Paris by Moonlight (IC)

[Supercape]

GM

"Damn flies!" cursed the Butcher "where the devil have they come from, ruin my business!" he cursed. Indeed, there were more of them now, flying around the shop.

"I do apologise Sir!" he said as diplomatically as possible to Marceau "rest assured that we at La viande des Dieux* take hygiene most seriously. We have the finest meats in Paris, nay, France! We do however appear to be beset by the damn thing's today...must be the cold air outside..." he added, unconvincingly..

"In any case" he continued, slapping down to meaty hands and trapping two more flies.

"What can I get you?"

*The Meat of the Gods

[Ari]

"<Sheep's offal, good butcher>" came the uncharacteristically terse reply, as the tail of his left eye was pretty firmly locked on the front door of the meat shop, in case a giant, fetid bull came through to try and start something. "<I don't imagine my friend will need more than a gram or two for what he's cooking up, how much will that be kind sir?>" he turned a smile of unfeined politeness and grace towards the butcher "<Don't mind the flies, I'm sure they'll soon be dealt with>" he added reassuringly, not wanting him to give dwell on just where the swarm had sprung from. Nonwtheless, he still remained alert in case behind the mask he detected the tell-tale stench.

[Supercape]

GM

By the time the butcher had wrapped up some (what looked like well prepared and good quality) sheeps offal, the flies had become a swarm and the customers in the queue had departed.

"What the devil is this?" shouted the butcher, handing Marceau the meat.

"Claude! Phone the public works! this is outrageous!!!" he yelled.

"Putro, putredo Gallu adventum!"* roared the old lady behind him in a horrible, deep and rasping voice, her body contorting and oblivious to the world.

She opened her mouth wide, her jaw dislocating from her skull and hanging loosely. A horrible buzzing heralded the onslaught of flies...flies!!! everywhere!!! pouring from her mouth!!!

*Translation

Fester, Rot, the Coming of Gallu!

[Ari]

Marceau had been about to take and pay for the meat when the hideous swarm came out of the old woman's mouth in a black, buzzing torrent of what seemed to his startled mind pure evil.

The cloud of flies didn't bother the young Frenchman as much as it might have someone who had never had to walk through a swarm of locusts, but he still hated it. Surprised as he was at the old lady's revelation of her true nature and affiliation he failed to close his eyes in time, and soon his entire body was crawling with flies! Swatting madly about himself, he seethed with rage at the woman who to his mind had just betrayed every human in the vicinity by allying with a demon. But that was something to repay later, he thought furiously, first he had to either get rid of the flies or else make his escape.

As they crawled about him, Marceau could feel the all-too familiar feeling of sickness about him. At present, the diseased creatures failed to impart anything his immune system wasn't capable of repelling, as he didn't seem to have gotten any worse than before. Still, he needed a way to kill or subdue the mass about him, maybe smoke? His 'smoke bombs' might suffice to suffocate the tiny things...holding his breath, he took a smoke bomb and threw it to the ground, its dark vapors rising up in a cloud that began to fill the cramped ship.

[Supercape]

GM

The smoke filled the shop, which was actually a fairly enclosed space. It was impossible to see further that ones hand, and then, only if one had ones hand bang up to ones nose. In such a confined space, the smoke was barely less oppressive than the flies.

But it was working. The flies were dropping, or leaving, along with the plumes of smoke folding away from the shop.

"Manuum of Peruro mos operor suum opus! Vereor suus manuum!"* came the rasping voice of the old woman, her hands grabbing through the smoke, blindly.

"Ack! My wares!" wailed the Butcher "Flies! Gas! what next??? the woman! oh spirictus sancti and all of that, my poor soul, Lord forgive me!!! Lord, I am sorry I haven't confessed for my sins!!! forgive this sinner!!!"

*Translation

"The hands of Gallu will do their work! Fear his hands!"

[Ari]

Choking on the cloud of gas and flies he had brought about, Marceau wheezed through the now nearly suffocating mask, glaring at the old woman shouting in Latin(or at least where he supposed she might be), an almost desperate anger at her for doing this causing him to leap forward on an impulse to try and shut her jaws, on the vague idea that doing so would prove the needed trick to stop whatever power she was using, though a sneaking suspicion that it would require more than that stop her kept him from racing off into the wider streets, where whatever she was capable of might endanger even more people.

Yelling over the droning roar of the perishing swarm, Marceau barked <"Everyone out! Get out of here, I'll deal with this!">, directing this demand to anyone still inside, especially the surprisingly durable and persistent butcher.

[Supercape]

GM

Marceau reached out and grabbed the old lady with both hands. For all the foul demonic power that had infested the shop, the vessel was still that of a frail old lady, and as he took her in his hands, he realised she was nothing but a mortal portal for Gallu.

A rasping noise came from her mouth, and she seemed to shrink slightly, and collapse in his hands.

"oooooh...." she gasped, fainting. As she did so, a belch of red and black fire and shadow spewed forth with her breath straight into Marceau's face. A poisonous, evil smoke and brimstone - the last wisp of Gallu's possession before it evaporated into the ether.

[Ari]

The sulfur pouring out of the old woman was clearly dangerous, but Marceau managed to withstand it with nothing worse than a hacking cough and waves of nausea. Staggering away, he went up to the butcher and handed over just about every last euro he still had in his pocket from a gloved hand(keeping enough to get the vinegar on the way back) <"I'm so sorry this happened, monsieur butcher! I hope this will help you repair any damage to your stock. I and my friends are trying to return a demon to its proper world that some fool or fools summoned. I'll do my best to see this doesn't happen again">

With that, he put the old woman over his shoulder and set off for Marcel's house, looking with care for a shop that sold vinegar...

[Supercape]

GM

Vinegar was not so hard to buy - almost every store had a bottle of some kind of another. Admittedly, the sight of Marceau carrying the poor old woman raised a few eyebrows, but a convenient story lowered them again.

Later, at the house of Marcel...

"Come in come in" said Marcel "Rene is just setting up the ritual. He has done most of the work, with the aide of my meagre library. I confess I have not been of much assistance. And bring your, err...friend...in..." he added, gesturing to the old woman.

In truth he did not look so well, he was sweating profusely and had bloodshot eyes. He had some unpleasant blotches on his skin.

"I guess that's another old crone you have infected, eh? we best stop this as soon as possible. Have you all the ingredients? are you ready?"

[Ari]

Marceau looked baffled for a moment, then sighed and clapped a hand over his face, saying from under it and the mask <"No, my friend, a recent victim of possession by Gallu. She filled the meat store I went to with diseased flies, and breathed venomous sulfur into my face went to try and stop her. I brought her here to try and figure out if she might help lead us to he demon, if he leaves some traceable sign of its occupancy"> he set her down on a place that to his knowledge hadn't been touched by anyone infected. He looked at Marcel and Rene <"Er..that can work, right?">

[Supercape]

"Its good thinking" nodded Rene, as he started mixing the ingredients together. Rainwater, he had collected himself from the gutter of Marcel's house.

"Carry on with eldrich insight like that, and we shall be forced to press-gang you into the halbediers!" he winked at Marcel, who nodded. The sewer worker had collapsed into an armchair, sweating profusely.

"And now", he concluded "to rid ourselves of this cursed plague!"

The ritual itself did not take much longer. The foul concoction Rene had brewed up added yet another odour to the menagerie of smells in Marcel's house, and the temperature of the building rose again. Rene was mumbling in various languages and at several times stopped to consult the text's Marcel had given him.

A wrenching, churning feeling tugged at Marceaux, and he imagined a similar feeling swept through Marcel. It was like an unsteady fever. It was far from pleasant, but not painful. After a minute or two of wrestling, Rene stopped chanting and the feeling (along with the plague) had gone.

"How do you feel?" he asked Marceaux "Ready to take down the beast?"

[Ari]

At Rene's jocular suggestion that he join des Halberdiers, he laughed openly, inwardly glad that he had stumbled upon a lead like that by accident. He kept a close eye on the old woman for all that, however, reminding himself that he still didn't know if she was in league with Gallu by choice or coercion.

As the cursed plague was chased from his body, Marceau devoted several seconds to the simple task of reveling in his newfound good health. It wasn't very long or involved, just a moment's recognition that this had happened and he was glad it had.

At Rene's question as to whether he felt prepared to hunt down Gallu, Marceau answered gallantly <"Quite well my friend, but I'll need quite a bit help if I'm to have a hope against it, should I need to fight outright"> he looked at Marcel <"Do you have anything that might help me fight a demon? Also: will you be able to track or repel Gallu with what you can find from this old woman?">

He had no idea what information could actually be obtained from her or whatever Marcel and Rene could detect on her.

[Supercape]

Rene stood up straight. This time, his bones really did ache. He was tired, hungry, and needed another sleep. The day was drawing in again.

But none of them had any time to rest.

"The stench of the demon has faded, it is true" he said, examining the unconscious form of the old woman "but perhaps, with the right methods, we could induce some trance, some...connection. Not for long, but perhaps, long enough..."

Marcel nodded, and the two Halbediers got too work.

More smells filled the room, less noxious but equally pungent smell filled the room - a series of smoking sticks lit by Marcel that had a faintly hypnotic, or perhaps narcotic effect.

Rene wound up a mechanical clock and mumbled some words over it. It seemed to tick slower, and louder.

He then whispered some words in the womans ear and peeled back her eyes. Her eyeballs had rolled right back and she was mumbling herself. Her words were faint and feverish, but some could be made out...

"Arc...de Triumph...by...moonlight...comes...the hands...the eyes...the bull...the wings..."

[Ari]

A lot of magical work seems to involve stuff that smells real strongly thought Marceau to himself as he observed the Halbediers at their investigations I wonder if I'll be able to figure out why...

He soon forgot that, as Rene's ministrations got a reaction out of the woman he hadn't expected: talking in her sleep about how going to the Arc at night one might meet the demon. This called for action.

<"Monsieurs, with your permission I shall go at once to the Arc de Triomphe and investigate this lead. If we need to do something first, I shall happily assist in the completion of whatever tasks need doing"> he was already fiddling with his cape as he spoke.

[Supercape]

GM

Later, at the Arc de Triumph...

It was cold at the top of the monument, and it had been difficult to reach. The sun was but a glow on the horizon, and the light was poor. Something was creepy about the location - more creepy than the King of Suits would have expected.

Yes, something supernaturally creepy.

Was it the whispering wind? something creaking? or just a dread feeling that pervaded the atmosphere?

[Ari]

The King of Suits was well-used to the travails of excessive heat and cold. This was relegated however to atmospheric conditions natural to the physical world. The bizarre chill he felt seeping into his bones however showed no sign of being part of the usual chill, reminding him of the time in China when he had gone into the southern mountains to fetch a crown from a haunted tomb. The horrible sensation of a frozen hand gripping his heart made him slightly less alert than he could be at his peak, but his eyes still worked.

They in fact caught the the footsteps leading towards the Arc's service trapdoor, and the sudden confusion and disarray about it that argued for some kind of struggle. Seeming to slide along the roof, he came up to it from an entirely different angle. A quick look informing him that someone who shouldn't had come along, had a short struggle with the trapdoor, and had ducked inside.

With a grim set to his jaw, Marceau weighed his options: going inside would mean he'd be in close quarters, something he knew he was more used to but still wasn't trained to fight demons, and the devices he was working on to give him more options in a fight were still under construction. On the other, if he went inside he could stop something horrible from happening. On the third hand he really didn't know what he could do to stop a demon from stealing people's souls. On the fourth, he was right there and needed to do something. He tested the trapdoor for being locked, readying one of his new razor cards in case he needed to cut through something...

[Supercape]

GM

"What? What are you doing here?"

The man turning round was in his late thirties, probably. He was somewhat overweight, looking like a spotty fat kid who had grown up to be a less spotty but fat accountant but still a kid.

A nerd.

He was wearing unstylish clothes - trainers, joggers, a slightly two tight t shirt that looked like it had some role playing game logo on it, and rode up slightly over his belly. To cap it off, he was wearing some knock off cape and hood that looked like it had been bought from a LARP store.

But what he was fingering, around his neck, was quite different.

It looked like a medallion, forged of intertwined gold and bone, and had the face of a raging bull. Its chained looped twice around the man's neck.

"Get out! Get out! They all laughed at me! See how they laugh at me now! With the Invincible Amulet of Invicibility" he cackled.

[Ari]

<"Which they still will, no matter what powers you gain"> Marceau replied flatly, pulling back his cowl, seeing no purpose it could serve here. Walking firmly towards the power-hungry man he continued in his usual voice, growing colder and more final with every sentence. He wished he could have come earlier, the museum showing the Arc's history. The models reminded him of the old crumbling things he had seen all over the strange corners of Romania he had been to once upon a time..but there was no time to lose here, evil had to be averted.

<"And that's not the worst of it. You're not just going to imbue yourself with power you haven't earned(which I might add is VERY hard to regain if lost), you're betraying the human race. By allying with this demon, Gallu, who's face I see on that amulet, you're giving the beast a foothold in this world. With you as its tool this demon shall use you to promote violence, fear and anger that shall leave their stains on the souls of those who experience them long after you have been dealt with by those with higher authority than I. This demon will then simply take you to hell leaving your branded corpse as a mockery to those who battle it, and so encourage in all who hear of this a bitterness and sense of evil as absolute that shall do more harm than you could do on your own in twelve hundred years">

Picking up a pen, left by some careless tourist the day before, he flung it with uncanny precision at the center of the bull's head on the amulet <"That was not given to me by a demon, the strength I shall bring to bear against you was not granted by some monster, and the friends who SHALL avenge me if I prove unable to best you will not be phantasms conjured up to be a prop for weakness!"> he glared at the man before him <"The choice is yours, monsieur, either I beat you into the ground, or else you will relinquish that bauble and find some strength of your own. I can do it, there is no reason you can't either. Will it be hard? Of course! Will you ache and groan and sweat? Yes. But you'll be better off dealing with that rather than staying where you are, a butt for slurs and jibes, won't you?">

He had never talked so much to one person in such a short span of time in his life. He had the distinct idea that this wasn't the way most people in his situation did things.

[Supercape]

GM

"Wha...? Wha....?"

The man backed off, stumbled, and tripped over his cape, scrambling away and clutching his amulet.

"No! No! You...You Lie! The Invincible Amulet of Invincibility is mine!" he stuttered, looking fearfully at the King of Suits.

"How the bullies at school laughed at me! and how they mocked me at work! Fatty Fredrick they called me at the modern magic club!"

He couldn't quite to his feet.

"They won't laugh at me now! Not now I have the power of the gods!!!" he whimpered.

"Don't hit me!!!" he added.

[Ari]

<"Think about it this way Frederick"> Marceau said grimly, <"Will fewer people really laugh at you if they learn that a man turned to magic to escape the taunts of others? Magic is a powerful tool, and using it for such a narrow purpose as getting revenge for being slighted has inspired mockery before"> he leaned against a nearby marble wall, feeling the chill seep back into him, the light dust in the air causing him to briefly wrinkle his nose <"I don't blame you for feeling trapped, but what will this do for you that a steady exercise regimen won't? If you try to use whatever powers are in that amulet, do you even know for sure it won't just turn you into a horrific monster and devour everyone who can't fight back? Bargains for power have little chance of NOT turning against you, even if you have decades of experience with them"> bouncing slightly off the wall he wandered closer to Frederick, looking over at him with sudden confusion <"Where did you even get something called the Invincible Amulet of Invincibility?">

Seeing the nervousness on the man's face he added in a slightly kinder tone <"I won't hurt you if you don't try anything Frederick, but this is very dangerous and I can't guarantee that I can get you out of this safely"> he looked piercingly at Frederick <"But I dare say you had no idea about the inexplicable deaths recently, did you? The demon I suspect gave you that trinket was involved in them, just so you know">

[Supercape]

GM

"Death's? What are you talking about???" gabbled Frederick, still clutching his amulet.

"This!" he showed Marceau his amulet proudly. "Is the invincible amulet of invincibility!" he roared. "I found it, after much painstaking research, in the museum of antiquities, right here, under everybody's noses!" he laughed, congratulating himself.

"Months it took, to get a job as a security guard there. Oh how they laughed at me, Fatty Frederick, they all took me for a fool!!!" he yelled, madness in his eyes. "But I found it! Me, Frederck Klinefelter!" he laughed. "You are trying to trick me, I know it! you want the invincible amulet of invincibility, don't you! come to steal it off Fatty Frederick!"

He scrabbled to his feet, fear and arrogance shining in his eyes.

"Now, let me show you the invincible power of the invincible power of invincibility!" he laughed, squaring off to the King of Suits as the amulet began to glow a horrible green colour...

[Ari]

Marceau raised an eyebrow when the power-hungry man displayed no knowledge of the recent murders(rules him out as a subject he supposed), not to mention the fact that it seemed he had also hadn't had any assistance finding it from any demons. That plus his attitude gave a great deal of credence towards the Amulet being quite legitimate as an artifact. He cursed himself for making such sweeping assumptions without first trying to figure out what was going on.

When the man then made a very prominent and unmistakable sign of aggression, the King of Suits leaped forward, slamming his fist into Frederick's lower sternum with all the force he could muster, snapping as he did <"By all means, do so">

[Supercape]

(GM)

"Fool!" laughed Frederick as the fist stopped as it touched his body. Marceau felt like he had punched solid steel.

"Did I not tell you I am invincible? Ha ha! You shall pay the price for daring to doubt me, Frederick the Fantastic! Yes! Now, witness my full power!" he said in a garbled half laugh. For all his bravado, his eyes shone with fear and doubt as he tenuously reached out...

...a blast of electricity, a rich purple in colour, spewed forth from his hand. Marceau could sense it pure unadulterated power, but Frederick could hardly contain it... It was wild and undirected, and came nowhere near him.

[Ari]

The shock from the collision from the inflexible magical barrier caused a hurried recalculation on Marceau's part as to the best way to approach the situation. Clearly physical force from him would be ineffective at best, and at worst would leave him open to attack. Obviously he would to attempt a different strategy...

Making an about-face, he dashed behind a model of the Arc, hurling behind himself a bola pulled from the gear strapped to his back, hoping it would at least serve to distract the man while he tried to figure out a more complicated plan of attack.

[Supercape]

GM

"Ha ha ha!" laughed Frederick loudly, without any real confidence or Joy - just anger.

"Now you see the invincible power I possess! I...and only I!" he shouted at the King of Suits "Look whose laughing now...hey...wha?"

His laughter was interrupted by the bolas wrapping themselves round his legs, quite to his surprise.

"What's this?" he mumbled, as he tried to walk and fell flat on his face.

"Laugh at me tripping up would you! Revenge! REVENGE!" he spluttered, incandescent with rage. He let lose another blast of electrical force, hardly aimed at all this time, a mere expression of his anger, that struck the wall behind the King of Suits, shattering brick, concrete and steel, and punching a hole straight through to the night outside, illuminating Paris with lightning.