Post by The Hush is BACK on Jul 24, 2006 17:37:39 GMT -5
“What did it say on yours, mate?” Adam Turners turns to Avril Houghton.
Avril gives him a quick glance, noting his short spiky brown hair. “Something about an urgent danger, my skills were needed, et cetera.”
Adam nods, then, he turns back to the conference table where a total of eight people are sitting. They’ve been waiting for twenty minutes, and conversation is beginning to erupt amongst these strangers.
One man, Elijah Hunter, seems bored with all the youngsters in the room. He grips a water bottle in his hand and as he snaps his fingers, the water turns to ice and back again.
“How’d you do that?” Alan Horstmann asks, sitting nearby, with strange bracers around his wrists.
“Long story. What about you and those bracers?”
“Long story, as well.” Alan replies quickly.
Jack Muir glances down at his arm. A huge cut shows no sign of going away. He mutters icily, “Damn thing won’t….”
Suddenly, his cut begins to heal, until it disappears. Looking up, he sees Marisa Lane Bianan concentrating hard. He grins at her.
“Damn kids are so loud.” Argyle grumbles. “Don’t they know when to shut it?”
“They will soon.” Solomon replies. Argyle gazes at him. Mr. Thuros is serene, with his propped up on the table and his eyes closed.
“Wha-?”
“Someone is coming.” Solomon answers, his voice quiet yet intense.
Somehow, everyone hears this, and they resume their positions in their chairs, waiting expectantly. The door slides open a few seconds later.
“Greetings, ladies, and gentlemen.” A balding man in his late forties steps inside and closes the door. Everyone is quiet at the sight of this man. He is ordinarily built, but wears an elegant white robe with a strange insignia on the back on it.
“My name is Joseph Arrotos. I represent the Nightwatchmen.”
“You’re the crazy buggers who sent us the mail?” Adam asks.
“Er, yes, Mr. Turners. Now, let me explain what’s going on.”
Joseph Arrotos strides confidently to the head of the table and sits. He clears his throat, then begins.
“The Nightwatchmen are a…society of sorts. We were founded in the late 14th century. Our goal throughout time has been to prevent evil from gaining any advantage on our world. Anyways, the reason why you’re all here is because of our charter.”
Jack speaks up, coolly. “Mr. Arrotos, what do you mean?”
“Mr. Muir, I’m saying we’re on the verge of doom.”
Joseph Arrotos pauses to let the words sink in, then continues.
“Our research and intel suggest that….. the Apocalypse is occurring.”
“What the hell?” Argyle snarls. “You have got to be dreaming this shit up.”
“Now, now, Mr. McMillan. We believe it is true. Let me explain. We’ve discovered old scrolls and artifacts in our existence. Lately, we’ve pieced them together and we think that two millennia after the death of Jesus, Satan shall once again rise up and again try to wrest ultimate control of the world.”
“I was raised in a Christian home, Mr. Arrotos.” Solomon declares. “The Bible says that the devil doesn’t win.”
“Right you are, Mr. Thuros. But if you were Satan and you read that, would you really believe that you would lose just because it said you would?”
Solomon ponders this for a second, then closes his eyes once more.
“This isn’t a fight for a nation’s independence, people. It isn’t even a nuclear holocaust. We are talking about the fate of the world and all its inhabitants.”
Mr. Arrotos stands up and begins pacing around the room. “Now, I’ve gathered intel on all of you, and the reason why you’re here is because I think you have the power to help turn back evil’s tide. All of you possess great abilities that would greatly help in our campaign.”
“Now, will you join us?” He continues. “We will pay you for your services, but…. Now that the world might end, is it not motivation enough?”
The room is silent. Finally, one by one, the eight strangers speak up. “We’ll do it.”
“Good.” Joseph grins slightly. “Now, who wants a tour?”
********************************************************
OVERALL OBJECTIVE: Hold back the forces of evil and defend Earth from complete destruction.
Avril gives him a quick glance, noting his short spiky brown hair. “Something about an urgent danger, my skills were needed, et cetera.”
Adam nods, then, he turns back to the conference table where a total of eight people are sitting. They’ve been waiting for twenty minutes, and conversation is beginning to erupt amongst these strangers.
One man, Elijah Hunter, seems bored with all the youngsters in the room. He grips a water bottle in his hand and as he snaps his fingers, the water turns to ice and back again.
“How’d you do that?” Alan Horstmann asks, sitting nearby, with strange bracers around his wrists.
“Long story. What about you and those bracers?”
“Long story, as well.” Alan replies quickly.
Jack Muir glances down at his arm. A huge cut shows no sign of going away. He mutters icily, “Damn thing won’t….”
Suddenly, his cut begins to heal, until it disappears. Looking up, he sees Marisa Lane Bianan concentrating hard. He grins at her.
“Damn kids are so loud.” Argyle grumbles. “Don’t they know when to shut it?”
“They will soon.” Solomon replies. Argyle gazes at him. Mr. Thuros is serene, with his propped up on the table and his eyes closed.
“Wha-?”
“Someone is coming.” Solomon answers, his voice quiet yet intense.
Somehow, everyone hears this, and they resume their positions in their chairs, waiting expectantly. The door slides open a few seconds later.
“Greetings, ladies, and gentlemen.” A balding man in his late forties steps inside and closes the door. Everyone is quiet at the sight of this man. He is ordinarily built, but wears an elegant white robe with a strange insignia on the back on it.
“My name is Joseph Arrotos. I represent the Nightwatchmen.”
“You’re the crazy buggers who sent us the mail?” Adam asks.
“Er, yes, Mr. Turners. Now, let me explain what’s going on.”
Joseph Arrotos strides confidently to the head of the table and sits. He clears his throat, then begins.
“The Nightwatchmen are a…society of sorts. We were founded in the late 14th century. Our goal throughout time has been to prevent evil from gaining any advantage on our world. Anyways, the reason why you’re all here is because of our charter.”
Jack speaks up, coolly. “Mr. Arrotos, what do you mean?”
“Mr. Muir, I’m saying we’re on the verge of doom.”
Joseph Arrotos pauses to let the words sink in, then continues.
“Our research and intel suggest that….. the Apocalypse is occurring.”
“What the hell?” Argyle snarls. “You have got to be dreaming this shit up.”
“Now, now, Mr. McMillan. We believe it is true. Let me explain. We’ve discovered old scrolls and artifacts in our existence. Lately, we’ve pieced them together and we think that two millennia after the death of Jesus, Satan shall once again rise up and again try to wrest ultimate control of the world.”
“I was raised in a Christian home, Mr. Arrotos.” Solomon declares. “The Bible says that the devil doesn’t win.”
“Right you are, Mr. Thuros. But if you were Satan and you read that, would you really believe that you would lose just because it said you would?”
Solomon ponders this for a second, then closes his eyes once more.
“This isn’t a fight for a nation’s independence, people. It isn’t even a nuclear holocaust. We are talking about the fate of the world and all its inhabitants.”
Mr. Arrotos stands up and begins pacing around the room. “Now, I’ve gathered intel on all of you, and the reason why you’re here is because I think you have the power to help turn back evil’s tide. All of you possess great abilities that would greatly help in our campaign.”
“Now, will you join us?” He continues. “We will pay you for your services, but…. Now that the world might end, is it not motivation enough?”
The room is silent. Finally, one by one, the eight strangers speak up. “We’ll do it.”
“Good.” Joseph grins slightly. “Now, who wants a tour?”
********************************************************
OVERALL OBJECTIVE: Hold back the forces of evil and defend Earth from complete destruction.