JediHobbit89

September, 2015: Undisclosed Location, France Now then, ma’am, you wanted to know about what’s been going down in New York. Hell, what’s not been going on? Oh yeah; Cuba Libre on the rocks.  But yes, I don’t know where these powers-that-be get their funds, but I’m assuming they’re running low. Damn fools have us out working regular jobs, the putos. You’d think you’d be able to run some sort of outfit properly, but what did I expect. I swear I’m just part of a goddamn travelling circus somedays….but oh well, Nattie’s still pretty happy there, and if he’s happy, I’

“Death smiles at us all. All a man can do is smile back.”-Marcus Aurelius “Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante, Had a bad cold, nevertheless, Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe, With a wicked pack of cards.” -T.S. Eliot The Hotel du Lyon was a small, unassuming, three-story structure off a village square in the French countryside, hardly remarkable except for its namesake. The common room was presided over by a large, carven head of a lion which hung behind the ancient bar. The bartender would tell you that the great cat's head was placed there in the Middle Ages, near the close of the Hundred Years' War, p

Dear Madame Lorelei, I have concluded my investigation into the disappearance of our most esteemed and beloved peasant and I have managed to glean some most interesting results. My first destination was the man's quarters in our headquarters. I made a most careful search of these and some results were gleaned. I found several objects of interest, including various objects and tokens of affection from a supposed boyfriend which I had been informed about some time ago. I did not know my dearest peasant was so taken with his own sex and I would have shouldered the responsibility of his education in these matters had I not been occupied with

Name: Nathaniel Eldridge Nickname: Nattie (bestowed by Esperanza) Age: 126 Gender: Male Birthday: August 5, 1889 Zodiac: Leo Height: 5'5” Weight: 145 lbs. Race: Shade (for the past 43 years) Appearance: He is a rather thin old man, appearing to be in his late 50s or early 60s with thinning grey hair, usually well-combed, and round glasses with golden frames. He is usually dressed relatively well, usually preferring sport coats and slacks with a dress shirt with the collar unbuttoned, usually with an ascot. Personality: He is quite bright and inquisitive with a somewhat eccentric personality. He is very enthusiastic about his hobbies

Name: Martin O'Connor Nickname: Marty (called this at seminary by his good friends), Mr. Martin (called by Nyx) Age: 30 Gender: Male. Birthday: January 12, 1985 Zodiac: Capricorn Height: 5'6” Weight: 150 lbs. Race: Human Rank: Recruit Unit: Scout Weapon: Vines conjured by his earth magic which he can use like whips or restraints. Appearance: He is fairly average in size and height, looking somewhat younger than he really is with pale skin and freckled cheeks with flaming red hair. He wears glasses and usually a black, collared Clerical shirt with a gold crucifix and black slacks. Though he's not currently preaching at a parish, he doe

        The old man sat in his study, a sturdy, wood-paneled room decked with old oil paintings, tapestries, and suits of armor. The air was fragrant with the smoke of his long churchwarden pipe which he held between his teeth, sending a thin film of smoke about the room, lending it the atmosphere of an incense-laden cathedral when combined with the sunlight streaming in through the large diamond-pained windows. He was very old, his face covered in wrinkles and his head bald. A black eye patch covered the empty socket that had once been his left eye. He wore a well-tailored black suit with a white shirt and black tie. The door on the other

“The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun.”-Ecclesiastes 1:9 1 IN THE VAULT Armand walked through the halls of the Chateau du Bois, led by a burly man in a dusty uniform with tools hanging about his waist. The ancient halls were buzzing with a life it had not known in centuries,  ringing with the harsh tapping of the hammer and the whining, ear-piercing shrieking of the electric saw. Workmen walked all through the halls, carrying furniture, paints, and other construction implements, causing Armand to dodge around them as he f

 The sounds of nighttime traffic filtered through the walls and windows of the hotel room. Besides this low background rumble, the room was silent. Moonlight silently crept through the slits of the window blinds, casting a faint, opalescent glow on the room, giving it an unreal quality, partially illuminating the furniture: the desk with an open, mouldering tome of extreme age atop it, the nightstand decorated with carved wooden figures of various shapes, sizes, and subjects. A black hijab hung from the corner and a pair of black-rimmed glasses rested beside it. Their owner, a slight girl with tanned skin and shoulder-length black hair, lay