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Post by NOVA on Jun 6, 2016 8:00:54 GMT
Jason: Enter. 
The blond witch came upon a small building not far from the local university, "The Devil's Advocate" it was called, and scrunched up the flyer in his hand. Jason had been at the bar, no surprise there, when he saw a flyer on the notice board inside. "The Devil's Advocate, home to the leading expert in the Occult and Strange" it read, or something along those lines at least. Either way the flyer had done its job and caught Jason's attention. While Jason was unsure if whoever ran this "Devi's Advocate" was truly an expert on the occult, maybe they had an idea as to who had come after his family all those years ago. Jason had been in hiding for so long where as this person had been on the surface there was a good chance they might have got word of the repercussions of his coven's massacre if he knew anything about the occult.
Shoving the flyer into his coat pocket as he stuffed his hands in as well, Jason said, "Open sesame." The spell worked, of course. It was ancient and field tested, why mess with something that's not broken? The doors of the building swung open and Jason entered, heading straight to the office of this so called "expert".
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Post by The Devil's Advocate on Jun 8, 2016 4:46:25 GMT
 The blond witch was sitting behind the counter, his legs crossed over it, reading a book of some sorts. It looks ancient, and is written in ink, not printed: the spine reads “Morricone Compendium, Vol. XXIV”. Morricone was taking his time, remembering every paragraph, every line, every word - he was committing to memory the draft of the drawings and schematics on the side, a bucket headed figure of blue and white, with a yellow right hand. It was a bit of a lazy night.
The interior of the shop was a nice and pretty thing: all red and gold wallpapers and wooden furniture and soft leather bound books. The light came from an art deco chandelier, the light bulbs buzzing under the current. One of the stray cats Morricone allowed in his show was purring next to the cast iron radiator, tail lazily swaying from left to right. Outside, the rain was but a distant memory. It was that kind of night.
The bell rang through the room though, and as the door opened, a little bit of the heat left - scaring the cat away from the front, and grabbing Morricone’s attention. He looked up from his book as a blonde man walked in: he had an air around him… Some kind of power? Maybe energy? Or maybe it was just a presence or personality. Morricone couldn’t have placed it. Something tingled down the his spine though, and it woke him up slightly.
“Welcome, welcome, to the Devil’s Advocate’s!” he said in a tired, sing song voice, pulling out one of his cigarettes from the metal case and lighting it with a match that he lit up by snapping his finger on the tip, “We’ve got all of your literary needs! ...If your needs are oddly specific, related to philosophical, theological, or spiritual books. Also some fiction/non-fiction. How may I help you, sir…?”
NOVA
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Post by NOVA on Jun 8, 2016 6:31:20 GMT
Jason: Question. 
The man before him was a witch, that much was obvious from when Jason entered. He had a slight glow around him that Jason had come to recognize as that of a magic user. He also lit a cigarette with some fire from his fingers. Besides that, he seemed pretty normal. Blond, like himself, maybe a bit older, and oddly enough, he seemed familiar. The man then began to detail the services he offered. More like what the library offered, actually, but it wasn't the real reason why Jason had come by.
"You can call me Nova." Jason replied, still not sure who he could trust. He knew it was a witch who had been in charge of the massacre, and should they find out he was still alive, it would spell certain doom for the blond. So until Jason knew he could trust the man, his name would be a secret. He crossed his arms over his chest and began, "I'm looking for occult assistance, and as a witch, I'm sure you can help me with that. Or at least, I'm assuming you're the one who runs this place." Pulling out the flyer he had seen, Jason placed it on the desk, reading from it, "You are the man who put these flyers out, right?"
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Post by The Devil's Advocate on Jun 11, 2016 2:45:46 GMT
“Alright, Nooooovaaaaa, you devious man of mystery,” Morricone said, his voice somewhat sing-song about it. He took a drag from his cigarette and blew it in the air - the light blue smoke sparkled and electricity arced slightly from it. “I’m indeed a witch, maybe not the best, but I do try to make up for it with what’s in there,” he added, pointing to his noggin’. “It’s not much, but it does the job right. If you need to find something or someone, or if you have some kind of weird trouble, you’ve come to the right place. I’m The Devil’s Advocate, but I don’t reckon you’ve heard of me; I’m kind of lowkey at the Initiative.”
The Huckster looked Nova over - the “something” he’d felt before was becoming stronger. A nagging impression that he knew the kid, or recognized something about him. Then, a spark of flaming energy flashed through Nova’s eyes, and Morricone smiled: yes, of course. Mages helping mages. He had a little chuckle, crushing his cigarette in the ashtray and pulling out another one - as he did, he already felt his lungs try and poison him with airs.
Morricone looked at the flyer and nodded: it was his, alright. “Yeah, I put those up here and there when I can. I’m also in the phonebook. So: why don’t you tell me what’s your problem, and then we can see how we can… Sort it out, so to speak?”
NOVA
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Post by NOVA on Jun 15, 2016 3:01:26 GMT
Jason: Speak. 
He was indeed a witch, which Jason had already known but it was good to hear that this "Devil's Advocate" wasn't denying it. Jason always did hate it when magic users shied away from their identities. Not that he could blame them, it was common knowledge and practice that outside of Kingsport people like them were treated as freaks. Mocked, harassed, and even attacked witches of the world were shown extreme prejudice simply for what they were.
Pushing the negative thoughts aside, Jason returned his attention to the man before him. The other blond wanted to help Jason with his problem, no surprise there. There was just one issue: Jason wasn't sure if he could trust the man. He still had no idea who had organized the massacre and what people this mysterious figure had under their service. What if this investigator were to betray Jason? Whomever he'd been running from for four long agonizing years would finally catch him and finish the job. Was that a risk he was willing to take?
No, but it was one he would have to, or at the very least, figure out a way to prove this man's trustworthiness. Cautious, Jason began to speak, saying, "I, uh, am looking for someone, or something, involved in a murder.. Of magical origin..." What more could he say? There was no way in hell Jason was going to reveal any names, so what could the man go off of? "... And the being is extremely powerful. That's all I know." He ended with, hoping the man wouldn't ask too many questions.
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Jun 18, 2016 16:58:08 GMT
Post by The Devil's Advocate on Jun 18, 2016 16:58:08 GMT
Morricone scratched his forehead sleepily, his expression one of shock and incredulous disbelief. Was this kid serious? He sat back behind the counter and lifted his feet on it, finally lighting his new don’t-die cigarette and lifting it to his mouth, sighing in relief as the pain in his chest lifted.
“...You’re telling some thing or someone killed something or someone else, and magic did it. I can think of a thousand cases like that in the Miskatonic county alone this year. And I can also think of a dozen ‘extremely powerful entities’ that kill.”
He took a drag of his cigarette, and made a smoke ring that he blew straight in Nova’s face. Some part of Morricone told him that he COULD probably read Nova’s mind and see what was what - or that maybe he was hiding something out of fear - but he didn’t want to deal with crap like that: client relations were better if said client was honest. “Come back when you’re ready to not waste my time over cryptic bullshit.”
NOVA
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Jun 18, 2016 19:43:32 GMT
Post by NOVA on Jun 18, 2016 19:43:32 GMT
Jason: Take a risk.
"What do you want from me, a confession?" Jason asked, crossing his arms over his chest. It's not like the blond had been lying, he just hadn't been totally honest. There was only so much he could reveal from what little he knew of the event. Jason had no clue as to who had organized it, just that they were of magical origin and extremely powerful. The witch could say who was murdered, but that left him open to attack. But he desperately needed help. Working alone for four years had yielded very little, if anything, and the only thing he got out of that time was life. His life. If you could call it living. It was more like surviving, barely surviving, being hunted by some crazed mage.
And he didn't want to live like that forever, in fear of being hunted constantly. While Jason's arms were crossed over his chest, and his hands hidden from view, Jason quickly began to prepare a defensive spell. The rhythm of his fingers moving matched that of the flow of magical energy in the room. The spell he was prepping would be easy to activate should the other witch decide to go on the offensive, yet it was very lowkey. Jason doubted the man across from him would be able to sense it unless he was able to track the magic in the room, because if so, he'd notice a swelling of energy around Jason.
Jason's arms were still crossed over his chest as he spoke, "Four years ago, there was a massacre in Dunwich. Someone or something slaughtered over forty witches, thirteen of which were powerful in their own right, and a few mundane mortals. The attack was seemingly covered up by the same entity that had orchestrated it." And now, it was the moment of truth. Should the man give any inkling of an attack, Jason would throw his ward up and flee. At least he'd have a face to connect with the murder should that be the case.
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Post by The Devil's Advocate on Jun 24, 2016 5:03:56 GMT
Morricone was playing a bit rough - he knew that. That’s how it needed to be, really.
Obviously, the kid was asking help from a personal standpoint - and it hurt opening up, and saying you were a victim. Hell, if that killer was still loose, and that he or she was a magic user, then it also meant that they could be, well… Anyone. Including Morricone.
Which, as far as he knew, wasn’t the case. But “Nova” didn’t know that.
“Look, kid, I can’t force you to come up and say the truth. I’m guessing you haven’t told me your name because you’re scared I potentially MAY be the killer of this… Murder. Of supernatural origins. And also, it’s just hard to open up in general about stuff like that. But… You have to trust me about this. I’m a professional. I’m an investigator. I’m with the Initiative. I’m a good guy.”
Maybe it was what he said, or maybe “Nova” had just… gathered all of his courage, or taken a plunge, or whatever, but he started talking. And then the picture became clearer. Morricone took a drag from his cigarette, and slapped the ashes in the tray and listened. And then, he nodded undestandably.
“Alright, ‘Nova’, I see what the matter is. I’ve heard about that whole issue, and I’ve been nosing around a little - but I haven’t even come close to figuring out who or what killed… I’m assuming you knew them? Yeah…” He took another drag and smiled. “Well, kid, I can’t change your mind about it - if you don’t trust me, there’s no way I can change that. But if I ever find anything, and you’re willing to talk and pay, then… Yeah, I’ll share what I know with you, first thing I do. Sounds good?”
NOVA
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Aug 14, 2016 15:20:06 GMT
Post by NOVA on Aug 14, 2016 15:20:06 GMT
Jason: Demand.
Talk and pay. Of course. This man was nothing but a charlatan, some minor mage looking to make it big by scamming people out of their money and going on a false goose hunt to "solve" their case when in fact he did nothing but count their money. He wasn't even worth waisting a spell on. Dropping the defensive magic that had been gathering around him, Jason allowed his hands to form into fist. He had come out here, on a chance. He had opened up, if ever the slightest, on a chance. And this chance resulted in nothing but disgust and disappointment. Which was nothing new for the witch, but it still stung every time.
Unclenching his fist, Jason muttered, "Forget it." And did and abrupt about face and began to walk back towards the door when he noticed something. Or rather, someone. Someone he hadn't seen since he was a child. As he approached it, his father's words echoed back in his head.
They were together, walking down the candlelit halls of Bryht Castle and dozens of life size portraits adorned the wall. They were in groups of thirteen. And there were nearly a hundred of them. The last group began with a picture of his father, the supreme. After him, it was his council members. Jason looked up in awe at all of the powerful witches. In his sense of wonder, he asked his father a question about each: who they were, what they did, why the joined...
"Who is this man?" Jason asked, his tone sharp, filled with a sense urgency. He immediately followed that question with another, more demanding this time, "How did you come by this portrait?"
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