zg_shadows | Rescue Mission

The sirens, screams and other noises of slaughter had been dulled to a mild din within the walls of the Arc. It usual benefactors and guardians were nowhere to be found, so it seemed to make the letter from Michael Stands-Ready relatively worthless. A figure crept through the darkness, the power had been out for some time, selecting ancient tomes one by one, occasionally performing superstitious gestures over the spines before sliding it from the shelf.

A large assortment of occult texts, a pile the size of a small car, lay neatly stacked and ordered as the stalking figure put the last into place. Shaking his head and sighing, he pulled an old fashioned perfume bottle and went about spraying key areas over the tremendous mound of tomes. A shimmer in the air lingered after each spray and soon the mountain of books shrank to the size of a few loaves of bread.

Swiftly stashing the now minuscule library into a rucksack, Christian glanced about furtively and crept out into the night. The bag was too large to mesh into his avian form and the streets looked far too...

Two hulking bipedal rat forms lumbered into view, their bloodthirsty eyes shining brightly in the darkness. Their noses twitched as their eyes locked onto their new prey. One bounded in a single great leap only meters away from Christian as the other tore up a post box into a wickedly sharp hunk of metal and advanced chittering. Christian hastily fumbled into his pockets and thrust out a crumpled piece of paper he had gotten from the Sept Alpha of London.

"This is my letter of writ. Any harm that befalls me will be... unacceptable!"

Christian let the flows of glamour swirl, defeating the recently depleted banality of the area and the Ratkin paused, their whiskers twitching and then relaxed into glaring and chittering between eachother. Christian counted to three in his head until he was sure that the cantrip was successful. As he strode past one, he halted, turned and looked over his glasses, eldrich green eyes looking into bloody crimson.

"You will not follow me, For I am going to Biers. You will not bring harm to that place or it's inhabitants, understood?"

The whiskers twitched and yellowed teeth bared in a frustrated hiss.

"Good. Now go do your unspeakable acts elsewhere."

Christian shuddered as he rounded the corner. But the mission was what was important, these books must survive the burning of London and the Arcanum was the best equipped to ensure that. But spending the night in Biers may well be the safest route for tonight. So Christian shifted his skin and hair to blend into the scorched brick work of his surroundings and set off, with a sack full of ill gotten books and feeling little better than a petty thief...