Demon World

Demon World

GM: chad.sims2
Assistant GM: Teele

Background Story In the year 2154 science discovered an alternate dimension. The announcement was seen as the largest discovery in scientific history. Five years later the dimension gap was bridged. Man had traveled to the moon, Mars, and even Jupiter twice, but for once man traveled to far.

Reports immediately came out of the facility located in New York City. The reports where mixed and confused, but all agreed that something went wrong: "Dimensional navigation reports problems...", "We are operating at 110% efficiency...", "The last four experiments have been completely successful...", "Technicians are still working on the problems with closing and deactivating the dimension gate...".

Within a week New York city was no longer in control of the US, or even creatures of our dimension. It belonged to the demons. The world gathered itself and fought back, feebly. Within a year the US no longer existed, the Americas belonged to them. Then the expansion halted. The gate sealed by some unknown force. The powerful nations of the world worked hard, fighting the crud boats of the demons, combined with their strange power. Magic.

The war to contain the demons rages on, weeks, months, years. The nations armies have quickly turned to magic and religion of their own. Naval boats with priests or witches quickly realize that blessings and magic seem to be the most effective method of fighting back, though not the only. The Russians continue to use brute force, while the British align themselves with the Catholic Church. The Japanese went back to traditional monks and their beliefs, areas like Scotland and Ireland turn back to Celtic magic. So the world became once again, divided by religion and magic.

The Story
The year is 2235. Now the nations of the world have gathered once again. Each sending mages, witches, priests or even mercenaries. The goal, to infiltrate the captured land, report back on the situation, and if possible strike a powerful blow against the demons themselves.

You are one of those men or woman chosen by your country to find out what has been happening in the areas conquered by the demons. Do you use magic? Guns? Or even possibly go at it Beowulf style and fight naked and barehanded?

The Demons
The world as we now know it is pervaded with many different types and forms of demonic creatures. Following are some of the more common types:

Rat Demon: Vile creatures, short and hairy. Standing at 4ft tall on average, the have elongated faces and large teeth causing them to resemble rats. Their hair can range form any color but it is almost always dirty and knotted. A favored hair style involves what a human would call dreads on their head with decorative beads. The rat demons are known for their ravenous insatiable appetites, large numbers, and pure stupidity.

Imp: Clever demons, even smaller than the Rat demons standing at maximum of 2ft. They are very monkey like though they have no fur and bat like ears. They are crafty and sneaky, more likly to slit your throat in your sleep then attack you head on. For all their cleverness, they are cowards and are considered the lowest form of demons.

Humanoid Demons: By far the rarest though most dangerous of all demons. Human in appearance they weild great magics with eaze and are belived to be the ruling class of demons. Humanoid demons generally comand large armies of lesser demons.

Stalker: Vaguely humanoid, these wraiths have small, thin torsos, and long legs and arms. They have a small face that seems completely blank except for a large, gaping mouth sporting a row of long, needle-like teeth. Their skin is pure black, and their magical abilities center around shadows. They can strike and claim victims with enormous speed, using only their teeth and claws to tear flesh from bone. They can be killed conventionally, but they flee from light.

Hellscarab: A massive beetle resembling a fire-red cockroach, they are about three feet in length; and the tops of their shells come about a foot off the ground. Their eyes carry a deep red flickering glow as if there's a fire stoked inside. They also have the ability to expell a napalm-like spray (think bombardier beetles). They have a hard exoskeleton, but can be killed by conventional weapons without too much difficulty.

Snapper: Named after a snapping turtle. Stands 9ft tall, 600 lbs, and covered in a thick shell, including it's face. The only really weak point is its eyes, and slow movement. It has a feirce appitite, and equally mean personality. While not completly stupid, can even speak when it wants. Usually "food" or "lunch" are the last things it victem hears.

Char Sheet
Name:
Station: (rank, title)
Physical Description:
Personality:
Equipment: (Not really any limit to this, it is the future so you may have some really cool things, but keep it decent. (EX: Exoskeleton could be allowed but not a mobile suit))
Skills: (Again can be pretty tough but no gods please.)

Dramatis Personae
GM chad.sims2 – Joseph Priest – Male – Admiral – Fencing, Boxing and Fire Magic
GM chad.sims2 - Fransisco Johnathan Amelio III – Male – Exorcist – Exorcism
Assistant GM Teele – Akane Hokkaido – Female – Samurai – Kenjitsu and martial arts
Assistant GM Teele – Sean “Mack” Mackenzie – Male – Luitenant – Weapons and Demo. expert, minor healing
AnonyMoose – Alison Archer – Female – Marksman – Magic “Decimator” rifle
CommonGoods - Subject #00279 “Avalon” – Female – Support and Intelligence – Spirit butterflies
deathblade15 - Erika Capelli – Female - Technical Genius – Hypercube/Tac-Com sunglasses
Mike Nemesis – Danny Cadarva – Male – Infitrator – Body manipulation
Gloom – “Alice” – Female – Demonic Hybrid – Battle tactics and Heavy Assault
Blossom – Meav Stewart – Female – Doctor – Healing and close quarter combat

Name:Joseph Priest
Station: Admiral
Physical Description: 22 year old pretty boy. Wears his uniform like it was a fine suit, and the ribons like jewlry. He stands at 6ft tall and weighs only 150lbs. His white naval suit
Personality: Arrogant when talking to men and smooth when talking to women. He is confident in both his skills of war and of magic. Some would say over confident but his high rank and young age would discredit any disbelief.
Equipment: A family heirloom saber that is hinted to be magic, a lugar also an hairloom, and a custom made gatling gun that fires 9mm bullets. The gun is two foot long, with the clasic multi barrel design, and is made in a shape simular to a shotgun. He currently commands the Leviathan, the vessile in charge of delivering the team. The leviathan is a submarine-aircraft carrier.(more to come)
Skills: Fencing, boxing, and fire magic.




Name: Fransisco Johnathan Amelio III
Station: Exorcist/inquisitor
Physical Description: A traditional spanyard. 5'11, 120 with a sharp nose and jaw. His light blue eyes and dark brown hair contrast interesting. He looks noble in his own way though not handsome.
Personality: A proud, stuborn man. He is kind in the way a lord can be kind ot pesants. Not wanting to even consider marrying out side his proud spanish heritage. He followed spanish history and tradition as a chathlic and followed the middevil spanyards in becoming a exorcist/inquisitor.
Equipment: A cross that when the bottom part is pulled on it comes off to revial a dagger. Vials of holy water, a bible, salt (wards lesser demons though can't stop them if they are determined), rosemerry, and of course a wooden steak.
Skills: Exorsism has been found to paralize and givin enough time even kill a demon.

Name: Alison Archer

Station: shooter

Physical Description: 19 years old, 5’6” and very thin, with long straight blonde hair down her back, pale grey eyes, and fair skin; wears a dark grey tight long-sleeve tee, with a short black denim jacket over it, black leather gloves, short black cargo shorts, thigh-high black leggings, and black Vans shoes; also has two utility belts crisscrossing her waist and a small backpack on her back

Personality: usually goes by ‘Alice’ or sometimes by her longtime nickname ‘Malice’ and has a personality to match; cold-hearted and apathetic; usually very quiet, unless she has a question or comment; rarely speaks above a whisper and doesn't like useless chatter; in combat, Alice is very patient, almost to the point of seeming lazy; she calmly tracks enemies in her crosshairs and is often criticized for taking her time

Equipment: Magitech XG-55 “Decimator,” a 4.5-ft long prototype artillery rifle Alice ‘borrowed’ from her father, a prominent weapons designer; It is powered by raw magic stored in special power cells, which she carries in her backpack. They are each about the size of a large soda can and can be plugged into ports on the rifle’s frame; she usually has two or three attached at any given time and they can be replenished by any magic user. The rifle has many different firing modes, which adjust the size, speed, and properties of its projectile:
sniper: fires a single large-calibur slug of condensed magic, useful for sniping; the gun must pause between shots, to make more bullets, so there is a 3-second delay in firing; uses the least energy and is the most cost-efficient setting
automatic: similar to the basic firing mode, but the bullets are much smaller and easier to generate, allowing a much faster rate of fire, comparable to a machine gun; less accurate than the 'sniper' setting and has almost the same energy consumption
cutter: instead of generating individual bullets, the gun releases raw magic in the form of a highly-focused uninterrupted beam, like a laser; useful for cutting through metal or slicing opponents (think lightsaber); uses a lot of energy and can deplete an entire power cell in a matter of seconds
decimator: the firing mode for which the gun was named; the decimator immediately depletes the gun’s energy, unleashing it all in a single powerful blast; the beam it emits is much thicker than the 'cutter' beam and explodes on impact; instantly uses up three whole power cells, leaving the gun completely drained

Skills: her best skill is her ability to always hit her mark, though she doesn’t have the quickest trigger finger by any means; expert marksmanship, but not very skilled at close quarters combat because she doesn’t have the fast reflexes necessary for melee; has a strong resistance to mind-altering magic, but no actual magical ability

Name: Subject #00279 “Avalon”

Station: Support and Intelligence

Alignment: HERA (Human Evolution and Reproduction Association)

Physical Description: 12 year old girl. 4 feet 9, 90 lbs. Dark Chestnut hair, which is kept at shoulders length. Large, deep brown eyes, narrow face, somewhat pale due to the lack of direct sunlight. Usually wears a white shirt with black trousers, child sized army boots and a black jumper dress.

Personality: Avalon, born and raised by the military, is and has always been, a tool first and foremost. The team in charge of her, however, have always treated her like a little girl, and as a direct result of this mixed treatment, “Ava”, as she is sometimes called, has developed into an overly childish and naive girl.

Ava will work with anyone, follow any order, act without hesitation. Many years of pampering mixed with weeks of near isolation have made her retract into a dream world of her own. She will never act on her own device, and is highly dependent on those around her. Ava’s attention span is none existent, and she is prone to dreaming away, even in the heat of things, unless given a task.

Equipment: Ava carries a small knapsack around, which holds some food, juice, and a few other essentials.

Skills: Ava has been described as a modern day shaman, although such description is confusing at best. The girl has a strong affinity for spirit magic, which manifests itself in the form of large butterflies, which she refers to as ‘her friends’. It has been theorised that these butterflies are Ava’s reaction to the demonic outbreak, a defence mechanism of some sort. Which would make Ava the next step in human evolution.

There are three times of butterflies, which can appear and disappear at any given time.
Black butterflies can perform simple tasks, such as lift small items, move them, or even, in sufficient quantity, push open doors and move heavy equipment. Black butterflies are, like the name implies, completely black.
The yellow butterfly or flame butterfly emits a small amount of light, and can emit as much light as a simple flashlight when ordered to. The real beauty of these butterflies in combat situations, however, is that whatever they see, Ava sees, making them excellent scouts, as they can simply be replenished when lost. Yellow butterflies range from bright yellow to orange.
Red butterflies or hell butterflies are more useful in combat situations. These large flying menaces have small fangs, which they can use to assault, and in sufficient quantity even kill lesser demons. On the greater demons, they have less effect, although they have proven themselves as being able to distract opponents. Red butterflies are a dark shade of red, often speckled with small black dots.

Name: Erika Capelli

Station: Magicks Technician/Part time Mercenary

Physical Description: 21 year old, 5' 4", thin with a slight muscular tone, medium short brown hair and eyes, light tan skin; wears a white tee, black leather bikers jacket, jeans, boots, fingerless gloves, and her famous tac-com sunglasses that have a red tint in the lens (for the tactically prepared on the go girl.)

Personality: despite her genius she is more considered a tom boy. Likes to have a bit of action and is rough around the edges. Can be hard to handle by superiors or those interested in her. Loves nothing more than a debate in the magicks science field. She does have a silly side, that she uses in private, though it can sometimes get loosed in the eyes of the public.

Equipment:

Hypercube: Her main weapon is the "High Intensity Powered Emitter of Resources Compact Utilities Box Extroardinaire" or the hipercube (she prefers it be called hypercube) a weapon she designed in her home lab in Florence, Italy. The hypercube is a magickal weapons storage unit capable of storing seen weapons into a database within the cube. When activated the cube will transform into the memorized weapons schematics. The current hypercube she wields is a Mark II, and its memory banks can only hold up to 3 weapons at a time.

Weapons in Hypercube:

Model HC-47 Rifle: an assault rifle that incorporates the use of magick in its bullets. Spells instantly act upon impact of rifle rounds with devastating effect. Untested on Daemonic subjects, effects are unknown.

Model HC-223 Longsword: a longsword made of titanium, making it both light and durable. Untested on Daemonic Subjects, effects unknown.

Model HC-666 Anihilator: Essentially a Magick Bazooka, drains quite a bit of energy from the hypercube, but it has satisfactory results. Untested on Daemonic subjects, effects unknown.

Tac-Com Sunglasses: This is another one of her inventions. The Tac-com sunglasses (tcs) registers the features of anyone and anything she wishes to be registered. The sunglasses photograph the target and immediately define features while linking up to the world wide web and up backgrounds, specific information, or a demon's bestiary.

It also works as a comm link and she can see the biosigns and power levels of her allies or enemies.

Skills: electronics and decryptions, she can use her abilities to hack into anything, fix any problem, or activate/deactivate obstacles. Even the simplest of things lying around, if strong enough, can be used as a tool for her to use.

Hokkaido Akane
(Name reads last name, then first name(which is pronounced ah-KAH-nay and means 'brilliant red'))
Station: Samurai
Physical Description: Tall, light, and lithe, Akane stands 5'8" tall. She has jet black hair, that reaches to her shoulders when loosed. It is mostly kept in a ponytail. She was named for her eyes, which are a strange, exotic red. She wears black pants that outline the shape of her legs, and a black tank top underneath a dark red jacket. She wears three blades, according to her tradition. She is 21 years old.

Personality: Akane is calm, at peace, intelligent, and vicious in battle. Her eyes miss nothing, and she always seems to remain in a state of calm. Above all, she values honor, and speaks very plainly when she feels someone has acquired or lost it. She herself lives for it.

She is not unfriendly, but many find the way she thinks and some things she says slightly off-putting. Despite this, she is well-known by her own people.

Equipment: Three traditional Japanese swords. Two are strapped to her back, in decorated red sheaths; a long katana, and a shorter wakizashi. The dagger-like tanto, she strapps to her left thigh. She uses it only in desperation; knowing that it's true purpose is to shed her own blood should she lose her honor.

Akane also wears a pistol on her hip, but uses that only when in need.

Skills: Extensive physical training; expertise in kenjitsu (art of the Japanese sword) and martial arts. Her centeredness and inner calm can give her a slight magical edge to her speed. She is a decent shot with her pistol, but prefers melee combat.

Name: Danny Cadarva

Station: Infiltrator

Physical Description: When found in his true form Danny’s body is covered in tribal tattoo’s. He has wings tattooed to his back and glyphs that run up his neck on to his face. He tends to remain topless and wears black combats and no shoes given the fact that they tend to get destroyed when changing form.

When using his ability his eyes tend to turn completely white replacing his blue eyes and thus he wears a pair of black sunglasses. Bald, clean shaven and well built. 24 years old and just under 6 foot weighing in at only 70kg.

Personality: As an infiltrator Danny relies on himself and is very cunning engineering situations to his advantage. Percieves himself as different from others given his ability and is noted for aggressive outbursts but dealing out swift deaths opposed to causing suffering.

Equipment: Danny doesn't carry a large amount of equipment instead he relies on his ability to manifest his weaponry however given its short range nature he does carry a Zastava M93 Black Arrow sniper rifle but this covers a long range nature and still leaves him fairly vulnerable in terms of mid range combat.

Skills: Danny has given over his body to magic allowing himself to manipulate his appearance making him a perfect infiltrator as he can become anyone and doesn't need to smuggle in weaponry as he can arm himself with what he's come to refer to as his "demonic arsenal" forfeiting his arms for claws, pincers or what ever takes his fancy on the battlefield at will.

Sean "Mack" Mackenzie
Station: Lieutenant; Weapons and Demolitions Expert
Physical Description: Mack has short brown hair, a beard, and a persistant smile. He stands 5'11" and is broad-shouldered and decently-muscled. Despite being a military man, he dresses extremely informally; jeans, t-shirt, and a denim jacket. He wears his dog tags around his neck alongside a crucifix.

Personality: Outgoing, friendly, and thrill-seeking, Mack is usually popular wherever he goes. He likes to drink, flirt with the ladies, and set bombs. Despite his jovial, outgoing attitude, though, he clings tightly to the Catholic faith. His reverence for the church is both surprising and unequaled even by many priests.

Equipment: Mack always carries a gun of some kind. Usually he's got a pistol handy in a hip holster, and an automatic rifle strapped to his back. If he sees something different or interesting dropped by an enemy, or laying around, he'll inspect it at length and then either take it or drop it. He also carries a backpack full of electronic components and C4 for making custom bombs.

Skills: Expert marksman and athlete with the old Celtic lust and excitement for battle. Also a demolitions expert; if it's a problem, Mack'll find a way to blow it up. He has one magical ability:

Faith Healing: Mack can pray over someone who's injured or wounded, and heal them slightly.

Char Sheet:

Name: “Alice”


Station: battle tactics, formation and assault walking encyclopaedia of the demonic


Physical Description: Alice weighs a hefty 84 kg’s an awful lot of weight for a woman who doesn’t appear to be overweight. Alice is 5,6 in height and has brown hair with a chunk of what appears to be blue dye through her fringe at the right hand side. Her eyes are a strange glass like blue. Her skin is inhumanly pale and looks more like the skin of a dead human being. Alice has a blue tattoo on her forehead of a circle made out of vines.


Personality: Due to her upbringing at rare tech scientific institute Alice is very quiet, she can come off as being a snob with a holier then thou attitude, however it isn’t the case. All good experiments know to talk only when spoken to. Alice can swing in moods, ranging from pleasant and upbeat to depressed and anxious.


Equipment: Regal Armour good quality neck guard made of light weight metal and meshing giving it a good measure of movement. Breast plating and shin and thigh plates

Cull sleave, a gauntlet made of various crystals and metal meshing optimises magic use when she uses bolt has a small inbuilt stiletto that works like a switchblade.


Skills: Bolt magic, (small electrical currents that she can build upon and make into larger torrents. This takes a lot of energy.) Brute force making her a difficult appoinent, her skills are not speed and agility based making a target with such skills difficult for her to overcome.

Name: Meav Stewart
Station: Doctor
Physicial Description: 25-year-old Meav stands at 5'3", her long raven hair and dark eyes testament to her Celtic origins. She has a slender frame corded with lean muscle from an active lifestyle, and on her left arm is a tattoo of an ancient Celtic symbol meaning 'life'.

Personality: Brought up by her grandmother, a self-professed Celtic druidess, Meav has a healthy dose of respect for ancient traditions and beliefs tempered by scientific knowledge gained during her studies. She is a quick-witted, down to earth young woman who believes actions speak louder than words and doesn't suffer fools lightly.

Equipment: A first-aid kit with medical essentials and a few extras, and various holisitic, natural medicines in keeping with her grandmother's teachings. She also carries a switchblade and an automatic rifle.

Skills: Meav in trained in hand-to-hand combat, and she has her healing abilities - some have said her skill borders on the magical, like the druids of old.

Joseph Priest stood personally to greet all of his guests upon entering his ship before he sent them on their way to their quarters. All greeted by the man noted his thick german accent, and chivalrous conduct. He made it a point to greet every lady with a gentle kiss on the top of the hand. The men however while treated with the politeness of a knight, received empty looks of a man who would have perfered to be somewhere else.

After the last of the guests had been boarded, and brought to their individual quarters Joseph took one last breath of the cold early winter sea breeze and motioned for the hatch to close. He smiled slightly to himself as the hatch slammed shut, and a soft hiss anounced the pressurizing of air. The Leviathan was his prized possesion, a gift from the country of Germany. It was not his exactly but it might as well been. He had been giving overall athority of it and granted leave to use it as he wished. Though occasionally orders like this one would be passed down forcing him to return from his hunts at sea.

The ship itself was a master peice of engineering. A submarine the size of an air craft carrier, and infact was one. The top most level was a presureized flight deck. While the ship could not land planes, planes could take off easily after a moment above water. Additionally attached to the bottom of the ship where the new Aero-subs. He just smiled to himself at the though of their testing that was to come soon. Hopefully after he had dropped these people off at their designations. Joseph smirked, adjusted his uniform ever so slightly. "Though I vill miss the vondervall ladies."

(All of you are located in your room. A ten by ten room with a bunk and a trunk. Each can post now. The greeting was awhile ago and the ship has neared it's destenation after three days of travel. You will each write a knock on the door, a seaman will arrive telling you that the meeting will be held shortly and requesting that you follow them to the conference room. The meeting room is a standard confrence room, big squar table, projector, of course everything is metal it's a sub. Joseph will already be there.)

Akane had entered her room, swept it with a long, analytical glance, and shut the door behind her. She unslung her small satchel which contained only the necessities for travel. Which weren't many at all in Akane's case. The primary object of attention was a red gi; her training and sparring outfit.

Working quickly, she stripped weapons and clothes from her body and donned the lose crimson outfit, snugged to her waist by a black cloth sash. She swept the room once more, picked up her katana, and shut off the lights.

The room was small, and her practice strokes and movements needed to be delicate and precise. Not once did she hit the wall or the bed in the darkness as she began her elaborate, meditative dance.

She was interrupted by an unwelcome rap on the door. She stopped, her blade pointed out and toward the floor, her form crouched low.

"Come." She said. She straightened immediately when a young man entered.

"M-Miss Hokkaido?" He stuttered a little...new recruit. Not surprising. Still she was able to relax even more. There was no threat here.

Soundlessly she walked over and flicked on the light. The seaman, who hadn't seen her in the darkness jumped in alarm and instantly reddened for doing so. His glance over her form, and the distressed neckline where the folds of the gi met did not help. Akane couldn't help but smile inwardly. Americans...

"Can I help you, seaman?" Her accent flowed over her tongue in a neutral tone. She could almost see what the young recruit was thinking; but he remembered his duty first.

"Uh. You've been summoned to the conference room." She nodded.

"Thank you, seaman. A moment, if you please." He nodded and backed out of the room. Quickly, Akane changed back into her operational outfit, folding the gi carefully and putting it away. She followed the seaman out of the room and into the large clinincal briefing area.

* * *

Mack touched his fingers to his forehead, chest, and each soldier as he completed his prayer. Taking up the crucifix around his neck he kissed the cold metal tenderly. He let out a breath, and rose to his feet just before the knock on the door.

"Aye?" He didn't answer the door, but went to his bed and strapped on his pistol belt. He knew what the seaman would be here for, and apparently the seaman knew he knew.

"It's time, sir." Mack nodded, looking at the assault rifle on his bed and deciding he wouldn't need it. Just a briefing, Mack, just a briefing.

He opened up the door and followed the seaman who walked with a military stiffness in his step. Mack smiled behind him.

On his way, he fell into step beside a man who apparently had the same destination. Powerful jaw, model face, and an easy way. Could have been command; but his insignia was turned away from Mack...if he wore insignia. Mack couldn't stifle a chuckle. One normally wouldn't think he was military, now would they?

They entered the conference room, and Mack hated it already. Such were the places where politicians and heathen decided the fate of the world without giving any thought to God or man.

Led by the seaman, he plunked himelf down in a chair.

The room felt just like home, void of items that made a human being a personality different from any other. Alice was not a personality she was a reason brought forth by others, with needs to fill.

She sat on her bunk legs crossed and arms draped into her lap, she did not like the ocean, it was a primitive instinct that she should not like it. She didn’t know how deep it was or what was beneath it. In her mind the recognition of fathomless cold that went on forever struck up an anxiety within her. She traced the room with her eyes for the tenth time, becoming familiar with her confinement. She had done this for the past three days, between pacing and staring into nothing. A knock at the door and her eyes flickered to it a seaman entered, it seemed the crew was growing used to her silence and even the awkward way in which they spoke to her had come to an end.

“Alice?” the man asked, she beaconed him in with a wave of her hand not bothering to look at him. He would be the same as the rest, stinking of the sea and uniformed, no doubt fit and tanned. Nothing for her to value an interest in.

“You‘re required to join for a meeting, if you‘d just follow me,” the man said.

Alice dragged herself from the bed, not liking the feel of being between the ship and the ocean. She watched her feet as she walked with the man becoming familiar with the motion and her only pattern of walking. Corridors with doors passed by as she walked uniform and nothing worth remarking about. The seaman opened a door for her and Alice stepped into the conference room. Alice liked the lighting in here better then her own room. A table stood in the middle of the room a large square shape swept clean of any documents or equipment, all of it uniform steel. A man stood in the room like a soldier at ease, he was impeccably groomed the primitive part of Alice liked the pretty embellishments the man wore. The suit however made her eyes hurt terribly, Alice did not like white one bit.

Vivian’s orders had been clear and to the point; once arrived on destination, follow the man or woman assigned to you. He will bring you to a room. Stay in that room. Sit down on a chair, bed, or the floor. Wait until someone comes to get you. Follow that person. Someone else will take it from there.

What she had done afterwards had confused Ava; the associate researcher had put her arms around the girl’s body and squeezed her tightly, a fluid dripping out of her eyes. In silence, Ava had wondered how it would taste. But she hadn’t had the nerve to raise her hand to ask the question.

Then, she had departed, without Vivian or Arthur. That, to, confused her, and when she had raised her hand to ask a question, the personnel had ignored her. She had sat like that, one arm raised, for sixty two minutes and fourteen seconds before lowering her arm.

Yet despite the fact everyone she had seen in the last four days had confused her, she still liked going on the trip. Or at least, she thought she did; despite Vivian’s best efforts, the meaning of the word ‘like’ remained a mystery. Something that made her feel good. Like cucumber sandwiches. Or what Vivian had done before she had left.

She even ‘liked’ this room; the last few days had been filled with noise, and although this small square room, ten feet three inches by ten feet four inches, was far from quiet, it was still calming. Calming; something that makes your heart rate drop. Sitting was always more calming then walking. She didn’t know if sleeping was calming, as she had never managed to count her heart beats per minute while asleep.

The sound of someone knocking on the door surprised Ava. She had not been instructed on how to react to this. There was another knock, and another one, and Ava noticed the process was not calming. Unsure what to do, she tried her usual response to commands she didn’t understand; a few butterflies of different colours crawled out of the shadows and the fluorescent lamp that lit the room.

“Ehh, miss Avalon?” A question. That, she understood. The butterflies faded as she climbed of the bed.

“Yes?”

“Your presence is required, miss.”

Her presence was required? Wasn’t she already here. Unsure whether the man’s words were a question or a command, she hesitated a moment before responding. “Yes.”

“Eh, yes.” A small silence. Ava squeezed her fists tightly. “I need you to follow me, miss.” Ava let out a small breath. A direct order. This, she recognised. This, she could react to. Skipping over to the trunk, she got her shoulder bag before heading for the door. The sailor behind it gave her an uneasy look before he started heading in the direction of the conference room, the twelve year old girl behind him scaring him more than any demon he had ever faced.

***

The conference room was like her private room, only larger, with a big square table in the middle, and several pieces of equipment scattered around the room. Fluorescent lights. A projector of some kind. Chairs. She was glad there were chairs; there was no bed here, so had it not been for the chairs, she would have had to sit on the floor.

The sailor that had escorted her went over to a man she had seen before, a while ago. A pretty man. A white suit, lots of medals. She was halfway done deciding what medal she ‘liked’ best when the sailor saluted the man in the white suit and left the room.

She wasn’t the first to arrive. A pretty woman. A smiling man. Another woman, not pretty, but... not bad either. Careful not to stare, she wasn’t allowed to stare directly at anyone during away missions, she memorised their looks, clothing, visible equipment. Like Arthur had asked her to. He would want a full report when she got back.

Three days he’d been in this room now and it looked just as alien as it had at the start. A bed, a sink and a mirror where the highlights of the claustrophobic room and of course the centre piece was the Zastava M93 Black Arrow sniper rifle laid on the bed whose sheets were pulled rigid to remove any creases in them helping to frame its powerful presence.

Three days was a long time alone in an empty room with nothing to do. Of course it wasn’t something he was unused to in his job he knew when to lay low he’d spent days up in roof rafters of a pub near a French barracks waiting for personal to slip up and come in so he could “remove them from play” and acquire their uniform in order to enter the place and get the information he’d been sent for. But this wasn’t for a purpose, this was waiting for the sake of waiting and that made it seem all the longer.

Once again he found himself staring into the mirror. It was slightly disconcerting that he found looking at his blue eyes seemed wrong. He wasn’t used to seeing them. When ever he looked in a mirror it was to check an image in which case he tended to be met by white voids the signature that he was creating a more demanding distortion of himself or someone else. He took a deep breath as the topless muscled figure stared back at him. The black tattoo’s on his right arm began to ripple as they spread across his arm his blue eyes fading away then snapping back into clarity as a knock on the door came.

It wasn’t time for food he knew that much and the voice on the other side informed him he was correct. “Mr Cadarva? You’ve been requested in the command room.”

The last few days had been boring and those that had brought the food hadn’t been interested in conversation so he had resorted to playing games with them to keep himself amused. He checked himself in the mirror as he threw some black sunglasses on masking his face. His bald head had disappeared to be replaced by long blonde hair and his form had changed from a well toned tattooed man to that of a woman. He hadn’t mastered the ability to create clothing yet but that made this image all the more effective as he opened the door.

The seamen looked shocked as a bare chested woman greeted him and he leant into the empty room looking for Danny. “I er… This is Cadarva’s room correct?”

“Correct” The body dissolved away to reveal himself again and he lifted the shades smiling at the man who turned his back muttering something about wytches and their magic as he led the way down the corridor silently. Honestly these people had no sense of humour. The metal floor was cold on his bare feet as he entered the command room and looked around to quite a crowded place. Anything seemed crowded after that isolation. So these were who he would be working with. He looked at a young girl and couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing here. One of the crewmen’s daughters perhaps? This vessel was no place for children. His eyes lingered over the woman for a moment longer than the men present before he looked at the man in charge expectantly. More people to come before he’d address them he assumed. What was wrong with a bit of conversation prior to that opposed to the mute silence they had right now.

He still wasn’t sure quite what his place in all this was. He worked alone and when he’d been sent he hadn’t been sent to investigate the vessel, “acquire” any weapons or even report back on those he was working with. This was an assignment he wasn’t used to and one that had him intrigued. Perhaps he’d receive news later on they’d told him to take his initiative if he thought anything would be of use to them and was sure that he would be able to produce something. The Serbian’s hadn’t done to well in their own work they relied on men and women like him to provide them with material to work with and improve. That was the field they excelled in yet despite this he’d found himself sticking with a weapon they’d created almost 300 years ago that had seen age old conflicts before the concept of demons had been nothing more than a movie seller.

He didn’t need anything fancy. That was just a tool. He was the weapon as he had proved countless times before. He steadied his breathing trying to clear his head and allow his body to keep its natural form. The magic had a will of its own sometimes, subtle but there. Best to keep his true abilities in front of the others silent till he saw what he was working with. All he’d done so far was take on different guises for the crew.

Fransisco sat in his room quitely in prayer. He had done a lot of praying lately. Though the church had declared him the most sutible canidit for this mission he had little actual experience with the demonic powers of which he was being sent to battle. He ended his silent prayer with the traditional 'father, the son, and the holy spirit' and stood up looking down at the bed he had been kneeling by. On the bed he had laid out all of his equipment. The man was still standing in the doorway waiting for him to reaspond.

He glanced back at the impatient man. He had said he needed to lead Fransisco to a conference. Fransisco spoke, his voice added a thick spanish accent. "Be at peace child, their is always time for god." He said firmly, with more than a hint of annoyance. Fransisco could not stand that others did not share his love for god a country.

Fransisco got to work, he tucked his seven inch tall cross into his belt, which already held vials of holy water, pulled his rosemarry over his head, tucked several pouches of salt into his pockets and of course picked up his bible. "God bless me in my work, and provide me with the power to clense the lands of the devil." He said and looked back at the seaman sternly thinking, 'and of course those heathens on my own side'.

"Well lets be on our way." Fransisco commanded and the soldier nodded and then led the way. Fransisco couldn't help but notice that the man did not wear a cross. He scowled but did not say anything. He'd not have time enough for a debat with this man. Once they got to the conference room the man turned to leave. "May god go with you soldier." Fransisco said the man looked surprised and replied.

"I'm Wiken." He said defensivly.

"All the more reason." Fransisco said and the man glared at him and stormed out. Fransisco smiled and turned back to the room. It certainly seemed to be full of interesting charicters. He noted the man in a uniform and a lot of awards give him an interesting look. "Yes?"

"Please refrain from angering my soldiers." he said with a thick german accent. Fransisco just smirked.

"I will not." He Fransisco said and took a seat at an end of the table yet to have anyone sitting with him.

Erika made it on her ride and for three days she had been stuck in a room. It was blank, bland, and boring the 3 worst B words that could describe something. She didn't even have much of a work space, all she had was her bed and her floor to tinker with her weapon. Although her hypercube had been tested multiple times it had never been tested on a daemon subject. She was afraid, what if the tests were wrong? What if it couldn't kill them? Could she have made the prototype better?

She cleared these thought from her head, her Italian accent ringning out with pride,

"No I am a great magick technician, I made one of the greatest weapons ever, I am Erika Capelli, Greatest Magick Technician that ever lived!"

A knock on the door startled her and she fell to the floor. Recourperating herself and rubbing her hurt bottom she collapsed on the bed, changing her hypercube into a ball and tossing it against the wall, she blatantly said, "come in!"

The door opened and a serviceman came in, "You're being requested, follow me miss."

She caught her cube and it changed back into its original small and boxy form. Placing it in her pocket she stood up. Taking the shades from her shirt collar and putting them on she quickly scanned the serviceman, reading every single stat and information on him in record time.

"Alright then, lead the way sailor."

He nodded and she followed him out the door. They came to a conference room and others were already gathering, she took a seat and reclined a bit. She looked about the room scanning everyone that was in there. She smiled a bit, whatever we're doing, might actually work.

Mack watched as a few others filtered in, and grinned with interest at the diversity of the group. Command was insane...but this also meant they were going to be doing something big. The space of religions and nationalities represented was growing rapidly here.

He looked around at the personas. A curvy Asian woman with a calm expression who stood, wearing without reservation two scabbards on her back and a pistol on her hip. Another woman who was attractive in a subtler way; but pale. Deathly pale, even. She had a tatoo on her forehead; not of any Celtic design either. Likely some pagan or another. A man who was more obviously pagan; shirtless with tattos and tribal markings visible on the all over him; even up to his neck and bald head.

Mack did a double take at the girl who entered. Mother of God, what is this?

The next figure was a more welcome sight. The man could well have been a priest...more than a priest it seemed. A large cross was tucked into his belt, and Mack caught sight of vials of holy water. The man spoke roughly, rebuking a soldier for some reason that Mack didn't catch. He had a sort of superior attitude about him, but still Mack was relieved. Perhaps he wouldn't have to miss as many masses as he thought.

Finally, a girl walked in wearing sunglasses. Tanned and well-formed like the other women who had already entered, she was yet another welcome sight. Mack did a mental count of men to women thus far and wondered with a snicker if some 'worldly pleasures' may not be in order later.

Joseph stood quietly near the blank projector screen, gagging the men and women, and child that sat in the room. He could tell already that the exorcist would be an issue, such a prude.

His gaze lingered on the women, and only slightly less on the child though for a different reason. The women of course provided him visual stimulous that was certainly pleasurable, the child though struck him as wrong. Though war was wrong and he had nothing against useing this child as the tool she had been made into.

Joseph walked slowly over to where the girl was. "Ava correct?" He asked, his accent making his words slightly awkward. "I have heard many good things about you, I am sure you vill live up to my expectations." He said wanting to gauge her reaction to him.

She liked the lighting in this room. She liked the drawings on the bold man’s arms. She liked the smile on the woman’s face. She liked... no, she didn’t like... something different. Or did she like? She ‘liked’ the ‘calming’ atmosphere. She did, however, when she would return to her room. She liked that room to. And there was a bed there.

"Ava correct?" Avalon turned to the man that addressed her, alert at once, blocking out her surroundings. An order? "I have heard many good things about you, I am sure you vill live up to my expectations." The pretty man in the white suit and the medals. He talked odd. A conclusion, not a question.

“Yes.”

Within minutes of entering her clean, white room, Meav's trademark scatterbrained mess was everywhere. Books, as many as she had been able to cram into her suitcase, were littered across the floor, and the aforementioned suitcase itself lay open on the bed, clothes emerging in a haphazard tangle. The only semi-neat part of the room was one corner where Meav now sat, doing some yoga exercises, while traditional Celtic music drifted from her portable stereo.

Meav had first discovered yoga while she was studying to become a doctor. An ancient practice, it was a combination of gentle exercise and breathing techniques that helped Meav keep a cool, collected manner and cleared her mind to think - something particularly important in her line of work.

Of course, it was most helpful if the exercises weren't interrupted by a clacking knock on the door.

"Dr. Stewart?"

Meav didn't open her eyes, but let out an annoyed sigh and called, "Come in."

She heard the creaking of the door opening and the soft pad of footsteps across the room.

"Dr. Stewart?"

This time she did open her eyes and saw a young seaman looking surprised to find her in a handstand against the wall. "What?"

"You're wanted in the conference room."

Letting out another sigh, Meav lowered her feet back down to the floor and then straighted up. Her long dark hair, tied back in a ponytail, settled over one shoulder as she twisted to look at the seaman.

"Let's go then," she said in her light, Highlands accent, gesturing to the door.

He led her to a fairly typical looking conference room, albeit constructed from metal. The German man who had greeted them all was there, and various other were gathered around the square table that took up most of the room. Meav let her eyes wander over each of them, familiarising herself with their faces and assessing how healthy they appeared. She did a double take at the young girl. Why would a child be here?

Shaking her head, she supposed she find out and settled herself into the nearest chair to wait.

"Yes" The girl said, not speaking very much. It didn't seem as if it was from her being shy, and he had heard that she was not much of a conversationalist. Still he wanted to judge the girl's personality his self some more. "Purhaps you can tell me what 'you' vant from this mission Ava?" He asked as he turned away from her a little to gauge the newest woman entering the room. Another lady to brighten up this unadorned sub. The group was almost gathered, just wait on the girls anwser and then prepare to breif. It would be a breif, breif at that. He was never one for complex plans. The simpler the better.

What she wanted? Ava blinked stupidly at the man, confusion across her face. To Ava, ‘want’ was something that implied it was being offered to her, and that she had a choice whether or not she accepted it, for example when she had just eaten dinner, Vivian or Arthur might ask if she ‘wanted’ some more.

But without that kind of context, the question seemed hollow. How could she ‘want’ something if nothing had been offered to her first? Opening her mouth to respond, she closed it again biting her lower lip and raising a hand.

Some of the people seemed to be taking a seat so Danny decided he'd follow suite. Promptly thudding his bare feet up on to the table and leaning back making himself comfortable while watching the conversation between the girl and the Captain with interest. So she was new to the ship to. Meaning that she was with their strike force.

He studied the girl trying to work out which government had thrown away all their ethics and decided to turn a girl into a weapon because make no mistake thats what she would be if she was here. He couldn't imagine she was old enough to possess any other skills that would make her an asset and the way she acted. Well that wasn't the way a child should act. There was something childish about her but something that told him she didn't know what attachment was and it wasn't just like cases he'd seen before with orphans. They understood social interactions.

"What right have you got to get a kid involved in this?" A tinge of anger creeping into his voice,he felt the Serbian accent always sounded best when spliced with anger. They were meant to be fighting monsters not becoming them. Sending a kid out to what effectively had become hell was inhuman. How could you lose touch with something like that. If they were sending their kids into the war and the discrimination of keeping women out of war had long since passed (as evident by the rooms contents) who the hell were they fighting to protect. Total war, in a way people hadn't began to imagine when they created the concept. Sickening.

Joseph with held a laugh. He had been told she raised her hand before she asker her question. "Vhat is it Ava?" He asked kindly, so that he could get this conversation over with. She amused him, but his amusment would only last for so long before her actions started to annoy him. He had never met a girl like her, but had never met a girl that had lived such a sheltered existance either.

Suddenly another spoke up. "What right have you got to get a kid involved in this?"

Joseph looked at the man with displeasure. It wasn't a scowl so much as a lord looking down on a pesant. "I have involved no one, my job is to transport this group." He stated calmly.