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The interior of the dining room, not surprisingly, is richly decorated and furnished as anywhere else in the house. To the left wall, a series of colossal clear-glass windows - embellished with golden ornaments - allows bright moonlight into the room, acting as the sole light source, and causes a blue hue to cover the whole space; a product from the moonlight shining in. To the right wall, a mural displays a modified Last Supper. Satan has taken over the middle-position of Jesus Christ on the table, and the apostles have been replaced with the lesser and greater demons of the Dark God. In the middle, a massive oval table stretches from one end of the room to the other end. Food of all kinds covers the whole table with no inch wasted: pies, cakes, meats, cheeses, fruits, vegetables, and more. Both floor and ceiling are also furnished with white marble.

Only two persons, one at the windows and one at the piano, can be seen. The man standing by the window holds a glass cup of red wine in his right hand. He appears to not acknowledge the existence of the Exorcists, especially Ekaterine, for the time being. The individual at the piano, playing the rendition of Nocturne op.9 No.2, is not so much a man but a suit of armor. A moment of silence fills the air as the satanist by the windows continues to drink his wine. Only with the last drop of his drink, does the man turn around and greets his guests. “You didn't have to kick open the door. It is quite rude to do so,” the satanist states with a smooth deep voice.

“Nevertheless, I welcome you to our humble mansion. Are any of you hungry? I have plenty of food prepared for all of you,” the satanist says with a big smile on his face. The apparel of the satanist, as with most servants of Satan, is overly fancy and proper. The suit and tie that the satanist currently adorns himself with, have no show of wear or tear, creases, dirt, or anything else that would spoil the richness of the black suit and the underlying blue waistcoat. For the actual man himself, the satanist is quite the beauty to behold. A very handsome man with a well-defined jawline, cheekbone, and smooth dark skin to boot.

“Let’s be civil for a few minutes. We can kill each other soon enough. Take a seat, have a drink, eat some food, or just rest for a good solid minute. We might even have a nice discussion before we start our fight,” the satanist notes as he walks towards an open chair and takes a seat. Grabbing a bottle of wine, the satanist pours another stream of wine into his glass.

“How rude of me! I almost forgot to tell you my name. I'm Ryan Chambers. What about you?”
A fair point, i was thinking of this character to be either a cleaner for when things get out of hand or a crazed priest that is obsessed with being his job. Of course, I am open to thinking of another concept for a character.

Got discord? We could talk faster that way.
Hi i was wondering if their is room for one more, i had an idea for a character like Anderson from Hellsing and Ash from Evil Dead.

I can add you in. Give me an overview of what is your character concept. Do note that the tone and feeling of both Anderson and Ash are not thematical well suited for this RP - a bit too outlandish.
CHAPTER TWO : SATANISTS WITHIN

“We’re here,” states the driver as he removes the keys from the ignition. The driver uses his unharmed right arm and points to the Castilian household. From the looks of it, the house is less of a normal family house and more of a massive mansion. Surprisingly, the mansion itself is not dilapidated as the Church suggests. Everything is cleaned and extremely polished with no signs of dirt visible on its structure. Compared to the current state of the outside, the Castilian household is a pillar of upper-class fashion and richness with its elegance of the architecture and clear glass windows. No doubt, it is the work of Satanists at hand. Compared to media portrayal, Satanists are quite proper and classy in their mannerisms and appearance as reflected in their current housing.

“You’re gonna need a map,” the driver notes, getting out of the car with a limp-left arm. The injury created during the car chase appears not to affect the man as much as one would expect. The trunk of the Chevelle resists the first few attempts by the driver to open it. The opening maneuver done by the driver bent the whole trunk inwards, causing the mechanisms to be somewhat jammed in the process. A few minutes pass and the driver, by the process of pure brutal strength, pops open the trunk with a single hand. Searching the trunk, the driver grabs the handle of a suitcase. The man opens the case and pulls forth a folded piece of a map. From there, the man signals everyone to follow him at the front of the car. Once in front, the driver opens the map and lays down the directions onto the car-hood. The rain still continues to pour hard, likely soaking everyone but the map itself. It appears that the Church had the forethought of making the map waterproof.

“Let us go over the plan again. Célia,” a name spoken in perfect Spanish by the driver, “is within the upper levels of the house and in her bedroom. Once into the house, you’ll arrive at the main lobby.” The driver points to the first square after the door entrance named the main lobby. “From there, you’ll see the stairs. Go up and take a right into the hallway. In the end, you should find a door. This will lead to the dining room.” The driver, by the usage of his index finger, directs the pathway that the group should head as said by his oral directions. “Once in the dining room, take the front door. You will be in another hallway and you should find the room of Célia among the other rooms.” The driver finishes off his directions by leading his index to the right of the dining room and into a hallway in which he then points up in the middle of the said hallway, where the room of Célia is.

“Don’t mind the layout. We have bigger issues to deal with than crappy house design,” the driver notes as he rolls up the map and hands it off to Jin.

“I’ll stay here. Don’t worry about me. The mission takes first priority, Godspeed.” the driver says as he points the group towards the door. Like the mansion itself, the door is equally as elegant - if not more beautifully crafted. If one would use the doorknob, then the shape of it perfectly fits into anyone’s hands. Compared to other door-knobs, its shape also gives away to comfortable turning and twisting along with smooth mechanisms that greatly assist in quick openings with a short flick of one’s wrist. The surface is quite smooth as well with no bumps to be felt or seen. The entirety of the doorknob is, from the look of it, made out of pure ivory. The whole door is also made from pure ivory upon further inspection. The door morphs and bends, creating different versions of itself as per the mind of the viewers that stares at it. One second, it is that design, and the next is a wholly different design.

An outburst of music echoes from the house. A piano plays, recreating great wonders of music from days past. For this very special occasion, Nocturne op.9 No.2 is being played. The sounds produced are beautiful. The fine-toning of the piano itself is unbeatable. It is unreal to hear such notes. With each press of the keys, there is a certain deliberation and methodology to it. No one key is just played as seen on the music sheet but perfectly crafted to create the emotions and beauty of the song. For all intent and purposes, it is heaven to the ears.

The Satanists are within and appear to be enjoying themselves greatly. Out of the frying pan and into the fire.
Oops, I posted the IC post in the OOC. Don't mind the thing here.
“AFTER THEM. CORPSE THE FUCKERS. I WANT THEIR BODIES NOW!”

The scream is deafening. The voice, certainly not belonging to a human, is quite chaotic. Its tone shifts from the deepest to the highest of pitches. The words are mixed between a female and male, with words being said as if it was a female, and then the next word became that of a male speaker. Accents are added and then removed. Certain letters are silenced while others are expressed upon for no apparent reasons. The linguistics of this creature is quite impressive, to say the least.

The driver, a man who has yet to speak a single word or give a name, shifts his eyes to the rearview mirror. The Chevelle’s backlights, while barely able to shine light in the dark, showcases a being of the most unholy nature. The monster is an ungodly combination of human and horse. Of course, it is not exactly a human and a horse stitched together. Instead, it appears to be a construction of rotting flesh and bone. Even in its decayed state, its speed is extremely threatening. The thing is just barely able to tag behind the car as it tries to grab onto the rear-end of the Chevelle with its long arms. Thinking fast, the driver stops the car abruptly. In a few short moments, the horse-thing finds its legs and lower body utterly crushed by the laws of motion as it runs full speed into the backend of the black car. A loud crack and crunch are heard, a result of the bones shattering. Whether it was killed or not, the driver presses the pedal to the metal and pushes the Chevelle to its uppermost limit of speed.

Only a few seconds passes and more of these horse-things are coming from the woodworks. From just a quick countdown, the driver finds ten more tailing the car from behind. One of the horsemen speeds ahead of the rest and maintains the speed at the window of the driver. Digging into his coat with one hand, the driver pulls forth a Smith & Wesson Model 27. The fucker of a monster breaks the driver’s side-glass window with a quick thrust of its claws, as the driver steers the car away from the horse-man. Extending his revolver forward out of the shattered window, the driver skullfucks the horseman with a single well-placed bullet into the brain. The horseperson's body then becomes lifeless and disappears into the darkness, as the car drives forward.

Even with the current speed of the car, 162 miles per hour, the horse-things are still catching up. A heavy breeze is felt throughout the car because of the recently broken window. It is quite nice actually, but the moment is ruined by a horseman jumping onto the car with a large THUMP. Its claws quickly dig into the upper hood and start to tear apart a small hole for all to see its face and body. Another horseman, going up to the driver's side, attempts its hand at crippling the driver like the last fucker that tried it. This time, the horse-thing has a sledgehammer. A few shots are aimed at the thing, but the driver finds his bullets unable to connect. Both driving and attempting to maintain aim are quite hard. In turn, the horse-thing frees a hand and rips off the driver’s door. Gripping its hammer with both hands, the horse-thing produces a heavy swing and perfectly times its hit and manages to slam the hammer into the driver’s left shoulder. A hefty crunch is heard as the driver’s left shoulder-blade is broken or worse.

“FUCK!” the driver screams. The first word produced by the driver.

The cars start to become unstable as the driver is forced to deal with an injured arm, plus the horse-things causing issues as well. Only nine left one, with one being shot to the head by the driver. One horseman is on top of the damn car. Another is still trying to turn the driver into a pile of crushed bones and meat on the left side. There are five more behind the car, attempting to latch their claws into the back-end of the car and slow the thing down. To the right side is a horde of three. Those shits are ramming the car itself. With each ram, the car curves, and drifts, with the driver having to correct the car’s direction or else.

“BLEED FOR YOUR FALSE GOD.”
CHAPTER ONE : LONG ROAD

Fly me to the moon
Let me play among the stars
Let me see what spring is like on
A-Jupiter and Mars
In other words, hold my hand
In other words, baby, kiss me…

The radio attempts its hand at lifting the mood, but its efforts are likely wasted. If Frank Sinatra is not to one’s liking then the rain provides an alternative form of sound for the ears. If not rain then the sounds of wheels grinding against the asphalt can be quite entertaining for some. If audible enjoyment is not fun enough then the windows can provide great visual entertainment. Whatever the case may be, the journey from the motel to the Castilian household is not exactly the most exciting or eventful. The driver himself is also not helping either, but that is not a fault of his own. He is just here to do one thing: to drive from point A to point B. The matters at hand are quite serious, and the atmosphere is very stone-faced. From time to time, the driver would state the miles traveled and how much more is there left to travel. The road towards the Castilian household has been very straight. No turns, no bends, nothing. It might be that the road is, in fact, just very straight and was built in such a manner as that. Another explanation is that the local area is bending to the realities of demonic forces, causing much fuckery on Earth. Likewise, the moon has not moved a single inch at all from the time that the car got close to the Castilian household. The surrounding areas also are strange. Walls of tree lines fully encompass the outside. Each tree is also extremely similar to one and other. It is not a matter that each tree is similar, as seen in nature, but that the trees have the same branches and leaf placement pattern.

The rain has gotten heavier as well over the past few minutes. What were storms of small balls of water droplets has turned into golf-ball-sized droplets that smash against the car frame and window. The sound created almost drowns out any form of audible sound within the car. The thunder in the background is becoming more and more frequent. To the normal person, this would have scared anyone and caused the poor soul to simply go back. Who knows, this might be the purpose of the current situation - scare off any would-be person from going near the household. To add to the situation, the Chevelle’s headlights can barely pierce the darkness ahead. Only a few inches can be seen ahead as the night becomes darker and darker. Things are...starting to get weird.

Fill my heart with song and let me sing forevermore
You are all I long for
All I worship and adore
In other words, please be true
In other words, I love you...

A tall, Korean man, peppered with more than his fair share of scars was inspecting his gun. Any passenger that met his eyes was given a warm, affectionate smile in return. Jin Dak-Ho normally would have acquainted himself with others but he postponed his greetings in the motel as he felt that everyone seemed to have something weighing on their mind.

”It seems that we’ve yet to acquaint ourselves with each other,” Jin began softly, his english was impeccable, ”Even in South Korea, I’ve heard of all of you through your works, brothers and sister. Impressive, to say the least.”

”It’s very likely that you haven’t heard of me, however, excuse my impertinence,” Jin continued, his smile never so much as wavered, ”I am Jin Dak-Ho, a Protestant Priest. Pleased to meet such notable figures.”

It had been nearly thirty years since she had been known as Yefreytor Tasiko of the Red Army. A member of the Assault Engineer Brigades in some of the worst battles of the war she would spend her nights before an engagement silently shivering in fear. Despite the best efforts of her commissars, she saw nothing noble or righteous about the struggle. There was no glory to be found, just the depths of hell risen up to take shape on Earth.

Then she had learned that no mortal conflict compared to the true Hell, no man a fraction as demented as its denizens. Her battles as Sister Ekaterine had been righteous, not weighed down by a worthless rank or petty fear. After finding salvation in the Lord's strength she leaped at the chance to extend it to others across the steppes. But her early career as a demon hunter, while noble, was flawed. She had doubted herself and God by proxy, unsure of whether she was truly up to the task she had been assigned.

But now Stavrophore Ekaterine's work was truly righteous. She was not merely a vessel for the Lord's mercy but an extension of his divine fury! Where once had been a soldier was now a tool, a weapon directed at the impure so that the operator could remove their stain. God was the shooter, Ekaterine was merely the rifle. And there was nothing more satisfying than that.

It was the reason why she was smiling from ear to ear while checking the cloth stoppers on her bottles, the Mother humming snatches of hymns while she prepared herself for the trials ahead. "Please Pastor, you aggrandize us!" She chuckled as she finished her inspection, moving to adjust her cassock so that it fits nicely over the armor underneath. "And yet at the same time you downplay your own works. I'm glad to have you here with us.

The Stavrophore cast her gaze towards the rear mirror so as to look at her companions. From her position in the passenger's seat, she could cast an approving eye over each one of them. Despite denomination differences, they were all her comrades in the fight against the Serpent and so were all deserving of respect.

"The same to you Father Alistair, Pastor Yu. I look forward to working with you again."

As the car drove down the dirt road, Alistair couldn’t help but enjoy the moment. Even with the grim task before him, the priest enjoyed the sights of the country, the sounds of the radio, and the company of his fellow exorcists. Though they may be of different faiths, they all knew how to handle themselves, and each one would play a critical role in the job ahead.

”Likewise, Mother Ekaterine.” The bespectacled priest responded. ”It’s been quite some time since we’ve last seen each other. It seems the years have been kind to you.” He appended with a polite smile as he pushed up his glasses. ”...and your skills with medicine will be quite the boon for us as well, Pastor Yu.”

The priest looked out the window for a moment, before turning to the only member among them (driver notwithstanding) that had yet to meet any of the three of them before. It seemed Mother Ekatherine and Pastor Yu had met before, and Alistair had personally met them both at different points of his career.

”And it is a pleasure to meet you as well, Pastor Jin.” The priest said. ”I’ve heard of your works from within the Vatican-- there aren’t many exorcists in South Korea who are capable of what you can do. I have the utmost faith in your abilities.” He smiled, not unkindly.

”And I, you, Father Alistair,” Jin replied, ”To be recognized in any capacity is a surprise. It is I that is truly blessed to be working with exorcists of your calibers- perhaps I’ll be able to learn a few things and earn fewer scars.” The Korean followed this with a short chuckle as he closed the chamber of his gun.

Yu wore a formal expression as the religious leaders began to introduce themselves. Two pale hands rested on Jieru - a thumb carefully grazing over the intricate carvings of the thurible as its handler listened in earnest.

Subconsciously, he leaned back so as to not obstruct the flow of conversation between the people in front and on either side of him. Kind words were exchanged, and Yu nodded in acknowledgment of their claims.

Sunbae-nim He spoke in a low voice towards Jin, “Your work has not gone unnoticed. Rest assured, work for the Lord is work worth recognizing.”

The pastor looked back to give Mother Ekaterine and Alistair a small smile. ”...it is a blessing to be in both your companies once again. Your strength and utmost dedication will carry us swiftly through this operation.”



She must be our local John Wick then. Welcome to the club. You can throw the sheet into the CS tab.


It appears that our healer has arrived. You can post your CS in the character tab.
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