The Elohim: Pickman's Dilemma

Richard was quite taken aback by this odd turn of events. The disappearance of Nekros was first and foremost on his mind, but the activities of the others really did impress him. They acted quickly and did not seem overly put off by this turn of events.

Richard took a seat behind the main counter and grabbed a soda out of the fridge. This he used to wash down nearly an entire bottle of aspirin to quell the lingering darkness in his mind.

He watched Niranen and Balthasar talk and trade equipment it looked like. His head however was pounding too much to make sense of their interactions, or to truly hear what they spoke of.

“That… That was Nekros Doctor Michaels. That was the find I needed help with and I had hoped you could either confirm or deny what the foul thing had taught me.”

Richard drank another soda and rubbed his temples.

“I found Nekros one night while I was taking the garbage out back. I looked up and saw a pack of those damned zombies that so many heroes have been fighting lately run down my back alley outside. I was about to defend myself when I realized two things, they were running from something, and I smelled fresh blood nearby.”

Richard barely looked up from his counter. His words sounded like a deadpan monologue.

“I assumed it was some hero until it hit the zombies from behind. It moved so fast… It tore into the zombies like they were paper. Formaldehyde drenched entrails sprayed across the alley. You have no idea what that is like to see or smell. Then the thing sat down and began to EAT. It ate the flesh off the zombies and I’ll never forget that wet crunching sound.”

Richard began rustling though papers on his desk. He pulled out a sketchpad and a few withered pieces of parchment.

“I had no clue what it was, and in my fear I reached for the first thing I could grab. It was a fire-axe next to an extinguisher I kept. In some sort of mad fury or desperate attempt to save myself I attacked the thing. I swung and by some grace of God I connected and sent the head flying off the body. Little did I know that was exactly what it wanted.”

Richard stood and walked over to the others and handed them the sketchpad and the parchment.

“Before it came to I dumped it in a bell jar and filled it with a preservative for samples. I also quickly dug through my tomes to find out what it was. All I found was this piece of parchment, but it told enough to protect me and how to bind it. Thank whatever watches me for that because as soon as I had inscribed the wards on the walls in my meditation chamber the head woke up.”

Richard winced and shook his head. “It called itself Nekros and… and it told me many things. About what lies within me, about humanity, about something called the Yah and more. It wanted to warp me. I think he still does. I found out on the day I called you that Nekros has been trying to change me. Change me into something like him. Like this.”

Richard opened the sketchpad and flipped past many of his drawings. He stopped at one and pointed at the Ghoul.

“I tried to keep him bound… to keep him away from others. I needed your help, and now I need it more than ever. I have to stop him. If he can’t get me he might… Oh Gods I have no clue what he will do…”

With that Richard sank down and placed his head in his hands. Inside of him the darkness laughed…

"Certainly, Doctor Michaels... I would be glad to help any way I can. Should I meet you and Nira in the bookstore?"

Balthasar needed only to hear the first part of Pickman's tale to know that he wanted all the help he could get.

"Yes, Proserpine," he said, "I think you had better come help us. We will need every ounce of assistance we can muster."

With that he returned the communication device to Niranen, then turned to Pickman.

"You say that the actions you took against this thing... namely beheading it... were 'exactly what it wanted.' Did this thing ever say to you, or have you found in your studies, that its existance as a disembodied head gives it some greater power? Why would it WANT to be beheaded?"

Balthasar took a kind tone, one that inspired confidences, but it was also the tone of steel-within-velvet.

"What did it 'teach' you, Richard, about the nature of humanity? About yourself?"

He specifically avoided discussing The Yah and hoped that Richard would understand. Having twice now declined to discuss the subject in a mixed audience, Balthasar hoped Richard would read the undercurrents and save his questions on that score until they were away from other ears. There were things that even The Elohim's friends should not know. Not yet, anyway.

Retrieving her comm and earpiece, Nira smoothly replaced them and stood at the ready, focusing on the shaken bookseller.

Her awareness wandered.

Michaels is more concerned than he chooses to reveal, she thought to herself, and I must observe his reactions to this tale as much as my own.

She smiled privately. I'm glad Val will be here. Two eyes are better than none.

So, this ghoul thing was easily killed because it wanted to be in order for it to somehow try to change you? Did it indicate anything about its origin? As in where its point of entry was in the city?

Jonas Hood walked warily into the shop, looking around with shadowed eyes. As he crossed the threshhold , he mutterd to himself, glancing at the group nearby. He recognized two of the three speakers, though he had never met any of them personally.

Quietly, he whispered into his com unit "Shoshone, patch me through to Operative Hale. Now."

He fumbled through a couple of books, trying to look as disinterested in the conversation as he could, waiting for his foster father to contact him. John Hale had a much more intimate knowledge of these situations.

"Jonas, this is John, are you at there?"

Whispering again, he looked around, watching the others from a corner. "John whatever the @#$% is happening here, it's serious. One of the Dauntless is here, one of the higher ups. And Balthasar Michaels. I can smell a taint in here, from.......I don't know...it's......just wrong. Exactly WHAT was it that Valekith sensed? Do you know? Because honestly, the place is radiating a faint.....energy, like a trace amount of....foulness. And it's...John it feels the same as when I'm around Valekith"

"Jonas, if I knew I wouldn't have sent you. The fact that it reminds you of Val worries me, though"

"Me too, John."

Balthasar noted the new arrival announced by the tinkling of the doorbells. He suspected at first that it was just an ill-timed customer, but then he caught the newcomer apparently speaking to himself. This made him curious, given the circumstances, so he quickly scanned the man's surface thoughts...

...to find him concerned and cautious. Something that no casual customer was likely to be. He whispered to Niranen:

"The newcomer knows something has happened here. Perhaps best we sound out his intentions, hm?"

Niranen nodded, and cocked her head to the side, birdlike. She did not turn to approach the newcomer, but spoke over her shoulder, "excuse me, friend. Would you mind joining us a moment?"

Despite the politeness, her measured voice bore an unmistakable note of command.

Jonas looked up, not really surprised that they had noticed him. His forte had never been hiding, had always been direct action.

He had even sensed a slight brush across his mind, which surprised him, as he usually could only feel the mental probings of those close to him. His wife, her family, his foster father. His "brother" David...never a stranger.

"I suppose it would be easier than all the sneaking around. Niranen, correct? I've seen ya around, and heard good things." He smiled crookedly, looking up at her from the book he was perusing, his eyes dark holes, the shadow energy in his frame barely contained. He walked forward, watching them warily.

"Jonas Hood. Chief Security Officer for United Dynamics."

Richard would have been stunned at the number of people in his shop if the situation were different.

As it stood however, his mind was decidedly elsewhere. In fact, a section of his mind was making a desperate effort to convince him that oblivion was the best solution to this. To give up and become something more than human. Either that or turn this place into a charnel house. Richard swallowed hard and looked up at Balthasar, Niranen, David Black, and the newcomer.

[ QUOTE ]
"You say that the actions you took against this thing... namely beheading it... were 'exactly what it wanted.' Did this thing ever say to you, or have you found in your studies, that its existence as a disembodied head gives it some greater power? Why would it WANT to be beheaded?"

Balthasar took a kind tone, one that inspired confidences, but it was also the tone of steel-within-velvet.

"What did it 'teach' you, Richard, about the nature of humanity? About yourself?"

[/ QUOTE ]

Richard sighed and grabbed yet another soda. This made three, and in combination, it did little to quell the darkness within his head. However, it was enough to begin to disturb his stomach.

Richard winced and stood up to settle the unease in his body. He began to feel weak.

“I don’t think Nekros WANTED to be beheaded. I think it just wanted me to take him in, to let him inside.” Richard paced and picked up his notebook again. Flipping pages of the transcripts he had written down of his numerous talks with the head. He paused on a page.

“Here we go. This was about three days ago. I had asked why he seemed at ease being just a head in a jar. Nekros replied that head or not he was far more in control that it seemed. He told me that he had been watching me for some time. My artwork, my skills as a scholar, and even my meager talents as an occultist. Nekros said that he wanted me then. He said he could show me more, and teach me things beyond the paltry questions I had put to him. Nekros wanted a scholar for his pack, and that he could…” Richard paused. “Could answer my questions about the truth of things.”

Richard knew the lie, and could feel the words turn to ash in his mouth. But how do you tell your possible new employer and associates that part of your soul has been so corrupted by something and that the head of a thing you killed in an alley could speak directly TO that darkness and promised things. Richard shook his head and cursed under his breath. The nausea swept over him again.

“I have all the notes here Doctor Michaels. All my talks with him. He spoke of the triat I mentioned before and filled in the missing name. He told me of how humanity was warped to fight a war we knew nothing about, and how some, like him and his pack freed themselves from all sides. I think the only thing they freed themselves from was sanity and humanity. However, he said that I would not be the newest one to be brought into the fold… that this had happened time and time again. Moreover, that he had watched others here. Oh dear God…”

Richard nearly retched and fell to his knees. Old thoughts filled his head. Dark voices laughed from walls. He could hear the whispering, the sounds of wetness, and the milling of bones beneath the wheel of time. He felt his mind fall back and the dark spot in his soul came clawing forward.

Richard’s eyes went dark then. Not black, for there is a difference. His eyes were filled with a vast expanse of nothing and the dim lights of falling stars. A deep and then manic laugh escaped his lips. Inside his head Richard screamed, but outside his body all that could be heard was laughter.

“You can’t keep me chained forever Richard. Nekros is right you know.”

RUN! Richard shouted from within his own mind. RUN! ALL OF YOU!

“Richard would like you all to run now. You see the last time I got out, twenty people died. I don’t think Richard wants that… but I do…”

“You should have asked why Richard was expelled from Paragon University dear doctor. You could have asked why the feeling of darkness lingered here with the Ghoul long gone. You all could have pondered who or what I am.”

Richard’s body began to float off the floor. A black aura began to engulf him. Lines of darkness and swirls of madness crossing about his body. A leering skull made of smoke formed over Richard’s face like a mask.

“His soul was damaged long ago. I am that which resides in his empty places, and I have slept for a long time before Nekros woke me up again. I shall have to thank him once I have fed, I have not eaten in so very long...”

Richard could only watch, a prisoner in his own body.

LIGHT! Richard fairly screamed within himself. PLEASE DOCTOR HEAR ME! EXPOSE ME TO LIGHT!

Valerie stepped into the shop gingerly, her cowl shimmering in the aura of cold and frost she emitted. She raised an eyebrow as Mr. Pickman began to cry out.

<<Without a moment's hesitation David immediately runs for Richard and drags him to the open doorway holdinghim securely in his grasp; his forearms and fists seem to be active with a faint black/grey energy>>

"Easy now.. I've got you. Nothing will harm you as long as we are here."

Balthasar had known since first shaking Richard's hand that there was something... foul... inside him. It was something elusive. A quandry that he had puzzled over during the brief course of the night's events. There was an oily, dank feeling to the darkness inside Richard and that reminded Balthasar of something long ago... if he could just remember. He had seen so much. DONE so much. Fragments of his past sped by in his mind as he sought the answer. Images of alien planets and creatures. Of things strikingly similar to this Earth and things utterly incomprehensible to it. The answer was close... he could almost grasp it.

But the Richard changed. Balthasar felt the foulness in him bubble up as filth from a sewer, roiling and heaving. But that was where the similarity ended, for sewers do not feel malicious, hateful glee. Such malevolence and triumph at becoming free.

Though Balthasar did not know what the thing inhabiting Richard was, he DID know that it needed to be contained. So while it was delivering its soliloquy he was rapidly touching the minds of all his friends. Brushing lightly and leaving a mental note that said, simply:

"Link with me. Trust me."

Balthasar hoped that those assembled would do so. Despite his ignorance to the true nature of the thing, he believed that the power of everyone assembled could contain the thing.

But then Richard's desperate plea. As attuned to his mental acuity as he was, Balthasar heard the psychic scream as if it were a bell pealing shatteringly in his head. He winced inwardly, but rejoiced because Richard had given him another piece in the puzzle. And had also given all of them the key to containing it... at least for the time being.

Everyone who decided to trust him and had linked to Balthasar's mind heard Richard's call clearly. No it only remained to see if any one of them could assist...

The thing in charge of Richard's body roared as David's darkness seemed to block it for a while. Richard meanwhile could only pray his words had been heard by someone, anyone.

"You try to contain me with darkness little man?" The shadow hissed at David. The leering skull made of smoke seemed to sneer as the darkness engulfing Richard's body seemed to intensify and swell.

"How much Darkness can you take then? I wonder if I flow into you how much of your soul I could consume?"

The war of shadows between that of David and the thing began, as the maddening darkness infecting Richard began to try and flow onto the form of David.

Richard watched in horror.

~Well? Aren't you going to do something?~

The voice rang like a gong and Richard tired to pinpoint it. A small [censored] of light, no larger than a thumbnail was glowing in front of him.

~Wha...~

~Now is not the time for questions Richard. You gave the trick to beating the shadow in you to your friends, but you CAN help. Focus Richard, there is more light in you than you know.~

Richard closed his eyes and did as the small voice commanded. What else could he do? He could feel... something. A wave of purity as the small light began to intensify with a brilliant green aura.

Outside the mind-feild of Richard's body the darkness was comming ever closer to seeping into David. Suddenly there began to form cracks of green light in the shadow's mists.

"What?!?" The darkness hissed, and suddenly Richard, in his OWN voice shouted.

"LIGHT! GET ME INTO THE DAYLIGHT BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE!"

Esmond Anthony strolls down the sidewalk, completely unaware of those around him. He is entirely absorbed with whatever he is holding in his hands, and doesn't even notice as he continually bumps into passers-by. He mutters to himself while he fiddles with the device, gaining awkward looks from those around him.
"Eh...no...don't do this to me...eh...just a little...."
Esmond begins to get frustrated, walking faster and concentrating harder. His finger-movement becomes more rapid, whatever he's doing to the device, he does it more.
"Wait....wait....no....this isn't right...oh, come on..."
His voice is getting more intense, his brow deeply furrowed and his eyes narrowing. Some people stop and look at him as he passes by. He doesn't notice.
"No...no...GAH!!!!"
He yells in frustration, causing more than a few people around him to jump. He angrily shuts off the Game Boy, and stows it in his brown leather backpack. He stops, and looks around him.
Doc said the store was around here...just have to find---
"LIGHT! GET ME INTO THE DAYLIGHT BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE!"
Esmond nearly trips and falls off of the sidewalk as the loud, frantic voice erupts from the building just next to him. He straightens up and looks at the dimly lit store with severe distaste.
"Bloody lunatic..."
His eyes widen, though, as he reads the sign on the quaint little shop's door.
"Pickman's Occult Books."
That's the place!
Esmond doesn't even stop to think about how coincidental it is that he happened to be standing right in front of the place at that moment as he cautiously moves towards the window. The glass is hard to see through, but as Esmond gets closer he is able to see inside. He does a quick scan of the situation.
One...two...five people inside...one holding the other down for some reason...and somebody just yelled "Get me into daylight." Hmh. Here goes nothin...

Esmond runs inside, using one of his gloved hands to open the door and letting three razor sharp claws emerge from the other. The door swings shut behind him, and he quickly opens a compartment on the metallic glove that stretches up his fore-arm, pressing a few buttons in a sequance he's memorized. A small, barely visible protective field pops up around him, and he announces his already evident entrance.
"Hello all! Name's Esmond Anthony, but you can call me Esmond, Ezzy, Mr. Anthony, or possibly--"

Esmond stops short as he realises how dire the situation is. The man being held seems to have turned the tables, and seems to be hurting the one holding him. Esmond recognises the first man as Richard Pickman from the briefing Balt gave him. But there is a great difference in appearance from the picture Esmond saw before. A few blaring changes being levitation, a dark aura of evil, and a floating skull made of smoke masking his face. Esmond raises an eyebrow. Rather casually, he addresses everyone in the room.

"I'm supposing this is the bloke who screamed about needing daylight a few seconds ago?"
The looks he receives answers his question.
"Right then."
Esmond runs forward full-speed, knocking Pickman away from the other man. The new demonic version of the shopkeep stumbles backwards. Esmond takes his chance. He grabs him around the waist, and pulls him towards the door.
Lord Almighty, what's making him so bloody heavy?
With every ounce of his strength, Esmond forces Richard through the doors, out into the sunlight.

((OOC: Just wanted to apologize for posting out of turn. I'm going to hold off on posting again until everyone else has made their move. Sorry about jumping the gun on the last message. Also, if anyone has suggestions or comments on how this is progressing thus far I'm sure Balt and the others would love to hear it. Send comments, ideas, and criticisims via PM please. Lets keep the story rolling guys!))

[ QUOTE ]
((OOC: Just wanted to apologize for posting out of turn. I'm going to hold off on posting again until everyone else has made their move. Sorry about jumping the gun on the last message. Also, if anyone has suggestions or comments on how this is progressing thus far I'm sure Balt and the others would love to hear it. Send comments, ideas, and criticisims via PM please. Lets keep the story rolling guys!))

[/ QUOTE ]

OOC: Yes, please don't be afraid to PM Pal or me with compliments or complaints, critiques or praise. This story exists for everyone and that means that it's yours as much as it is ours.

((OOC: Since it's gone bloody well dead in here I figured I'd drag the story onto the next step. Hope you all will join back in!))

[ QUOTE ]
With every ounce of his strength, Esmond forces Richard through the doors, out into the sunlight.

[/ QUOTE ]

The shadow screamed. It was a howl of pain and aggravation. The darkness clawed at the man forcing him into the sun and tried to find purchase in the others surrounding it. It was to no avail however, as the man forced the screaming apparation into the light.

"DAMN YOU!!" The skull howled it flowed upwards like a serpent and made a last desperate lunge at the face of the man who had thwarted it. The sun however, had other plans...

The light seemed to make the thing dissapate as the cracks of green light flowed through the shadows. In a final anguished wail the darkness flowed backwards forcibly and knocked the body of Richard Pickman to the ground and several feet back. A trickle of blood flowed out of his eyes before he was able to shake his head and flip over to vomit.

"I... That *******... Forgive me..." With that he slumped forward and fell into unconciousness.

"Good Lord Almighty!"
Esmond jumps back in surprise at Pickman's reaction to the sunlight, which is far more violent than he expected. The inky blackness surrounding Richard's face literally reaches out for Esmond, and for a chilling moment that feels like an eternity, he feels it peer into his soul and nearly cling to it like a magnet. Esmond pulls away and nearly falls over; an involuntary shudder runs up his spine.

Just as Esmond regroups, the thing hurls itself at him. As it flies through the air, it screeches in a voice made of concentrated hatred and pure evil, and a million anguished souls.
"DAMN YOU!!"
As if held by a rubber band, though, the apparition can go no further, and begins to dematerialize as it flies backwards, knocking over it's previous host along the way. Richard Pickman hits the ground hard, but wastes no time in turning over and vomiting immediately. Just before falling down on face and slipping into unconsiousness, Pickman uses what remains of his strength to speak to everyone through a strangled, weak voice.
"I... That *******... Forgive me..."

There is a brief pause. Esmond raises an eyebrow, and looks back at the others.
"So, ah...is the bloke always like that? Or did I already miss a fundamental piece of another puzzle?"
Quit talking and help the bugger, you dolt!
Esmond sighs and walks over to the knocked out shop keep. He lifts him, careful to avoid looking at the mess on the sidewalk, and walks back into the store.
"Where shall I set him, then?"
Odd, he's light as a feather now...

*breathes life back into the thread*
((Wanted to give everyone a chance to get caught back up on this thread before our members started posting in it again. Obviously we will need to do a bit of reconstruction (I will be making a post on this) to explain the absence of Balt but I think we can manage. I can't wait to get this thread really going again.))

Robert MacLeod sat quietly in his small office in the back of St. Catherine's Cathedral. He didn't care for this city, in fact he didn't care for cities in general. All too loud and crowded, not enough room for thought in all this constant hustle and bustle.

With a deep sigh be again picked up the same set of photographs he'd looked at a thousand times before. Each one depicted the same group of men who always seemed to show up at the scene of supernatural events. Usually when the Vatican sent Robert anywhere to investigate there wasn't much to what he found, a few days work and he could disprove whatever the miracle or phenomenon was. But here, here there was something.

Setting the photographs down he picked up a small newspaper clipping and again read through it:

Victim of Bizzare Attack Released From Hospital
After nearly a month in the hospital bookseller Richard Pickman was released yesterday. Twenty nine days ago Pickman was the victim of a still unexplained attack as he was leaving his shop...

Well, Pickman had been allowed his rest, now it was time Robert paid him a visit. Gathering up a small stack of papers he stopped to look at a single photograph of a man, the caption read:

Balt Michaels, Leader of the 'Elohim' organization, missing 15 days

Robert made his way out into the street, he was very much looking forward to this meeting. Young Richard certainly had quite a few suprises coming his way.

((OOC: Glad this is back up! Hope this re-introduces Pickman in a good way!))

The hellish nightmare was only beginning.

Richard was still in the thralls of pain that racked his body while the shadowform seemed to become more and more solid.

“You can’t purge me Richard. I’m you and you are me. We simply need to have an understanding is all… understand that you have FAILED to keep me chained.”

The leering grin… the rotted flesh… Was it Nekros? No… Not by the faint remnants of hair on the decayed chin, not by the pair of wire frame glasses over the dead and milky eyes.

It was Richard. Richard as a twisted version of himself. Richard as some kind of feral half human thing.

The thing laughed.

“Richard… This is what you can BE Richard. More powerful than ANY human or metahuman! Able to walk the ghost winds between realms Richard! Yessss… You have read the books Richard, and you know. You know life on this miserable little speck of a planet is doomed. As doomed as any little insect that has caught the attention of Gods.”

A maddening whisper filled his room. Filled his head. Richard looked at his hands and saw them fade. The mock Richard smiled a smile filled with yellow teeth and putrefying gums.

“Can you hear it Richard? Can you hear the song? It calls to you. It has ever since the day you read the book, ever since you found Nekros. They BOTH call to you. One gave you the knowledge, while the other gave you the WAY. Let go Richard, let go of your humanity and escape the fate of this world.”

Richard looked up and saw a black sun with black stars about it. He saw a burning sea above which flew things that should not be. They writhed in mid-air and seemed to feast upon each other. The gore dripped down like rain and fed the waters. Richard beheld a city, a dead city, all dead cities… It was wreathed in smoke and held its breath as if waiting for something.

Richard fell forward and grabbed his head. The mock Richard laughed.

“Rich…” This voice was different… Richard remembered it. It was the one that gave him a way to drive back the shadowform before. “Rich, you’re stronger than this. You know this. Your FATHER knows this. People need you Rich…”

Richard could feel the glow within him. The healing winds upon his soul. He could feel his body returning and watched as the mock Richard faded back into a shadowform.

“NO! You have denied me twice! I will NOT be denied again!”

The smoke like skull flew at Richard’s face, but somehow Richard knew what to do. He raised his hand and fired darkness back at it.

The twin forms of smoke engulfed one another while the Shadowform howled. It was that scream… the same scream of the 30 odd men Richard has slain… the screams of men and women…

Light.

Richard awoke in his bed, covered in sweat and shaking.

He was alone in his shop, but this was the fourth night of the nightmares. He never had the chance to thank the men who had saved him. His body shut down after the incident, but the dreams… the dreams were constant. Every night they came while he was in the hospital. Every night he saw the city of decay, the black sun with black stars, the ocean aflame… The resident psychologists tried to help him to no avail. Even some of the mystics of the city tried, but they said Richard had been in contact with something darker then they had ever seen.

And his soul would have to fight it alone.

The dreams had abated for the most part after he had left the hospital. But they were still there. He noticed certain sigils and symbols helped him block the worst of it. But that city… that city haunted his dreams now. He knew Nekros was still out there and still wanted him… Wanted him to become something like him and go to that city.

Richard shuddered. He had not contacted the Elohim. He could not after Balthasar’s disappearance. That was the only man he truly knew in the organization.

Richard grabbed his head again and sighed. He had written to his father, but knew better than to expect a response.

That city… Richard shook his head again and looked out his window. Paragon was lit up like stars come to earth. Every now and then he saw a hero fly past. Another angel helping someone.

Where were the angels who could help him mend his soul?

Robert stood outside the small book shop, it's understated facade was somewhat decieving considering the wealth of knowledge inside. The stars were all out by now, providing the only light in this part of the city at this time of night.

Taking a moment Robert looked at one star in particular and sighed slightly, "I will try, my friend."

Stepping up to the worn down door Robert rang the bell and then waited.

Richard staggered to the door half in a haze. Granted he was working on his third pot of coffee this night in an effort to stem the tide of nightmares, but his body was revolting if for nothing more than his poor coffee making skills.

He looked out the faded window of his shop half hoping to see his old friend Tarot standing there. Instead he was met with the visage of an elderly gentleman.

Richard nearly ripped the door open praying it was Balt. He was wrong. It was a fatherly looking figure in more than one way. The cassock of a preist helped that along.

"Oh... Oh I'm sorry father. I thought you might be... Well might be someone else. I know we are normally open this late but I'm not feeling terribly well and was going to close the shop early tonight. Is there anything I can do for you before I close up?"

Richard did his best to smile, but in his gut he braced himself for the string of epithets that normally came with a visit from a representative of the church. Despite all the evidence to the occult out there in the world, and even all the heroes that do good with it, the church still looked at them like witches and warlocks and damn well near condemns each and every one of them.

"I'm afraid I don't have many religious texts here you'd be interested in father, but if I can help in some other way..."

Robert shivered slightly in his long overcoat, his 60 year old body doing little to keep out the chill. As the door in front of him at last creaked open he removed his hat and looked up to greet young Richard Pickman.

"Ah, Mr. Pickman, my name is Robert MacLeod."

Stepping in through the door he looked around at the cramped book store, rather suprised that with such a bizzare collection the young bookseller managed to stay in buisness at all.

"You have quite the interesting...selection here, Mr. Pickman,"
Robert smiled slightly as he turned to adress the young man,
"But I can see you are confused by my presence? Wondering exactly what a priest would want with you?"

Walking over Robet sat down and made himself comfortable in one of the large but worn leather chairs in the room.

"Perhaps you have some tea, Mr. Pickman? We have buisness to discuss."