you for all of this."

"Just doing my part. Have a wonderful evening, Mr. Walton." the girl replied, seeing the man off, before retreating gradually towards the far end of the barista counter.

Standing in the shadows, the girl leaned back and took into sight the empty shop. Where others perceive it to be merely a local cafe, the silver-haired girl knew better. Even in modern times, tales and legends of their existence are engraved into the pages of history. But little does the world know of their true purpose. Shooting a glance at the wall in front of her, Bailey dwelled upon her thoughts. It has only been a year since the establishment of the Chapter.

Yet, despite her passions and those of her comrades in arms, the recent decline in daemonic activities have left the Chapter inactive for most. Even now, some of her brethren are finding part-time jobs to help alleviate the burdens of their little shop and household. Yet despite this, it might just not survive for another year, given their dying purpose. Like many Teutonic Knights that parted ways during her younger years, the inevitable gloom would surely follow. Hence why the Chapter's front lounge was converted into a small coffee shop in the first place, in hopes of buying time.

However bleak the situation may seemed, Bailey kept her facade - determined and strong-willed to a fault. But even now, the Lord have remained silent on her prayers. Perhaps it was for the sins that she must bear for her delinquent pasts, or it was simply because of her unwillingness to leave it in the hands of the Creator. Such was the downfall of the young Texan, of whom has yet to relinquish her complex thoughts and, at times, compulsive tendencies. Before she could further her troubled thoughts, Bailey caught sight of a loud beep from the phone on the wall. Her amaranth eyes studied the device, making sure that her senses were intact.

The phone's light began to flash red in the dark, but remained silent throughout. No voicemails, no calls, just a pattern of blinking strobes. It was at that moment, the Reverend quickly picked up on its abnormal behavior. What was once an uncommon occurrence, was now a rare thing to behold in recent times. The phone on the wall was announcing a message in Morse Code with its blinking pattern.

Reaching for her smartphone with haste, Bailey would procure a selection of contacts on her device. At the slight tap of her thumb, the message would be sent:

"Out of coffee."


*Out of Coffee: Arlington Chapter's cryptic message that means "Return to base."

 

[Spiderverse]

Even though the sun had gone down, the day was not over at the Bethlehem Reconstruction Site, the men and women operating all of the construction equipment; from loaders, excavators, bulldozers and dump trucks to cranes, had been hard at work sweating from sunrise until long after sunset. Their bright yellow hardhats protecting them from the many dangers of their job, and the noise dulling headphones keeping their ears from popping from the buzzing of all the equipment that they had been using. This particular site had been handling the reconstruction of an old monastery that had burned down a long time ago, the city only recently collecting enough revenue to rebuild it. While many of the workers on the site had been hired hands, nearly forty percent of the workforce had been volunteers, all wanting to take part in the reconstruction of a monastery. One of these volunteers was the Initiate Ventus Amarius, who while not obligated to come as early as the paid workers or even leave as late as they did, she did so anyway. Currently, the young woman stood atop scaffolding built around the monastery’s foundation, carrying multiple girders on her shoulders that were being used to hold up the top floor of the monastery. The hybrid stepped carefully onto the platforms that were used as a temporary placeholder for the floor, bending down to place the girders down onto it. As she rose to a standing position, she brushed her hair away from her left eye, tucking it behind her horn so it wouldn’t get in the way any longer. There was still so much to do!

The hybrid woman looked around for the supervisor, hoping to find her next task. Looking around the platform she had spotted the man, a black haired human dressed more business-like when compared to the other workers, and quite shorter than those under him. When Ventus made her way over, he donned a large smile. “Lookin’ for something else to do? You know you can take a break like everyone else right?” Ventus returned his large smile, eyes shut as her cheeks flushed slightly as she rubbed the back of her head. “Yeah you already know the drill. Hope your okay with that I don’t want to impose too much.” The man shook his head, “Oh no no you’ve been a great help! Frankly…” He leans in closer, “You’ve done the most out of all of the volunteers here. But what else should I expect from a crusader.” The woman bowed, “Thank you for the compliment, I do hope to be a good representation of the Arlington chapter.”

Just as she had risen however, she had felt her phone buzz in her pocket. Smiling at the man once again she held up her phone. “One second.” Whipping her phone out of her pocket, she had seen the message sent straight from Chapter Master LaRue: ‘Out of Coffee’. Looking up from her mobile device, she placed her hand on the man’s shoulder. “As much as I wanted to pick up another task, I have to head out. Thank you so much for letting me help her Mr. Auders.” With that Ventus walked away, making her way down the scaffolding without even glancing behind her. It was time to return to base.

 

[darkborn]

As Scipius slouched into the seat, enjoying the momentary respite of standing, walking, and coordinating all day, he couldn't help but examine his surroundings once again. He was in a airline recliner, seated at the seat closest to the window. While others might enjoy such a position, Scipius took it out of necessity. After all, who was going to warn his brethren when the plane was going to crash to the ground, or sea, for that matter? A melodramatic touch, probably. But Scipius expected nothing less, considering the luck he and his brethren shared.

At the thought of his brethren, Scipius took a moment to recount the heads in his group. It had been decided that only eight of them would head to Arlington. The others, some odd seventy people, had either been too wounded, decided to spend some necessary sabbaticals and time with their families, or moved to other chapter houses for continued aid and training. This dispersion rankled Scipius' pride as a chapter master, but he would put up with it. It was the consequences of his inadequacies. It was the result of his failure.

Suddenly, the plane shook. White faced, Scipius clenched the armrests of his seat. Then, the intercom buzzed to life: "Uhm, we're sorry, folks. Just a bit of disturbance. We'll have to fly this rough patch- but it'll still be bumpy. Please put your seatbelts on." At the close of the announcement, Scipius turned his head to face Julian Copperman, a close friend, as well as a respected member of the Iron Tears chapter. Julian returned Scipius' concerned look with a tight smile. Did their luck decide to strike at them again?

Eventually, the rumbling stopped, and the two couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief as storm clouds receded behind them. They held out- this time. Thank the Lord- Scipius had no idea how he could save the 219 odd civilians if the Boeing 797 crashed in the middle of the sea. But..enough worrying about that. Time to focus on his next assignment. Arlington.

This newly formed chapter was supposed to be a melting pot between the five chapters; a place for revival if the daemonic threat ever grew again. Not that Scipius ever worried about his chapter ever running out of daemons to kill- it seemed as if those hell-spawn swarmed towards the Iron Tears, wishing to feast on their misery and grim fates. But, Arlington had never been active; in fact, it seemed as if he may finally have some peace, there. Or perhaps its the place where he and his ideals were doomed to die, slowly. A place where he and his men would decay over time, to devolve into something that was simply a mockery of what they once stood for. A sign that....

Enough. Do not worry about the future. God is provident. Worry about the now. Worry about leading the chapter through the dark times; worry about survival. Scipius shook his head slightly, before a he felt a vibration from his pocket. His phone. As he picked it up, and opened the locked screen, one phrase caused him to freeze in his tracks.

"Out of coffee."

Julien looked at Scipius' grim face, and smiled tightly again. "Hey, now. What's wrong? Enjoy the fli-" His words died in his throat as Scipius wordlessly showed him the text. Then, Julian managed to shake his head, and say, "It can't be too bad, can it? A simple text. I hear their base had been converted to a coffee store." Scipius smiled mirthlessly, and said, "Do you really believe that the message is just that?" Julien was silent. Scipius then told him, "Ensure the others are ready for arrival. I want to get to Arlington as quickly as possible." Julien nodded, while Scipius pulled out a laptop, and began to check on the rest of the members of the Iron Tears. He didn't know what the message meant, but he still had people to take care of.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Four hours later, the five Crusaders sat in a bus in Arlington, Texas, riding to the Chapter house. After landing in Dallas, he had to help two of his brethren move in with family, as they decided to help in a less active way; they were probably traumatized by the events at the Iron Tears Chapter House. Not that Scipius could blame them. They needed their rest. He helped the other lass pack her things on a bus towards Austin; he and the others had offered to ride with her, but she had declined, saying that the mission and debriefing was more important. Unfortunately, she was right, and so Scipius reluctantly parted ways with her. Now, as Scipius sat next to Julien and Cassian Arevelo, the trained Diviner, he couldn't help but tap his finger on his knees. What would the Chapter Master of the Arlington Chapter be like? Would he/she be... No. No worrying. Just wait until all the data is gathered.

When the bus pulled up to the nearest bus stop to the Arlington Chapter, the five stepped out of the bus, and walked the short distance to the Arlington Chapter-house. It was...underwhelming to say in the least. A coffee shop indeed. An obvious fact that was confirmed by Julien when he said to Scipius, "See? I told you so." At that, Mary Phillips, the loremaster, a venerable old lady, knowledgeable in almost everything Scipius could think of, said, "Told Scipius what? That you were assigned to pick up the weekly delivery of coffee beans by yourself?" At that comment, Julien looked slightly mortified, while Cassian and Ulrich Balmer, the forgemaster- the one who kept the equipment up to date- both chuckled at the banter between the two. Scipius just smiled, before checking that everyone was ready. Then, he opened the doors to the coffee shop. To a new beginning, he supposed. To an adventure.

 

[Archie]

Clayton Jungingen
Interacted: N/A
Mentioned:​

"Finish them off" said a man with a deep voice and a barely noticeable accent. Clayton looked up, his face covered with blood, his eye dangling from his socket. The tanned executive with greased black hair, dressed in a three piece suit, was wiping the blood off the knife that he had just used to kill uncle Raymond.

"They're all dead. Don't you trust me?" the demon responded, in a screeching, ugly voice that filled the room.

Just then, Anderson Lau realized out of the corner of his eye that Clayton was still moving.

"Not that one" he said, taking his pistol from off the table and angling it at the knight's face. All of them heard a loud beeping noise, and looked up and around.

Clayton opened his eyes - no, his eye - and realized he was still in bed. The sound was his alarm, blaring to his left. He looked around his room. It was simple, with a couple dressers, a mirror and a dart board. He had the same nightmare every time he tried to go to sleep without his eye. Reaching over to the coffee table on the left, he turned off his alarm and grabbed his glass eye. Then, the big man sat up in his bed, wondering if he should put it in. It was only 6:30, and there was a whole day to go. On the other hand, most of the other chapter had found work in the past couple of weeks to help keep it afloat, and Clayton wasn't sure what he could do besides be a club bouncer. It was starting to dawn on him that people might be seeing him as useless. There were 16 hours ahead that he could spend lifting weights then going home and doing nothing again, or he could spend them being productive.

It was decided. Clayton popped the eye into his empty socket. His eyelids closed, then opened wide. Filled with renewed energy, he leapt out of bed, spinning and landing perfectly in front of his closet. He grabbed the injector on top of the coffee table during his spin, and injected himself in the thigh with the steroids loaded inside. His left hand, meanwhile, opened his closet and found clothes out of the disorganized pile. He thought of cleaning it up, but his gut was driving him in another direction. When he had gotten ready for the day, he felt an urge to pick up the three darts laying on the dresser before leaving his room. He threw the first while spinning clockwise, the next standing still, and the third with his left hand. All three hit the bullseye across the room.

If only this eye could do the same with guns, that old piece of shit.

Clayton had no idea what to do to find work before this morning, but now, everything was clear. He vaulted out the window on the top floor hallway of the chapter building, sliding with his gym bag down the fire escape before reaching the ground. He dashed to gym on the block, and checked in with his ID, before gunning straight for the locker room. Stripping down to bare essentials- that way people would try not to pay attention to what he was doing - he approached a row of lockers that all belonged to other members, and all had locks on them. Scanning the room, he realized there were no cameras in this private area. His head then snapped back into a forward position, as he put his ear to each locker. As if they were acting alone, his hands then rotated each lock. Clayton couldn't hear anything, but apparently his eye could, because after three rotations of varying length, each locker would open. He grabbed half the money in every wallet, before slamming each locker shut again.

Clayton had gone through six lockers when a man walked in on him working on the seventh. As if nothing had happened, Clayton continued, opening the locker, then pretending to change into his gym clothes.

After his workout, Clayton filled out an application to be a personal trainer, but he knew that wouldn't bring in much cash. Far more importantly, he made calls to locksmith companies, who generally were up this early.

"I know you don't have any more kits available, I'm telling you I don't need one” Clayton insisted to a voice he had been speaking to for a minute.

"What the hell do you mean you don't need a kit?”

"I've got everything I need already"

"You're telling me that you got a lockbreaker, bump keys, a hammer, and everything else just lying around?" The man sounded bewildered.

"Of course" Clayton said, looking down at his right hand, which was holding a couple paper clips he had pilfered from the YMCA.

"Well, you'll have to go through training"

"Sure, eventually. Today, you've got a couple jobs though, right? Put me on one, see how I do. Maybe we can all save some time"

---

"That will be two hundred and thirty. I think we mentioned cash only today on the phone, right?"

Clayton was on his fourth lock when his phone started vibrating. The bewildered homeowner stared at Clayton, who had just opened a lock, like in the movies, using a paper clip instead of proper equipment.

"The guy said I could pay over credit"

Clayton's bank info hadn't even been set up by the company yet, and he didn't want to be cheated out of his pay, especially for a job which might only last a day.

"Fine. Do you have a computer?"

"Why?"

Clayton didn't actually know why he had asked that question, but said the first thing that came to mind.

"So I can run your card"

Clayton was inside the house, using a desktop to set up a paypal and entering the man's card info in, with the middle aged man looking over his shoulder, before he checked his phone.

"Out of coffee"

"That your wife?" the man joked as Clayton hit the button to complete the payment. He then rose from his seat.

"No. It's a code word, calling us to return to base" Clayton said. The man raised an eyebrow.

"I kill demons as my other job". The man laughed politely at Clayton's bad joke, before he left the house. He texted his new boss, saying he'd wire over the $600 he was owed, and that he had to call it off for the day. The reply came back angrily just minutes later, when Clayton was on the road. The man was absolutely livid that his employee-for-the-day was "dropping the ball". Clayton, while driving, blocked him.

I guess I'll keep it all then.

 

[Kabboom]

Darren Warren

Another day, another bread. This damn bakery has just enough customers to keep it afloat, but sinking just enough for him to just float in his own position till the end of time. Perfect to lay low, not so much to fund all his weaponry and daily life expenditures. His apartment seems to be shrinking every time he returns to it, and the ramen stocking up in his cupboards are running out. Gonna need to go for a food run soon.

Delivery work isn't fun. Spider-Man made it look so cool though, swinging through town dropping pizzas. But well, that's kinda cheating; real heroes use bicycles, because they're eco-friendly, and make squeaky noises, and don't cost money to ride - just your own stamina. The bakery was Order, alright, with the manager and half of the roster being mixed elements from other Chapters, but Darren was the only one in Arlington Chapter among the team. The other boys have business elsewhere, tending to other stuff, that sort of thing.

Bread-thing delivered, money collected. Hopping on to his bike and swatting his hoodie out of the way, Warren was about to head out again when the light buzzing of his phone could be felt. Bailey's order stared back at his scowling face in the reflection of his phone, the words 'Out of coffee' appearing before dimming away as his phone's display turns off. Pinging the manager with a simple 'Getting some bread', Darren was all set to head out, hauling ass back to his apartment.

He certainly didn't play the electric guitar anymore, what with having to sell it off to pay off the rent, but the case he kept was still handy for many things. For one, it fit his AR-15 and concealed it appropriately in public. Giving his landlady a nod as he headed out with his 'guitar' on his back and magazines stuffed in his hoodie's inner pockets, Darren set out for the Solomon Coffee Shop.

Coffee Shop. Yeah, right. Walking through the front door after the five man group who were probably there with the same purpose, Darren nodded to his friend/chapter master, Bailey. "Never thought we'd ever run out of coffee. I had to skip on my recital today!" Bucktooth chuckled, patting his 'guitar'.

Pilgrim59 darkborn

 

[Trappy]

Mila Reiss

The phone buzzed like an ugly accusation, stirring the girl awake from her slumber. Mila knocked a few things off searching through the mess and then struggled to unlock the device in her sleep-deprived state. With the night-shifts, the duties and the need to indulge herself, Mila had learned the hard way to appreciate every minute of rest she gets. In the dimly lit apartment, the message blasted before her eyes in the phone's maximum lighting: Out of coffee. "No... That can't stand." The girl groaned, as she crawled out of bed and went to prepare herself for work. There were bags under her eyes, and her red mane had certainly seen better days. Regardless, Mila did her best to make herself presentable, slid into her work clothes, grabbed her gear and a fresh bag of beans, then took a full minute to admire the chaos within her tiny apartment before actually setting out for the Solomon Coffee Shop.

Duffle bag over her shoulder, the girl rode with haste upon her noble steed - some second-hand bicycle she grabbed the first day she got here for just a little over $60. Doing her best to pay attention, having just woken up, Mila took in some features of her new work environment. It was obviously warmer, much warmer than Northern Italy, and it smelled differently. A few more nights of sleep and she might just get used to it. Parking her steed nearby, the girl dashed the rest of the way to Arlington Chapter's base of operations, sauntering into the shop just after Darren in his same old hoodie. Holding high the bag of coffee beans, Mila put up her brightest smile.
"I brought coffee!"

Kabboom Pilgrim59

 

[Pilgrim59]

Bailey LaRue
Solomon Coffee Shop
Interacted:
Mila ( Trappy ), Scipius ( darkborn ), Ventus ( Spiderverse ), Darren ( Kabboom ), Clayton ( Archie )
Mentioned: N/A
​

For the next fifteen minutes or so, Bailey dwelled in the unlit lounge, awaiting her comrades to arrive. It has been almost half-a-year since she last received a message from the Grand Master. Thoughts spewed from her mind, as the young Reverend sat atop the counter. Reticent taps upon the marble counter-tops echoed across the quiet room. Street lamps illuminated the whole block upon the sun's departure from the purple horizon. Her anticipatory taps grew louder and louder, before she realized that it was someone tapping on the shop's glass.

Five strangers, of whom have caught Bailey off-guard, despite her anticipation of her peers. Striking a scrutinizing glance at the foremost man before her, Bailey made sure that she understood their purpose of visit, despite the shop's sign saying "CLOSED". Their rugged stances, weary eyes, and their non-conforming apparels that was far from what the locales would normally wear. Putting on her reading glasses, Bailey scanned the figures before her, as the visor began to glow upon close inspection of their cloaks.

It then caught her attention that there was a recent detail of which she was expecting, aside from the faces that she normally acquainted herself with for the past year. Raising her voice, the Reverend greeted them with a confident smile.

"Y'all must be the Iron Tears Hospitallers. The Grand Master was expecting your arrival some time this week, but I have yet to be given an exact date." Bailey presumed.

There was no doubt about it, given their signature Quad Cs. Before long, a familiar visage waltzed through the front door behind the pentagon group of Hospitallers.

"Never thought we'd ever run out of coffee. I had to skip on my recital today!" the man proclaimed, much to Bailey's elation.

"Well, the Lord gives and He takes away. Also, last I heard, you already sold your guitar, brother Warren. You ain't fooling me." Bailey remarked jokingly, knowing well that Darren brought more than just a guitar case, last they met. Turning over to a few other faces that arrived at the shop shortly after, Bailey took note of their appearances. The urgent rally was complete, timely coincidental with the Hospitallers' arrival, to say the least.

Darren, a man short on faith, but dealt well with the hands that was given unto him. A firearms expert that had saved her once before. They were childhood friends. It was only by a chance of fate that brought Darren here. Even now, Bailey still owes the man her grateful heart.

Ventus, a passionate and amiable personnel of interest, of whom had earned her nickname "Castle" forthright. An exemplary Templar of the modern era, the Reverend thought. Despite the stigma that accompanied most Hybrids and their legacies, Ventus's dedication to the Chapter was more than enough for Bailey to put her earnest faith in the prior.

Eyeing the Cyclops, as he was called by his peers, of whom was one of the most capable, albeit an odd member of the group. The Reverend have read his files, but even now, she finds him to be a tough shell to crack. Perhaps it was due to his rough past with his Divine Gear, or simply because of her shortcoming as a Chapter Master. But even so, there were occasions that the two have had small talks to get the day going. But of course, the Reverend knew that there was more to what seems to be a "diverse" Chapter.

"I brought coffee!" Mila's words broke Bailey's thoughts, as she came into the lounge with a sack of coffee beans.

Glaring at the girl with a confused look, Bailey could only abide by the Mila's carefree act. While ironically comical, Bailey was reminded that Mila was as ardent as everyone else in the room to see things through. Despite seeing the better sides of her knights, the Reverend have yet to relinquish her doubts. There would come a time where she must commit to her morality. She felt it gnawing at her. For the first time in her line of work, Bailey felt a disturbingly frigid sensation running down her spines. She had to be careful, the Reverend thought, before replying to Mila.

"Appreciated it, sister Reiss."The Reverend smiled at the Austro-Vietnamese, before guiding the group towards the storage room.

"This way, if you would please, brothers and sisters."

While it was perceived to be small and stuffy for nine personnel, it eventually expanded, as Bailey cast aside the storage boxes upon the shelves. Shifting the boxes back, the Reverend unearthed a keypad of which was dialed with four digits. After a second or two, the storage room's wall would unhinged, unveiling a large room beyond. At the flick of a switch, the light panels dispelled the darkness with speed. The room was filled with inactive monitors and no windows. A long table in the middle, laden with maps and charts, pinned by empty rifle magazines. Upon the walls were cork boards, of which were evidently empty from their absence. As the door shut in behind them, the Reverend would turn towards the group of Hospitallers.

"Apologies for my late introductions. Perhaps now we would be away from prying eyes and ears. I am Master LaRue of the Arlington Chapter. These are my brethren..."

"Sister Reiss - 'Rosenrot'. Sister Amarius - 'Castle'. Brother Warren - 'Bucktooth'. And Brother Jungingen - 'Cyclops'." she continued, casting her directing hand upon them accordingly.

Before long, a voice would emerge from the device on the table, at the command of Bailey's fingers.

"Greetings, Master LaRue. I take it that you have Chaplain Andrellion in your care?" a feminine voice echoed the room, catching everyone's attention.

"I do. What's the urgent rally, Grand Master?"

The device flashed its indicating lights, before the large-screened monitor powered up. A series of high-altitude images would be zoomed in, as the Grand Master began to speak.

"Two hours ago, a satellite picked up on a spike of immense thermal energy within the United States. Ground surveys from government officials have concluded that it is a simple computer malfunction. However... This, is what got our attention."

The image of the thermal signature increased, as the monitor pin-pointed the source in Western United States. Several images would transition into the slide, putting several forum comments and blogs on one specific subject.

Spoiler: Messages

"From every corner of the Earth, Seven Prophets shall rise to spread my gospels. Upon the seals of fate, the Four Horsemen shall wreak havoc upon the heathens."

Peripheral monitors would display several news headlines regarding abnormal climate change and several unexplained homicides being reported.

"There have been rumors of varying sources referring to the return of the Messiah, of which had coincided with the revitalization of Daemonic encounters in the last half-hour, as well as the sudden climate anomalies in the United States. After a thorough analysis of the recent events, the Pentateuch Council have decided to take action. It has been decided that the Arlington Chapter will be spearheading this mission."

"Grand Master, if I may. Shouldn't Rome commence the Inquisitors to deal with this?"

"That is a no-go, Master LaRue. Our manpower are stretched thin to deal with the daemons. You are the only Chapter within close proximity to the objective. This one comes straight from His Holiness."

A brief silence befell the room, as the Reverend stood petrified by their sanctioned mission. The Reverend eyed those around her, and felt fear gripping her heart. This was the first time their mandated mission was coming from Rome. Excitement, doubts, and a little of something in between, have caught Bailey wide open. Relinquishing herself of her thoughts, the Reverend took a deep breath, before answering.

"We will carry out as His Holiness ordered, Grand Master. Where are we heading to, exactly?"

"Your target location will be in Nevada - Las Vegas. Our recon team has gone dark thirty minutes ago. Make contact with brother Marlowe at the following location, and provide assistance where possible to facilitate the investigation." following the message, coordinates were printed out, before the monitor screens turned off by itself.

"Understood, Grand Master. Interrogative. Does anyone else knows of our objectives?"

"As far as the mission is concerned, this falls under the Arlington Chapter's jurisdiction. The Pentateuch Council is watching, Master LaRue. Strength in Faith."

"Strength in Faith." LaRue replied, as the transmission ended.

Turning over to her peers, LaRue eyed her companions, alongside the newer faces that recently joined them. Mustering what strength she had inside her, the Reverend spoke.

"I know this came in with short notice, but we've got our objectives, brothers and sisters. If anyone here wishes to voice their concerns, now is the time-..." the Reverend's words were cut short, as she flew off her feet, and landed near the door.

Before long, an abrupt quake would shake the ground where the crusaders stood, as the wall caved in from the rear side. Fumes of smoke engulfed the room, where flames constrained the crusaders of their breath. Thankfully, the walls were designed to absorb most of the explosion's blast, sparing the crusaders from their certain death. Yet, despite so, slight concussions and varying contusions from the blast were more than enough to disorient them. From the dust emerged a few clicking noises, as the crusaders' assailants unveiled themselves.

Amalgamations of blackened flesh and protruding spines formed a quadrupedal beast, with its fangs bearing long, sharp rows of teeth. It's apex structure possessed no eyes, only patterned holes that facilitated its respiration. The creature resembled a saber-tooth cat, only darker and more grotesque in nature - as if turned inside-out. Roaring loudly, the daemon clenched tightly onto the rubble, while stretching back, as if awaiting to leap at the disoriented humans. The quiet night spiraled down to a standoff, as the Reverend attempted to get on her feet, while reaching out to her comrades with her feeble voice.

"Crusaders! Defend yourselves!" Bailey exclaimed.

Posting Objective: Initiate (2) separate posts to neutralize the Daemon.
Requirements: N/A (anyone can tackle the beast, just coordinate accordingly)
​

 

[Archie]

Clayton Jungingen
Pilgrim59 , Trappy , darkborn , Spiderverse , Kabboom​

When Clayton returned to the chapter, he counted the cash he had made during the day - $620 pilfered, plus an estimated $820 he had made picking locks inside his new paypal account. This was more money than he had brought to the chapter for the past three weeks without his eye. He listened intently as the voice on the other side of the intercom talked. This was the Grand Master. He had not made contact in years - this had to mean something important: in other words, renewed excitement in this boring chapter. As the Grand Master kept speaking, Clayton's enthusiasm was replaced with suspicion, and he crossed his arms. He felt his heart sink at the announcement that the "Messiah" might be coming back. As part of the research his eye had compelled him to do months ago, Clayton spent weeks trying to dissect the New Testament word for word. He found the Book of Revelations to be outright repulsive, though he wasn't sure if that was him or his Divine Gear talking. Still, he could logically explain his revulsion. In Revelation, it is God who calls down the apocalypse upon the planet. He sends fires downs to the Earth to kill a third of the world's population, and force the rest into caves. Then, he has the *audacity* to be offended when humans side with Satan?

Clayton wasn't sure what the Grand Master's intention was in handling this cryptic message. He was, however, sure of his own intention. If Jesus Christ indeed had come back to Earth, Clayton would personally drive a sword through his heart and dump his body into the Grand Canyon, before the pampered son of God set in motion a chain of events that led to the near-extinction of the human race. In any case, this development, whatever it was, was a great opportunity - the only time the Knights could investigate an important supernatural phenomenon without the intervention of the Roman Inquisition. Maybe, just maybe, Clayton and his brothers and sisters could learn the truth of who God is, and uncover the mystery of the supernatural forces that were hauting them.

Suddenly, Clayton felt a chill run up his spine. The large man then felt the floor shaking. At that instant, he felt his reflexes take over his body, and he knew it was his All-Seeing Eye that was now giving the orders. Without another thought, he leapt forward and into the air. Behind him, he could feel the force an explosion rock into his back, and bits of the concrete wall hit him in his thigh. He landed in a forward roll, a move that channeled most of the explosive force into forward movement instead of bodily damage.

As Clayton landed, he couldn't help but feel lucky. This of all days, was the day when he chose to reactivate his divine gear after weeks of trying to "quit".

"Bailey! Mila!" he shouted as he rose to his feet, naming two of his sisters at random as he tried desperately to see through the dust. When it settled, he realized that rescuing any of his brothers and sisters from concussions and rubble was the least of his concerns. Clayton's first intuition was that this was some kind of bomb attack. Instead, in front of him and the other chapter members who had made it to their feet was a disgusting behemoth - an eyeless, fanged, spiky grotesque, whose respiratory holes made Clayton shiver.

The worst part of this situation, however, was that Clayton hadn't brought his sword with him today - he rarely ever carried it out into the civilian world. He fumbled around his belt, only to find that his pocket knife had also been lost in the blast and the roll. With no time to find it under the rubble, dust, and smoke, he knew his only chance was to attack this thing unarmed. In theory that shouldn't have been a problem, as Clayton's entire background was in martial arts, but this beast seemed to be spiked all over its body, except in its face.

Clayton knew that in this situation he had to trust his Divine Gear. Letting his instincts take over, he picked up a head-sized piece of rubble, and held it like a football under his right arm as he charged at the beast, screaming - as if he wanted to get its attention. When he was two meters away from the beast, he put both hands on the piece of rubble and extended it out in front of him as if he were going to punt it. Instead, he turned his left foot inwards and yanked the rock to his right waist, generating immense torque, while raising his right knee, which caused his body to start spinning clockwise.

How the hell is this going to work!? Clayton thought to himself in a panic. Apparently the eye wanted him to deliver some variant of tornado kick to the creature's face, while jumping to avoid its bite. For a smaller daemon or a human, that could be a knockout blow, but not for one this big! Still, the eye had never failed him before, and the thing didn't work if he didn't let it take control.

Clayton jumped with his left leg, delivering a tornado kick to the creature's face, then following with a spinning back kick while still airborn. As Clayton was about to land, he then delivered the finish, ramming the chunk of rubble into the creature's open mouth, the torque of his spin adding to its power.

Clever, he thought to himself. Still, that move wasn't going to come close to killing a beast of this size. All it would do is piss the thing off!

Then, it clicked for Clayton: that was exactly the point. He didn't have a gun, anything silver, or even a knife to kill this thing, but he was the fastest and most acrobatic person in his chapter. Other chapter members would be better armed today - his best bet was drawing the "tiger"'s attention away from them and trying to dodge its attack.

"You like that you big pussy!?" he shouted, his crude sense of humor on full display.

"Come get some!"

 

[Kabboom]

Darren Warren

Another day... another goddamn explosion to rock his shit up. Bucktooth had been rather reserved in comparison to the others, being the guy in the hoodie with a guitar case on his back. He hung back to the edges of the group as the Grand Master briefed them all on... something. Revelation-related, Jesus stuff, world-ending Horseman shenanigans, something like that. The rubble that laid on his head made it hard to remember things.

Shrugging off most of the debris (thankfully, none of the big pieces decided to fancy him for a resting spot), Darren looked around him. Smoke, pain, and his friend Bailey, barely standing on her own two legs, rallying the Crusaders in a feeble voice. Eyes scanning towards the area where a wall once stood, Bucktooth laid his eyes on the ugliest, most repulsive thing he's seen in years - and he'd spent 2 years working at Walmart too. One of the Crusaders was engaging it unarmed, of course.

The Crusaders were powerful militants of the faith, not only able but more than capable of handling threats this size, sworn to secrecy from the Earth to protect it from the demons that wish to wreak havoc upon it. Theirs is the ultimate sacrifice that shall never be known. Fortunately, Darren isn't feeling sacrificial enough to be fighting that butt-ugly thing with his bare hands. Whipping out his 'guitar', the AR15 with the ridiculously long suppressor to avoid the ATF's fuckery, Darren quickly loaded a magazine from muscle memory and lined up his sights.

Fuck it, who the hell needs to line up sights with something this big? As Clayton cleared his line of fire, Bucktooth squeezed the trigger, letting out the characteristic loud squeaks of a suppressed rifle. Those breathing-holes look like a good spot to shove 5.56 into, so he continued pouring fire into that section of the repulsive beast.

 

[darkborn]

As soon as Scipius entered the coffee shop, he stopped. The resulting abrupt halt momentarily confused the four close behind him, but they managed to stop in time as well. There was a woman in moving to approach them, around the same age as Scipius, perhaps a year or two older than him. Yet she was examining the five, Scipius was sure of that. His suspicion was confirmed when she moved to put on a pair of glasses- a rather random event, considering her age. Well, Scipius was sizing her up as well; he had the gear to match. As he pulled out his visor, and switched out the rangefinder chip for a data chip. All of this was done almost in one motion, so when the white haired woman's glasses began to glow, Scipius was also checking her gear and chapter out.

Teutonic. That Quad-C was Teutonic. Upon this realization, Scipius' mouth curled up in distaste, before he managed to regain control of it, and forced it back to a neutral position. "You are Bailey LaRue, I presume?" was his only answer to the Chapter Master's question. A Teuton. Of course his luck would hold out. Yet, upon seeing his trusted comrade's confused glances, he decided to break out of this passive-aggressive standoff, and curtly nodded to his brethren, subtly indicating that they stay with him.

They stood back a few paces from the rest as LaRue revealed a secret room from the storage room. At this, Scipius remained quiet. Their equipment was always just....barely considered modern. Consider it the affects of their curse, consider it the result of low funding. Either way, Scipius couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy, before quickly suppressing it with another reason, one just as valid as the negative emotion before: appreciation. Perhaps some efficiency could be put forth by this....coffee shop.

Upon hearing the Grand Master speak, Scipius shifted uncomfortably, but aside from that, stayed quiet. Of course the Teutonic Grand Master would speak to a Teutonic Chapter Master. Yet, still.... He would have to maintain his vigilance. Teutons were a brutish lot- he expected his chapter to have to prove themselves time and time again, in order to have any respect within this chapter. They would do so. They've been doing so for the past hundred years, at least.

However, looking upon his brethren, Scipius couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt and doubt. Mary was venerable, in her late seventies; in fact, Scipius could see her attempting to hide her rubbing of her wrist. She should be retired by all rights; yet, the Iron Tears never rested, as their numbers were ever low. The same applied with Cassian. He had already had past dealings with cancer, and divination always seemed to drain him; yet he continued to fight on. They had their challenges, but Scipius was certain they would eventually meet their reward for their suffering.

Upon reading the message and hearing what the Grandmaster's words about a "return of the Messiah," Scipius' mouth curled again into distaste, and stayed there this time. Heresy.... Heresy of the first order. Christ's second coming wouldn't be by the hands of daemonic worshipers. Seven Prophets? Heretical. Multiple gospels? There was only one, preached in four books. All his distaste against the Teutons dissipated against this most hated and vile foe; they had the tenacity to proclaim they were the Christ? Blasphemy! The signs were not there, the ones shown not even mentioned in the prophecies.

Yet, all this musing was interrupted. By a Daemon. Of course the Iron Tear's luck would stay with them. Yet, as the Daemon screeched its ferocious battle cry, members of the Arlington chapter reacted. They attacked the daemon. Good for them. Scipius' immediate concern, upon seeing that the situation was handled? Making sure his chapter was alright. Mary was battered and slightly bruised- worrisome- and Cassian and Ulrich were both winded from the blast. They would survive, thankfully. Now there were other things to consider.

As soon as the Daemon fell to the other's assault, Scipius' voice snapped quietly, intensely, penetrating through the noise. "Cassian! Examine the daemon's signature. Quickly! Before that too dissipates. Mary, assist him with identification of what type of daemon that is. Both of you, try to figure out who summoned that creature. Julian, Ulrich. Keep a watch and detain any one who attempts to find out what caused that hole," at that, he nods towards the huge gaping hole in the wall, "and make sure that you give the others enough time to hide this equipment." The four nodded, and rushed off to their duties. Scipius turned and strode towards LaRue, his short figure being more or less the same height as hers, as he quietly asked- almost demanded- of her, "Is there anyone missing from this meeting? Someone found this place and its purpose; it can't be a coincidence that the attack happened now."

Of course it could be, considering his luck. But he would attempt to stave that revelation off for as long as possible. No need to let the others know of the Iron Tears... reputation.

 

[Spiderverse]

Ventus had looked around at her brethren that had gathered alongside the Chapter Master. There were quite a few of them, from her count at least two initiates and seven knights total, including herself. That made about nine of them, which was a bit small considering the kinds of threats they would go up against. But it was no matter, even if they were small in numbers they had plenty of experienced knights to aid them in battle, so victory in whatever mission they would be brought upon was well earned. The Chapter Master herself was extremely polite, the hybrid smiling and nodding toward her when she had directed them toward the storage room and into the briefing area. Her eyes would glide around, getting a better look at the others, more specifically the Hospitallers. They were their brethren either way, even if they had come from another chapter allies in battle were allies in battle, and she would treat them as such.

Then the device had echoed the voice of the Grand Master throughout the room, and Ventus leaned in with focus and interest. She had hung onto every word in the briefing, well aware that being cognizant of the content within their mission would lead to a swift victory. What was the most surprising was the idea of the messiah’s return. A prophecy like that was one that certainly wouldn’t go under the radar for very long, but that was something to worry about when they were deployed, for now the hybrid woman would simply grip onto her belt, this entire situation making her feel quite tense.

The Chapter Master could read the mood easily, asking if they had any concerns regarding their assignment, but that would have to wait. Ventus was sent flying backward into the deeper part of the room itself slightly out of view. But simply because she was harder to spot doesn’t mean she was any less vulnerable. Gritting her teeth, the woman’s scowl turned into a grin. It was almost a split second before the others had already taken action. It seemed that Clayton took its attention away from the rest of them, his crude shouts attracting the daemon’s attention significantly. Then Brother Darren began his assault, pouring immense numbers of rounds into the creature; and the Hospitaller, the leader of them seemed to be barking orders towards his brethren, making sure that the Chapter Master was alright. Ventus needed to do something. Damn thing… Swiftly reaching her arm behind her back, she pulled the compacted version of her shield off of her back, tossing it up into the air before using her right fist to punch its center. As she did so, the shield slowly began to grow, the metal and wiring shifting around to grow and cover her body easily in this kneeling position, Ventus only having to strap the guard of it onto her forearm. Time to neutralize its movements. With no hesitation, the girl rushed forward from her kneeling position past the others, leaping into the air and slamming down onto the side of the creature. As she had been pressed against it, rather than pulling out her weapon, the woman slammed her left hand onto the reinforced glass portion of her shield, a loud CRACKLE sound emanating from her shield. Suddenly, sparks began to surround the creature’s midsection. “It won’t be slowed for very long! Hit it HARD!”

 

[Pilgrim59]

Bailey LaRue
Solomon Coffee Shop
Interacted:
Mila ( Trappy ), Scipius ( darkborn ), Ventus ( Spiderverse ), Darren ( Kabboom ), Clayton ( Archie )
Mentioned: N/A
​

Throwing dirt in their wounds and stood their grounds, the crusaders made their moves. Clayton and Darren were the first to act. The prior disorienting it with his high-powered technique, while the latter unleashed a hail of five-five-six upon the beast. The Daemon fell back, with its black blood spilling across the floor, as the crusaders took their time to deal it a final blow. The monster thrashed about and took a step back, as the newer faces of the Chapter made their way past the wall.

"Is there anyone missing from this meeting? Someone found this place and its purpose; it can't be a coincidence that the attack happened now." LaRue eyed Scipius briefly, as he spoke. The man was quick on his feet to get his brethren in order for a counter-attack.

While Bailey was more or less reluctant to let the man off, their options dwindled with every second. As quick as he was to act in an expedited manner, the daemon simply did not conjure itself up. In addition to its physical offenses, rather than engaging the crusaders at range, was evident enough that the only logical conclusion would reside in a third-party assailant. For now, Bailey would have to entrust the counter-attack to Scipius.

"We're all accounted for. Locate and neutralize the summoner at your discretion, Chaplain. Exercise speed and caution. Law enforcement will be on scene soon. Go." Bailey said to Scipius, sending the man and his team off, as she scanned across the street, from where the hole in the wall was blown open.

From across the street, Bailey locked eyes with a masked figure, of whom was donning a black hoodie. A mere second would pass, as the assailant threw themselves into the shadows of the alley, and attempted to escape.

Reeling back from her brief contact with their assailant in the distance, Bailey found Ventus pushing forward to the side of the daemon with her shield, causing sparks to emanate from its body. Following up on her brethren's combo of varied, yet interchangeable methods of neutralizing their target, Bailey withdrew a blank page from her satchel. Her elegant hands ran by the page, letting out a reticent glow upon her touch before discharging it forward at the flick of her wrist. The page propelled forth with speed, followed by a trail of crimson light.

The daemon was quickly torn into half, as the projectile pierced through its core. What remained of the sectioned creature quickly disintegrated like burning coals drifting in the wind.

"Contact!" Bailey exclaimed, notifying her brethren to grab cover.

Before long, a couple whip-cracks landed near the coffee shop, as four gunmen donning white masks, began to pour lead towards what remained of the Chapter. Situating herself behind cover, Bailey eyed her comrades briefly. There was no mistaking it. The Chapter was truly under siege, and Arlington was about to become a war zone should they fail here.

"The Chaplain is already pursuing the perpetrator. We'll have to engage and push through from here. We'll link up with Chaplain Andrellion at the park to the West."

"Brother Jungingen, you're with Sister Amarius. Push forward and knock them down. Brother Warren will provide suppressive fire. Sister Reiss and I will clean up any stragglers on your flanks. Questions? Good. Let's go." the Master said, asserting the dispositions of their retaliation strategies, as she let out a slight sigh.

The night grows wicked, as the street is lit up with amber and red tracers, where the crusaders were. The keen Iron Tears Chaplain, chasing their wrongdoer. A stout heart of an impregnable Castle. The valiant guns of a non-believing Bucktooth American. An impetuous and generous heart of an Alpine Rosenrot. A non-conforming eye of a coarse Cyclops. Will they have what it takes to push forward and accomplish their mission?

The sporadic gunfire sounds would soon be drowned out by light drizzles of the creeping clouds, proclaiming heaven's tears upon the souls of Arlington City. The vigilantly, wailing sirens echoed from one end of the street to the other, as the Fire and Police Departments depart for the scene. The Chapter Master would brush off the dust on her dress, as she don upon her visage a pair of determined eyes to see their mission through. The battle for Arlington's Chapter has begun.

Posting Objective:
Everyone Else - Initiate (1) post of engaging and/or making your way West towards the park.
darkborn - Initiate (1) post of catching up to the masked figure towards the park.

Requirements:
Complete at least 1 of the two objectives above to progress in the story.
​

 

[Kabboom]

Darren Warren

These crusaders were really pulling their weight. Bucktooth wasn't sure if his rounds alone could've put down the demon the way these boys and girls did. Well, he says boys and girls, but at least half of them were his age, if not older. It also showed him how utterly outclassed his weapon was in comparison to the true threats that could materialize. An assault rifle in a guitar case may look baller as fuck, but Bailey's demonstration of her... "weapon", proved to be far superior, as her flying page cut the damn thing in half.

Of course, rest was an important thing. In the heat of battle, expending large amounts of stamina incurs an equal, if not greater debt on your own body. Thankfully, Darren's only need for respite came as a mental one, with his light sigh as the demon's corpse fizzled into sparkling bits of demon gunk. The worst was over, or so he thought. Flicking his fingers up to close the dust cover as he put the gun on safety, the Chapter Master's yell of contact flipped that safety switch right the hell down to full auto.

Human guns, fired by questionably human-aligned opponents, were shooting the shit out of the Solomon Coffee Shop's 'storage room', and like hell was Warren going to let that go unopposed. Rolling backwards out of the storage room door, he took cover behind the wall, and perched his gun near the doorframe. Lining his sights up properly this time, he let off long bursts of 5 rounds per, aiming to miss the Crusaders who were still in the way. Other than that, he was just slinging lead wherever he saw tracers.

"I got you guys, go, go, go!" he yelled out between bursts, coughing from the dusty air.

Archie darkborn Spiderverse Trappy Pilgrim59