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Michaelmas Term 2007 - History (Ancient and Modern)


Knave

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The Reverend Dr. David Beaumont, Professor Emeritus Sheet

Luck □ □ □ □ □ □ □

Harm □ □ | □ □ □ □

Experience □ □ □ □ □

"I can't think of any drauger that would be out to get me, specifically" David says, honestly. "But they may dislike the church generally, and I make no secret of my faith."

 

 

"After tonight, having seen it disappear through the road like that, I think this creature might be bound to St. John's college. We'll need to get in and look around. Maybe we can even find where it sleeps during the day and destroy it for good."

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⛤᛭⛤ Stats ⛤᛭⛤

 

Harm: ●●○ / ○○○○

Unstable:

Luck:  ○○○○○○○

Exp:  ○○○○

Moves

Cast Out Evil

Lay on Hands

No Limits

Smite

IC

It's done.

When the fighting is done, the sword's flame fades, and Hal holds his arm out perpendicular from his body, strange strands emerging from his skin to wrap around the hilt. From his eyes, this is painful, like a procedure you have to stay awake for or an injection into a muscle. Slowly the Welsh blade disappears into his hand, absorbed into his organic being, and the wave of disrupted flesh spreads up under his jacket and disappears into his mass, as if it was never there. Save for the beads of sweat on his brow, there's no proof it was ever there.

"Welsh word for cont. Feels less dirty to me. Sorry, got carried away. You alright, mate? It's like that thing was going to take a chunk out of me and you got in the way. Anything I can do for you?" He can definitely do something, but at this point they have to spread their harm around a bit: Hal can only take on so much and he's already at his limit. To that end, nods to the Professor and gets the metal stake. >"Come on, Ekram. Help me get this into her chest. Hate that it came to this."

Hal is quiet, distant, there on out, listening more than anything. The secret is out, or at least, that one. The blade of Peredur, Cleddyf y Tadau, has a wielder again, and he's attending Jesus College.

"Yeah, cool, let's kill it now. Then can we like, put out a supernatural ceasefire so we can get better? Feel like I've been hit by a truck. Plus we gotta do the hard part of hunting and figure out what to do publicly with the late Professor Andrews. You lot have a procedure?"

OOC

Just to create a papertrail separate from my offline character sheet: Hal is leveling up his Cool to +2. This is his first level up.

Edited by Gregorotto (see edit history)
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Annika-removebg-preview.png.872abac25589690f6cf16f8da4ecdd12.png°φ←ζ Aηηika, hΣ HΣx ζ→φ•°

Condition: Blackened Lungs

Stats: Charm +2, Cool +0, Sharp +0, Tough -1, Weird +2

Harm: ○○/○○○○

Unstable:

Luck:  ○○○○○○

Exp:  ○○○○

Temptation: Power

Moves & Gear

Bad Luck Charm

Cast the Bones

Sympathetic Token

Force of WillWhen you apply your will to dispelling a magical effect, blocking a spell, or suspending a Phenomenon, roll +Weird. On a hit, momentary magics are cancelled completely, and long-lasting spells and effects are suspended temporarily. On a 10+, you can also spend Luck to instantly snuff out a powerful spell or strange effect. On a 7-9, you take 1-harm as the strain of dismissing magic unravels you.

 

Rotes:

Leeching Enchantment

 

Gear:

Athame

Staff

The feeling of slicing off another being's digit makes Annika want to gag. There is a slight disconnection from her actions when she is using magic. It's much easier to say that it is the streak of arcane energy that kills her target, not her. But when a blade is involved, the violence becomes much more intimate. No matter the cost to her psyche, the work is done and Sophie is freed. Just in time for Professor Andrews to finally get her well deserved rest.

The violence has come to an end, at least for now, and Annika takes a moment to catch her breath. She glances over towards Hal as his strange blade disappears and lets out an exasperated and mirthless laugh. "...and here I was wondering what you had up your sleeve. A lot, as it turns out." She stands from her hunched position and wipes her brow with the back of her arm. She helps with the work to get the Professor's body back into the car and, after piling in with the rest, she stays mostly quiet in her attempts to come to terms with what had just happened.

Yet, she perks up at the mention of dreams and images of David. "Seriously? What's the deal, David? You have a connection to these f*ckers?" He doesn't, or so he claims. The young witch seems unconvinced, but keeps her thoughts to herself for now. She is not exactly trained to play well with others, but she knows enough to keep her opinions to herself. "Well, it sure as shit isn't just a coincidence. Why would these...things...care about a religious organization? Surely this isn't all just some big war between gods and their ideologies, right? Hell, I don't even know if God is real -- in fact, I was pretty sure he wasn't just a few days ago." She turns her gaze out the window to watch the passing lights beyond the window. "No. There has to be something else -- some other reason."

A thought suddenly comes to her; a thought about the disgusting digit she had been insistent on stuffing into her pocket, no matter how much it made her want to throw up. "Oh, shit! I almost forgot. I got a hold of...uh...whatever that thing under the ground was...it's finger. I think I can do something with this. Like, a magic 'something'. I just need some time to read back over my notes."

OoC

For my level up, I took a Hex Move called Force of Will: 'When you apply your will to dispelling a magical effect, blocking a spell, or suspending a Phenomenon, roll +Weird. On a hit, momentary magics are cancelled completely, and long-lasting spells and effects are suspended temporarily. On a 10+, you can also spend Luck to instantly snuff out a powerful spell or strange effect. On a 7-9, you take 1-harm as the strain of dismissing magic unravels you.'

 

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In Brief

spacer.pngEkram

The Wronged

Stats: Charm +1, Cool +0, Sharp +1, Tough +2, Weird -1

Harm: ○○ / ○○○○

Unstable: 

Luck:  ●●●●●●

Exp:  ●●○○○

Playbook Moves

I Know My Prey

DIY Surgery

Never Again!

Trust Your Gut (alt Weird)

Invincible

 

Real Friends Help You Move Bodies

"Cont...seems about right." Ekram brushes off Hal's concern with a wave of his hand, lifting his shirt to show the intact skin where the claws failed to catch. "You get clawed up enough, it starts losing its impact." Watching the sword dissolve back to...wherever it came from...Ekram swallows the bitter mixture of confusion and jealousy. How many ghuls could he kill with a weapon like that? What other absurdities had these powers blessed Hal with? He can feel his place in the society slipping in the face of someone with a far superior arsenal for the job. As Annika comments on, and pockets, the severed finger Ekram can only offer a sidelong glance.

"Once again...magic is gross." He wrestles a cigarette out of the pack and then offers one up to the others as they stand in wait for David to return with the car. A deep inhale, a slow exhale, and the adrenaline wanes enough that his muscles tingle with fatigue. Helping dump the body into the boot, he is silent on the drive as Sophie and David share their information. He understands the curiosity but he doesn't share it. The reasons don't matter to Ekram, just the results. Burying the woman by her husband, he lingers for a moment as he considers the implication. Can they find one another after death? His own beliefs, often simple lip service to appease his mother, have taken greater focus in the time he's spent at Oxford. If there is a happily ever after for the zombie professors, he hopes they can find it. Annika's suggestion of doing something magicky on the finger breaks him from his silence.

"Is that thing under the ground where we saw it?" It's a question posed to David in particular, knowing the man's breadth of understanding on such things. "Will it stay there? Is there a reason we don't rush in there right now and chop it up?"

OOC Stuff

Nada.

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ynu3uIU.jpgSophie

○ the Monstrous 

Stats

Harm: ●●○ / ○○○○

Unstable:

Luck:  ○○○○○○○

Exp:  ●●○○○

Moves

Unnatural Appeal

Dark Negotiator

Immortal

IC

Sophie surveys the grounds of St. Johns as they all land on the other side of the wall. At this hour, few are up and about, which is both a blessing and a curse. Fewer innocents to be put in harm's way and fewer potential witnesses to their work. But it also means that anyone who does find them will likely have questions as to their presence at such a late hour. The sooner they can get somewhere less visible, the better.

"Anyone know the lay of the land here?" Sophie asks in a hushed tone. She's not particularly familiar herself, but she's trying to remember if she's heard anything about underground or otherwise ancient parts of the college. Failing that, her best notion is to track down Sigurdur. The boy may wittingly or unwittingly be able to lead them to the creature.

OOC

Let's ask "Where did it go?"

 

Edited by emotionaut (see edit history)
Name
Investigate a Mystery?
8
2d6 4,4
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Sophie scans the quad, but it is empty except for a couple arriving home a little unsteadily. When they have disappeared inside, everything is quiet.

Then, there is a clattering, followed by a brief pause, and then a crash as a slate tile smashes into the ground.

Looking up, Sophie sees a dark silhouette moving with an ungainly gait across the roof of the building opposite.

Edited by Knave (see edit history)
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Reverend Dr. David Beaumont, Professor Emeritus - The Expert - Sheet

Luck □ □ □ □ □ □ □

Harm □ □ | □ □ □ □

Experience □ □ □ □ □

 

Getting over the fence and into St. John's may have been an easy task for the other hunters, but David is an old man, and with a hurt back. He places his hands on the fence and goes to swing himself up, but can't quite manage the task. Takes a few steps back, attempts again with a bit of a run-up and a hop, but only succeeds in hitting the wall stomach-first and embarrassing himself. A few more tries later and the other hunters finally take pity on him. One goes ahead, holding David's hands and pulling him forward. The other grips his legs and pushes. Between the three of them they manage to heft David up and over the wall - where upon he promptly hits the ground on the other side with an 'oof.'

He gets up and brushes himself off, dirtier for the experience but unhurt save for his pride.

Of more concern to him is Annika's comment from earlier, about a possible war between ideologies.

"Hm. Well. Christianity was introduced to Scandinavia as far back as the 8th century BC lead by, you know, Saint Ansgar who acted on the order of Charlemagne's son and successor, Louis the Pious. The conversion was peaceful, for the most part, but also, you know, generally top-down as the Kings and Chiefs of the Northern lands would convert first - usually for political expedience - and would pressure their subjects to convert through favorable treatment of Christians rather than any, you know, overt laws or direct persecution of pagans. The benefit being that Christian neighbors would usually ally, rather than attack one another - while followers of Pagan religions spared each other no such courtesy. And you know, in a time so turbulent, a boarder or two you didn't need to defend was, hah, a great advantage. And more than enough justification to convert."

"This is, of course, a general pattern. A gross oversimplification, considering we're talking about a period of history that ran from about 960 to 1020 BCE, and within a territory of more than 450,000 square kilometers. Undoubtedly, and unfortunately, some individuals were converted by force. There is some historical debate over whether Harald Bluetooth's conversion was entirely willing, you know. With one account from about four hundred years after his death claiming that he converted after ordering a Christian missionary to perform a miracle and so the man carried hot iron without being burned, and another from a hundred years later - barely a blink of an eye in historicity terms - claiming that he was forced to convert as part of a peace treaty when a Frankish king defeated him in battle. There is ample reason to doubt both accounts, for no other record of the battle referenced exists, and even speaking as a man of faith I have never known God to perform miracles on command. Not even at the command of such accomplished Kings as Harald Bluetooth.

"And even in a relatively peaceful conversation of course a number of, you know, pagan temples were destroyed in the process. Priests of the Old Gods - worshipers of Thor and Odin and the such - were unseated from their positions of power. Any major change, you know, is going to upset someone. I don't mean to make light of their suffering, of course. Only to acknowledge that the spread of Christianity did cause a great deal of social upheaval. Though a lot of good, as well, you know. For example, Christian law made infanticide illegal. Where as, previously, it was a practice to simply leave unwanted babies out in the cold of a winter evening, and if the gods wanted them they might claim them themselves. Which I don't mean to imply was a practice unique to Scandinavian Paganism. An American historian whose work I am rather fond of has a book, 'The History of Childhood', which does quite a good job of exploring child rearing practices across time. It's rather dense and, I am afraid to say, a rather depressing work. But a well researched and documented one, which provides a worthy foundation for conducting further historical research through a psychoanalyst's lens."

"Speaking of books, an old friend of mine - Anders Winroth - is currently working on a book explicitly about the conversion of Scandanavia to Christianity. He hasn't seen fit to consult me in any way" the way David puffs a bit lets the others know his feelings were rather hurt by that fact "but that is for the best, I suppose. It's not as if I can share my experience in battling draugr as a credible source, and there are other professors at Oxford and at Yale and Stockholm for whom that period of time is a specialty, and I am sure he consulted with them."

He continues talking on the subject, almost like comparative religion is his life's work, until someone tells him that he needs to be quiet.

Edited by Ezeze (see edit history)
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Annika-removebg-preview.png.872abac25589690f6cf16f8da4ecdd12.png°φ←ζ Aηηika, hΣ HΣx ζ→φ•°

Condition: Blackened Lungs

Stats: Charm +2, Cool +0, Sharp +0, Tough -1, Weird +2

Harm: ○○/○○○○

Unstable:

Luck:  ○○○○○○

Exp:  ○○○○

Temptation: Power

Moves & Gear

Bad Luck Charm

Cast the Bones

Sympathetic Token

Force of Will

 

Rotes:

Leeching Enchantment

 

Gear:

Athame

Staff

Annika watches David’s poor attempts to scale the wall with an increasingly widening grimace stretching across her face. Always the least tactful of their group, the amateur witch is the first to step forward and insist that she help him in the task. “I’m sure you can manage it, Doc, but we need to get over at some point this year.” She smirks at him and gives him a light nudge with her elbow, ensuring the old man knows she is merely teasing him. 

 

Once over, Annika joins Sophie in keeping a close eye on their surroundings in search of anything that might be out of the ordinary, although she is relatively distracted by the sudden lecture provided on the subject of Christianity and Paganism. Normally she’d roll her eyes and tune out any unwanted information, but the subject was of particular note to her, given her recent studies into witchcraft. So much of her magic seemed to stem from some form of paganism, or at least some alteration of ancient Scandinavian rites. 

 

“Hey, professor, is this going to be on the exam? Because if not, let’s save it for later, mate. I don’t think we are alone here…” Her tone is direct, but in truth she had mentally noted everything he had said. The subject was certainly something that they would all need to discuss further and perhaps even research (if David didn’t already know everything about it, that is). If these Draugr things were actually targeting christians, it would be best to know where their hatred stemmed from. If anything, it might serve the purpose of giving them a leg up on the competition. 

 

Sophie’s attention seems to have been suddenly pulled upwards. Annika spots this and follows her sightline, catching just a glimpse of the scrambling shape on the roof. “Up there!” She whispers, “What’s the plan?”

OoC

Let’s read a bad situation, if that’s okay.

 

EDIT: 7 = Hold 1. Let’s go with Are there any dangers we haven’t noticed?

 

Edited by Spektor (see edit history)
Name
Read a bad situation
7
2d6 5,2
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Are there any dangers we haven't noticed?

Annika looks carefully at the figure on the roof. She doesn't recognize them, but it doesn't seem gaunt or skeletal. It's a human.

It's acting very strangely though, one hand tangled in the rope of the flagpole while its legs seem to be trying to throw him off the roof.

The only present danger is that this person can't hold on much longer.

 

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ynu3uIU.jpgSophie

○ the Monstrous 

Stats

Harm: ●●○ / ○○○○

Unstable:

Luck:  ○○○○○○○

Exp:  ●●○○○

Moves

Unnatural Appeal

Dark Negotiator

Immortal

IC

Sophie watches the figure dangle precariously from the rope five stories above them. She can feel a strange mix of emotions from the individual, but it's too far and too chaotic to parse. Additionally, she can't block out the stew of feelings coming from her companions as they look on. It seems they're all helpless to do anything. Time appears to slow, and a reverie measured in milliseconds overcomes her...

She was back in the dream with Sophia, playing with a dollhouse. The girl had one of her dolls at the roofline as she said, "Will I be able to see Daddy's sails when he returns from his trip, Mammy?"

Sophie held the mother doll below and replied, "Get down from there, chicken. You might fall."

And the game, of course, was that the doll would indeed begin to fall. "Oh no! 'Tis a gust of wind. I'm losin' me balance! Help!"

Then Sophie would suggest a series of solutions, each time being foiled by the logic of her other self. "Hold on! I'll fetch a ladder!"

"Oh no! The ladder broke!"

"I'll come up through the inside then."

"But you locked yourself out!"

"Then I'll fly to you, my love!"

"You can't fly!"

The trick was always to get Sophia to propose the solution, because her ideas never failed. "It seems there's nothing to be done!"

"You can climb, Mammy! Save me, save me..."


Sophie's attention snaps back to the present as she is overcome by a surge of emotion from Hal. The boy had only just earlier let one innocent slip through his fingers, and now he's about to witness another. But this upwelling of emotion, this primal need to help, comes paired with something else. She felt it when he pulled the sword from his own flesh. And in retrospect, she remembers it being there when he seemingly cured her of her migraine. There is power in that need, and in that instant, she knows he can do something with it.

She looks Hal dead in the eyes, past the quiver of fear they are all feeling. She searches in those fractions of a second until she finds it. That spark of confidence ready to bloom into a raging fire. She just needs to give him a little push. She reaches out with her mind, trying to calm his fears and bolster that feeling he can do the impossible.

With a hand laid gently on his shoulder, Sophie nods. Without saying a word, her look says everything. He can do this. He can do anything.

OOC

Trying to Help Out Hal. He gets +1 to his roll.

 

Edited by emotionaut (see edit history)
Name
Help Out
9
2d6+2 2,5
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⛤᛭⛤ Stats ⛤᛭⛤

 

Harm: ●●○ / ○○○○

Unstable:

Luck:  ○○○○○○○

Exp:  ○○○○

Moves

Cast Out Evil

Lay on Hands

No Limits

Smite

IC

There is an element of sheepishness to the reveal, with Hal having previously offered little to nothing and suddenly, you know, flaming swords and killing touches (that were meant to be healing). Back to his silent, reserved state, Hal tries not to be seen as they head onward, as they cross the wall and enter the quadrangle, to which he has never been and is thus useless as far as geography goes. Annika's magic is very neat, and Ekram's resignedness to pain.... disturbs him, but in more an empathetic way. When the lecture comes, despite its topic, he listens intently: he has zero interest in Scandinavian history, truth be told, or the history of Christianity, but he is very interested in the switch from pagan to Christian and what that facilitated; for obvious reasons, that might have bearing on him, though that is obvious only to him: he has, as of yet, admitted no connection to Arawn, and for now, he'd like to keep it that way.

Then the thing appears, moving strangely and drawing anger and regret from within. He almost summons the sword again, right then and there, before Sophie places a hand on his shoulder. The look says it all, and he nods, preparing himself mentally for what needs to be done. With a sigh, he looks at the pipes, the awnings, the overhangs and the ways to get up.

And then he's off.

OOC

No Limits to parkour up

Name
No Limits plus Help Out
12
2d6+2 4,6
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Your body obeys your will

Hal seems to flow up the side of the building, moving with the near-silence that denotes effortlessness. An old iron drainpipe is as good as a ladder to him, and he comes face-to-face with the leering stone gargoyle that surmounts it before he leaps over the parapet to land softly next to the struggling figure, tangled up in the flagpole ropeScreenshot-20231125-140014
find duplicate lines
, St John's flag flying above him.

Hal recognizes Sigurður, the Icelandic mathematician, bizarrely contorted as he simultaneously tries to hold on and tear himself away. The darkly blazing eyes turn with recognition on the boy from the valleys. It speaks in a halting and archaic Celtic that Hal's Welsh can just about make out:

"I'll see you, boy, before the day arrives."

With a final effort, Sigurður jerks away and topples over the edge. Hal moves like lightning, fast enough to grab an ankle. With a crack, the man is knocked out against the Oxford limestone, and Hal hauls him up, unconscious but alive at least.

 

Edited by Knave (see edit history)
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Annika-removebg-preview.png.872abac25589690f6cf16f8da4ecdd12.png°φ←ζ Aηηika, hΣ HΣx ζ→φ•°

Stats: Charm +2, Cool +0, Sharp +0, Tough -1, Weird +2

Harm: ○○/○○○○

Unstable:

Luck:  ○○○○○○

Exp:  ○○○○

Temptation: Power

Moves & Gear

Bad Luck Charm

Cast the Bones

Sympathetic Token

Force of Will

 

Rotes:

Leeching Enchantment

 

Gear:

Athame

Staff

Annika grimaces, watching the figure struggle against the flagpole. It’s difficult to make out exactly what’s happening; it is almost as if the person’s lower half is in conflict with its upper half. Or maybe that’s just what it looks like when someone is struggling for their life. It’s not exactly like she has a frame of reference to compare the scene to, beyond what she has seen in movies.

 

She looks between the members of the Monster Hunting society, unsure of how to proceed. Does she have a spell for this? Yes, probably. But not one that she can think of in the moment. Besides, such a blatant display of magic would probably not go over well with the public anyways. Where exactly should that line be drawn? Would Annika be expected to allow someone to die if saving them meant that her magic would be revealed? How long could they keep up the secrecy of their work in an ever-evolving world of technology?

 

Her eyes slide over to Sophie. The disciplined girl always seems to have an idea; she seems to know exactly what to do. If not her, then David certainly would. But Sophie is already staring at Hal. Something is being communicated there, and Annika is all too aware that she is not tapped into whatever that communication is. It’s enough to make her wonder if Sophie has been a telepath this entire time. 

 

Without a word, Hal jumps into action and scales the side of the structure with no effort. “What the f…” Annika’s words fade off as she watches an incredible display of human strength and agility performed without even breaking a sweat. “Who is this guy?” The question is probably rhetorical. But the pale teen is beginning to wonder if Hal’s special ability is to be exactly what they need when they need it. Talk about useful…

 

The young witch is at an angle where seeing what comes next is difficult. But the final outcome is obvious. Annika feels as if she can hear the crack of the student’s head against the stone wall. She winces. “That’s probably the best outcome we are going to get.” She mutters to the others around her. The teen witch catches Hal’s gaze from above and flashes him the hand gesture that has become known as the ‘devil horns’. “Bloody brilliant, Hal. This guy is mental!” She knows he cannot hear her, but the signal should be enough.

OoC

None

 

Edited by Spektor (see edit history)
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In Brief

spacer.pngEkram

The Wronged

Stats: Charm +1, Cool +0, Sharp +1, Tough +2, Weird -1

Harm: ○○ / ○○○○

Unstable: 

Luck:  ●●●●●●

Exp:  ●●○○○

Playbook Moves

I Know My Prey

DIY Surgery

Never Again!

Trust Your Gut (alt Weird)

Invincible

 

Real Friends Help You Move Bodies

"Very Nightmare on Elm Street Three." Ekram holds his hands up in front of himself, making a frame with his fingers and thumbs around the herky-jerky figure on the roof of the building. Any efforts spent scrambling over the wall was quickly forgotten in that moment as they all stood staring. A glance to the others as he drops his hands. "You know. Dream Warriors. With puppet man kill." He makes a back and forth motion with his hand to pantomime a marionette. He'd watched that movie dozens of times on VHS as a kid, one of about twenty his family had on hand before the supply of western goods closed up. The silence that follows tells him two things. Nobody else had a particularly in-depth knowledge of Nightmare on Elm Street 3, and this situation was more tense than he'd thought. Having not clocked the puppet man as a threat, Ekram hadn't given him enough thought to form genuine concern for his well-being. Which is, in itself, kind of concerning. Hal's acrobatic display puts to rest the issue before it even really becomes one.

"Hal is superhero. Not exactly feeling in same league right now." How long had it been since he'd had a smoke. He fumbles for the pack but stops before pulling it from his pocket. Going over the wall had a real 'covert infiltration' vibe that a lit cigarette wouldn't really mesh with. Gritting his teeth, he pulls his hand out empty and instead slides the other into his jacket pocket, feeling the cold metal of the knuckles waiting there. Scanning the grounds for any sign of trouble that might arise from Hal's rescue, he looks to Sophie and David. "Think he'll use the stairs now?" He certainly wouldn't be surprised if the kid just flew down with the guy held in one hand. Supernatural fucking nepotism.

"More important, where is puppet master?"

OOC Stuff

Nada.

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