[nWoD] Campus Vigilantes 3: The Root of All Evil

[Lycan 01]

Jonah nearly fell asleep before Mr. Thompson took the stage. He looks a little worse for wear, with dark circles under his eyes. He'd almost pulled an all-nighter on a Lit Analysis essay (the ethics of monster hunting in the _Witcher_ saga of Polish fantasy novels), as well as perusing a few more Abbey records. When Mr. Thompson took the stage, though, he almost jumped with surprise. "What the...?"

A few moments later, as the headmaster gave his dark order, and Jonah's head swam with the corrupting influence of arcane manipulation, the scholar understood.

He understood it all.

"S-Slater!" he snarled, staggering out of his chair as he grit his teeth and tried to fight off the command. Slater. The former Abbey Member. Who seemed so unsurprised by Mr. Thompson's behavior, who had refused to cancel the scholarship offer even as it created threats to lives and livelihoods, and.... who knew Dr. Freeman was the leader of the Ashwood Abbey circle at the University, and that removing him from the equation would leave the Abbey too paranoid to worry with the election. "SLATER!!" he snarls, the indignation and anger of betrayal by a fellow Abbey member giving him the string of will to shatter the spell.

Staggering a bit as his mind reels and recovers, he shakes his head and looks around for his friends. Leon is shouting something... Something next to him... The stage? Jonah nods dumbly, still trying to get his mind in order and get his body moving. He suddenly snaps up to attention, and looks around more closely. "Guys! Guys, it's not just Thompson, Slater's pulling the strings! He's-"

Jonah realizes Jacob isn't running towards the stage to _help._ Upon noticing the deranged look on Jacob's face, Jonah immediately races after him, knowing they need him in his right mind helping them, rather than hindering them, or worse. "Jacob! Jacob, stop!" he yells as he chases him through the crowd, towards the stage. "Snap out of it! Snap out of it, dammit!"

As he runs, Jonah looks around for any of his fellow Abbey members who may be attending. If not for their help, then to at least ensure he won't have to fight them off as well. And to warn them about Slater's role. But why would he organize this? Why would he try to corrupt so many students, create such a public spectacle, and-


In 1992, a Maxwell teacher, Professor Lawrence, began lending money to some of his poorer students in exchange for services or dares that grew increasingly more degrading as their debt mounted. His demands were bizarre; in addition to the expected sexual favors, he would also ask his debtors to brawl with each other for more money, vandalize churches, or break up with their girlfriends in a very public way. As it turned out, Lawrence was preparing to summon on campus grounds a demon that he called Chrysophilos. With the help of Abbey member Jake Newman, a trainee Catholic priest, the demon was banished to Hell shortly after manifesting itself thanks to a counter-ritual. Lawrence's abuse of his debtors was exposed, and the teacher was fired.


"No." Jonah's eyes widen in horrified realization, as the true weight of what may be happening here sinks in. "No. NO!" His gaze turns towards Slater on the stage, as he closes the distance on Jacob. "SLATER! SLATER, STOP THIS MADNESS!!" he screams, desperate to get the old Abbey member's attention, if not to reason with him, then to at least distract him.

Spoiler

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If Jonah can catch up to Jacob, what would it be to give him a swat upside the head, and possibly knock some sense into him? I'm gonna guess Strength or Dex (I have a 2 in either) + Brawl?

Well, if that's the case, here's a roll for Jonah to swat at Jacob. An open hand, not a closed fist. (3d10)[4][10][4](18)

[-Sentinel-]

Jonah gave Jacob a hard slap to the back of the head, but the latter hardly seemed to notice, too focused on shoving his way towards Michelle with a murderous snarl. He seemed as though he would walk barefoot through fire just to reach his target.

When Jonah called Slater's name, however, he did manage to get the attention of the former Abbey member, who threw him a quick, nervous glance.

"Word of advice, young man," he shouted above the screams and roars of the crowd. "Stay out of this. You're too late." He sounded almost apologetic.

The businessman then averted his gaze, looking as if he would rather be anywhere but here. His attention seemed focused more on the laughing Mr. Thompson than the pandaemonium raging off the stage, just a few feet from him.


OOC

Spoiler

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Welcome back, Lycan! I'm glad that at least one of the clues I left wasn't for nothing.

Still waiting on rolls from Odentin and ToySoldierCPlus before I proceed further.

[ToySoldierCPlus]

Leon watches as Jacob takes off toward the stage, with Jonah chasing after him. He curses under his breath, and begins making his way to Jonah and the stage. "Jonah! What's going on? What's Slater doing?"

[Odentin]

Adam, ever the soldier, ignores the subtler goings on of the Abbey man on stage and Jonah's outrage. In the back of his mind, he registers that Jonah knows what's going on, but in the forefront is the current most pressing threat. A small modicum of attention is momentarily spared for Jacob's mental infirmity, but is quickly dismissed. Weakling. Never liked him, anyways.
He stands swiftly and rushes the stage passing his allies on the way, "Leave him! Protect Michelle!" There's a statement he never thought he'd make. He manages to get himself up on stage with ease, and quickly interposes himself between Michelle and the crowd, absorbing some of the blows through his armored clothing. He stands side by side with Kale in protecting Michelle while Jonah and Leon figure out how to stop this madness.

Spoiler: Rolling

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Dex+1: (5d10)[8][8][8][5][3](32)
Str+Defense (6d10)[4][7][2][10][5][1](29)
10again: (4d10)[8][1][1][7](17)

[-Sentinel-]

Weaving through the crowd, Allison followed his boyfriend Adam to try and defend Michelle. Her face was pale but determined, and her step betrayed no hesitation despite there being little love lost between her and Michelle. But she was not quite as skilled or lucky as Adam; as she dodged one student, she slammed head-first into another and collapsed to the floor, her glasses askew.

"I'm fine! Don't wait for me!" she yelled after Adam.

Jacob, fully under the influence of the spell, had already made his way to Michelle and, like other enthralled students, was trying to get through the ragged line of defenders to tear apart the president of the student council. Luckily, Conrad was there as well to help in the defense.

"Let me take your place!" Conrad yelled at Phoebe, Michelle's campaign manager, who was bravely bodyguarding her president despite her small stature and the absolutely terrified expression on her face. "I can fight better than you!"

With a look of relief, Phoebe ceded to Conrad her spot by Michelle's side, evidently seeing from the lack of murder in his gaze that he was resisting the spell. Likewise, Adam managed to talk another of Michelle's defenders into giving up his place, and soon Michelle was being protected by three members of the RPG Club -- Kale, Adam and Conrad -- and one of her staffers.

Spoiler

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Attack roll: still 24 (Jacob's combat skill isn't high enough to make a difference). (24d10)[1][8][1][10][4][8][1][9][5][8][4][4][7][8][2][9][7][5][5][9][1][8][9][7](140)
10-again: (8d10)[7][6][3][7][10][10][3][10](56)
Adds up to 10 damage.

Defense roll. Conrad 5 + Kale 6 + random student 4 = 15. (15d10)[7][4][10][1][1][1][9][6][8][2][9][5][10][1][3](77) +2 successes thanks to Adam.
10-again: (6d10)[6][5][8][5][5][5](34)
Adds up to -7 damage.

So 3 damage on Michelle, 2 on Adam, 2 on Conrad, 2 on Kale and 1 on the random student.

Plus, one of the damage inflicted on Michelle was lethal, since she has 7 Health and took 8 damage total. All damage against her from now on is lethal damage.

The mass of roaring students kept pressing relentlessly against the defenders. Few of those affected by the spell were any good at fighting, but they more than made up for it with their ferocity; one girl bit Conrad's hand almost to the blood, while a large guy gave Adam a solid kick in the crotch. Even Kale, a formidable fighter, was sent reeling with a bloody nose from a headbutt that he had not anticipated. Still, the defense held fast... until Jacob launched himself at Michelle, took advantage of his comrades' split second of hesitation in hitting one of their own, and managed to land a punch squarely in his target's stomach. Michelle went down almost immediately with a moan of pain, her body overwhelmed by the beating she had already taken.

"We have to get her out of here!" Kale roared. He pointed at the nearest emergency exit. It was maybe sixty feet away, but in the current conditions, it might as well be sixty miles.

On the stage, Slater kept deliberately ignoring Jonah, as if sorry about the whole thing but unable or unwilling to do anything about it.

Spoiler

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If Jonah and Leon want to do something about Slater and/or Thompson, they can climb on the stage and attack them during Round 3 (the one starting now). This fight will involve Initiative, unlike the one raging in the crowd.

[Lycan 01]

Jonah isn't much of a fighter, so wading into the brawl isn't too good of an idea. But that's okay. There is something he can do. Even if it's probably the dumbest thing he'll ever do in his (likely short) life.

Jonah turns to Leon, expression grim, eyes practically ablaze with determination. "It's not Slater. It's Thompson - and the demon inside him. Now if you'll excuse me..."

And with that, Jonah jumps up onto a chair right in the front row, directly in front of where Thompson and Slater ar on the stage. This way he can be almost level with Mr. Thompson, but still keep a bit of distance between them. "Hey! Hey, Mr. Thomspon!" he calls out, trying to get the principals attention. And then, just to make sure, he puts his hands around his mouth to make his voice carry better, and proceeds to quite loudly yell: "HEY CHRYSOPHILOS, THIS THE BEST YOU GOT!?" He then lowers his hands, gives the one-finger salute with both of them, and grins defiantly at Mr. Thompson - or rather, Crysophilos. "Surprised? I am too. I was expecting a demon like you to be a bit more stylish. Or at the very least, intimidating. C'mon, show me what you've really got, assumign you're not just some wannabe imp," he taunts with a smug smirk, practically flaunting himself to the no-doubt-prideful demon.

At the very least, it should distract the entity. But if he can lure him into lashing out, and exhausting more of his energy... Well, it may suck for Jonah, but he figures getting burnt to a crisp is probably a lot better than what will happen if Chrysophilos succeeds...

Probably.

[ToySoldierCPlus]

Leon is momentarily taken aback by Jonah's statement that Mr. Thompson is apparently possessed, but he shakes it off quickly and follows him onto the stage. Catching on to Jonah's plan of stupidly antagonizing their supernatural foe, he follows suit. "The hell's a Chrysopholis? Some no-name lesser demon who terrorizes colleges? Pretty sorry excuse for a demon, if you ask me. C'mon, is this really the best you can do? Whipping a bunch of students into a frenzy, trying to get them to kill a girl they all hate anyway? Anybody can do that if they wave the right carrot in front of these people. This is a parlour trick, and I've seen better."

[-Sentinel-]

Mr. Thompson's nostrils flared when Jonah called him Chrysophilos. The student instantly knew that his hunch about the foe’s identity had been correct. The demon stared back at the taunting student through Thompson’s eyes with unveiled fury, his body as still as if carved from marble, and ignored Leon. On the stage, Slater winced visibly, clearly anticipating something terrible. Eventually, Thompson/Chrysophilos’s lips curled into a vicious smile.

“So you have been taught about me!” he bellowed, loud enough to be heard above the screams of the students, though nobody seemed to pay attention to him. “They told you they cast me back where I come from, no doubt. But they were deceived, for I struck a deal with one of them” (he pointed at Slater) “who thwarted their ritual in secret and is now helping me take back what is mine.”

He walked over to the edge of the stage and stood not five yards from Jonah.

“Say my name again, Jonah, son of Neal. Get on your knees and PRAISE THE RETURN OF CHRYSOPHILOS, LORD OF THESE HALLS.”

Spoiler

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Power 7 + Hypnotism 2 = 9.
(9d10)[5][7][8][4][10][9][6][2][4](55) - 3 successes.
10-again: (4d10)[6][8][5][3](22)

Hypnotism is a power from the Dread Powers section of the Hunter rulebook, on p. 279. It is resisted with Resolve + Composure; failing that, you must obey the command you receive. Remember that by risking (rather than spending) willpower, as per p. 66 of the Hunter rulebook, you gain the 9-again rule in addition to +3 dice.

Meanwhile, not too far from there, the frenzied mob kept pressing around Michelle. The now-unconscious president of the student council would already be dead were it not for her increasingly bloodied and bruised protectors. Two of her staffers were dragging her towards the nearest emergency exit, while Conrad, Kale, Adam and another student fought off attackers with growing desperation.

Spoiler

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Getting Michelle out of the room will take three rounds. Once out of the room, it will be easier to cover her escape.

Attack roll: (24d10)[2][2][10][5][4][7][3][3][3][10][6][2][2][1][3][10][3][4][5][9][2][8][8][1](113)
10-again: (7d10)[4][9][4][10][7][9][2](45)

7 damage.


Defense roll. Conrad 5 + Kale 6 + Adam 6 + random student 4 = 21. (21d10)[9][1][1][3][5][8][5][7][1][5][3][3][7][3][5][7][5][9][1][3][1](92)
10-again: (7d10)[9][1][2][2][10][6][1](31)

-3 damage.

Bottom line: Michelle suffers 4 lethal damage, bringing her to 5 total (she has 7 Health). Conrad, Kale and the random student (let's call him Alex) each take 1 bashing damage.

Try as they might, the protectors could not cover all angles at once. A girl wove her way between Adam and Conrad, stabbed her pen between Michelle's ribs just under the left breast, and pulled it out, slick with blood, with a triumphant grin. Michelle's breathing became alarmingly wheezy.

[Lycan 01]

Jonah grimaces, body tensing as he tries to struggle and resist against dark magic he feels flowing like ice through his brain. He lets out a growl of effort, squeezing his eyes shut...

Before stepping down from the chair to get on his knees, his eyes dull and vacant, and a mindless smile plastered on his face. "Woe unto those who dare oppose the avatar of avarice..." he states in a monotone voice, raising his hands in praise. "Glory be to Chrysophilos, long may he reign..."

Jonah's left eye twitches, as his mind silently screams and struggles against the psychic chains ensnaring it.

[ToySoldierCPlus]

Leon looks slightly stunned at Jonah's sudden shift in demeanor, before it clicks for him that he's fallen victim to some sort of spell. He steps between Jonah and Slater, and confronts the demon wearing the human-suit. "Release him. End all of this madness, right now, or I'll end it for you."

[-Sentinel-]

Thompson/Chrysophilos, who seemed pleased with his new thrall’s praises, finally spared Leon a look of dripping contempt. His lips curled into a sneer.

“Look around yourself, mortal. Do you think you can match my power? Do you think you can—”

Moving superhumanly fast, he brought his hand in front of his face and caught something between his thumb and forefinger; a well-thrown pair of scissors, that had almost ended up lodged in his eye socket. His smile vanished from his lips, to be replaced with annoyance, as he turned his attention to the thrower—Allison. The girl gulped and stumbled back, her eyes widening with the dawning realization that she had just attacked someone far beyond her weight category.

“Mortals have such short lives,” mused Chrysophilos. “Why are they so eager to throw them away? I will never understand…”

Slowly the demon raised his hand, palm extended towards Allison. They never knew how he was planning to punish her, because he then interrupted his gesture and cocked his head towards the melee that was still raging. The sounds were different now; even more rage from the students trying to murder Michelle, even more desperation from Adam and the others. The ragged line of defenders faltered… and broke all at once as Adam collapsed from a punch to the stomach, Conrad tripped and fell, Kale was separated from Michelle as the savage mob pushed its way between the two like a wedge, and the fourth student just called it quits and ran off.

Chrysophilos suddenly had no more attention to spare for Allison. “Yes!” he yelled at his thralls. “Kill Michelle Warner for me! For the money I offer you! FOR GREED!”

Dozens of frenzied students set upon the prostrate, unprotected Michelle, shoving and trampling one another in an attempt to get their hands—or feet, or teeth, or pens, or scissors, or boxcutters, or keys—on her. Michelle regained consciousness just in time to stare back into the snarling faces of death, surrounding her from all sides.

She started screaming.

And then began the second carnage to mar the name of the infamous Tyler Hall in barely more than two years; one that Michelle, this time around, would not get to talk about on national TV. The student council president's dying screams rang out for a disturbingly long time amidst the crack of bones, the splash of blood and the wet sounds of torn flesh. Investigators would later have to formally identify her via DNA—photographs and dental records being quite useless.

When Michelle finally, mercifully fell silent, a look of exultation passed across Chrysophilos’s face.

“MAXWELL. IS. MINE,” he roared deafeningly.

He collapsed on his knees, curled into a fetal position, and started screaming and whimpering and hyperventilating. At once, Leon understood that it was no longer Chrysophilos speaking through Thompson’s mouth; it was Thompson himself, once again in control of his body, who could now let out the unspeakable horror he had been unable to voice while possessed by the demon.

Jonah felt as if he was emerging from a dream. He was on his knees, and he had vague memories of having been saying something nonsensical; though he could not remember what, exactly. Still, his awakening was much less traumatic than that of the twenty or so students who found themselves with blood up to their elbows, or holding an eyeball or intestine or tongue like a grisly trophy, right in front of a gory mess that only a few scattered red hairs could identify as Michelle. Several of them vomited noisily; the floor was going to need a good scrubbing anyway. Some of them started running and screaming, while others just went catatonic with shock. Jacob, his face splattered with Michelle's blood and his fist clutched around what looked like a kidney, was among the latter.

Having just torn someone limb from limb is the kind of hangover that not even college students are prepared to wake up to.

The next half hour or so passed in a blur of chaos and confusion for everyone involved. Kale completely losing his mind and having to be bodily restrained from murdering Michelle’s nearest killers; campus security reaching the scene, having a suitably horrified reaction and calling for backup; Thompson still lying on the stage, screaming his lungs out in an increasingly hoarse voice; an ashen-faced Adam providing first aid to the students who had been injured in the melee; nine police cars and two ambulances arriving at the scene and unloading two dozen cops and EMTs; Kale and Thompson being sedated, put into straitjackets and hauled off who knows where; all students with (literal) blood on their hands, in varying states of shock, being handcuffed and taken away for questioning…

“What the ever-loving f*ck happened here?” asked Dr. Freeman.

Jonah jumped in surprise and turned around. His mentor was right there, with his wounded arm in a sling; apparently he had not only managed to get out of the hospital, but had enough clout to be allowed on a crime scene. It was quite uncharacteristic of him to use profanity, but the circumstances certainly warranted it. By now, a white sheet had been spread over the remains of Michelle’s body, though it was not nearly large enough to cover all the bloodstains. Douglas Slater was nowhere to be found; he had slipped away at some point during the post-massacre confusion.

Jonah glanced at his watch. Had it already been forty minutes since all hell broke loose in Tyler Hall?

[Lycan 01]

Jonah blinks a few times, looking back and forth between Dr. Freeman, his watch, and the carnage on stage.

...he simply coughs, straights his posture, and turns to Dr. Freeman with a rather grim frown, his eyes filled with fatigue and... determination. Had they lost? Yes. Had he failed? Yes. Was that the end of things?

No.

"Slater helped Cry... the demon," Jonah states through grit teeth, his voice a low hiss. "Thompson was the avatar. The demon used the election to build its power, and now Michelle is dead. Slater helped it. He had you attacked to send me and the rest of the Abbey on a wild goose chase. I had us chasing shadows, while the demon and Slater..." he turns a bit, craning his neck to survey the auditorium and the carnage on the stage. He turns back to Dr. Freeman, and scowls. "It possessed the whole auditorium. I tried to distract it, but it merely made me... sing? Dance? Something trivial and degrading, from what I vaguely recall. I suppose it's better than..." he turns back to the stage again, the corner of his mouth twitching in disgust and frustration. He notes the condition of his friends and colleagues - there's nothing he can do for them right now. Bigger fish to fry...

The scholar turns back to his mentor with dour frown, gaze smouldering with indignant rage. "So, where shall we begin?" he asks, voice a low, methodical growl. "Shall we pursue the traitor and the demon ourselves, or should we make some calls to the higher-ups? I'm sure there are quite a few Chapters who would enjoy a chance to hunt our very own Jack the Ripper..." he hisses, referencing the oldest example of Ashwood Abbey having to handle a rogue member.

[-Sentinel-]

Dr. Freeman was silent for a moment.

"I should've known something was up when I learned that Doug was involved in the election. When we fought Chrysophilos the first time around, many years ago, the demon must have struck some sort of deal with Doug to sabotage our exorcism and keep the demon from being banished. Then the demon helped him become rich enough to engineer the election; a plot to inspire acts of greed that would give the demon the power to finish what he started. This..." He gestured at the sheet covering Michelle. "This was the endgame. A murder committed out of greed... it made Chrysophilos powerful enough to possess the university itself, and slowly corrupt everyone who attends it. Our job has become a whole lot harder, Jonah."

He became grim. "Douglas Slater is a traitor, alright. But we need to balance caution and utility. Does the demon still even need his servant at this point? Keep in mind, the real enemy here is Chrysophilos. And I advise we do not plot against him on his own turf..."

[Lycan 01]

Jonah nods, grim faced. He looks around the auditorium, trying to locate his friends from the RPG group, and his peers from the Abbey. Adam and Conrad would likely be spending quite awhile under medical surveillance and police interrogation. Jacob was clearly going to be spending awhile in a psych ward. Leon and Allison, though, were likely not too preoccupied right now... He tries to pick them out of the crowd, tilting his head a bit when he spots them, so as to gesture them over towards him. As for the rest of his Abbey peers, he makes a similar gesture, trying to rally them all towards him and Dr. Freeman.

He then turns back to Dr. Freeman. "We should leave, then. Most of my comrades from the campus cell have been... neutralized," he scowls, casting a glance towards the stage where his friends were being dealt with by the authorities and first responders. "I believe only two remain active. Shall I bring them along, or should this remain strictly Abbey business?" he asks, uncertain as to how Dr. Freeman would feel about him inviting Leon and Allison back to the safehouse with them.

[-Sentinel-]

Dr. Freeman grunted. "Patience. Time is no longer of the essence, since it's already too late. If we are to plan for the future, I'd rather wait until your friends are ready."


OOC

Spoiler

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I'll wait and see if Leon has something to say before we move on to the next scene, likely the last scene of this episode.

[ToySoldierCPlus]

Leon had been preparing to call on what little faith he had in the Almighty, but it was now far too late. He stands, looking around at the aftermath of the single greatest Charlie Foxtrot he had ever seen. He debates offering help to Adam, but decides against it. He doesn't want to get anywhere near that mess if he can avoid it.

When he notices Jonah speaking to Dr. Freeman, he moves over to join the conversation. "I want in. This isn't over yet, not by a long shot. We did everything exactly wrong, and somebody wound up dead because of it. Worse, that demon's on the loose. Whatever you're going to do next, I'm coming with you."

[-Sentinel-]

Monday, January 20th

It had been four days since the events of Tyler Hall, and the media still could not make heads or tails of the tragedy. Pressed for an explanation, the police called it a human stampede, likely sparked by a bomb threat or a similar cause for panic. According to the official version, Michelle Warner had been trampled to death by people trying to escape the room. Of course, the dozens of people who had seen the corpse (or contributed in making it) knew otherwise, but the cops were clearly willing to make things up to save themselves from the embarrassment of being hopelessly stumped. In keeping with the official explanation, none of Michelle’s killers were charged with any crime. Michelle’s funeral was to be a small, private ceremony, scheduled for Wednesday.

Owen Thompson slipped into a coma shortly after being admitted to the hospital and passed away on Sunday. His death was attributed to a combination of malnutrition, physical exhaustion, psychological stress and a variety of opportunistic infections, as if he had just plain neglected to tend to the needs of his body and mind for about two weeks. As it turned out, being possessed by a demon was not good for the health of the host.

There were no classes at all on Friday, and Maxwell U’s staff worked all weekend just to be able to reopen on Monday. Many of the students who had been under Chrysophilos’s spell were too traumatized by the experience to be back just yet and were about to undergo therapy at the State’s expense. Jacob had managed to return to school, possibly out of a sense of duty towards his monster-fighting comrades, but looked pale and withdrawn, and refused to talk about last Thursday’s events. As for Kale, there was no telling when he would see the light of day again; only his immediate family had any visiting rights to the psychiatric ward where he was now held.

The media barely mentioned Douglas Slater’s presence in Tyler Hall at the time of the frenzy. Although the businessman and his company Slater Capital escaped scrutiny, there was abundant talk about the chaos and shenanigans that took place during the election as a result of the scholarship being offered. “Comrade Max Hodges”, who had gotten the most votes and was now officially president, broke character to gravely announce the suspension of all student council activities while waiting for the conversation to run its course and for the dust to settle over this disaster of an election. He pledged the entire sum of his scholarship towards mental support for the people affected by the tragedy, and promised to be “not the funny and quirky president you voted for, but the hard-working and reliable president you need right now”.

On Monday evening, all the core members of the RPG Club – plus Allison – were gathered in the safe house with Dr. Freeman, who had brought some much-needed liquor for everyone. None of the Ashwood Abbey members were there, save for Jonah; they just wanted to have fun, after all, and exorcising demons was much less exciting than hunting flesh-and-blood monsters.

“Slater Capital’s stocks went up almost forty percent since Thursday,” Dr. Freeman observed, pouring himself a shot of gin. “As far as I can tell, Doug serves Chrysophilos by planting the seeds of greed in the world, and in exchange, Chrysophilos tells him which stocks to buy or sell. The demon gains in power, Doug gains in wealth. This arrangement must have been going on since Doug’s college years. Chrysophilos’s apotheosis seems to have been the end goal… or at least, a major step towards it.”

He downed his gin in one gulp. “An elder demon of greed now inhabits the very walls of Maxwell University. Guard yourselves well against corruption. If your tastes in literature start to shift towards Ayn Rand, it may be time for you to find another university to attend.”

[Lycan 01]

Jonah looks a little worse for wear. The dark circles under his eyes are a bit more noticeable than usual, and he has eschewed his usual professional attire for jeans, a blue plaid shirt, and some canvas shoes. All name brand and rather pricey, of course, but definitely a more casual look for the scholar. It seems he's either too fatigued to bother with dressing up properly, or his experience with a demon of Greed has left him a bit more inclined towards humility.

"More of a Lovecraft guy, myself..." Jonah muses dryly, as he pours himself a glass of brandy. He takes an idle sip, closing his eyes for a moment, before setting the glass down, and sighing. "Well, at any rate, I suppose we need to take stock of our situation. Our little club has had its first real defeat, and we should probably focus on recovery for the time being. The Hunt is important, but if we go traipsing back into it as we are now, we're more likely to do more harm than good. Getting ourselves killed won't accomplish anything. So, I'd suggest we all just keep it low-key for now. Rest. Recover. Observe. Plan."

He sips a bit more brandy. "The demon is too powerful for us, anyway. At least as we our now. Demonology is not my forte, but I know enough about them that I can tell you we're in over our heads if we go for a direct confrontation. We need tools. Resources. Allies..." he murmurs, giving a small shrug. "And let's face it, we're rather lacking in all that right now. Before you ask me or Dr. Freeman, no. The Abbey has more fun things to chase, and we have a bit of a policy on not helping 'rival' Hunters, and even other Abbey chapters. Rather competitive bunch," he smiles wryly. He then gives another sigh. "As for other Hunter groups themselves, I'm afraid I haven't got much to go on. I know they exist around here, but they're all rather secretive and evasive. No surprise there," he shrugs.

He knocks back the last of his shot, before setting it down on the table in front of him and frowning. "The only leads I can really think of are all rather... suspect. We could go to the Catholic Church and ask for assistance in performing an exorcism, since the Church does partake in such things. But even assuming they believe us, there's no guarantee of the quality of their assistance. I heard a news report a year or two ago where the Church admitted to a lack of qualified exorcists, and a lack of priests willing to volunteer for the training. Can't imagine why," he rolls his eyes.

He then stares down at the shot glass, and frowns. "Alternatively, I'm sure the thought has all crossed your minds, so I'll go ahead and say it aloud. There is a certain Black Marketeer who can likely offer assistance directly or indirectly, assuming we can meet his price or be viewed as more than just a charming nuisance. But but of course, which is worse, dealing with a metaphorical demon, or a literal one?" he scowls. "Just throwing it out there..."

[-Sentinel-]

"The only leads I can really think of are all rather... suspect. We could go to the Catholic Church and ask for assistance in performing an exorcism, since the Church does partake in such things. But even assuming they believe us, there's no guarantee of the quality of their assistance. I heard a news report a year or two ago where the Church admitted to a lack of qualified exorcists, and a lack of priests willing to volunteer for the training. Can't imagine why," he rolls his eyes.

"Back in the day," said Freeman, "we had a priest-in-training in our Abbey chapter. He was the one who slapped together a ritual to banish Chrysophilos, the ritual that Doug sabotaged. Unfortunately, he went missing in Mexico a few years ago while trying to infiltrate a cult of the Santa Muerte. Even if we had him with us, it would be no use to recreate that specific ritual; the demon is much too powerful now. I know there are some genuine exorcists in the Catholic Church, but I don't know how to find them."

"Alternatively, I'm sure the thought has all crossed your minds, so I'll go ahead and say it aloud. There is a certain Black Marketeer who can likely offer assistance directly or indirectly, assuming we can meet his price or be viewed as more than just a charming nuisance. But but of course, which is worse, dealing with a metaphorical demon, or a literal one?" he scowls. "Just throwing it out there..."

Dr. Freeman shrugged a shoulder. "I'm prepared to work with a lesser evil. We do it all the time in the monster-hunting business. But believe me, you'll have a hard time finding allies. Nobody wants the enmity of an elder demon. Worse, some people deliberately seek out demons to make deals with them. The thing with demons is, they know how to handle both the carrot and the stick."

Allison spoke up, looking a bit nervous: "Do we... do we have anything to fear from Chrysophilos while we attend Maxwell U?"

"Hard to tell," Dr. Freeman admitted. "Demons are vindictive, but since we barely inconvenienced this one, it may decide we're not even worth punishing. But you never know. If it acts against you, it will most likely be via indirect means. It will try to corrupt us, like it'll try to corrupt everyone on campus. Incidentally, if you live in the dorms, you may want to move to an off-campus apartment to limit the time you spend in Chrysophilos's domain."

[ToySoldierCPlus]

Leon has been uncharacteristically quiet since the events in Tyler Hall. Even now, as Jonah, Allison, and Dr. Freeman spoke around him, he sat on his makeshift couch, hunched forward and staring at the floor. When Dr. Freeman mentioned moving off-campus, he finally speaks. "If anyone's interested, they're welcome to crash here. It should be safe from Chrysophilos' influence. Mostly."

He brings his gaze up and casts it on each of the others present in turn. "How long are we going to sit on this? Jonah's right, we can't face that demon head-on as we are, but it's just going to keep getting stronger." He leans back against the wall. "I miss the easy days, when we just fought vampires and helped wayward ghosts find peace."

[-Sentinel-]

"I miss the easy days, when we just fought vampires and helped wayward ghosts find peace."

Dr. Freeman gave a mirthless chuckle. "Oh, we'll still have to deal with the small fry, of course. At least I don't think Chrysophilos will kill anyone. Not directly, at least. Elder demons work their evil on a larger and infinitely more subtle scale. It's best to take our time to study our opponent before we strike. The moment we give Chrysophilos reason to fear us, it won't pull any punches. Our first strike must also be our last."

"Never even talk about Chrysophilos on college grounds. All of our plans to banish it should be discussed off-campus. For now we keep a low profile... and we learn. In the meantime, we'll have plenty of other enemies to keep us busy."

[Lycan 01]

Jonah gives a dismissive wave of his hand. "It doesn't want us dead. We don't even register on its radar, especially since it won. When I confronted it directly back in the Hall, it could have killed me easily. It would have been nothing for it to order a few of the students to turn their attention on me, or to hit me with some sort of malignant hex. Or just make me explode," he shrugs offhandedly. "No telling with demons. But the point is, rather than trying to kill or hurt me, it merely wanted to degrade me," he scowls. "A little mental manipulation so I'd make a fool of myself, and be out of the fight. No permanent harm. Just insult. The demon found me amusing rather than threatening. And that was when it still had a risk of failure. Now..."

He sighs, pouring himself more booze. "Now it holds all the cards, and probably doesn't even think we're worth paying attention to. I think the most we can expect is for it to give us more academic rivals and public image issues, targeting our pride rather than our bodies and minds. Rub salt in the wounds..." he sighs.

"But yes," he waves his hand again, "Best to play it safe, and stay off campus as much as possible, and refrain from anything Hunt-related on campus grounds. I already live off campus, but I think I may move out post haste, and take you up on that offer, Leon. I'd feel safer here, rather than at my known residence. Even if the demon has little interest in me, I'd rather not give Slater a chance to tie up loose ends. He's already attacked us," he nods to Dr. Freeman, referring to the Abbey, "Before, and I don't think it's outside the realm of possibility for him to send peons to finish the job, or keep us busy. Or maybe I'm just being paranoid," he says with a wry, bitter smile.

The scholar then stares down at his glass, and works his jaw thoughtfully. "I do miss hunting the 'small fry,' though. Like Dr. Freeman said, the demon is unlikely to directly harm anyone, at least any time soon. We can't allow ourselves to lose sight of the other dangers that lurk in the night, especially when they pose more direct danger and peril to our fellow mortals. Besides, the demon is rooted to the school now. Personally, I prefer prey that runs. Much more sport in it..." he sighs to himself with an aloof little smirk, before knocking back the rest of his shot.

[-Sentinel-]

"Now it holds all the cards, and probably doesn't even think we're worth paying attention to. I think the most we can expect is for it to give us more academic rivals and public image issues, targeting our pride rather than our bodies and minds. Rub salt in the wounds..."

"Or... it may help you in your fight," said Freeman, in a somber tone that suggested this was not good news. "To our demon, the students of Maxwell U are subjects and disciples, not prey. It wants them to do its work... spreading greed in the world. They can't do that if they're dead, so it has every interest in protecting its turf against other monsters. It may try to work through you. We may also find that our enmity with the demon is rather one-sided; we see it as a corrupting influence to be destroyed, it sees us as the defenders of its domain. But never, for a second, see Chrysophilos as the lesser evil simply because it chooses to help you. The demon will not actively kill people, but it can make the whole world a much darker place over the long term."

"Personally, I prefer prey that runs. Much more sport in it..."

"You and me both," sighed Freeman, "yet here you are, in the RPG Club -- the people who fight not the monsters they want to fight, but the monsters they need to fight."

He put down his empty glass, stood up and reached for his winter coat.

"I'll call it a night. I need to pick up my stepdaughter from her piano practice. Take care, and as I said, don't lose sight of the more immediate threats; don't let yourselves grow complacent if the demon ignores or even helps you; don't discuss the demon on campus grounds; and most of all, don't move against the demon unless you know you're ready. You missed your first shot; you're lucky enough to get a second one, but I wouldn't bank on a third. I'll give you what help I can."


OOC

Spoiler

Show

Very last chance to say something before I conclude.

[ToySoldierCPlus]

Leon just nods as Dr. Freeman got ready to leave. "Thanks for coming by, and for the offer of help. We'll try to stay away from the demon as much as we can, for the moment. We may need to do some more recruiting before anything else comes up, anyway."

He turns to Jonah, next. "Just let me know when you plan to move in. I'll give you a hand with the packing and transport and such."

[-Sentinel-]

"We may need to do some more recruiting before anything else comes up, anyway."

"Choose your allies wisely," Dr. Freeman advised, "and only tell them about the demon on a need-to-know basis, or they may be tempted to strike deals with the demon. If only one of you falls to the Crysophilos's promises, well... it's happened before, and now we're dealing with the consequences, twenty years later."

He opened the front door and walked into the night. Outside it had started snowing.

---

Aon Center, Chicago
8:30 P.M.

The offices of Slater Capital, on the 62nd floor of Aon Center, were now silent and dark. Douglas Slater sat alone at his computer with his back to the window, looking at his Excel spreadsheet with a tired, dissatisfied look in his eyes. His stocks had skyrocketed, thanks to the "suggestions" Chrysophilos had whispered in his ear as a reward for his services. As always, Slater's employees and partners looked up to him in admiration, like some sort of prophet who could read the future of the stock market like an open book; while the Feds suspected him of insider trading, but were not able to prove a thing. Yet his business successes gave him less and less pride or satisfaction with each passing year. At the start of his career, he viewed himself as an employee of Chrysophilos, performing work for which he received a fair pay. But as the millions piled into his overseas bank accounts, he increasingly felt like a cheat and an imposter, getting disproportionately rewarded for a modest amount of actual work. He was not (and indeed, could never be) the self-made man he liked to paint himself as.

Not that Slater's feelings mattered now. He had chosen his path two decades ago, and something told him that his boss did not accept resignations. Chrysophilos may be mightier than ever, but He still thirsted for more power; in this, He and His servant were very much alike. Slater knew he would die obscenely rich, but still indentured to an elder demon of greed. Chrysophilos still had work for him.

First, a new principal would have to be named for Maxwell University, as a permanent replacement for the late Owen Thompson. For this, someone pliable was needed. Slater could easily engineer the rise of such a pawn to the position. Maxwell U was in dire financial straits, unbeknownst to most people, so he only needed to make a generous donation with a secret caveat demanding that a specific person be named principal.

Next, a culture of greed would have to be fostered at Maxwell U in order to feed Chrysophilos. The solution was simple; use Maxwell U's poor finances to justify a steep hike in tuition fees. Students who were already strapped for money might turn to desperate, even immoral measures just to avoid being priced out of school. Moreover, students who lived in expensive off-campus apartments might have to move to the cheaper dorms of the campus; this way, many students would spend more time on Chrysophilos's turf, where the demon could slowly corrupt them.

Another important step was to get rid of Dr. Freeman, who had enough knowledge and power to be a thorn in the side. Not kill him, of course; Slater did not want his old classmate dead, and had successfully convinced Chrysophilos that killing him would only be suspicious. But Freeman could be driven out of his position and forced to find work elsewhere. It was not easy to fire a tenured teacher, but they could plant false evidence of wrongdoing.

This could all wait another day. Slater was too tired to come up with new schemes. He wanted a shawarma from the Lebanese restaurant across the street, a cup of wine at his penthouse, maybe even a line of coke (a bad habit he had picked up during his time in Ashwood Abbey). He put his computer to sleep, put on his coat and turned off the lights.

The End.

.