Rami deChartres

Vanguard of Humanity
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65 Setting the Bar High

About Rami deChartres

  • Rank
    Fresh Faced

CHARACTER PROFILE

  • GENDER
    Male
  • PLAY-BY
    Weston Boucher
  • SEXUAL ORIENTATION
    Heterosexual
  • RACE
    Altered Human
  • JOB
    Cavalier in Vanguard of Humanity
  • 'SHIP:
    loner
  • LOCATION
    New York
  • FACTION
    Vanguard of Humanity
  • APPEARANCE
    His broody essence often makes him seem bigger than his 6'1" frame. Brown hair is stained with some early pepper for his age and the piercing gaze comes through hazel eyes. Most notable is his painted skin. Three black crosses line the cords of the left side of his neck, the arm beneath them sleeved entirely in imagery that heralds his devout focus; death, angels and the crucified Christ are but a few of the black shadows that empower his left arm.
  • PERSONALITY
    A true holy warrior, Rami is prone to extended periods of solitude, a man of little words but powerful action. His internal reflection can lead one to believe he is truly a monk out of his time. However he is no saint. Far from celibate, he holds no affection for those he has been with, hardly ever seeing them a second time. He satisfies a physical need in his mind, nothing more.

    He is a true believer of the Vanguard, one that seeks to cleanse the things that threaten humanity in its purist form. Altered by the Resonance he sees no relation between himself and those that flaunt their "inhumanity". His "curse" is his weapon to keep the Church safe.
  • PERSONAL BELONGINGS
    Walking so close to the line of a true Templar Knight, Rami has little to his name. A large worn duffle holds most all his "worldly" goods. His 1936 BMW R17 is in the classic Vanguard flat black. The array of weapons that he can pull from his store rivals what any Navy Seal would take into combat.

    Enoch is his constant companion. The Belgian Malinois has a decidedly feral stance and appearance but stops mid step if Rami so commands it.

STAFF APPROVED ABILITIES/SKILLS/HISTORY

  • APPROVED ABILITIES
    Bone Craft:
    While Rami's flesh is as fragile as the next human's, his bones have become as hard as tungsten carbide - only slightly softer than diamonds on the Mohs scale of mineral hardness. He will likely never suffer a broken bone without extreme-greater than human force. What is more, he is able to craft his bones into armor and weapons. From blades that can protrude from his elbows, claws from his fingers to a thin shield from his forearm, the limitation seems to be only his imagination. But each transformation has a price, with flesh that tears as easily as any humans, the eruptions of his hardened bones are painful and damaging. Rami is able to push bone forward that can be used as a projectile (typically in the shape of a small dagger) however he does not do this often because these must be recovered and pushed back beneath his skin or his bones become thinner and softer with each missing piece that removes from their density.

    Skin/Vein Regeneration:
    One might mistake this for quick healing but unfortunately it is not that comprehensive. This ability sutures back his skin and the veins at the surface that might have been torn to prevent further blood loss from his own bones ripping his flesh asunder or bodily harm created by others, but it does nothing for internal injuries to organs.

    Ecstatic Agony:
    This power changes the perception of pain so that it becomes pleasure. Somewhere in the depths of his meditation, he has found a way to transcend the flesh by switching two of the most primal sensations. When this power is in effect, all the pain that Rami feels is transformed into a feeling of bliss that invigorates him and makes everything seem clearer. Fighting him when he reaches this state is a rather disquieting experience — when the slash of a sword can rip an orgasmic moan in the depths of his chest. This transcendent state can truly enhance his ability to fight even when injured, but it can also carry a heavy price. One that takes pleasure in this much pain can also miss when the injury is so severe his life is in danger.
  • APPROVED SKILLS
    Hand to hand combat - while highly skilled in unarmed hand to hand, he is also lethal with knives or batons.

    Firearms - Rami is military trained. He is proficient with most any firearm but has a tendency to use them as a last resort. They are noisy and his preference is to kill quietly.

    Hunting - Truly a solitary creature, Rami has spent a fair bit of time living off his wits and the land. He has a respect for it and the animals that give him sustenance - killing only what he needs to survive and doing so quickly, silently giving them thanks once it is done.

    Meditation - This is not the simple sit on a mat and recite your "ohm"s. Rami can slip into a nearly trance-like state as he seeks truths and answers.

    Carpentry - Before the Nevus, Rami made exquisite custom wood furniture. Each piece was a one of a kind. Now he keeps his hands sharp with whittling small intricate pieces from scraps of wood, typically limbs of trees.

    Languages: English, French, Egyptian Arabic, Latin
  • APPROVED HISTORY
    A direct descendant of Guillaume de Chartres, a Grand Master of the Knights Templar, Rami has existed within the secret society from birth. An indoctrinated child of the Illuminati, the Mason, the Vanguard; Rami has known nothing but the path of the Church.

    Guillaume de Chartres died in Damietta, Egypt after leading his army to attempt and save the Christian army from the Muslims in 1218; but he left more than his body behind. A child was born nine months later to an Egyptian woman who took the name of the Grand Master and claimed to have been his wife, his last name bastardized to deZatres; a name the Templars kept a keen eye on.

    In the late 1800s, an Illuminati of the British occupancy of Egypt became aware of a descendent that had real potential. Asim deZatres belonged to the military and had taken Muhammad Ali Pasha's new stance of an educated army to its fullest potential. A real student, Asim (Protector in Arabic) hungered not only to refine his body but his mind. With a single invitation, the deZatres family again entered into the secret order, given knowledge of their history within the Templar Knights and began to avidly grow their ranks within Egypt. Asim's son and grandson followed in his footsteps which led to his great grandson, Rami - Marksman in Arabic.

    The child was always hauntingly quiet, observant…studious. He grew up a child of the armed forces of Egypt so it was no surprise he was deeply entrenched in the army by the age of 15. Quickly rising in rank he was known for his speed, his silent steps and the casual way he could dispatch a target. Raised under the close tutelage of the Order, his faith told him all his actions had purpose and should be executed with precision and without hesitation.

    It was this dedication to purpose that kept him alive through the chaos of the Nevus event. The alteration of his human form attributed to the work of a higher power. The crippled Order quickly began to rebuild itself and the former army ranger was pulled back into its fold. The monk-soldier became a Cavelier within the second year after the Nevus, left to his own devices to deal with the filth of the world as he saw fit.

    He now is a monk-soldier in the North America, wandering like a vagabond, silent and deadly and seeking targets that most don’t even know exist.

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  1. Deadfall

    Hazel glanced to the side as the older man reached for his phone. Likely tracked, even if the Director didn’t think so. There was a reason the Cavalier didn’t carry one and only "borrowed" those of random strangers to make his contact with the Vanguard. [rami]..unless it is a satellite phone you won't get a signal in Winchester. They seemed intent on keeping it hidden. Someone seems to think there are deep secrets here.[/rami] The cell towers in the area had been purposely destroyed long after the Nevus event. Secrets. The world was returning to the darkness of secrets. It was a world his kind knew well. [vacily]Shit. Soon as we're topside we gotta warn 'em. We at least owe the townsfolk that much.[/vacily] [rami]…are you so sure you do?.....owe them?[/rami] It was a dark and ominous statement. The Cavalier had a strong intuition that those that "lived" here were among those that had set up the director's son….or rather… had set a trap for himself. Though more he thought of it, it was possible the trap really was for Caleb. He was a liability to the sector within the Vanguard that was operating in shadows. He was young, eager and connected. All were traits the shadows would not want close in their ranks. [vacily]Been a while since I've dealt with the dead.[/vacily] The Cavalier had paused behind Enoch who was sniffing at the stone that blocked their exit. Light was snuffed out, the cracks around the stone betraying the glisten of moonlight beyond as he tucked it into the large duffle, pulling instead out a bowie knife for the left hand and a short sword in the right. [rami]…take the head….[/rami] Words were very matter of fact. [rami]…especially these. They pack hunt, not as random as normal Mort infected. Do not waste your energy with anything but a death blow.[/rami] Enoch sat at his right calf, tail thumping gently on the dirt floor. [rami]…..for now the area is clear of them. When we exit follow me close behind. We go directly to the crypt to pick up what I left behind and then we need to find a vehicle to put distance between us and them.[/rami] Shoulder was placed against the stone and boot dug into the earth, the scratch of earth and rock soft despite its weight as the "door" began to swing open. Ducking under the low exit, his steps were light trotting into the dark cold cemetery. As they moved his soft words held little emotion. [rami]…the large tree with the charred trunk on your left.. that is where he died. If that sort of thing is important to you.[/rami] It seemed a cold and callous thing to say… yet it was not meant as such. The Director needed closure. They would not be there long so best to simply point it out to the man as they made their way to a fairly unimpressive crypt.
  2. By the Pricking of My Thumbs

    [santo]Get out of my house.[/santo] Hazel flicked to the man, recognizing that quiet tone. The cavalier did not need to feel the heat to know the danger the man possessed. Yet even under the threat of being cooked the warrior monk's gaze remained infuriatingly calm. Door above slammed, Enoch's nails heard softly on the step as he pulled away to keep his nose from being crushed in the event. But as the heat whispered up around them, the quiet eyes lifted once more to the ceiling of the second floor. The shadow above had changed under the rage. Reacting to the mage? There was a real danger there. It didn’t make sense. There were no artifacts in this church. The volcano was percolating and for some reason the woman seemed keen to feed its fire, tainting the man even as the good Father appeared to recall where he was and force his calm to return. It was the arrogance of power. He had seen it before. Grant was the same, thought she knew all the answers, thought the Cavalier was her personal "dog". It was amazing how much could go unnoticed under the careful watch of arrogant eyes. Hazel slid up the stairs where the door had slammed closed on Enoch. The canine had its nose at the bottom crack of the door and every hackle was up. [dacia]……What happened to you?[/dacia] Didn’t know? Or arrogance blinded? Hazel appraised her a moment before returning to his companion and the shadow above. As the Father moved to finish his preparations for mass, the quiet words slid from his lips. [rami]…. I suspect….. you and your Order happened to him.[/rami]
  3. By the Pricking of My Thumbs

    The Cavalier did not miss the effect the touch of the vicar had on the Father. It was an effect the Cavalier could understand. That some could find great solace in the touch of the faithful was something a Knight of the old world could understand. The shift of the woman to be near the Cavalier was met with cool indifference in the hazel eyes. But the vicious flick of muscle in the Father's neck when the woman glanced to the Vicar was rewarded with a faint uptick of the warrior monk's brow. She played on the edge of a fire branded sword. The putrid hatred this Rhome had for the Order, and more specifically her, was palpable. Interesting. As the Cavalier invited the head of the New York Order to see for herself he was almost amused at the shift in the air. The Father found it a curious response…. the woman…. [dacia] The likes of you keep me from nothing.[/dacia] The snap in her voice almost drew an upturn to the indifferent warrior monk's lips. So much for the ice queen. It seemed Ms Setgrave was as easy as any other Magus to agitate. He held his tongue, the temptation to mention her claws were showing itching at the back of his throat. But he was not here to be bothered with the Order, nor the church for that matter. He was here to ensure the artifacts were still intact, that the shadows that had been growing across the world were not getting closer to finding them. [santo]This house is a sanctuary. There will be no violence here.[/santo] Spoken like a true Father of the Faith. Left hand was still casually holding the strap of the worn duffle, the right still hidden calmly in the pocket of his jeans. Hazel continued their calm appraisal of the man. He was an interesting Magus. Tightly controlled and yet on the verge of no control. Power was like that. The Cavalier had seen it eat a man alive too many times to count. He listened in silence. The slice to the throat had been betrayed already when the collar had dipped and shown the edge of the bandage. No one else was likely to have noticed but hazel eyes were trained and rarely missed a thing. The pupils flicked to the tower as the man unraveled the tale of what had gone down. He would want to get a look up there as well with Enoch. The animal could find things, magic things, that not even Magus could find. That damn wet nose he found too often pushed against his hand could trace the untraceable. As if on cue the hackles lifted a moment before the Magus used his magic to set the reverberation off in the confessional. Low guttural snarl now rumbling just under the level of hearing in the beasts chest. The woman seemed intent to show up that she knew just as much as the Father. What she had put to paper saying more about herself than those she sought to expose. Odd duck. While the Father tried to hide himself away and all that he knew, she sought her own self glorification. Opposites in a world that didn’t take kindly to two sided coins. Magic was a fickle lover the Cavalier had found. [dacia]But I do not have all the answers.[/dacia] The Cavalier's gaze had returned to the tower. Brain churning on the artifacts he knew were in New York, hidden from all factions even his own. The quiet words held no arrogance or spite, yet were likely to rankle the recipient none the less. [rami]… I actually doubt you have any of them.[/rami] Such a high powered individual seeking direct contact with what he could only assume the Order saw as a Rogue said much more about what she did not know than what she knew. They were as in the dark of what was going on as ARMA…. as the Vanguard. She was there to rip forth answers, one way… or another. Though he seemed to have disengaged from the conversation, he did not miss a word as she spoke of potent blood and seeking them out. There was mild amusement once more as he was flagged as devout to the Vanguard. Funny how so many assumed that of the Cavalier….even the good Director Vacilly seemed to take time to realize the warrior monk answered to no order that this world any longer recognized as significant. As she finished by asking the Father for his allegiance the Cavalier had stepped away from the small party, faint nod of respect to the Vicar as eyes and mind that mapped ancient ways stared still at the ceiling and the stairs to the tower. When the living danger sat in the confessional and the tower was supposedly now "clean" it was odd the monk seemed so interested in the latter. There was a shadow that had his attention. One missed in the dancing of candle lights so far below it. Several soft clucks had Enoch tilting his head and looking up at the Cavalier before slinking around the Vicar and heading up the stairs. Hazel met the concerned eyes of the Vicar as a faint but genuine smile slid his lips. [rami]…a precaution only… to be sure the devil has not left his mark in the house he is unwelcome within.[/rami] If anything lingered… Enoch would find it. For now. Hazel moved to the Father once more, tilt of his head betraying consideration before words were chosen with care. [rami]…allies…. in this time…. can be as dangerous as your enemies….[/rami] This time the calm hazel met the woman's instead, nod faint. [rami]… I caution any…. to have either….[/rami]
  4. Deadfall

    The Russian did not dismiss his words. The man clearly knew enough about the Cavalier to know his observation was founded in truth. He also understood the significance of an army of infected that could be controlled. Perhaps the Director would prove less of a liability than he had originally thought. But as they moved out of the arsenal vault, the conversation again turned to his son. Vacilly was emotional, whether he admitted it or not. He was anguished and angry. Neither of which made him a good companion in the fight to come. The Cavalier's blunt explanation of the kid's death was unlikely to assuage either emotion. [vacily]A false lead? A trap.[/vacily] Nod was faint. Hazel watching the bright light fight to turn corners of dirt, chasing Enoch's tail. A trap meant for a Knight….. not a Cavalier. A trap potentially meant for himself but set by seemingly amateurs. No Knight would fall for such a misguided lead. The area, even the cemetery, was not old enough to shield the secrets of the old Order. But, amateurs or not, someone was fishing for old world secrets, seeking to find the lost powers of a bygone era. [vacily]So what's the plan?[/vacily] Steps paused as he glanced to the Russian, pupils dilating in the center of rich hazel as the older man was studied before the Cavalier resumed his forward motion. Liability or not, the Director need information if he was to be even the slightest bit helpful once they breached the surface. Quiet words began to explain. [rami]This is an old smuggler's tunnel. It comes out inside a crypt in the center of the cemetery. [/rami] Head tilted left and then right, neck cracking an echo down the corridor as he rolled his shoulders. The man was clearly loosening up. They were getting close. [rami]…based on the direction they were coming from and going, they should not be directly heading to the cemetery. I suspect they are actually heading to the old stone church. From what I have seen the ignorants seem to think all artifacts are hidden in the halls of old churches.[/rami] Head shook as hazel rolled. It was one of the first real expressions from the distant Cavalier. He returned to the matter at hand quickly. [rami]Caleb had been led to a crypt beside where we will emerge.[/rami] Pace had picked up, the slope of the tunnel had shifted, they were moving closer to the surface. [rami]…. and in a tomb beside that crypt, I have stored several items from the crime scene that I couldn’t let get into the hands of those in Washington.[/rami]
  5. By the Pricking of My Thumbs

    Where the Father tensed at the presence of the woman, the Cavalier relaxed dangerously. It was deceptive. He was silent as the woman taunted the other man. Another might have found insult in the fact that he was dismissed as equal so easily by the Father but the Cavalier didn’t suffer pride. Instead he waited for the cat and mouse to proceed. He was sure the woman thought herself the cat. The Cavalier was not so sure as the hooded expression of the Father reminded him of a building storm. [santo]There is no we.[/santo] The Cavalier was not so different. "Partners"…"allies"…. all were handicaps the Cavalier chose not to burden himself with. On the occasion he would align such as with the Director, but it was a rare and unusual case. Pupils slid to the corner as the woman moved near his side like she was claiming sides. She would find the Cavalier was a poor choice. Brow lifted gently as he remained still watching the exchange. The Father's words hardly holy as the woman was told to look at what she wanted and then to get the "hell" out of his church. More fighter than holy man. Hazel flicked to the side as they were approached, the weight of age was in the light touch on the Father. Rhome…. the name was etched to memory as he observed the effect the Vicar had on the fire that was threatening to boil over. Impressive that what the Cavalier read as a mere human could quell the rage in a magus, particularly a magus who was harboring such a clearly dark past. Hazel watched the step away from the door with calculated calm. Enoch continued to point, nose nearly against the old wood as the tongue continued to snake obsessively out of his lips, jowls sneered back to let the salivation drip from white knives. The animal's reaction and the way the Father had protected it before the woman interrupted told the Cavalier much. It wasn’t the first magic trap he had come across in his investigations. If he was right, and he usually was, the trap would trip if a magic user, particularly a magus dared open the door. The woman asked if he knew who she was but her attention was fixated on Enoch's concentration on the door. [dacia]What's behind there?[/dacia] It wasn’t common, but a dangerous wit could at times worm its way into the deadpan calm of the warrior monk. Head tilted slightly to the side to look at her, a brow lifting a bit over the amber flecked hazel. [rami]You are most welcome to look for yourself, Dacia Setgrave. Far be it for me to keep you from your answers.[/rami] Soft "sss" slid between his teeth and instantly the feral canine slunk backwards from the door until it was crouched against the side of his calf, the dark eyes still glued on the door it wanted to attack while his master's hazel remained softly watching the woman that commanded the arm of the Order. Curious if the over-confidence she had exuded in exposing herself to them also left her easily baited.
  6. Deadfall

    Chancellor Avara didn’t know half the story. [vacily] Tell you the truth kid, I don’t give two shits about ‘zombie experimentation’. I can tell you from experience that road doesn’t go anywhere.[/vacily] Weapons were being tucked into his duffle, down his boot, the back of his dusty jeans. Voice was quiet. [rami]..the road has gotten further than you might think. In McMurray… they actually took orders.[/rami] It was a disturbing thought. An army of zombies that might be controlled could tip the balance of power around the world in favor of those that commanded the pack. [vacily] Our main concern is to establish a connection between these research facilities and those people responsible for the murders. One will lead us to the other. Was this what Caleb was investigating?[/vacily] Head shook as he stuffed the last weapons the duffle could manage into its depths, pulling the heavy zipper closed. Chin gestured slightly to the remaining weapons, an open invitation for the Russian to arm himself as he pulled the M4 Carbine's strap over his shoulder before pulling the duffle over the other. [rami]..no… he was chasing a bad lead on an artifact when he stumbled into this.[/rami] It was cruelly honest. To tell a man his son had died for no other reason than because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time could be seen as heartless. To the warrior monk… it was simply the truth, nothing more or less. The heavy light was picked off the table as the soft suck of air set the feral canine forward once more, trotting down the new maze branch to merge once more with the original tunnel. Words continued quietly. [rami]The cemetery out here has a number of mason graves. So to one outside the "order" the lead seemed plausible. I warned him it was a spook lead but he was…. determined to prove himself.[/rami] Whether the monk meant that Caleb was determined to prove himself to the Cavalier or his father was left unspoken. Rami had been in Canada at the time, told him to ignore it, but he had heard clearly in his voice that Caleb was going to chase the lead anway. By the time he got down to catch up with the kid…. It was too late. [rami]…based on the scene, I suspect that the lead was planted in the hopes of catching another Cavalier.[/rami]
  7. By the Pricking of My Thumbs

    The Cavalier did not flinch at the sudden barrier the man of the cloth presented, the beast at the floor seemed unfazed as well, his gargoylesque pointed stance unmoved. He was clearly agitated at the thought that the Egyptian would try to enter the confessional. Interesting. The good Father apparently knew there was something in there and was eager for no one else discover it. This investigation was getting more and more interesting. He remained still, hazel simply meeting the Father's eyes and waiting. There was an infinite calm patience behind the green glimmer as the magus and his wounds were studied. It was quite the battle it seemed. The silence lingered between them. Father Del Santo was trying to figure out if the Cavalier was friend or foe, that much was apparent. [santo]Haec est enim vestra pugna.[/santo] (This is not your fight.) Enoch had shifted his haunch just barely, the tail swishing to the side in agitation. The behavior was a warning. Enoch had sensed a second danger and was flagging it for his partner. The monk remained still and indifferent but awareness spread outward seeking the source of the feral hounds agitation. [rami] Numquid non hoc est deduci ante omnia certamen…. [/rami] (Have you not already deduced this is all our fight….) The statement was ominous. The enemy had become enormous with just the few softly spoken words. But the eyes betrayed calm and awareness. They had slid to the corner in response to the shifted tail from Enoch. They had an eavesdropper. [rami]….. videtur nobis animadversa, Pater [/rami] (….seems we have attracted attention, Father.) Even as the soft words left his lips the chiding tone of the woman whispered over his senses. A soft thundering growl in Enoch's chest was silenced by air sifting between his front teeth in command. Order Overseer. He might be nothing but a distant dream of a legend to the world but he was not ignorant of those struggling for power within it. He would be curious of the good Director's take on the Order's involvement at this level. They were running scared. No different than the Vanguard…. and every other established faction who had taken notice of the growing shadow that was swallowing the world. Calling the Father by name told him much about the woman. Lack of respect for the "cloth" was trivial among them. That the man before him had snarled the Order's name at him said he saw them as enemy which meant there was a history here. A history with the one at the top was….. intriguing. [dacia]…Never thought you'd meet your match.[/dacia] The hazel eyes met hers with the same calm indifference that had pervaded his presence since he had arrived at the church. [dacia]I believe we all must fight.[/dacia] Her words were an echo of his own, but the warrior monk doubted she had as noble sentiment behind her engagement in this growing battle. He didn’t respond to the woman, instead the hazel shifted to the Father, deferring to the one who clearly had a deep seeded hatred for the Order.
  8. By the Pricking of My Thumbs

    He watched the silence rage behind the eyes. A mirror to his own hazel orbs. They breathed in a dangerous unison, as though a pure vacuum had engulfed them both. Acute awareness did not miss the furl of warm air that rippled low along the ground. This one was powering up. Interesting. The Cavalier made no sign of awareness, not so much as a muscle tensed as he spoke of ignorance and old churches. He was watching for reactions. He got it when gaze strategically moved to the vicar. He had been correct. This man was protective of the vicar, he was willing to start an apocalypse over the flick of attention the Cavalier had paid the old man. [santo]Non indoctus…..non est paratum.[/santo] [rami] Imparatum venire, quia sanguis est ... stulti ignorantes.[/rami] (coming for blood unprepared…is foolish ignorance.) Eyes did not shift but in the periphery they watched the fingers open and close. The corner of his vision not missing the candelabras lighting on their own. This one controlled fire….heat. Controlled it and threatened his life in the same moment. Mistaking the Cavalier for coming after him. Brow quirked upward ever so slightly in amusement as the onslaught continued. He could interrupt now, advise that he wasn’t after the priest at all. But he found that letting people have their tirade they often betrayed much about themselves. The priest didn’t disappoint, slipping into what the Cavalier could assume was his natural language. People with strong emotions lapsed into what was familiar. The Egyptian didn’t speak Italian, but he did speak both Latin and French…romantic languages that echoed the priests home tongue. He understood the words well enough. A ghost as well….and still threatening him. Order? Now there was an interesting jump. So… was this man hunted by the Order then? For what reason? Former Order member? Former enemy? The groans of old wood protesting against unnatural heat said the priest was on the brink of lost control… or attack. But the Cavalier suspected it was the former as a poignant blink from the priest seemed to bring calm to the swelling warmth. He had pulled back in his control. So what exactly did this magus have to do with the enemy the Cavalier had been tracking? He had already ruled out the Order as the source of the enemy. The enemy had operatives in the Order, not just the Order…the Vanguard and law enforcement. If he wasn’t mistaken they even were embedded within Pharos. But none of these factions was the headquarters of the enemy he hunted. It kept its secrets, much like his own sect. [santo] Non sono più il vostro cane. Dite loro il fuoco dell'inferno è in arrivo per loro.[/santo] [rami] Pulsatus canum cum primum periculosissima sunt verae libertatis.[/rami] (Beaten dogs are most dangerous at their first taste of freedom.) As the quiet words finished, Enoch suddenly shook his head in exaggerated motions that flopped his dark ears, letting the Cavalier know a sound was irritating him. A second later he heard glass falling and became aware of the hum himself. Interesting. By the time the priests gaze went to the confessional and returned to the Cavalier, the hazel eyes were no longer his to capture. Orbs were fixated on the last confessional, brow offering a faintly interested quirk. Air sucked through his teeth and instantly the feral dog was off, slinking around the column, around the priest and towards the offending confessional and the sound that had its ears laying flat on its head. [rami] Pater. Non ego te hic, nec vicarii. De venatione mea, ut ego suspicor, venerunt ad te.[/rami] (Father. I am nor here for you, nor your vicar. I hunt the shadows that I suspect came for you.) With that the duffle strap was adjusted slightly on his shoulder, two strides closing the distance between them but heading for the confessional not the priest. He paused when his shoulder was nearly against the other man's. [rami]…. nisi fallor, non reliquissent tibi gratia periculosa Pater.[/rami] (…if I am not mistaken, they have left you a dangerous gift Father.) With that the heavily booted strides fell in absolute silence on the holy floors, confident as they followed the feral animal that now crouched in front of the door with ears flat and all teeth bared, tongue slicking between the white weapons obsessively as saliva slipped from his jowls to the floor. Whatever it was… it was very…. very dangerous.
  9. Deadfall

    Duffle shifted on his shoulder, Enoch playing in and out of the light spread down the tunnel with a puppy-like carefree nature that seemed to show his complete lack of awareness of danger. Truth was, this was the feral animal hopped up on adrenalin awaiting the moment he had to come to strict attention. Enoch knew danger was there just a shovel of dirt away. The animal was craving confronting it. The Cavalier was quiet a while, contemplating the Russian with him. The older man was still likely a liability to the warriormonk. But perhaps a bit more knowledge sharing was in order before the faced the potential battle on the other side of the tunnel. [rami]…my report in Washington…. It was grossly incomplete.[/rami] Ahead Enoch reached a T juncture and spun like a top in the center with dizzying effect on the shadows cast around the walls, faint squeak came from between the Eqyptian's teeth and instantly the canine shot to the left. It had been awaiting orders. Following, the man was forced to hunch a bit more, the ceiling coming down before lifting once more as they entered a carved out "room". The space was only about twelve foot by eight and it lacked the cobwebs and grayed color of aged soil. Here the walls looked dark and wet, freshly carved. It was not part of the original tunnel, a fact made more apparent by the array of modern weaponry that was stacked in neat rows on wooden racks and on the small table in the center. Enoch curled up under the table as he dropped his duffle on the table lightly, high beamed light set on a corner to illuminate the entire earthen room as he began to check cartridges in weapons on the wall, snapping them closed and loading them. As skilled hands moved, he finally continued. [rami]…the only important part of the story at the time was the clear connections in deaths I had come across in my investigations. The report held nothing of my actual investigation.[/rami] Clip slammed back into the front grip of an M4 Carbine, the weapon set beside his duffle before moving to a rack of knives and machetes. The caliber of weaponry here was military grade and hardly the stuff that was standard issue by Vanguard. As if having an arsenal for small invasion of a country was normal, the monk quietly continued. [rami]…I have been investigating makeshift laboratories that are scattered all over the North American region, including as far north as Fort McMurray. [/rami] Vanguard were not really sanctioned to head that far into the former Canada territory, but as the Director had likely already concluded, Rami was not controlled by the Vanguard. Unsheathing several knives to check the blades before slipping them away again, he began to arm himself, a large bowie at the small of his back, knife in his boot. He nodded to the Russian and then the wall of weapons inviting him to do the same. [rami]…I have come across dozens of them. Many destroyed before I got there, the caretakers of the facility killed. So I am not the only one aware of them and attempting to shut them down.[/rami] Metal box was slid out of a carved "shelf" in the earth wall, set on the table and unlocked with a key that hung around the Cavalier's neck. Inside the metal safe were several shiny silver boxes, popping one open to inspect it clearly held a set of anti-virals. One case was slipped into his duffle and another was slid across the table towards the Director. He had not been joking when he told them in Washington they needed to arm their people with anti-virals at all times. The cases were cool, the earthen tomb acting as a natural refrigerator. [rami]They are run by an array of altered and infected; and they are experimenting with the morteximius virus. [/rami] Dangerous hazel orbs flicked to the Russian as if to make sure the point was not missed. [rami]…they appear to be trying to make a controllable M-infected army and from what we saw, I would say they are closer than I thought.[/rami]
  10. By the Pricking of My Thumbs

    The southern European accent told him much, but the instant halt of motion, told him much more about the "Father". The Cavalier was still attempting to determine if this was the man attacked or who had performed the attack but he started to have a hunch it was the former. The way the cold eyes warmed and softened at the vicar betrayed emotions that were absent in the enemy he had been hunting. In the "indifferent" calm the hazel eyes absorbed every facet of the man. The wounds, the attire, the stance that betrayed a predator-not a saint, the attempt to hide wounds from further scrutiny, even the way the hair fell on the man's head was drunk in with the precision of one trained to observe everything, and miss nothing. It was the first breath of a spoken word that betrayed Del Santo. He had been the one attacked. Few in the world spoke the dead language as though it were meant for colloquial dalliances, and not one of them would be the kind to plan the use of infected to take over the world. The religious were historically fanatical, but even that was beyond what they were willing to resort to. Interesting. So. Why were they after this Father? They were a frightening pair across from eachother. The quiet stillness, to the ignorant, seemed genteel. To a trained killer, there was potentially catastrophic power in the air. Hazel matched the slow blink. The man's words said more than what was spoken. He was….misleading? This church was masonic but held none of the old secret treasures. It was doubtful the mages that attacked were seeking artifacts as they did in other hallowed places. Which left the man himself they were after. The intrigue got thicker and thicker. The last question was the Father's test. How the Cavalier answered would determine how the predator reacted. Head tilted ever so slightly studying the man. The infinite calm still bleeding from every pore. [rami] Ego sum ........ [/rami] The hazel eyes held a hypnotizing quiet. [rami]…et spiritus.[/rami] Enoch's ear flicked, the wet nose faintly lifting to sniff the air. Something was catching the feral hound's attention. Only three things typically did, blood, death and magic. More and more interesting. [rami]Et ignorare videre sacerdotibus infirmis infirmus ut infirmos, Pater.[/rami] The first statement was clearly not a fluke. The language still held the weight of his Arabic heritage but it was spoken as one that could hold natural conversations in the dead language. [rami]... et utique non haberet. In Ecclesia non est masculini.[/rami] Hazel shifted ever so slightly, the vicar was paying too much attention. Concerned for the Father it seemed, he had spent far too much time with the vagrant from the street. Words continued quietly as the eyes calmly returned to Rhome's. [rami]Quod ignorantia sola probat.[/rami] ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Translations: I am…. ….a ghost. It is the ignorant that see priests as weak, Father. …and of course you do not have it. This church is not old enough. That alone proves their ignorance.
  11. By the Pricking of My Thumbs

    Hazel purposefully watched the vicar before moving to inspect the building, trailing over all the doors that led to places such as the directory, the quarters, the baptismal chapel and cloisters. The quarters was likely the best place to start investigating. Weight was just about to shift when the vicar was spotted paying too much attention to him. Neither the man nor the beast moved from their "seat" at the front entry as the old man made his way towards the new "ward". The movements were watched carefully behind calm eyes. The Cavalier was typically a good judge of an enemy and this vicar did not move like one. His age was showing and his approach carried the worldly concern of a man of cloth, not the blade. The second, however, did not have the same genteel, neutral demeanor. This one moved like a man of the blade, he moved like the Cavalier. Like the Egyptian, the man must have recognized what the surface did not show the rest of the world. He approached to intercept the vicar far too quickly. He planned to confront the Cavalier himself. The man and beast continued their calm vigil near the door, patiently awaiting their inspection. Had the Egyptian not seen it already from a distance, the approaching gait gave the man away. The prowl betrayed lethal potential intent. And still the Cavalier did not tense a muscle. He had the calm of one touched by divine, a weapon for a higher cause. Hazel that never dilated with vicious intent reviewed every inch, the wounds betraying what he was looking for. Turned out he didn’t need to go sneaking around through doors on his own. Cavalier also did not miss the gentle protection of the vicar. The old man officially crossed off any list. He was ignorant of the dark war that had likely occurred in his own hallowed halls. Interesting. So the other was the magus seeking to destroy and learn secrets? Or the one attacked? Enoch yawned as the other man approached, as if trying to prove just how relaxed he was, how oblivious to the threat. It was an odd behavior the feral had started long ago to warn of danger. Or perhaps to confirm danger as he picked up on the lethal calm of his companion. Hazel blinked calmly as he was "politely" approached, told his "friend" could have water and that mass was in two hours. The unspoken words clear. "Get out of my house." [santo]Father Del Santo, if you need anything.[/santo] Masquerading as Father? Or really a man of cloth? Interesting. He waited until the man excused himself to light candles. As the shoulder shifted away from him the soft words escaped. [rami] Quod nigrum est oculum habes, Pater.[/rami] Language was spoken with intimate accuracy but the accent was neither Latin nor any semblance of North American. The Middle-Eastern heritage tinged the ripple of sounds as he calmly remained standing right where he had started.
  12. By the Pricking of My Thumbs

    His presence in New York was under the radar. He had been off with Vacily and radio silent long enough that even the Vanguard were cranky with the Cavalier, demanding he come in and report. He had no intention of going in. Bike slid up the alley on the left side of the massive cathedral, tucking in close to the architectural columns to hide the ride from the street before his leg slid off the seat. As Enoch hopped off the duffel, the hazel eyes trailed up the modern monstrosity that the old world had allowed to be built right beside the church that had worked so hard to look like something very old. St John's had not broken ground until 1892. They did not complete it until sometime in the 1940's. Barely even a child compared to the Basilica or Kolner Dom, but they had tried to pay homage to the true artistry that a church could be. There were Masons involved in the early days which kept the church on the Cavalier's radar. It was unlikely relics were stored there, but then again, there had been rumors that the crown jewels of Great Britian were hidden away there in World War II to keep them safe. So there was always a possibility. But that wasn’t why he was here. Their enemy still eluded him, one step ahead of both he and Vacily, even with their extensive resources. But he was getting closer every time. This time, he was only perhaps a day behind. A mage attack in a church was something that caught his attention. Drawing him from his investigation in Ohio at a hidden lab that seemed to have been experimenting on zombies. Seemed to have been because it was hard to tell through the debris. Someone had been there and destroyed much of the lab and all the creatures that had been there. Worn duffel was released from the back before being slung over his shoulder. The warrior monk had great respect for churches and cemeteries, but that didn’t mean he would walk in without his weapons close at hand. Soft cluck had the feral canine glued to the side of his leg as he trotted up the front steps. It was early, a couple hours before Sunday mass. The good thing with churches… they were rarely locked. The massive wood door creaked softly as he pushed it open, careful to close it behind him. Hardly looked like a mage battle had occurred here. But this was the front of the church, and it was a large building. He didn’t move from the door, Enoch sitting with a haunch touching him. Hazel eyes slowly slid over every wall and up to the ceilings before descending once more to watch the Vicar at the front of the alter and another lighting candles and putting out bibles while a few knelt at their pews and seemed to pray. They sure didn’t act like a dark war had happened in the hallowed grounds in the last 36 hours. Duffle adjusted lightly over his shoulder. With the threadbare jeans, the well worn leather bomber jacket, beat up duffle and a feral looking animal by his side; he had all the appearances of a homeless vagrant in need of some salvation. But the hazel eyes held a quiet calm that was both dangerous and at home in the spiritual house. First thing first. He needed to see if he could find where on the grounds the fighting had occurred. Clearly, it had not been here.
  13. Deadfall

    Hazel eyes watched the Russian's reaction. He didn’t like the answer. He didn’t flee from it either. The older man seemed to simply accept, for now, that the warrior monk was not going to hand over secrets to anyone; not even the Vanguard. The "poison" was sipped once more, the Russian several ahead of him and continuing to pull away as he poured himself another ounce. [vacily]Well, I think it's time to turn…[/vacily] The Cavalier sat up slowly in his chair just a second before the Russian drew up short on his statement and Enoch began a low gutteral growl. Soft cluck at the back of his throat quickly silenced the animal as he stood slowly from his chair, the mottled glass set softly on the table at the same moment the Russian did the same. Hazel watched the much older man deftly make his way to a window, the Cavalier already at one as well. Pupils dilated as he watched the telltale lumber of infected in the outskirts of the woods. [vacily]What the hell?[/vacily] Finger came to his lips to silently shush the Russian. This was not the Cavalier's first run in with the infected and he found they had remarkably good hearing. Fingers traced the edge of the old lace curtain, pushing it to the side as he assessed further to the front of the house and then the back. [vacily]Bozhe moy! We have to warn them.[/vacily] Hazel flicked to the Russian with a brow quirking upward, soft words barely audible. [rami]…you know they would not do the same for you.[/rami] Head tilted away from the windows, inviting the man to follow. Feet were silent as he trotted up the stairs to grab his duffle from the landing before coming back down and moving to what must have been the kitchen back in the day. Kitchen table was slid out of the way, the threadbare wool rug underneath flipped up to reveal an old cellar hatch. Air hissed through his front teeth as he held the hatch up, the feral hound turning finally away from the front door, hackles still raised as the animal slid down into the dark hole. As the Russian hesitated the Cavalier offered a faint smirk. [rami]…there is a reason I choose the shelters that I do. But you are welcome to stay here if dying was in your grand plan coming out here with me.[/rami] He waited for the man to follow Enoch before he dropped into the space slower, hand on the rug and hatch at the same time, closing and covering their exit. The acrid dust of the rug would hide their scent once the house was broken into. It was a shame, he liked this particular reclusion. Padded feet were already ahead in the absolute dark. Rummaging in his duffle he pulled out a large M800 Tactical high beam flashlight that instantly flooded the hand dug escape tunnel. Light permeated more than 100 yards before stopping and then, only because the tunnel curved. Cobwebs lined thick the walls and draped from the low dirt ceiling. At only about five feet tall, the tunnel would have been adequate back in its day, now it forced the Cavalier to stoop as he quickly followed the canine. [rami]… you may notice it goes down. We will be well over fifteen feet below the surface, the infected will not hear us moving in here.[/rami] Pace was quick, turning with the tunnel in a manner that betrayed this wasn’t his first venture through the underground escape. [rami]…encountered infected often in my investigations. But never this close to a big population….and never this volume. Highly doubt that it is an accident.[/rami]
  14. Deadfall

    Thumb rubbed the lip of the mottled glass, thoughtfully watching the Russian. An emotionally compromised travelling companion could be a huge liability. The Director was definitely emotionally compromised, but he seemed to hold himself in check. A far cry from the man that had threatened him in the cemetery just a day ago. The half full glass lifted, sipped before finding a home once more on the vintage table, the haunting hazel eyes watching the capture of the bottle. Brow made a faint quirk upward as the Russian downed the "pill" with his vodka. Sick? If he was, it was just another thing that would slow down the monk. A liability. There was far too much to uncover on this journey to be handicapped with a liability. He wouldn’t babysit, he wouldn’t come to his aid if he fell behind either. Something evil was growing and he needed answers if he was going to hunt it. Vacily would have to hold his own if he wanted the answers to his own questions. If he failed to do so, the monk would at least do him the courtesy of a proper burial beside his son. The older man did not seem pleased with his answers. Surely by now he understood the monk answered to an order beyond the Vanguard. Despite the Russian's displeasure, the silence that lingered between them was comfortable, the monk taking a moment to sip from the vodka once more. [vacily]Who is more dangerous? Those who seek to control the secrets or those who hide them?[/vacily] Glass had paused midway to his lips, faint quirk upward playing at the corner of his lips. [rami] Three may keep a secret, if two of them are dead.[/rami] Grin continued to ghost as he quoted a Grand Master of the Masonic Lodge. Boot scraped softly on the floor as his toes pressed against the table leg and he tipped the chair back until its top rail rested on the wall behind him. [vacily] Most times, they’re pretty much dead even, don't you think? [/vacily] Head gently rapped against wood as locks that needed to be cut pushed against the wall, eyes drifting to the wood beams of the ceiling. [rami]It depends on the secrets….. and who it is that hides them…. and why they hide them. But in general, historically…. you are correct.[/rami]
  15. Deadfall

    He could feel skepticism from the older man but it didn’t faze the warrior monk. Pushing from the chair he moved to the window, the devil's brew hanging from his fingertips that surrounded the less than perfectly round top of the old glass. The sound of another glass sloshing full behind him drew a quirk to the corner of his lips. The Director seemed to be dwelling carefully on his words regarding the Order before the older man broke the comfortable silence one more. [vacily]Aren't you Vanguard? Our faction is founded on the same principles are they not? Why deny your fellow Legionnaires the power that is rightfully theirs ?[/vacily] Hazel narrowed slightly inspecting the Russian [rami]You are as misguided as they are if you truly believe it is their right to hold such power.[/rami] Head tilted faintly, the expression as always infuriatingly calm. [rami]…but somehow I don’t think you are in any way a misguided man.[/rami] [vacily]Better us than the Order of Light.[/vacily] Shoulder rested against the worn frame of the window, hazel eyes fixed out into the darkness beyond the waved glass. He liked coming out here, wild life had reclaimed so much of the area, a fact punctuated by the first calls of the large barn owl that lived inside the cupola on the top of the home. Response was soft. [rami]….better neither of you.[/rami] Glance over his shoulder offered a ghost of a smile at the Director before pushing away and pulling out the chair across the table from the Russian, weight dropping lightly into it as the partially full glass set down in front of him. [rami]They are secrets that have remained secrets for over nine centuries. Why should any possess their power now?[/rami] The Director was highly intelligent. By now he understood that there were Orders within Orders. As they had for centuries, the Knights, the Masons, the Illuminatus had infiltrated and become a part of those societies they believed needed to be under careful watch. While the Vanguard pulled from the lore of the "enlightened", it did not truly belong to the sect that bound the warrior monk. Thumb rubbed the side of the glass thoughtfully, a faint frown lingering before the hazel orbs slid upward to meet the older eyes in the dark. He had already spilled too many secrets, laying trust on the man before him. There was no point in stopping now. [rami]…. the problem is, too few knights remain to guard all the secrets.[/rami]