Mezar Ranch

[demikara]

Despite all the strains on his schedule, Tyrus still put at least a little bit of time aside to work on some of his more experimental spells. This particular one was incredibly delicate, and it also required sunlight, so he was outside, dressed for the weather of course, and working on carefully etching the last of the runes in the ground. It was large, complicated, complex and he was eager to see if it worked. Theoretically the creation of it would lead to a powerful artifact that when activated would create a null zone for everyone but the activator. It was the size of the null zone that pleased him the most. A solid mile diameter sphere, if he could manage to get it working. All his calculations suggested that it would work, but he would need to test it once finished.

For now, he finished off the runes and moved to the outer edge of the circle, a heavy medallion of silver, carved with extensive runes itself the center of the runes circle. He smiled as he looked at his hard work, and then began to cast the spell, charging the runes carefully and steadily. Focused on the work, he didn't notice the disturbance until it was too late. There was a distant pop and he looked up, pausing for half a second. That was enough for the magic to whip out of control and before he could grab it and rein it in once more, the runes were overwhelmed.

The mage had just enough time to through up a partial spell before the effects of his magic reacted explosively to the disturbance. The spell circle went up with a loud boom, taking out a solid three acres with it at the center of the explosion. The ground shook and magic pulsed out in a wave as Tyrus, tossed around, hit his head hard on the ground and passed out, no chance to have done more than the partial shield that kept him alive, but not uninjured.

In Dallas, several sensors went off at once, as they worked to pinpoint where the magical wave came from. In a panic, the officer monitoring it waited just long enough for a direction to be spat out before he raced up to the warden's office. "I need to see the warden immediately! There's been a magical explosion outside to the south west, in Eastland County." He shuddered as he considered it. "We think it came from...we think it came from Mezar Ranch. It's the only registered unseen place that makes sense." That wasn't much smaller and much less magical.

Mezar Ranch was home to one Tyrus Rahal and was known as a magical hotspot when it's owner was home. It was also a cattle ranch and held the shrines of the ancient egyptian pantheon. The other locations in Eastland County were smaller: a bar, a coffee shop, and a reagent shop. 

[Circe]

"What's all this about explosions?" Catherine asked stepping out into the lobby of her office for a moment. She couldn't help but over hear considering there was still the lack of a door on her office, no thanks to Walther and his goading. She knew she shouldn't have let him get to her like he did, but things had been difficult lately. Between Grigore and the Council breathing down her neck, any sort of calm was easily shattered. But if she were honest, Walther had always been good at getting under her skin. His appearance would have been welcome had the circumstances been better and Catherine wasn't forced to attempt to single handedly fend off war between the Unseen and humans. However, Walther had decided to make his own rules instead of remembering himself as a guest that needed to abide by the rules of his host. He had threatened and nearly assaulted a member of the ruling family of the Dragon Court, and while she herself didn't hold much love for the Vampires, she knew a political mine field when she saw it.

Having been raised in the fae courts, she had been privileged to witness the political schemes of those that would consider themselves her betters; only because they resented the fact that the McBride family had the ear and favor of their rulers. This in the end translated reasonably well to conflict mitigation and defusing tenuous high stakes situations, but it didn't mean Catherine enjoyed it.


Considering these things, she snatched the piece of paper from that had been brought in from the monitoring systems. She was silent as she read through the sensor report and then turned to set the paper down on her desk. The coordinates were right, it was Tyrus's property, and a magical burst strong enough to trigger the sensors in Dallas was concerning.

"Go ahead and go home Sam, I'm going to be gone awhile I think." Catherine told her secretary before heading out herself. First stop would be to pull Molly out of whatever trouble she'd come up with, and go deal with a sulking Walther before heading out to Eastland County.

[demikara]

Molly had been working through some complex math on her whiteboard in her lab, working out the mathmagic needed to perform a spell she was interested in. Considering the matrices on the board, it was likely a fairly complex spell too. The fact that she had calculus and differential equations up there as well didn't bode well for her abilities to solve the math needed for the spell.

Her other white board had half a dozen sketches of different runic circles on it, half of them with notations instead of runes. The desk was covered in papers and books lined on wall. A pair of thin glasses set lightly on her nose as she worked through the math, tapping at her lips with the dry erase marker. It was there Catherine found her, and Molly turned as the lab door opened then smiled wryly, capped the marker, removed her glasses and followed.

There was no explanation of what was going on. If she was in trouble, Catherine would have come in and started in on her after shutting the door. That meant it must be a case, and she'd either be briefed on the way, or get her first impressions on the scene. It was even odds some days, and by the look on Catherine's face, they were in a hurry. Molly slid into the passenger side of the vehicle and slowly brought herself away from research mode and into the case work frame of mind as they traveled to the Melrose and pulled up in front of it. It took time to go from serious research and into serious investigator. She had never managed the instant switch that others had. "The Melrose? Shit." She murmured. Any case at the melrose was not going to be pretty and would need to be handled incredibly discreetly.

[littlekreen]

HAZMAT for the MCU was a bit of a specialized truck that sat at the ready as soon as they could get a warm body in it. They left ten minutes after a driver tracked down bodies from R&D for the gigantic explosion that came over sensors. At the powers involved any number of dangerous things could be released so Ivor was promptly voluntold to go with the nice agent and deal with it. A quick run to the vehicle bay the van roared to life but though it left promptly couldn't quite haul across the city as fast as some of the agents. Though that was mostly due to their lead feet as well as a dangerous liaison with physics on hard corners. The van was far less tolerant than squad cars about tipping over.

Ivor was too busy putting on the 'space tater' as some of them called the environment suit as hot as it was. As well as a few fatal incidents Ivor didn't remember anymore and they didn't care to tell him. It was just below boiling in the thing though they'd improved the stock coolant liner with hexcloth to add warding support behind the heavy lead external plates and self-sealing foil layer. The backpack had its own recycling system that owed to a lot of research mages with free time to develop hardened enchantments. They liked to breathe and disliked the boiling environment that earned the suit its loving moniker. Putting on the legs was the hardest part with only one foot to brace against the driver putting the pedal to a reasonable distance. There was a reinforced boot in the bottom with a heavy shank and protected self-sealing outsole. Heavy things they gave a bit of a penguin walk but having giving a bit of ward-trigger isolation from the ground you just put up with it or get melted by somebody's security system.

The van rolled up to the ranch where they stopped to wait for the agents to get there. The rear doors open as Ivor, belt laden with gear, waddle-walked his way a bit closer. His ID slipped into the external holder. One couldn't quite see his face through the reflective faceplate but he waved a Himmitz analysis tool to get baseline readings. It read a few different spectra than your average Geiger counter and covered veil potential. Not a particularly cheap device by any means. The driver showed up with a set of walkie talkies and a portable control station container as otherwise Ivor was rather muffled. The four legs came down and the case opened to a contained workstation. A cord plugged into the van to give it life. They started communications checks as Ivor tested his gear.

[Circe]

"It's a brief detour." Catherine explained as she parked the car and climbed out. She couldn't say she was eager to deal with the individual she was wanting to meet with, but his help could prove invaluable depending on what they encountered out at Mezar. "Essentially, an hour ago a abnormal amount of magic accompanied with triggers of USGS sensors we've been given access to was detected. We have reason to believe that something happened to trigger it, and due to the nature of the incident it's strictly need to know. Select teams have been deployed to the field, we'll join them once we're done here." The Warden added as she headed towards the building.

For now, she just hoped that Walther would be cooperative, but judging from things earlier it wasn't going to be very likely.

[Circe]

This scene was completed via our discord server. What follows is a raw log of the posts.

The Warwick Melrose was quite possibly the most upscale Hotel Dallas had to offer. It's palatial accommodations drew the political, social, and financial elite in through its gilded doors like moths to a flame, and the sheer, decadent craftsmanship kept them around almost as long as it's famed hospitality. The moment you entered the astronomically expensive building you were taken back in time, and greeted by elegant travertine floors carefully arranged to be aesthetically pleasing, imposing columns towered over the room sporting painstaking molding, and many-armed chandeliers of gold carefully hung amidst the high ceilings to bathe it all in the ambiance of an age just passed. Socialites, and CEOs rubbed elbows at every corner, and no hand was without a crystal glass filled to the brim thanks to the veritable army of pristinely uniformed staff scurrying about the shadows, always just out of sight so as not to disturb any guests.

This was a different world from just the other side of the doors entirely, one built of money, class, and prestige. It was no wonder that Walther had chosen it as a temporary home-away-from home.

Once Catherine, and Molly entered a slew of heads turned in their direction, then quickly back to whatever they'd been doing beforehand. The two were painfully underdressed for such a place, and while most guests loitering within the lobby simply dismissed the poor folk, promptly forgetting their very existence, others sneered, whispered, and covered their barely stifled laughter. Only one person within the tiny, exclusionary world kept her attention on the pair, and that was the receptionist: A tiny waif of a women, barely taller than the opulent oak desk she sat behind. She had deep, wine red hair, sensibly pierced ears, and was never without a very well trained smile on her lips.

She waved at the duo, welcoming them over with a quick gesture, and the sort of pleasantly only money could buy. "Welcome, welcome! Is there anything I can do to be of service to you fine ladies?" She asked.

"Yes, actually there is." Catherine replied cooly enough, ignoring the stares of the other patrons. This wasn't a social call, though no doubt Walther would turn it into one sooner or later. "I'm Warden Dumitrescu and this is Sergeant Bronson. We were wondering if you could answer a question we had about one of your guests." She said quietly presenting her badge and motioning over to where Molly stood. Catherine was well aware that the walls might very well have eyes and ears after recent incidents with Grigore. However, if Walther had decided to leave himself unlisted for privacy reasons, Catherine would get the information another way if she needed to. For now however, she would do things the mundane way. "Could you tell me what room Mr. Von Rahr is staying in?" She asked patiently.

Molly had taken in the briefing, nodded, and had her game face on, ready to do her job. She presented her badge to the receptionist when Catherine had motioned to her, otherwise standing back and letting Catherine handle the public relations. she well knew that no one outside the department actually took her seriously, given her young appearance. But she was still going to do her job and do it damn well. She was a professional.

The receptionist's brow furrowed a bit at both the badges, and the request. She had nothing against the police, of any sort, personally, but an extreme air of discretion was simply part-and-parcel for any exceedingly upscale hotel. Privileged people liked to enjoy their privileges after all, and quite often that resulted in less than savory happenings. Two officers, badges plain for all to see, could be quite bad for business. "Von Rohr, Von Rohr.." She mumbled, turning away from the two for a moment to furously type something in to the computer stationed just beside her.

"...No," she faked dejection quite well though internally happy, and hoping they'd simply leave. "The name does ring a bell, but no one here is registered under it. I'm very sorry, perhaps if you could describe them, or leave one of those police sketches, or something I could contact you if they happen through our doors at a later date though."

Catherine gave the woman a bland smile as she appeared to go through the motions of finding their requested person in the system. "Oh really? You haven't seen a roughly six foot tall, blonde, transvestite in all black? You know looking like they escaped a bad BDSM convention." She asked innocently enough, but at the same time made her words loud enough for the whole lobby to hear. Two could play at this game and Catherine would derive great entertainment from making the receptionist uncomfortable. She didn't much care for some of the people who went out of their way to make things difficult.

Molly covered her face with her hand and calmly wondered what the fuck they were even here for. 'Are we here for a member of the court, then?' That was about the right description. This was going to be interesting and incredibly uncomfortable. The warden got incredibly catty when dealing with anyone from the court. Not that Molly could blame here. They were kind of a nightmare.

Once she heard the description the receptionist's expression changed completely. Gone was the careful smile, and bright, engaging eye contact, and instead she now had a look of annoyed disinterest. "Oh.." she huffed, reaching over to the receiver parallel to the computer. "You mean mister Zupp, don't you? Somehow I should've known he'd be the one to bring trouble around." Normally even if a guest had been registered directly under the name in question proper protocol would be to deny it, and pointing out a mistaken identity to the authorities broke every rule there was. Unfortunately for Walther his behaviour, beratments, and incessant demands had earned him a large share of ill will with the staff. Staring at Catherine vacantly the women quickly punched a bunch of numbers in, and waited while it rang.

"He's been nothing but trouble, a dozen staff members have quit this week alone, and he has the entire penthouse floor tie-"

Someone finally picked up on the other end, and she switched back to pleasent faster than someone flicking the lights on, and off. "Ah, yes Mister Clarkson, I'm sorry to disturb you, but I've two very important women down here in the lobby who say they need to speak with Mister Zupp immediately....Yes, I understand he's not to be disturbed, but it's quite the urgent matter...Yes, I'm very sure, and I'm afraid the two are incapable of rescheduling...Mhmn...Yes..I understand." She hung up with a slam, and flashed Catherine another fake smile. "Elavators are just to your left, behind me ma'm. Tell the porter to take you to the top floor."

"That's very interesting, thank you." Catherine replied, thanking the woman and motioning Molly to follow her. She had heard that he'd taken up residence in the penthouse suite of the hotel, but she hadn't heard that it had been this bad. Sighing inwardly, she steeled herself for another round of insults, beratements, and all around hostilities from Walther. The man in so many ways was insufferable, and Catherine found herself thinking Molly of all people was better behaved than her former colleague.

"Mr. Zupp is Walther Von Rahr, last son of the Von Rahr family I believe. They were quite proficient at dispatching the things that go bump in the night at one time. Right now though, mostly spoiled, lazy and out of work." Catherine informed Molly quietly as they waited to get on the elevator. "But.. he can be of use to is out at Mezar." She added as the elevator dinged, signaling it's arrival on the ground floor.

"A hunter. And one of the rocks then. Alright. A Von Rohr though? An actual Von Rohr?" That was rather like meeting royalty wasn't it? Different hunting circles, but still. Everyone knew of the Von Rohrs. They were one of the oldest hunting lines. In comparison, the Bronsons were nothing, at least when it came to lineage. Molly was of the opinion her family was still one of the best though. Not too many could handle demons like a Bronson could.

At the elevator she nodded to the porter. "Top floor please. We're here to see Mr. Zupp." What an alias. It sounded ridiculous, but she hadn't chosen it at least.

The ride up was smooth, and painless, not a single cent had been spared in the Warwick Melrose's meticulas construction, and that included the elevators. It took less than a minute to glide along it's gilded rails, drug very carefully by its massive, and elaborate pullie system all the way to the top floor, even the stop it came to was a pleasurable, gentle succession of movement instead of a harsh lurch. A soft "ding!" echoed through the spacious transport, and the doors slid back along their track to reveal two things: grandeur on a far more offensive scale than the lobby, and a very inpatient looking women. Hildebrand Goring had been ripped from her study, and commanded to greet the pair.

A beautiful woman she was tall, and slim, but even beneath the rather bland looking, yet expensive black pantsuit she wore extreme muscle definition was evident. It clung to her every feature perfectly, an obvious sign of personal tailoring, and flowed exactly like one would expect the finest Asian silk to, rippling as muscles contracted with each clench of her staunch, German jaw. Her platinum blonde hair was done up in an elaborate braid, wrapped around her neck, and extended down almost all the way to her naval, all drawing attention away from her carefully manicured eyebrows, and designer glasses. She clutched a tablet to her chest, and the moment she caught a glimpse of Catherine her expression grew even more unenthusiastic.

"Oh, it's you," she spoke at last with a voice so cordial it could make a man's ears ache. "Master Walther is preparing for a hunt, and not to be disturbed, but the clerk said it was urgent, and if the MCU has sent a Warden unannounced I'd imagine she wasn't lying." Stepping to the side Hildebrand gestured towards the third penthouse door, "This way if you'd please, Lady McBride."

Catherine had to agree with Molly, Walther's latest alias was rather ridiculous , but the man was also given to extremes in one form or another. It seemed that his current personal assistant, Hildebrand was no different. "Were you expecting someone else?" The warden asked far from amused herself. "We're not here to see you, we're here to see your boss. His hunt can wait." Catherine stated flatly, ignoring the other woman's distaste.

"You can drop my title Goring, this isn't court business." She added as she followed the woman into the suite. This was MCU business, and while they were normally tasked with remaining neutral, some things were unavoidable considering political and family ties.

Molly looked more amused than not. She hadn't ever seen anyone speak to Catherine like that. Of course, paying attention was a little difficult. Hildebrand was incredibly attracted and Molly certainly had a teenager's hormones. "On MCU business, please use Warden Dumitrescu." Molly spoke politely. "It's only polite to stick to someone's chosen name in their field, after all, Miss?"

It was also damn near tradition. Someone gave you a name to call them under certain circumstances and that's what you called them. That was just common curtesy in the Unseen.

Hildebrand held the door open like the polite hostess she was paid to be, all the while beginning to seethe with anger internally. She had never met Catherine before, but the photos her master kept around, and stories of her exploits he told on the calmer nights had always left her curious. Unfortunately several hours of Walther's enraged shouting about how she'd betrayed all a hunter believes in had tainted that desire, and the woman's attitude did little to salavage any admiration Hildebrand once held. The child was another story all together; a wretched Fae creature that didn't even bother to hide itself, sporting the audacity to chastie her in her own domain, and making such a thinly veiled gambit at gaining her name it was insulting. The servant truly wondered why Walther tolerated such creatures, and silently resolved to have whatever the thing touched thrown out, and burned that night.

Biting her tongue Hildebrand motioned towards the couch, and chairs in the middle of the room, inviting her guests to make themselves more comfortable. The suite they were in had been heavily modified for just such meetings, the bed removed, furniture that fit the hotels aesthetic brought in, and arranged to mirror a cozy living room, complete with a somewhat messy coffee table in the center of the seating area. This she walked over to, and gracefully plucked a remote from. "I highly doubt his hunt can wait, Lady McBride," Hildebrand cared little for their Fae rituals, her life instead built around the power, and importance of titles. "And it would do you well to remember whom we serve," she gingerly pressed a button, summoning a very large flat screen television from behind two retractable doors that blended in to the center of the right wall. "For it is a much higher authority than your Council."

Another press of a button, and the t.v. crackled to life, set to a program of a roaring fireplace in lieu of the actual thing considering the Texan climate. "Now if you'll excuse me," she said with a cluck of the tongue, dropping the remote back onto the table as her eyes met Catherine's. "I will go, and inform Master Walther of your presence."

With that she turned, and made for the doorway where she paused for just long enough to call over her shoulder before vanishing down the hall. "And in my Master's presence I would advise your colleague against such boldness. Where we come from children are to be seen, and not heard."

The expression on Catherine's face was largely indiscernible, and she couldn't admit to liking Hildebrand in any capacity. But that seemed to be a normal reaction for most people, especially due to her rather abrasive and untrusting nature. "I'm well aware that there are things beyond the Council, and if you'd actually do your research you'd find that we have the best interest of the world at heart." She said bluntly, suspecting that there was a good bit of false information at play currently.

While there were times Catherine did not like the Council, she did realize that it couldn't all depend on one organization. "Oh, I think his hunt will wait considering what I have to tell him." She added icily. The woman was beginning to be like a raw nerve, with her platitudes and ingratiatingly polite façade.

Turning her attention to Molly, she tried to think of how to explain things to the Sergeant. "I'm sorry Bronson, this is old world politics at it's worst."

"The seen and not heard thing made that obvious. And I even bit my tongue so I didn't say something I'd regret. I'm not fond of being spoken over." Especially given she was right there. There were reasons she much preferred her glamour and the difference in how people treated her with it, than how she was treated this way. "This is your show Warden. I'm here as back up." Molly knew that anything that required her and the warden to work together was possibly burn the world down dangerous. She took things seriously.

They didn't get partnered together unless something looked to be too strong for the gentle gloves that usually both handled the world with. "But can I say, I really don't like her?"

[Circe]

A few minutes past before the door opened again, and starting the very instant it did the entire sitting room was flooded with an extremely potent, floral smell. With just a hunt of Gourmand in the undertones. Walther followed shortly after, his long, streaky, and still dripping wet blonde hair put up in a high ponytail that oddly enough accentuated the more feminine aspects of his face. It took away all distraction from his overplucked, and arched eyebrows, laid his high, soft cheek bones bare, and allowed any onlookers to notice just how unnervingly full his lips were. His masculine jawline disappeared behind his other features, and the exorbitantly expensive gown he was wearing further obsecured it all by capturing attention. Finely crafted, and clearly silk it was a two-tone, black, and grey Cassandra dressing gown tailored to a woman's form without a doubt. It simply hung from his shoulders, the thick, plush top left open only just enough to obfuscate any obvious signs of gender, the delicate sleeves were clad in billowing tufts of the finest furs, and the wispy, swishing bottom half was so thin it was see through. His legs continued the confusion too, far too thin to be a grown man's, and utterly devoid of hair, or blemish.

He simply stood there for a moment, his eyes fixated on Catherine, and his mind very far from his near lack of modesty. He truly hadn't expected her to show up at all, let alone so soon, and the egregiousness of it was quickly undoing all the calming work of his bath.

After a minute he finally spoke, his smooth, bass-y voice cutting through the silent tension like an axe. "And what is it you want, Dumitrscu? I'm quite busy preparing for things of actual import, not whatever pointless time sink you've come to me with." He allowed himself to fall against the door frame to his left, shifting his weight onto it, and crossing one leg over the other for comfort, "Unless, of course, you came to apologize."

"Oh christ...! What the bloody hell is that thing you're wearing Walther?" Catherine asked finding the situation even more awkward than it had been earlier. The robe looked rather like it belonged on one of the crazy online celebrity media sites that people like Scotty were always trying to show her. It usually came with the excuse of she had money, why couldn't she dress just a bit better.

"I was considering apologizing, but put some god damned clothes on first!" She added rubbing the bridge of her nose, suppressing a quickly building headache from Walther's choice of bath products. She couldn't even begin to understand how he could tolerate such a sharp and nauseating smell; it was enough to almost begin to make Catherine nauseated.

Molly wrinkled her nose. That was an incredibly strong scent. And....Catherine said Walther but that looked like a woman. Also, she was caught in the middle of some kind of argument and she really did not want to be caught in an argument between Catherine and...any man who would be willing to wear that dressing gown. This was going to be awkward. She cleared her throat, uncertainly, not looking at Walther. That was. Well, he had been in the bath, and yeah.

"Perhaps we can wait here while you get dressed sir?" He was, well, this was insane. What even was he wearing? Not much.

Casting a downward glance at himself, Walther's blood froze. He had completely forgotten about the feminine atrocity he was wearing, his body so accustomed to silks, satins, and velures that none of the dressing gown felt out of place, when he heard that Catherine had arrived. "Mary Mother of Christ," he hissed between clenched teeth, suddenly feeling almost as exposed as he was, and keenly aware of his surprise company. Awkwardly, and with all the dignity he could muster, he gathered the skirt of his gown around his legs for a little more honesty. "I..I.." He couldn't force himself to make eye contact with Catherine, and every part of him wanted to forget the child she had in toe. "I don't make a habit of..Of this, you know? I wasn't expecting company, and I swear to God the staff keeps stealing my things just to torment me!"

It was then, thanks to a stroke of horrible bad luck for Walther, and good for Hildebrand, that his servant happened to pass by the doorway. She paused for just a moment, her master unaware of his presence, and displayed her first, genuinely human emotion to Catherine: a wicked grin. "Yes, they do master, but I told you not to wear my things," she chided, resuming her stroll down the hall.

"Blast it Hildebrand!" Walther bellowed in a mix of rage, and mounting shame. "Its your job to make them stop! Just lay out my hunting clothes woman! Now!"

There was a slight delay before an obviously amused Hildebrand responded, her voice echoing down the hall tormentingly. "For when you're done crossdressing Mistress?"

It didn't amuse Walther, who slammed his fist against the doorframe with enough force to rattle the room. "I'm going to drink her dry one day, I swear to Christ..Now if you'll excuse me, Catherine." Unable to face the room he made a quick exit, so self conscious of his overly feminine gait that he stomped all the way to his room.

"I don't think the one wearing the frilly robe should also be the one making the threats." Catherine said bluntly as she watched Walther storm off. She had always known him to have some eccentric wardrobe choices to put it nicely, but that took things to a whole different level. It seemed to her that the other's staff actually took turns finding new and creative ways to make their boss's life miserable.

Molly looked between Catherine and where Walther had left and then looked again, clearly doubting the new hunter's skill set. Von Rohr or not, this was a little odd. "Are you sure we need him for this, warden?" She spoke softly, really doubting that Walther was any good by now. Surely he could realize whether a dressing gown was his or not by the sight of it. And if not there was no way he was a good hunter.

It was a few minutes, or so before Walther returned, clacking down the hardwood hall, and doing his best to hold his head high as if nothing had happened. He was properly dressed now, by his standards at least, sporting an almost painfully tight pair of black leather skinny jeans, a massive dull blue wool greatcoat with solid gold toggles that reached to his knees, and his trademark fuck-me-boots with a three inch heel. He wasted no time once he was in the room, taking a hanful of sweeping, blurred strides over to the recliner across from Catherine, and throwing himself into it in a huff. Her sudden appearance had thrown him quite a lot, even without the wardrobe malfunction, leaving him somewhat unsure of how to approach his old comrade. He just stared at her for a moment, the suspicious wheels of his mind turning rapidly.

"So..Did you truly come to apologise, Warden?" He knew the woman well enough to doubt her motives, much like himself she was never one to back down from an argument, and on the extremely rare occasion she did it wasn't followed by an apology. "Or do you merely require my blade, and think it so easy to sway me?"

“Unfortunately.” Catherine replied to Molly, wishing she was wrong. She’d have rather been on their way to the Mezar ranch instead of sitting in some playboy’s hotel suite and watching him prance around in questionable clothing choices. Seeing Walther return in an equally absurd, but less so outfit, the Warden mentally groaned at what she was having to deal with.

“Yes, I assure you that right now my intentions are honest. I have no need of your blade, but your other talents.” Catherine said as she thought carefully for a moment. She knew Walther took great delight in twisting words and phrases around to suit him or an agenda depending on his mood, and she knew she needed to act accordingly. “It has been a hard few months, we’ve had several cases involving children and there is a vampire who is determined to usurp the current tentative peace we have. As it stands right now, I was angry that attacked an individual on neutral ground. I agree that I likely shouldn’t have throw you out like I did though.”

“Unfortunately.” Catherine replied to Molly, wishing she was wrong. She’d have rather been on their way to the Mezar ranch instead of sitting in some playboy’s hotel suite and watching him prance around in questionable clothing choices. Seeing Walther return in an equally absurd, but less so outfit, the Warden mentally groaned at what she was having to deal with.

“Yes, I assure you that right now my intentions are honest. I have no need of your blade, but your other talents.” Catherine said as she thought carefully for a moment. She knew Walther took great delight in twisting words and phrases around to suit him or an agenda depending on his mood, and she knew she needed to act accordingly. “It has been a hard few months, we’ve had several cases involving children and there is a vampire who is determined to usurp the current tentative peace we have. As it stands right now, I was angry that attacked an individual on neutral ground. I agree that I likely shouldn’t have throw you out like I did though.”

Catherine's respone was a blow to Walther, but it masked it dangerously well with a coy smirk. He was no human amateur, beset by freewheeling emotionality, and sporting a painfully unguarded mind, no. He was a practiced hand at deception, and underneath all his bluster, and extravagance was a true Dhampire's demeanor. Besides all that he had expected no less, his entire life, existence, the only thing that gave his wretched, and abominable self a pardon was his blade, and his skill as a hunter. And people always called upon those, never anything else. Never the man himself.

"Ah, I see.." He trailed, not about to let the Warden get her way without some measure of grief regardless. "So it is my services you need, I find it quite humorous, and by no means coincidental, that a well timed apology clutches at your request's coattails." Walther cast the Warden a glance, devoid of any, and all emotion saved for his narrowed, cutting eyes. Like any good hunter he was sizing up his prey, vigilant for any tells, chinks in her armour, soft spots to strike. Stakes, and silver bullets, or wordplay it made no difference to him. The approach was identical. "Yes, you shouldn't have used your magicks to remove me so brutishly, but.."

He still needed Catherine's help, perhaps even the strange child that she brought's, so the concepts of good will, and olive branches wasn't lost on him.

"I should not have drawn on Milo, either," he waved a hand dismissively, and broke his gaze from the woman he called sister until this very day. Too much attention could be as dangerous as purposefully giving her none. "Although what else you could've expected, that filthy wretch sitting so comfortably on your chez, I can't imagine.." The new Catherine was a bitter pill to swallow, and he had yet to choke it down all the way. Whether he knew better logically, or not be still felt betrayed. "The way I see it you should've done so yourself. There was a time, Warden, that you would have."

Walther rose from his chair, careful to take full advantage of his height as just another means to dominate the encounter. He wanted Catherine to know he truly disapproved of her new leaf, not just in shock, and rage, not merely with flowery words, and petty insults, but truly. Thoroughly. He needed her to feel that there was real contempt beneath his barbs, even if it stemmed only from his well guarded hurt. Turning his back to her he focused his attention on the faux fireplace, hands clasping together just below the small of his back, "You have changed Catherine, you've lost your once clear purpose. The fire that drew me to you is..Gone..But perhaps it was presumptuous of me to ever assume it would be otherwise. Those afforded the luxury of change often partake after all."

He shook his head, and sighed, knowing how probably pointless the exchange was. She was a stubborn, bull-headed, and unyielding woman, even if his words found their mark her pride would most likely shield her, and besides..Even when furious, even when disappointed, he would do anything for her.

"As for your court problems, and vanishing children, you needn't play coy with me. I already know, and you already know that. I told you why I am here, I told you why I needed your aide. God himself has decreed Grigore's time at an end, and I the servant called to despatch him." It was so easy to say it with conviction even though it was a half truth at best. Yes the Pope had ordered the hunt, and yes Walther had been specially selected for the task, but just this once it wasn't for his skill - this time it was for his inconvenience, and the reality of it was that his time was up. There was no hope for victory, no plan of triumph, there wasn't supposed to be any this time. He was to die, and be a burden to a new, modern Pope's tenure no more. "So what is it you would ask of me, Catherine?"

Molly gave up on being professional. "Wait, you attacked Milo at MCU? Milo Rahal? How are you still alive!" MCU was neutral ground. It had to be, or else they couldn't do their job. That he attacked one of the vampire princes was astonishing as hell. "God, you must have balls of steel. MCU is neutral grounds. No one is supposed to attack anyone."

Then Molly realized that she had just stepped into a conversation between the warden and someone apparently powerful enough that they needed her help, and she blushed to high heaven. She was going to be in so much trouble. Not that that was new, but she really stepped in it this time. "...sorry Warden."

Molly never could stay out of trouble, even if it was just running her mouth. At least it could have been worse?

Catherine took a moment to listen to Walther, careful of her own thoughts and feelings towards the man standing before them. True, at one time they had been close, but now it seemed that there was an gulf between them that would not be easily crossed. "No, it's okay Bronson, I understand." She said quietly to Molly. The other's shock had mirrored her own when Walther had drawn on Milo in her office. But for now she was doing well enough to mask her emotions behind careful neutrality.

"I don't care what you do about Grigore. That vampire has been unwelcome and troublesome." Catherine added, her attention now back on Walther. If he wanted to play games, she wasn't interested. Catherine feared that they were running short on time and skill to solve their current problem. "I would have asked for your aid in resolving an issue with sopping up the remains of meltdown of magical nature, but from what I can discern your only interested in playing games. I'm sorry Von Rhar, I don't have time for this today."

The child's sudden intrusion into the matter caught Walther offguard, and he turned to glare at the creature, having forgetten about her entirely. His expression faded back to one of neutrality rather quickly though, for while he most certainly wasn't a fan of being spoken to do boldly, or crassly, by a child it did indeed take a great sum of tenacity on her part. He could respect that. "'Attack' is a strong word for it, but yes. I drew a stake on that wretched creature, and it had not been for your mistress abusing her magickal prowess I would have killed him on the spot. It took no 'balls' child, it is my simply my duty, and obligation. He wouldn't have been the first court noble to fall to me either.." A soft chuckle rumbled up through the man's chest as a flood of memories washed over him, each distinctly pleasent. "In fact the Court of Bats is still rather sore over losing two Princessess, and a Duke in one night."

Catherine's words brought a quick end to his mirth however, and this time he didn't bother to hide his emotions quite so well. His fists clenched involuntarily, turning his knuckles white, and his fingers threatened to split the skin of his palms from sheer pressure. If she wanted to interperate concern from old companion as mere games, so be it. That would be her problem, not his.

"And I none for charity," he spat, his slender fangs springing out without care. "You came here not to apologise, but to see your own ends served, and yet you would chastie, and accuse me? In my own residence no less?" He turned back to the fireplace, no longer interested in Catherine. If she loved her damnation so much she could have it. "Quite rude for a surrogate Fae, is it not? I will do you as you ask, Warden, in fact I'll even wave my usual fee, but on a condition since quid-pro-quo is your objective.." Walther knew what he needed most, what he had no choice, but to presue, and yet the words still came with difficulty. "When I am ready get me in a room with your sire."

It was a funny thing for a man to demand his own death, even for a Von Rohr.

Molly shrank back at the glare and fell silent, then gathered herself. "She's not my mistress. She's my boss. And it's not like you wouldn't be paid the same as every other contractor. There's just paperwork and I'll do it myself so you don't have to worry." Molly hated paperwork but she could do the contractor stuff half asleep. She had done it half asleep, both requesting and filling it out as a contractor. "If a member of our team requests something, we don't get turned down." They were kind of the elite team.

He was being a pain in the butt. "And her being here is basically an apology. It's Catherine. She doesn't really do the sorry thing." At all as far as Molly could tell, at least. It was like thank you. Not something Catherine said at all. It was, as far as Molly could tell, a fae thing. "Also, not a child. Seriously. Kids don't hold down jobs."

Raising a slender eyebrow at Walther's comments, she let him finish before answering, "I think you mistake my concern for something that is cause for serious concern for others as seeing my own ends served. If I was seeking my own ends, Walther, I wouldn't be here." Her primary cause for concern was that such a large explosion had the potential to magically corrupt more than just the Mezar Ranch, if it was even still standing.

"And I think it you who jump too soon to the thought of quid pro quo. However, I'll secure an audience with Grigore, if only because it's you who are asking." She added before turning to Molly. The poor woman had had to sit through the drama that was Walther, and Catherine was beginning to regret the choice of apologizing.

"We're running late on time Bronson, and we need to leave. I'm afraid of what time we've wasted here has done." Catherine told the other as she reached into neck of the black polo she was wearing, and produced a small golden key on a delicately woven chain.

"And Mr Von Rhar, I wish you had been able to accept my apologies, but I see that there is still a great deal of animosity between." She added to man standing there between her and Molly.

A sigh escaped Walther, not a flippant one, or an involuntary reaction of exasperation, but instead defeat. As much as he loathed to think it, let alone admit it, Catherine was right, and there was no escaping that. Nor did he have enough days left to bother with animosity among those who mattered to him - abhorrent life choices, or not. "You say that like there are so many other Veil siphons prancing about, but very well. I'll accept your apology at its face value, Catherine. Just..Please tell me not all of your colleagues are as arrogant as the child you've brought. I don't think I could handle a room full of 'officers' like this one." The little Fae had definitely struck a nerve with her entitlement, and the overly poor manners she displayed for her kind. Although he may have admired it if it qasnt directed at himself.

Regardless he spun around to face the two again, buttoning up the last of his greatcoat in the process. "So where are we going, and what exactly has happened? Also I should like to fetch my blade, just in case. Especially if this 'explosion' if the work of a witch."

[Circe]

"I can't walk us there, I'm bound too tightly for that." You stick googly eyes on the council door one time and well you end up bound. Still, it looked like Catherine had a solution. At least, Molly hoped that Catherine had a solution because otherwise well she didn't want to know what was happening where the explosion had occurred. With luck, tyrus's magic hat and gotten too out of hand. With chaos magic you never knew. Molly would be happy if there were no rubber ducks hanging around.

"An explosion happened at Mezar Ranch. That's home to one of the strongest magic users in the states." She was not a child. Not was she arrogant, especially in comparison to this peacock. And to think she had been excited to meet a Von Rohr. If this is what one member of the family was like, Molly didn't want to meet the rest. She'd stick to the smaller less well of Hunter families. At least they weren't arrogant bastards who rented out an entire too floor of a hotel.

"Unfortunately, while we have a rough idea of what's happened.. we don't know the full cause yet. A crew has been sent to attempt the first round of containment, but we don't know everything." Catherine quickly explained ignoring Walther's comments about veil siphons and their lack. As far as she was concerned, a null would be quickly overwhelmed by whatever magical energies were present.

"I have a solution to that Bronson, but it comes with it's risks." She added showing the pair a small golden key, about the size of her thumb. It was the conduit through which the veil magic could be directed to open a portal that allowed them to travel between realms; or portions of the world tree. In her limited knowledge, Catherine could direct a gate between them and the fae, and the fae and elsewhere in the human sphere. But she was always forced to use the fae as an intermediary point, and always cognizant of the dissonance of time between the realms.

"I can take us through the fae gates, but I've never taken more than myself. I don't know if it'll be possible to hold the energies long enough to open the second portion of the gate to put us at Mezar."

Walther raised an eyebrow, but remained silent as Catherine explained. He was by no means a fool, and witches were his speciality so it didn't take a lot of detective work to piece together a vague idea of what Catherine would have him walking in to. Magick was, by its very nature, and intensely volatile thing, even the most novice of practitioners knew that which was why even the dumbest of hedge witches employed wards, shields, and various safeguards. Even so the slightest mistake could result in disasters like disfigurement, curses, and of course the occasional explosion, but several acres worth of destruction? He had seen the type of infernal power it took to generate such a thing several times, and killed those who dared to wield it, but on accident? That put whatever did it on a very unique scale.

Or a very dark one, and containment teams pointed towards that in spades.

"You were right to call on me then, Warden, but you, and I both know I can't take a Fae Gate without destroying it in the process.." Still they truly did seem pressed for time, and even though by his understanding ranches were usually quite remote in spacious Texas, it did sound like it posed a threat to innocent lives. "Your call, and bother the blade," as Walther spoke his fingers began convulsing, bone audibly cracking, and splintering as his hands took on a longer, more gnarled appearance, ending with each nail growing several inches to form thick, pointed nails. The battle claws of a vampire. "We'll do this old-school, quick, and dirty. If it moves it dies to contain any hellish taint, yes?"

"I can pay attention to how you do it. If it's not locked specifically to you, I can try the second portion." Molly volunteered. She could manage that, and frankly, even bound, she could still manage some of her less obvious tricks. Following along an already open path as one of them. As for Walther, she narrowed her eyes on him. "If it moves it dies. Except for a tall, bone thin man with long hair. He probably has it tied back. That's the ranch owner."

And if he moved against Tyrus, she'd move against him. Tyrus was more one of them than Walther was, no matter his connections to Catherine. This man was so new in the community he was staying in a hotel. Molly would play favorites on this and it was an easy call on who to support. The fae child sighed and looked to Catherine. "I'll support as best I can. This is my specialty, bound or not and I can manage support at least."

"Unfortunately my hand has been forced in the issue here Von Rhar." Catherine stated plainly. She knew that time was one luxury that they didn not currently have, especially given that teams had already been deployed without much more support other than the local mundane law enforcement for area evacuation support. "Time is critical, and as I'm sure you know from previous things.. it's the one thing you cannot ignore," the Warden added as she looked over to Molly and nodded in agreement. "The support is very much appreciated, as we'll need to prevent him from tearing apart the gate." She said.

However, she was still uncertain what awaited them on the other side of the gate, or even if they would be able to open the other end onto Tyrus’s property. The wards that the man required to discourage curious visitors and prying eyes weren’t exactly known to Catherine. She knew that they existed, just not their extent; which was one of the reasons she had decided to bring Molly along. The other may not have had the same connection to magic she did, but she could understand spell structure and components like no other. That skill alone generally made Catherine more willing to work with the other when need presented itself. “However, since we are all in agreement, we’ll leave at once.” Catherine stated as she unhooked the gold chain from around her neck, looping it’s length around her hand several times. Holding the chain up, she unhooked the small gold key with care and held it in palm of her hand.

It didn’t take long for the oppressive energies to coalesce once again around the trio as Catherine drew on the wellspring of magic that was the veil. The air in room began to shimmer and warp from the energies necessary for opening one of the oldest gates known to the unseen. There were rumors that it was still possible, but the incantation had been lost to time, with only fragments remaining in most of the collective memory of the unseen. “Thverr manin un atra eka unin! Manin! Wyrda! Hugin!” As if possessed of a mind of it’s own and under command of an unseen master, the golden key lifted itself from Catherine’s palm, and obediently held itself mid air before warping and twisting in onto itself. Briefly it appeared that the gate was refusing the open, destroying the key in the process as Catherine struggled with the forces of the veil and it’s resistance to her attempts. “Manin! Wyrda! Hugin! You will bend to my will!” She demanded, uttering the fae incantation again, reaching out to take hold of the magic.

This time the gate opened and allowed the trio to pass through it, however the imperfect nature of Catherine’s ability to exert her will onto the veil came with consequences. While Walther, Molly, and Catherine passed through, a fourth ended up joining them on the other side. Walther’s assistant, Hildebrand, had been pulled in with them.

[littlekreen]

Ivor's display lit up as his helper pushed across the alert, "Dr Ivor, we've got active emissions... very active. Away from the epicenter."

The large silver suit waddled around to look back from the ranch, "Show me a distortion map and moment of veil tension on the sensors we have."

Eyes hidden behind a reflective mask Ivor eyed the map of strain on paired extra/intradimensional anchors to help define where someone was trying to insert or remove matter. As interlocked grids of small tripods littered about the ranch perimeter pulsed up and down as they calculated various bits along the veil and reported with small transmitters. Deeper portions still dark it was enough to have useful data and help define the problem. A bundle of small jointed bars with formula written upon them clipped to one side to add as he went deeper. Some for an emergency exit and others more sensors.

After a few moments of eyeing the load monitors he had an idea it was too ordered to be from the chaos magic that suffused the place. Direct and ordered flows of the veil tended to shorten the list further. The silver-suited man ambled forth at first before humming a pattern of numbers lighting up his boots. The bulbous resistant suit skipping between blinks lighter than it it had any right to when directly observed.

Observed realities collapsed with blinks or momentary inattention of saccatic eye movements before the inconsistent drift of Ivor could speak. Not that it much mattered since they couldn't hear him. Ivor decided to wave at the newcomers in spite of the afterimages his hand would leave.

[demikara]

Traveling by Fae Gate was an immensely unpleasant ordeal for Walther, his natural void-like ripple in the weave of the Veil fought tooth, and nail every extrademinsional step of the way. By the time the team had finally arrived at the ranch he was fit to burst from the dark maw of his magical resistance ripping away at the portal the entire time. As soon as he materialised on the physical plane again he fell to his knees, a putrid mix of bile, and raw, inert magic crawling up his throat like blackened sludge. It burned, and even his bones had begun to ache akin to extreme over-exertion due to the trip. Normally when his limit of magical absorption was reached he would simply succumb to a dulled version of whatever spell was slung at him, but portals were agony. There was nowhere for the energy to go, nothing to succumb to, his body just kept internalizing the brutalized essence of the Veil endlessly.

He clutched at his throat as he coughed up a thick onyx liquid that sizzled, and scorched the ground where it fell, a steady stream flooding from each nostril to match. Absolutely charming..

The moment his sense realigned however it was clear he had no time for his bodies' abnormalities. Beneath the oppressive, palpable feeling of chaos magick, nearly hidden by the thick, scratchy sent of massive smoke clouds was something else. Something worse. Something vile. "Catherine!" He snarled, springing back up to his feet, and flexing his grostques claws in rage. "Are you not still a huntress? We are not alone. Work quickly." With that he turned to look behind the group, his irises narrowing in to predatory slits while every muscle in his body contracted with hate. You could hear the tension in the ripcords he called arms if you were standing close enough. "Not far, but not close," his fangs emerged unbidden as his mind became painfully focused to any nearby psions. A chorus of lust for the blood of the unclean, oozing down his throat in victory. "Its hard to tell with all these infernal obstacles, but no more than a half dozen." He pushed past the others, already forgetting his reason for being at the ranch to begin with. "This will be amusing.."

Catherine frowned at Ivor's after images, it made her head hurt to think of the amount of magic necessary to cause it. It didn't take long for her to get her bearings, however it was difficult. The oppressive forces from the magic were interfering with any senses she might have otherwise taken advantage of. But, she would power through it and soothe whatever wounds she incurred later in private. For now though, she could cast a wide net to see what she caught. Most were unused to her even using her abilities, and that was an advantage she would happily take. "Just not in the way you think I should be..." She replied tersely to Walther's question before turning her attention to other things. "There are... five at least. They are... not expecting us and desire to make quick work of the mage." Catherine added frowning for a moment as she split her attention. She was guessing that for the most part the gate's opening had been easily lost in the background radiation produced by the explosion. But there were still so many moving parts that she hadn't yet accounted for, especially given the fae gate's unpredictability.

Due to their quick action they had been able to buy some time, though not much by Catherine's estimate.

Molly had aided Catherine with the second half of the gate, tapping her natural spacetime magic well to manage such a feat. Hopefully, it had lessened the strain on the other. It hadn't seemed to have made the ride any smoother for Von Rahr. And more, it looked like they had been accompanied by the woman who had initially met them at the apartment.

The walker swore quietly. "I'll secure Tyrus. He needs medical attention and I can at least stabilize him." Molly reached for the part for her her adoptive family had worked hard on teaching her, touching just enough for her hands to lightly glow white. "But I won't be able to fight while I do." She was in good hands at least, and trusted Catherine to handle the situation. And if Catherine thought that Walther would assist, then Molly would extend some trust to him as well. She glanced to Ivor and bit her bottom lip. "He'll want to keep to the edges. Between the fire and the fighting..."

And the fire was a serious issue at this point, spreading rapidly and burning hot. They'd have to handle that as well. If they fire spread to the house, there could be some seriously bad magical reactions. At least, Molly assumed the house was where Tyrus kept his reagents. Regardless, they had to control the fire somehow and that was not going to be easy.

One of the vampires made it to the badly burned mage's side and kicked him non too gently. The mage was torn from unconsciousness and screamed long and loud, pain on every nerve ending he had. Around them, the air began to shudder as creatures and beings from a mad, mad land warped in and out of existence. Tyrus had lost control of the chaos magic that saturated the ranch.

Ivor was pretty good at reading lips having to wear the tater suit often. Having speech repeated into the environment for these sorts of problems was frequently a horrible idea. Who knows what magical creature or spell was only partly lucid to the world at large. That particular issue solved with a robotic-sounding speech-to-text-to-speech app in his tablet.

He dropped the headset bags and tabbed across the wrist-tablet with a reactive index finger, "Warden. Extreme veil stress. Severe causality damage. Stable for now. Absolutely no sudden reference frame shifts near detonation point."

Tapping the silver suit Ivor added, "You'll melt before I do. Kronos protocol for this mission is Cerulean. Anyone that does not know the correct tag must return to the fracture and try again. I'll find any hazardous material. "

That particular tag something between those of his specialty dealing with time/space. They didn't explain when they used that particular protocol. One had to take care the right individuals came back from a fracture and not their alternates. The alternates would invariably have a different word used next to a severe fracture like this.

As everything was descending into pure chaos around the group there was only one person paying no attention to it whatsoever, and that person was Hildebrand. One moment she had been in her master's chambers retrieving her lingerie, and the next the Faelands. Another quick blink, and she was dumped out beside Walther in what she could only assume was a brush fire. To say she was unhappy would be a drastic understatement.

Though a mage herself, Hildebrand was a Vatican sanctioned, and trained caster, a person deeply steeped in religious rituals, harsh boundaries, and Bronze Age conceptualizations of magic. She absolutely loathed any magic not her own, going so far as to refuse to allowed fellow sanctioned healers to tend to her for fear of the Witch's Taint they could potentiality spread. What Catherine had done was nothing short of a violation in her eyes.

As the others spoke, formed plans, and collectively lost their shit she stayed laser focused on the object of her malice. Not even blinking she kept a constant, enraged vigil on Catherine, and at the first chance she got made her move. The distance between the two women was quickly closed with a haughty stride, and offering no warning beyond the physic anger pouring from her very soul Hildebrand reared back, cracking the back of her hand across Catherine's cheek. "You absolute, overstepping, heretical bi-"

The sudden, and all too human shriek of pain that echoed out of both nowhere, and everywhere in the smoke cut her indignation short. Her master saw to its complete quashing.

"Hildebrand!," he bellowed, the undercurrent of voice cold enough to send a chill through her. She had taken it too far, and knew it immediately. "Do not be a child! Tend to these infernal flames, now. I intend to watch my pray bleed out, not stumble around in this fog." Hildebrand could do nothing but aqueous, and turning from Catherine, albeit in a way sparring her from having to face Walther, she gave a strained curtsy.

"Your will, Master Von Rohr."

Walther didn't seem to mind however, his own self control hanging on by a mere thread after hearing human distress. The need to hunt, to save a life, to kill thrummed through his body, it had his heart thundering so loud he could hear it. The scream had given him a good idea of where at least one of his prey was, and wasting no time he took off at full blooded speed. The first steps creating a violent, cracking sound as the tension in his muscles exploded into momentum, and propelled him fast enough to strain a lesser Vampire's eyes.

She hadn't been expecting Hildebrand or the words that followed the brief and surprising pain. The woman had hit hard, Catherine gave her that much, but it didn't leave much more than a fleeting red mark across her pale skin. 'The hell just happened?' She thought to herself, her attention immediately redirected painfully. It was never a pleasant thing to have her concentration broken, leading her crashing back to the here and now. It was a dangerous thing to do to one who was able to bend the primordial magics of the veil to their will.

Hildebrand hadn't even been considered when Catherine had opened the gate and drug Walther forcefully through with them. She had never even intended to bring the woman through with them, or considered her use much beyond whatever twisted role she played to Walther. But then there were also times, such as these, when the magic sensed an unspoken or unasked for need and answered.

Before Catherine could even begin to answer the other, Walther took charge and redirected the angry woman. Fortunately for Catherine that spared her attention being divided again so violently, but unfortunately for Hildebrand she had just earned a target on her back and expend-ability as far as Catherine was concerned. She had tried early on, but the other woman was intent on going out of her way to make things difficult. Casting a glance back at Hildebrand that said she would deal with her later, Catherine turned her attention back to Molly and Ivor.

"Understood, try to keep the area stable and assist Hildebrand. Von Rohr has initiative and I'll cover Bronson."

A touch to the demonic taint that lurked in her blood gave Molly speed to rival any demon’s. She took off, aiming to get to Tyrus’ side. If she could just stabilize him, then maybe the environment would stabilize at least. That was her goal. Of course, first she had to get to him and that proved tricky. She let the holy power slip from her hands as she came to the vampires.

They had clearly noticed oncoming group. One of the vampires, a blond woman, engaged Molly and prevented her from getting to Tyrus. Walther’s speed was for naught. These were no low level henchmen. The leader and a black haired vampire headed to Walther, a dagger in the leader’s hand and a mace in the black haired ones hands. Without pause, the leader struck out, knowing that getting first blood was important.

That left a brunette and a redhead to deal with Catherine. The brunette seemed unarmed though her nails were razor sharps and she moved in to tear into Catherine’s skin. The redhead laughed and called some of the fire from the wildfire to her hand and lobbed it at Catherine, no concern for her colleague clear.

The fire loomed large over the group, burning hot enough that all of them would be able to feel the heat and be affected by it. This was no tame bonfire. It crept closer to the house, spreading out as it went. The spread meant there was a choice of buildings. The question was, what had the reagents? The house, the barn, the storm shelter, or the shrines whose ward continued to flicker, not meant to handle the heat currently bearing down on it. The fire was licking the edges of the ward now.

Tyrus remained on the ground, though he was in and out of consciousness now, not cognizant enough to rein in his magic or regain control. The loss of control meant even his usual drunken antics would be put to shame. Almost as if reacting to the speed and actions of those in battle, the ground itself changing abruptly from packed dirt and scrub-lands to a thin layer of loose gardening pebbles with little to no purchase that shifted underfoot easily.

The fire didn’t wait for Hildebrand to reign herself in, moving in closer on the group as well. There was still something to burn after all, and she was part of that something. The thick smoke from the fire would make it difficult to breath, magic suffusing every particle which would make it more difficult to cast the opposing element to fire. Between that and the moisture have quickly been sucked out of the air, Hildebrand would not have an easy time.

[littlekreen]

Ivor turned about the bulky environment suit saluting Catherine in understanding. Then took off in chase of Hildebrand in search of fuel for the fires. Trusting that the two would cover his escape. He dared not try and skip toward the fire. Lest his reference frame change fracture causality further. The nature of this chaos magic tearing at the linear nature of time. His training hearing the telltale folds and sometimes audible clumps of other bootfalls. Alternate selves in discomforting proximity. Though this left options for a consummate professional of arithmancy in time-space. A grip on statistics a thin temporal wall did allow for abuse of infinite possible timelines. Avoiding a large reference frame shift if one conserved along self-similar reference frames. Still he told the others not to so that he'd have some safety factor if one of himselves died. He couldn't quite keep up with Hildebrand the heavy suit on him. Diverting a moment in a depression out of view to extract a small pocketwatch.

In its face several tiny key holes in the four-arm clock of tiny number values. Other small dials with operators the key itself bound by a chain. The bulky gloves worked with the wide key well enough as he tweaked the formula parameters for his use. Formulae ran back and forth in his head symbols throwing their leading potentials. Each ensuring their statistical inflection points operate as he required. The dials and operators twip from one value to another using the key. Done in a few ticks he sets it down on the ground pressing the clock's head into gear.

He felt reality list like the ship on fire it was as silver-coated hands spark and throb. Willing space-time to turn back into shape as himselves phased out of each other. Each taking a steps backward to clear. They all knew what to do of course, saying nothing, having all made the same requisite plan and the same formula. A self-selection along the axis of their particular central finite curve. Each Ivor would go to one structure, return to the clock, then stop their watch to do another if they had failed here. Half of aleph-null universes would get half for as many objectives in their curve group. Not his by a short survey around him. The group of suited scientists dull muddy grey by soot and dust turned away. One in chase of Hildebrand. The others selecting where to go by who was going where first.

The one in chase of Hildebrand called after her in that artificial voice unstained by choking soot, "You must be with Catherine's friend. Can you sense any magical deposits nearby?"

He chose not to mention that he remembered getting a second Molly. The internal air rebreather humming away even though he'd feel the heat soon enough.

[demikara]

Something changed inside Walther as his reckless charge progressed, shifting his entire demeanor, and stride. The constant heat from the flames licking at his exposed skin, the painful scratching in his throat as all the smoke chocked away oxygen, and lastly Tyrus' screaming - it all served to trigger something inside the hunter. It took him back to a different time, a much darker, and more violent one. Jerusalem.



A Saracen around every corner, brothers dying left, right, and center, countless flashes of steel, twanging of bowstrings - a veritable ocean of blood. These things clouded his mind, and warped his perception.

So as he closed in on the two vampires his affect changed; though he lost none of his immense speed his footfalls grew heavy, and his knees bent less as if he was weighted down by plate, chainmail, broiled leather, and a tabard. He raised up his left arm, bent at the elbow as if once more bearing his massive kite shield aloft, and his right became rigid, resting just above the other as a blade would have. All at once the reckless charge had dissipated, and a crusader bore down on the vampires. It didn't matter that he was unarmed, and unarmoured, Walther would face them dauntlessly for that was the Teutonic way. Every order of knights had their creed back then, the Templars never retreated, the Hospitalers never surrendered, but the Teutonic Knights were made of ice - not one step backwards, not ever, no matter what they faced.



"Die stunde deines todes ist angebrochen, denn Gott will es!"



Walther was set to charge directly in to the pair, and nothing would be stopping him. The plan was simple enough, shield, or no he had the speed, and practice to attempt to parry the dagger with just his forearm. A quick swipe from below would turn the blade aside, and failing that his very bone would serve as a makeshift shield - he didn't care. It would be followed swiftly would a pair of crescent slashes from his tightly grouped claws, a set of strikes aimed at the chest, and neck of his prey.


Quickly assessing the situation at hand, Catherine saw that things were quickly going from bad to worse. No one knew what would happen if the fire reached the main portion of the compound as it consumed the dry brush and grass surrounding them. The heat coming from the fire was reaching unbearable levels as it reflected off the hard packed ground that had been waiting months for even a drop of rain.



Catherine didn't have time to think with the two vampires bearing down on her, instead she was forced to react and attempt to keep her footing as the ground shifted beneath her and her opponents. Reaching out and grasping the redhead by the forearm, Catherine jerked it down violently and spun the woman around to face the brunette. She wanted this fight over with as quickly and efficiently as possible; and if that meant using inhuman abilities, including magic, then so be it.



"You just earned yourself a one way trip to hell." She said before drawing the magic in and around the other, paralyzing them. It was a dirty trick to use another as a shield, but Catherine didn't much care by this point, if at all.


Molly was not in the mood to deal with any obstruction. She had a friend who needed her help. Coating her fist in magic, she aimed for the heart. The vampire didn’t bother dodging, sure in his capabilities against what looked like a child. Molly’s fist exited the rear of the vampire’s body with a sickening crunch as she burst through the front and back of the rib cage. The vampire crumbled to ash around her fist, a sign of the age of the being. Molly didn’t let her charge to Tyrus slow, skidding to a stop next to him, hands already glowing white with healing magic.



The dagger was successfully turned away, but the leader of the troop moved backwards in time to avoid the slash. To Walther’s right, the black haired vampire brought the mace down so that it would strike Walther’s head. There would be no mercy shown here, and they clearly weren’t underestimating Walther at all.



The redheaded vampire was unable to escape, paralyzed by Catherine’s magic. Her partner didn’t divert her hit soon enough, and she crumbled to death on the brunette’s claws. Eyes wide, the brunette attempted a strike to Catherine’s neck with her other hand, determined to win this fight.



The duplicates of Ivor would find the storm shelter held the ingredients in a long and wide room full of stones, herbs, and potions. The floor was solid limestone, rough cut and not smoothed. The power was out, so he wouldn’t be able to see far within, but the reagents were found. The fire crept closer though, only about ten feet away from the entrance now.

The shrine ward gave way with a burst of magic that extinguished part of the fire with its force. The heat of the fire was barely alleviated, surging around the battling foes, but it was at least partially extinguished.



The touch of magic did little to sooth him. Instead, Tyrus’ own defenses kicked in and Molly was knocked back with a surge of magic, shallow cuts hitting her entire body where she had been kneeling next to him. The smoke in the area darkened and strange shapes began moving in it, horrific distended shapes. The thick magic in the air would make countering the smoke and fire difficult.

[demikara]

Catherine had released the magic as soon as the vampire had landed the hit on her companion. She was out of practice, and had hoped that the surprise she'd given the vampires would have been enough to distract them. But now it seemed that she had underestimated her opponents, as the brunette had her hands and claws wrapped around her neck. Small rivulets of bright red blood welled up where the vampire's claws had grazed the tender skin at Catherine's neck.



The stench of burned flesh and acrid smoke of the wild fire burned her eyes and lungs. As shapes began to materialize in the smoke around, Catherine's concern grew to fright. Wasn't Molly supposed to be trying to tame Tyrus's defenses?



"Let go of me!" She demanded turning her attention back to the vampire clawing at her neck. Now between a rock and a hard place, Catherine knew she couldn't rely on the magic obeying her again.


Ivor had found what they were looking for though that presented a problem. The callsign on the watch said Cerulean and in fine script upon his own was not. So he couldn't well leave any of his equipment here if when they re-knit the schism erase it from existence. Temporary changes only then though his radio worked fine.



Ivor's rushed voice came over the comms a bit loud as the raging fire was too close, "Filemot to Cerulean! 9:30 at .3 clicks, underground storage! We need a klein-maxwell field!"



The voices that responded were all Ivor. They appeared from all the buildings and rooms they'd gone off to explore along the ranch. Popping through blown out windows and walls double timing it back. Except for one in quick thumping elsewhere.



"This is Cerulean. I'm on my way. Everyone else back to the aleph naught point!"

"It's that bad down there?"

"It'll be fine there's enough space and the thermal drain falls off at the power law."

"Filemot here, yes, there's enough here to blow a hole in reality even if it wasn't already weak. Haul ass!"



Filemot grabbed a flat piece of stone from one of the shelves and a bit of chalk to write with. He could prepare the figures with native materials but the casting had to be Cerulean. Thankful given the suit's built in haste that this didn't take too long. His silver suit striding in through the flames isolated from the alchemical fields. Some of the more sensitive reagents were already breaking down from the heat. One looked to the other having no need to discuss what they were doing. Cerulean started on his end of the room with materials from his tool belt as Filemot improvised at the other. Bands of equations and patterns prepared to segregate the small space from reality at either door. Though much near to the cellar would turn to frost and dust. Thermal energy drained by the recursion linked extradimensional manifold to power it. By the time it failed the fire would be out.

A platoon of Ivor aggregate at their common inflection point. Waiting for all himselves to arrive. They discussed more practical things. They'd turned off their radios as not to contaminate the two agents that were there.



"I can bet there's extraplanars lurking at the veil here already waiting. There's a lot of activity to draw them."

"Atrous and Celeste, we got divergent individuals at Catherine's transit point. Robed extra-planar and a duplicate Molly."

"The unexpected passenger seems an particularly odd temporal flex point. The native one is the angry lady."

"Pizza guy, here. Only the top half of the poor bastard made it. Any other divergents?"

"Duplicate Catherine. Possible robed extraplanar in disguise?"

"No, the thing didn't have bones let alone flesh but didn't seem hostile. It's clear it didn't need a rift to get in. It had to be already here and wasn't hiding."

"The duplicate had a surprised candor, furtive, hunched posture, and a strange planar drift value. Catherine and the duplicate Catherine both looked to Molly."

"Same for our duplicate Mollys. Duplicate Catherine seems some sort of minor potentiality."


Molly swore vividly and moved back to his side, ignoring the blood that was welling up from a good portion of her body, her clothes equally cut open. Great. Fine, if healing wouldn't work, Molly switched tactics and reached for his head, swiftly knocking him out before his defenses came back again.



Tyrus went out like a light and with him the strange shapes in the smoke began to peter off. Molly started her healing again, trying to at least stabilize him.



The vampire at Catherine's neck laughed and pulled her close. “You smell delicious! I bet you taste it too, dhampir.” Keeping her claws wrapped tight around Catherine's neck, she squeezed tightly. “But you're in the new Ra's way.” And hers.



Without magic to fuel it, the fire was merely mundane, and reacting to the sudden lack of energy. Ivor had succeeded in dosing the fire simply by pulling the thermal energy from the air, the ground near the cellar door turned to frost over ash.

[demikara]

Gasping for air, Catherine felt her chest tightening as the vampire tightened her grip on her throat. Rasping and choking on the smoke from the fires now slowly burning themselves out, she could see that struggling against the other was only making the situation worse. “You aren’t my type,” Catherine hissed as her mind churned, the war within herself soon to reach a breaking point.



Molly had managed to render the problem of Tyrus inert, or at least that was what she sensed as the magic momentarily subsided. Catherine heard Ivor say something, but it was soon lost on the wind and made unintelligible by the shifting nature of the other. Thankfully though his team had somehow managed to put out the fires nearest to the reagents. She had no time for surprise or thoughts on this though as she was forced painfully to the here and now by the sharp claws of the vampire in front of her.



“…let go of me before this ends badly for you.” Catherine warned. While the other wasn’t likely to heed the warning, it was enough in the Warden’s mind to allow herself to given in. It only took a moment before something changed in Catherine’s demeanor, and this did not bode well for the other.



Grabbing a hold of the other woman's wrists wrapped around her neck, she crushed the bones in other’s hands with more strength than any human had a right to; much less most Dhampire. It was now being made abundantly clear that Catherine wasn’t a product of this modern, nearly magicless age; instead she was a product of a much older age largely forgotten to the world now. “I am the heir of ash and fire; your Ra will feel my ire!” She spat before she grabbed hold of the magic again; summoning a bright hot fire. Coupling it with a brief psychic onslaught, this was only the first strike at her enemy. Whether or not they survived it she didn't care.


The Ivors both stepped back as formulae scratch integrals across surfaces. The numbers growing deeper and deeper into the storeroom across every surface. A luminous pattern not in material order but time. The dilation was marginal still though enough they could see the outside quicken. Filemot Ivor hot-footed it across the room as the other leapt across the barrier. Cerulean beckoning slower and slower. The inexorable system folds away the moments using thermal energy to feed an insatiable beast. It took the longest dozen seconds for Cerulean to cross the gap. Pound of his boots slower and slower in comparison to Filemot. Quick shot to grab that hand Cerulan shot up and out as Filemot collapsed their reference frames. A hard whump echoed as the silver suit hit earth. Filemot Ivor fell over backward kneed in the helmet on Cerulean's way out.



The Ivor at the top of the stairwell called with strain, "Agh! Mind the gap, Hah!"

"Move... move movemovemove! The fringe is about to hit critical phase!", responded filemot watching a quivering hoar at the edge of the formulae.



The blades of frost lurch but spread a stark edged border of the formulae. Interior smoke a hanging spider's web sturdy strands frozen in time. Wavers of ice that predator catches its breath as the frost perturbs. Curves back and forth between the two opposing apertures. Once the manifold hit its stride and collapsed the two points this was not a healthy place to be. Not at all.

Filemot thumped his way up the stairs as the maw of the beast groaned behind him. Cerulean about to his feet hauled roughly up without complaint. They both knew what was going on thus nothing said. Anyone with sense followed a researcher running away from somewhere full tilt. The small cadre of Ivors a small distance away beckoned them to hurry. They needed to end the aleph-null point before the klein-maxwell field started. At least the magical fire was out to stop driving it forward. Once started fusing damaged space back together everything became a 'significant inconvenience'. Especially in its immediate vicinity.



As they pounded close to the Aleph null point the Ivors since made notes in the dirt. Cerulean and Filemot glanced with them at Catherine's gleaming pyre as they arrived. More than a dozen Ivor all said, "Oh hell."



Significant whipping of inner expletives spurs them on each tripping over each other for position. They didn't have time to warn Catherine as they all worked out the correct inflection point to stand.



A monosurface within the face of arithmagic an ashen thunderhead glowered and rumbled. Shot up the stairs a small tendril of oncoming frost and pending doom. Chased first in direction sources of both extradimensional energy and heat being the Ivors. A natural pattern of wrath if ignited by man intent to drain energy to ash or frost. A hard jog in its path shot off toward one both closer and far hotter. The dirt cracking and spalling bits off of grass as they froze to hoar. A tendril seeking a place for lighting to strike.



The vampire shrieked as her wrists were crushed. She tried to pull away but didn't make it in time, falling to the onslaught of fire. That meant the last of the vampires was defeated soundly. Molly watching, whistled low, still working on keeping Tyrus stable.



The tendril first hit Catherine, the source of the majority of the heat, wreathing her in magic, glowing gently. The Ivors and Molly and Tyrus were next. The biting cold hit shortly after and Molly began to shiver, even as she worked harder to stabilize Tyrus against the sudden environmental change. "This is seriously not good for him!"

[demikara]

Coughing, Catherine drew in a ragged breath as she surveyed the pile of ash that was once a vampire and now scattered by the wind to the four corners. "Everyone status check." She coughed keying the team's communication frequency. Her throat still burning from the acrid smoke, she was still vulnerable like many of her team to the effects of the heat, smoke, and fire.



"Cordon is still holding, Warden. But the local press is already making a menace of themselves." Xiaolian radioed back across the team's frequency. The link was already beginning to crackle and degrade, no match for the strong fields generated by the enormous amounts of magic. "Hey... does anyone know if a sudden 'bout of uhm.. frost is normal with these events?"



The hoar frost crept closer and closer to where Xiaolian was keeping a wary eye on any locals and press that had managed to find their way to them.



"No... and our expert is currently... unconscious." Catherine answered, distracted by the cold and blue-violet glow she was covered in. She tried to remain calm and centered to encourage the excess magic to release and dissipate, but it was increasingly difficult as intrusive thoughts of similar events came crashing through her mind.


Filemot and Cerulean chased by wrath teetered running at angles to get into place in time. A dozen of his own arms straining fingers toward each of their places. While the universe may know its own often saw unforeseen consequences to disorder. Especially when leaving leaving the decisions to damaged natural potentials. They flickered in and out of existence as the planar repair ward struck the inflection point. Dozens of Ivor buckled in sudden pain then blinked back to their own realities as a single one left. Knelt over the silver watch he picked it up over the formulae bled their entropy out of existence. Small gusts of anomalous wind erasing lines even evaporating chalk marks on stone.



Ivor stood up, still buckled somewhat in pain, staring at his watch. Furtive movements and impulsive percussion of the device indicating something was wrong. Delicate top-button opens the watch to read for the fine etching there. Inside the cover a planar anchor of the highest order that should read Cerulean. Even a novice Arithmage tell the anchor was there. One of his skill could tell it was still live and the clock still ticked along. His anchor's formulae instead perturbed with one foreign in ways he couldn't quantify. One minutiae missing that quite boggled and worried the man. Where his identifier should be it was blank; a thing that shouldn't be possible. How could he have an active anchor to a null-state?



Molly's shout brought him back to the present as Ivor tabled his worries for now and said over the radio, "Ivor here! I've sealed up the reagent bomb in the eye of a klein-maxwell system! Local space has extreme damage we need to evacuate Tyrus immediately. The field needs time to weld patterns back together then boil off and it likes heat energy. No more fire until we're further away! Blame it on some advanced fire control or something and hold the cordon for 48 hours."

Molly hesitated and tried to stabilize him a bit more. "We really shouldn't move him, but we don't have a choice..." She hesitated, then gently scooped Tyrus up and held him bridal style, keeping her hands on him so she could continue to try and channel at least some healing magic into him. She spoke into her radio. "I have Tyrus. Make sure the ambulance is ready immediately." She walked rapidly, not daring to run for fear it would do more damage or, under the circumstances the worse choice, he would wake up.



"Tell them to keep him unconscious. Until he's healed enough to have control over himself, being even slightly awake is the last thing we need." Drunk he made rubber ducks. Insensate with pain he summoned horrors she didn't want to think about. She didn't actually want to think about what would happen if he was merely unconscious in this state. It was best to keep him sedated.