[M]Valkyries: Occult Warfare - Ch.1

[SikstaSlathalin]

With the jokes thrown out and a big clunky Viking breaking the steps Salazar's mind had shifted beyond the jokes and jibes of Slenderman's little brother and fuzzylumpkins the Mongolian. Grim news always had a knack for bringing out the Agent. He quickly nodded at their orders, glared annoyingly at Tharangeir before brushing past the lump of a dead man marching right for his room. Casting off the robe and moving into his bathroom to clean the marker off his face and get a quick shower in Salazar the Agent was already making plan to commune with his Guardian for power.

The shower, cold and quick shook the last webs of sleep from his mind and solidified who was in charge of the man's body. The Agent wore a perpetual grim frown, his eyes were focused to a razor's edge, but the light of a soul was gone from them. Only death and darkness could be seen in their dark depths, moving with a trained precision where no motion was wasted. With a methodical pace Salazar grabbed his duffel from China, and dumped the old clothes into a laundry hamper before going to his dresser and pulling out five days worth of clothing. Nothing fancy, just enough to cover up and be invisible, black shirts, jeans, and comfortable underbritches. He'd only need one pair of boots so they would just be what he wore into this mission. With the extra clothing ready he moved to his closet and grabbed his mission gear, they still smelt like bamboo forests and fireworks. But they were all he had at the moment grabbing the garbs and shaking the dirt off of them he belting the coa closed and looping the cross around his neck. After years of being tortured by psychotic Doomsday Christians many ask why he still wears the symbol of their madness on every mission.

He oftentimes doesn't have a clear answer, it was just habit from his days in the Army and his days as a Merc. At times like this though...where he and his comrades might be running headfirst into a quick and fiery death that symbol gave a strange sense of certainty, plus it allowed Sal a quick connection to his Guardian. Once he dressed he moved to his wall and began to arm himself, first his two Colt .45s with extra normal and silver rounds all fitted comfortably in the twin holsters under his arms and his long rifle in a sheath across his back also with extra ammo. Next came the twin katanas that fitted into unorthodox sheaths at the back of his belt and the tomahawk which was strapped to his right leg. And lastly he grabbed a few magical charms namely an Unholy tracker, a Sidhe repellent, something called a Holy Dome, and of course Anti-Lycan. Each he slipped into a separate pouch on his utility belt. With one final check the Agent grabbed his duffel and exited his room the whole suit up only taking three minutes, a new records for the man.

He moved to the rallying point and noticed how many of his comrades were there already. Well in the Agent's mind he only grunted gently to them surging some Anima into his mask lighting up the skull pattern with pale white fire.

[Cfavano]

"Bah, I fear no man." Thrangeir said confidently. "I'm quicker on the draw than any man I've encountered. I've nothing to worry about, Old Man." He said, scooping up handfuls of breakfast pastries and quickly consuming them. He listened as best he could, drinking coffee out of the pot, not even bothering to pour it into a cup. Belching, he put it back down and stole some more of the sweetbreads, using his spear as a skewer, before heading back to his room.

Back in his quarters, he tucked in to his breakfast of pastries, and a country ham he swiped, which he washed down with copious amounts of rum and mead. A day doesn't start for him until he drinks a quart of alcohol. is breakfast finished, he digs through the ratty pile of filthy clothes in the corner of his room. Picking up an old, stained, moth-eaten cloak, and shaking off the lice, he wraps it around himself, pulling up the hood. He covers the head of his spear, making it look like a walking stick, and straps his shield to the back of his waist.

Concealing the rest of his weapons on his body, and filling an old pack with bottles of alcohol and other pilfered food, he places it on his back and begins heading toward the main hall, practicing limping like an old homeless man. with the beard and the splotchy complexion, he'd certainly be able to pull it off.

[Koti~]

The responses of others was measured and per the norm. What she hated the most was the damn Viking breaking into the room. She nearly had claws at his throat before the door was open, but managed to keep mostly in her seat. After the orders were given, she made quick work getting to her room, shoulder checking the brute. She could feel her blood boiling hot, but had to keep calm. It didn't take her long to get ready, pulling on her suit and a simple pair of jeans and blouse. She attached her rapier to the belt and a simple bag full of clothes and water. Lilith didn't want to wait until they got to the spot. It would drive her mad just letting someone else figure out what happened to Bhode’s.

Heinrich pushed his glasses up his nose, and then rose smoothly from the table, making sure to return his chair to its proper position, and then stalked out of the room without a word, casting a look out of the corner of his eye towards the lamenting June, and then a downwards and scathing glance at the Viking buffoon.

How Heinrich wish he had the time to subject him to the meticulous torture of Dr. Richterstein brand psychomancy. He doubted anyone would much mind him doing so, save for the horrific screams inflicted. As it stood however, Heinrich had more pressing matters to attend to, an hour was sufficient enough time for him to prepare.

Heinrich carefully skirted around the large frame of the heaving Viking and made a sharp turn to his right and walked along the hallway leading away from the briefing room. Heinrich had some distance to cover, his quarters were in the furthest region of the Rampart, as far from the personal rooms of the other Valkyries as one could get within the confines of the castle. Heinrich prefered it that way, though he seldom if ever used his room for anything more than the occasional storage of research papers.

With the fey and British occult group, the killer could easily hide themselves in the throng of crazies to get away. She was going to move now. Before just rushing out the window, she stopped. Knowing Bhode's history and strength, just rushing into this headstrong and blind would get her killed. She would need someone with her, one who would know what they were doing. That ruled out the majority of the cast. Only one person in this whole place could work well. Just the thought made her sick. It would mean passing through the hall. A ten foot passage filled with wards and defensive barriers. The walls weren't hard, the nightmare was worse.

Making quick work of getting to the chamber, she entered the hallway and nearly froze. Again the blades rested at her throat, the man's fiery gaze at her. Everything in her mind screamed run, or grab her blade and fight. Several more appeared as she walked the hall, feeling a hairs breadth from getting skewered. The only saving grace was the smell. No matter how hard the illusion was, they could never get the smell right. It was the one thing that helped Lilith get through that.

As he walked down the final corridor he felt the cold tingle of a self-inflicted assault on his mind, and brushed it aside. One of many precautions the doctor had put in place long ago to deter and discourage unsolicited visits to his quarters. Those getting too close without prior invitation or given notice would have to relive their darkest moments, and face their greatest fears. Heinrich had gotten a lot of flak and blowback for this, for awhile it was chief reason why the others despised him, and he suspected it still was.

How easy it was to blame a bout of bad dreams and insomnia on Herr Doktor. The man after all peddled nightmares and illusions as his trade. The thought almost made Heinrich smirk, because, in most cases, they were right. Heinrich couldn’t help but indulged himself in unwitting test subjects, and besides Heinrich had justified to himself, facing one's fears could only make for stronger soldiers. . .or asylum patients.


He approached the bed and with little hesitation, drew back his foot and gave the frame a swift kick, watching the bed slowly spring against the wall like a murphy bed, revealing a hidden wardrobe.
“Ya stell’bsna phlegeth, ya stell’bsna phlegeth, ya, stell’bsna phlegeth, zhro” Heinrich incited in front of the closed doors of the wardrobe and watched as Eldritch runes, written in blood lit up and dripped down to the keyholes, and then with a clicking not dissimilar to that of the winding of a mechanism sounded and the doors creaked open.

On the back of the doors hung various garments, including several Nazi uniforms, neatly pressed and hung with care. Several labcoats hung there was well, many stained beyond repair, with blood and other, more sinister fluids to be sure.

“Frankenstein! Shut the damn illusion down!” Lilith shouted before busting his door open wide, causing it to bang against the wall.

Heinrich pivoted to his left an instance, raising his gun bakchanded to nose level with the sudden and unexpected intrusion of Lilith.
“Lilith?” Heinrich spoke after a brief hesitation, “Vat are you doing here?” Heinrich continued his questioning, as he drew back his gun so that the barrel was parallel to his face. With his right hand he slipped the human leather bound notebook back onto a shelf in the wardrobe hoping that Lilith had not seen it, for any knowledge of its existence outside of his own would only bring trouble.

With his right hand now free, he dispelled the nightmares that were plaguing Lilith. He almost felt sorry for her, she was one of possibly two people outside of Sullivan that Heinrich both liked and appreciate, and who seemed to treat him better than the others.

“Thanks.” Lilith said with a sigh and shaking her head. She gripped her arm carefully and backed up a bit, eyeballing the gun letting a frown cross her face. She did like the doctor quite a bit, yet the illusions were always the worse to go through. Leaning against the wall she studied him carefully.

“I need you. I don't want to leave Bhode's death up to chance, and you know best what were going up against.” Lilith stated calmly to him, looking off to the side. To admit his knowledge being more than hers. As one of the strongest fighters here, requiring the needs of another was odd for her.

“Will you help me?” She asked him.

“What do you have in mind?” Heinrich spoke, switching from English to Draconic, in an attempt to help ease Lilith.

“I want to head out now and take the lead. Sully will hate us but I'll take the heat. With the powers at play here, we need to get a foothold before the rest, and they have a y hour lead on us.” Lilith stated, smoothly slipping into the draconic tongue. It felt more relaxing to talk as is, and helped to visibly relax her.

“A good idea in theory,” Heinrich began, “but tactically unsound, if we encounter the enemy, or they encounter us, we could find ourselves in peril.” Heinrich’s draconic was rough, and rasping, he struggled with the grammatical structuring of his words, but he continued no less, showing the only hint of softness he perhaps had left, as he watched Lilith relax.
“However, I will agree to go with you, after all you can’t go alone.”

“Thank you. A two man cell works the best, even for what we are going into. I'll keep you alive, just make sure I know what I'm fighting if we do get into a fight. I'll let you finish getting ready and meet you out front.” Lilith spoke, slipping back into english at the end. She resisted the urge to hug him before giving him a polite nod and heading to the yard, double checking her gear before sitting on the porch steps.

Heinrich sighed,
“Vell, a suicide mission it is then,” Heinrich spoke to himself, turning back to the wardrobe. He quickly unbuttoned his shirt, untied, his bowtie and stripped both from his body. He smoothly undid the clasp on his belt and slipped off his pants.

He stood nude in front of the wardrobe, a bright light glowing from where his cock should be. Heinrich glanced down, and gulped.
“The transvermation is verse then I thought,” Heinrich remarked, looking at the flesh of his thighs, which had taken on a dense protoplasmatic state. Heinrich snapped his eyes forward towards the wardrobe, and began to dress quickly. He chose a simple uniform, reminiscent of a WWII German Officer, and threw on a heavy, black leather trench coat, that hung down to his knees.
Next, he grabbed up his Colt M1911, field stripped it down to it’s raw components, grabbed both his runic barrels, and 12 fully loaded magazines. Finally, he picked up his Grimoire Der Gehrins(sp) and closed the wardrobe back down into a bed, and made to join Lilith.

As the doctor came to join her, Lilith gave a role of her shoulders. She began to shift, taking on her half dragon form and allowing her wings to unfurl. She adjusted her clothing real quick and shifted her backpack to her front and grabbed a blanket out of it.

“It's going to be cold, so wrap yourself up quick, then get on.”Lilith told her companion as she led her way onto the grounds and held her arms cupped behind her, ready to carry him.
Heinrich held onto the blanket awkwardly before attempting to tuck it into his heavy leather jacket.

“Vhanks” Heinrich said, as he climbed onto Lilith.


“You can thank me after Nate tears us a new one.” Lilith chided the man, shifting here companion into an easier resting spot onto her back. She checked her watch, only having spent 30 minutes to get them ready. Giving a few strong flaps of her wings, she took off into the air, disturbing the snow beneath her. Once leveled, she took off, wind pulling her hair taunt with the force of her flying. It wouldn't take them long, and she could already hear Nate yelling at them. She didn't care right now, she just wanted to find this bastard who took down Bhode.