RP By Crucifix and Kuji-Kiri

[Fulgrim]

Ancient Things and Modern Failures

​

Winter. Depending on where you came from, the word evoked cold, the idea of comfort within a warm space in your residence, perhaps even cuddling next to a fireplace to enjoy your evening. This was not the case now that you were stationed in Central America. The Guatemalan weather offered not only a still warm feeling in the air, but severe humidity and rain as well.

Why you were here was not for a simple vacation, at least not for most. You got a letter, perhaps in your mail, or someone approached you to speak about it. It didn't matter what method of communication you used, or if you used any at all, somehow, some way, someone found you, and you received the message.

An important businessman associated to some sort of conglomerate named EtoLabs, had a very delicate problem he needed you to handle. Close to the archaeological center of Tikal, stood the properties of EtoLabs, a private and extremely exclusive resort called Luz de Ixchel, as well as some sort of gargantuan storage building which contained valuables and data for the higher ups who 'owned' the land. There were whispers about the land being haunted by something, some supernatural events occurred every so often, nothing major, at first, until the deaths began to occur. Dozens of workers fell at the hands of something invisible, scattered left and right as if they were discarded meat.

Despite the logical conclusion of murder being present, the majority of the wealthy people above claimed it was something from beyond, a monster or rather. many of them. Now, something lethargic and massive guarded the entrance to the storage unit, killing on sight with no chance for anyone to get past, and what was worse, they said it kept growing hourly.


Perhaps you could consider this was not your problem, that there was no reason for you to bother listening, but you were given an offer, something so tantalizing you could not simply reject it. The one that managed to purge the grounds from the demons would receive a reward, any amount of money that they desired, any sports car, any mansion and just about any amount of promises that made it all sound like a trick or scam. After all, why would anyone go out of their way to do all this?- Your doubts, would likely be dropped down the gutter as you took a closer look, and realized the envelope contained not only five thousand dollars, but also a plane ticket for a first-class flight straight to the Airport Flores, a ride to your destination and a notification that your room was paid and ready for your arrival.

Whether you decided to go for the money, the curiosity of what was waiting, the desire to eradicate something as strong as they described or simply your wish to knock some sense of rich jerks didn't really matter, you were here, at the lobby of said place as you gathered along with others like you, exorcists.

Some seemed experienced, others looked as if they were complete newbies or worse, fakers who could be seen sweating at the sight of how much competition they had. Standing on the large set of stairs was Bartley McLane, having an oddly happy disposition despite the circumstances, behaving as if it all was some sort of game show and the exorcists were his audience as he tapped the microphone in his hand, testing it while getting the attention from the eager spiritists.

"Thank you." He rose his voice, practiced yet nervous as if he was embarrassed to speak in public.

"I and those present representing EtoLabs thank you greatly for being present at Luz de Ixchel today. I hope the complimentary meals were of your liking- Anyway. We must now get into why we are here, right?" He paused, looking at the crowd.

"All the terrain around is, as you know, infested with some unwanted visitors, I'm sure some of you already saw them, or dealt with some. Knowing this, we require you to continue clearing up our grounds until they are aaaaalll gone for good."


He nodded to himself, pacing a bit further up onto the stairs, focusing on a few of the exorcists that stood out most.

"And, while we shall reward each for your efforts, remember, we will greatly reward the one who ensures the big one is done. That should be all, remember to keep count and report back to our staff in order to provide the fair reward you will all earn. Stay safe!" He said, tone slightly more upbeat than when he began.


-


From the very back, Margo, a mountain of a man stood, eyes observant behind a thin curtain of his hair, arms bandaged with rags and his weapon slung over his shoulder defensively, he was, in fact, one of the exorcists who had already dealt with a couple of the things that roamed the surroundings of the building. He found himself concerned with something else, mainly the fact that those things weren't only outside.

He saw a tall, lanky figure slink around on a hallway when he was exploring the place upon his arrival, disappearing despite him giving it chase, not to mention the strange spots appearing on the walls every so often. The man speaking was hiding away the fact that this place was in far worse shape than he let on, probably a way to keep the workers from escaping before it was dealt with.


The young man looked at his surroundings, searching for others who weren't as relaxed, perhaps sticking close to others who were aware of the present danger would be helpful.

 

[illirica]

It had been wet, one way or another, since Lex had arrived. Sometimes there had been rain, sometimes there had merely been a dampness that lingered in the air, sometimes there had been the thick miasma of humidity that was almost solid, the sort that made people wish it would just rain and get it over with.

She sat now in a plastic chair, little droplets of water trickling slowly down the loose ends sticking out of what might charitably be called a bun, making little lat noises when they landed on the plastic of the chair, or making almost no noise at all when the sussurate depths of the hardwood floor swallowed them up, or tried to. There was a tiny dampness forming. It was terrible for hardwood.

She'd declined an umbrella, on the way in. No doubt there was someone annoyed about the matter. It certainly wasn't Lex.

She was watching the proceedings with a gaze that was what some might call politely interested. Those were the precious few who had never been watched by a predator. The others, well, they understood the look - the politeness hid many things, after all. Certain rituals must be observed for the sake of civility and all that.

She'd seen a few strange things out there on her way in, half-disguised by the raindrops. She'd left them alone. She wasn't in a hunting mood just yet. She'd only just arrived, after all, and she wanted to see what was out there before she decided on her prey.

It amused her how many people referred to lawyers as sharks. Lex had never been particularly piscine, but she knew the nature - something sharp that slid up from the depths beneath the current, a single quick motion and then a movement to drag a target down, bloodied from an unexpected bite, its strength suddenly a weight that worked against it.

She watched Bartley McLane, a positively cheerful force of the sort that only came with willful ignorance or wanton destruction. She wondered who he was, and more importantly, what he was to whom. It was all in the linguistics, as usual.

Delicately, she raised a pen, its sharp point just barely breeching the surface of the discussion, threatening something toothed lurking below.

"What is 'the big one,' Mister McLane?" Two distinct drawn out syllables on each part of the appellation, almost Gaelic: Mis-ter Mac Lainne. "Information has been lacking. I do not like it when information is lacking. I get bored, and start looking for other things to entertain me. Like financials. I do enjoy a good dive into corporate accounting records."

Her smile was edged, and not piscine at all. Some other genus, less opportunistic and far more deliberate in its stalking of its prey. The teeth were still there, though.

What was a smile, without teeth?

 

[UmbraSight]

The more zeros that found their way behind a number the more dubious a job became, this, Haru found, was doubly true if the client was wealthy. The rich had deep pockets, but in her experience they only really opened their wallets wide when they wanted lips to remain tightly closed and, more to the point, they had something important that they absolutely did not want to tell you. A smart exorcist shied away from clients who were being far too generous with an opening offer for work that certainly seemed on the outside to be rather easy. Money was a trap, but that said if an exorcist found herself curious about the nature of that trap, well, that certainly was its own sort of snare wasn’t it?

Right.

It was good, Haru found, that she had left most of her arsenal in the storehouse back home. The heat and humidity in this place would be a killer on iron, and she certainly didn’t want to have to spend time oiling all of the blades she hadn’t even planned to use while on this job, even if it would have been smart to have a weapon or two in reserve. It hadn’t been the best day for the preliminary snooping that she had wanted to do as well, too rainy and her without a weapon she could use alongside an umbrella. Perhaps she should have brought the rapier, even if it had troubles subduing the bulkier spirits at times. Still, her day hadn’t gone entirely without some excitement, there had been a rather disconcerting lump of flesh, or whatever it was spirits were when they became unidentifiable masses; she had gone ahead and run it through, if only because the alleyway was much faster to go down than going all the way around.

For this presentation, Haru had gotten herself a nice central chair from which she had a good view of the nervous Mr McLane and a better view of the other exorcists. The fidgety ones Haru gave a rather charitable two days before they would be taking the ‘earliest flight available, please’ though she had been wrong about the tenacity of hucksters before, much to that man’s detriment. There were some who just seemed fresh, loyal to the promise of money at least, though no saying how much help they would be when whatever the unspoken ‘but’ shadowing this place made itself known.

Oh. Well, not totally unspoken now was it?

Haru couldn’t help but give the rather serious woman with an equally serious case of wet hair a grin, she could certainly respect just cutting directly to the chase rather than play the cloak and dagger game all week.

“Makes it a lot easier to deal with the problem when we know what exactly that problem is.” Haru added, which didn’t end with her also threatening to audit the company’s finances, so hopefully that made her the good cop in this situation.

 

[Katpride]

Theodore, unlike most of the exorcists that seemingly foresook their umbrellas on this fine, drizzly evening, is completely dry. This is because being a wizard is awesome, and he is not afraid to risk setting himself on fire a little bit when the alternative is sloshing around in wet socks all day.

A few strands of his hair are still smouldering, but he licks his fingertips and pinches the tiny flame out before it can spark again. Then, wiping his hand furtively on his cloak, he glances sideways at his cousin, who is standing ram-rod straight as always, boots still vaguely damp (he had declined Theo’s very generous offer to dry them) and eyes fixed unwaveringly on the speaker guy. Seems like he didn’t notice. Good.

Turning to survey the room once more, not having many other options for ‘interesting things to do’, Theo shifts his weight from foot to foot, wishing not for the first time that Damian had let him drag a chair over instead of insisting that they stand off to the side and leave the chairs for people who really need them. There are, like, at least five empty chairs that he can see just from a casual glance. He totally could’ve stolen one.

Something the speaker guy says draws his attention away from a woman with a particularly pointy-looking sword, and he frowns, letting his hood drop back down over his eyes as he leans towards Damian. “Wait, they’re going full honor system with the kill count? Isn’t that kinda…”

A terrible idea, he wants to say, but maybe he’s being uncharitable. Exorcists are supposed to be, like, priests and stuff, usually, aren’t they? He looks over the crowd again, trying to take a mental tally of how many of these people he’d trust with, like, anything.

The number is astoundingly small. He’s starting to think that maybe… just maybe, this might be some kind of trick.

His hand is in the air before he can think better of it, though he doesn’t wait for anyone to call on him before joining the tax lady and the sword lady in voicing his question, arm drooping back down to his side as he speaks. “Yeah, what changed? Spirits don’t usually just show up out of nowhere. Did you do something to piss them off?”

 

[HighVoltage]

Damian was not a fan of the weather in Guatemala. It wasn’t the warmth that bothered him but the humidity, the feeling of the very air itself pressing down, smothering you with its invisible weight. He’d already had to shed his jacket, ignoring the looks from the locals that lingered on the many scars crisscrossing his arms as he and Theodore had made their way to the resort.

Luz de Ixchel, ‘Ixchel’s Light’. After some cursory research, Damian had found the name belonged to a Mayan goddess associated with midwifery and medicine. While it didn’t seem directly connected to the issue they were being called to solve, it was better to have the knowledge early than to be surprised later. When he’d passed the information along to Theodore, he’d only gotten a blank look in response.

When he also mentioned that she was a jaguar goddess, it was then that Theodore had lit up. Damian hadn’t had the heart to tell him that they most likely weren’t going to see any actual jaguars, either to fight or to pet, so he’d just let the excited chatter comfortably wash over him.

And now here they were, a slight drizzle filling the space around them. Damian had insisted they stand, much to Theodore’s chagrin, but there was a formality to their work, a professionalism that had to be maintained as much as possible in order to separate them from the charlatans.

Of which there seemed to be a great deal assembled here. Damian had taken what opportunities he could to observe their “fellow” exorcists, and while he knew appearances could be deceiving, he felt that, at most, half of those here had actual experience dealing with spirits.

A flicker of movement caught his gaze, and Damian looked over in time to see Theodore put out an idle flame in his hair. Damian discreetly rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to their host as he danced around the issue at hand. Theodore had waved off his concern plenty of times, asserting that he was ‘mostly fireproof!’, so Damian knew it was a moot point to argue about it.

“A terrible idea? I agree.” He finished for Theodore. No doubt some of those who made the flight to Guatemala were just here for the money, and would most likely inflate their ‘kill count’ to make as much from the situation as possible. “We will be honest, though.” His tone made it clear that it was not up for debate.

A couple voices raised above the crowd, questions being posed about a lack of information, and even a veiled threat. Damian was surprised that someone would threaten a group that had presumably millions of dollars floating around with a fiscal audit, but then again there was no doubt some shady business behind those funds. Nobody who could afford to throw around five thousand dollars and first-class flights came by the money to do so honestly.

Another voice joined the choir, chipper and right next to him. “Language.” Damian muttered as he poked Theodore in the side. Cursing aside, his logic was sound and it was a valid question to ask. There was usually some catalyst for spiritual activity, and angering them was usually the quickest way to make them hostile.

He didn’t add to the questions, instead letting others do the talking as he scanned what he could see of the crowd without taking his eyes off Mr. Mclane. If he was going to be working in the vicinity of these people, he wanted to make sure he knew who would be a valuable ally and who would just make things worse.

 

[reyn]

Quinn Reeves was quite at home in the rain. Part of it was where they were from--that small, isolated village in the east of England was, understandably, not somewhere you'd go for sun--and part of it was their outfit, like a hard-boiled detective had slunk out of some pulp novella and shrank a little on the way.

What they did not enjoy, however, was the heat. Sweat though they would, they were not taking that damn coat off, so the earlier rain had come as more of a blessing than perhaps it would've- nobody could tell where the heavy film of damp had come from. Maybe they just got caught out in it earlier, and were not, in fact, losing half their bodyweight in water through their skin.

Reeves took out a crinkled plastic bottle and began to drink, listening as their new employer (and- oh, god, their new colleagues?) began their discussions. Quite how this group would fare together was beyond them for the time being. Their client certainly wasn't helping matters, already setting up competition between them. There were some, ah, strong personalities on display already. They were starting to get a little concerned.

Still, they listened. Money and parameters, details of the job, details of the situation- these were questions they had themself as well, so at least they were being asked. These people were competent, even if they weren't necessarily friendly, and Reeves knew which one they'd prefer.

"Look, if I may-"

They paused, catching themself with a sigh. Whatever they were about to say, it would clearly be something they'd regret- too aggressive, or too vulnerable, or too embarrassing. When they spoke again, their voice was a little quieter- addressing their fellow exorcists, rather than their generous host.

"I'm just not sure that running this like a competition is the best idea, 's all." They shrugged, "I can't be the only one who thinks this will end in bloody mutiny before we even catch sight of this big one."

 

[Fulgrim]

The staff grew uneasy in a moment's notice. With the words of some of the exorcists, the rest also began with their own comments, their disagreements and anger. This was exactly why Bartley had decided not to ask if they had any questions, people always did this, put ideas in their heads and they will bounce around until the echo becomes far too dangerous.

Once the whispers began among the crowd, McLane's expression turned from friendly and jolly to slight annoyance, briefly, but enough to be noticed. He cleared his voice, very obviously, into the microphone in order to call for attention and silence in the room.

"People, people! Please, let's not take hasty decisions, I will gladly hear all of your concerns, in ORDER."

He gave a quick glance at a group who stood nearby, almost imperceptible. They moved silently, staying close to the stairwell in order to protect him should things get out of hand.


"First, the big one- While I am not aware of whether you give classes or names to these things, what we would describe it is something like a bear, or a cat or something hairy looking at least... Fast, and, big, very big, as I said. It swallowed some of our men whole! Though, I do warn you, it seems it does not like things to end fast. It took its sweet time with the last exorcist we hired- So, we took desperate measures and brought you all in, so this terrible massacre can finally stop."

He brought a hand to his chest, as if mourning those lost by the beast.

"Now about that- Payment. Although we have already given you what we consider a decent remuneration for you to come here... I believe we can arrange something that fits your necessities better. Once again, I am only a messenger, please, refer to the staff who are much better prepared than I in this case- Thank you, once again."

The man moved with a quick pace up the stairs, ensuring to go before anything else could be asked or commented, leaving people far more nervous than they did before, especially those who came unprepared for the main event. The staff mentioned didn't exactly look approachable or friendly like McLane, instead they carried an air of almost boredom, far calmer than you'd hope from people suffering a situation like this, in fact, it was almost uncanny.


_


Margo didn't complain nor say a word during this time, thinking quietly while their kind host made his escape. He wasn't one to waste time in situations like this. Money was money, and he really wanted a chance to figure out what the big one was exactly. The man, sticking out of the crowd like a sore thumb, walked out of the lobby and out onto the humid weather he was so used to and always loved. It was obvious that as a resident from the country he was far more confident in the greenery, even if he wasn't moving particularly fast just yet.

Following his steps, several others came out, starting the search for spirits to take out and others heading towards the zone with the biggest haunting. He overheard a few who had formed a group, running into the tall grass to get as much of a time advantage as possible.

While he didn't mind doing things alone, he definitely agreed that working together was much more fun. His honeyed stare followed those who came out, picking out what weapons they used, whether they returned the stare or not, but in the end, it seemed as if they were simply not the right choice. A feeling, or a vibe, whatever way he would call it didn't matter, it was simply obvious to him they were not what he was looking for. So, he stood there, like some sort of massive guard dog waiting for attention and just like one, failing to get it due to his intimidating disposition. Being good looking wasn't exactly enough to cut the fact that he looked like the type of person to hurt others unprompted.


What to do, what to do... He felt himself grow more and more awkward by the second, fingers tightening around his weapon's handle. He remained rooted in place, silence only broken by distant chattering and the falling of water droplets in the foliage, running now that the rain had stopped momentarily, allowing the vapor to rise softly like a solid mist, with a herbal scent and a light metallic tang coming from the soil beneath. The sun continued to batter the tired skins of many, hauntingly ever present like an all-seeing eye, the only protection from its gaze being the large leaves spreading out from the paths around the property.

Time would tell how everyone would do, later.