The sign of the Scarlet Moon

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Leriel
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Joined: Wed Jan 13, 2021 9:55 am

Re: The sign of the Scarlet Moon

Post by Leriel » Fri Jan 29, 2021 1:34 pm

`` In theory, such an old find should have been handed over to the museum a long time ago, '' Morden said grimly as he and Devyn entered the large glass elevator, `` but we have a small deal with the management of the New York Museum of History and Archeology ... editorial experts, their institution is always at the top of our monthly rankings ...
Devyn snorted softly. He had gotten a bit used to the fact that, even in noble fields like history and archeology, the human drive for power and tangible gains outweighed the sheer thirst for Truth - but he still felt uncomfortable with such pettiness.
- So tell me where did such a thing come from in your editorial office - he said, trying to distract himself from unpleasant thoughts - you conceal it as if it was some amazing secret ...
"Why," growled Morden. "It's just so trivial that it's a shame to talk about it." It came to us as a notarized shipment ... the sender was a certain James Hammerfield.
- THIS Hammerfield? - Kiasyd gasped from the impression - Professor of archeology, world renown, discoverer of many ancient artifacts ???
"Same," Morden muttered, stepping out of the elevator and gesturing for Devyn to follow him, "imagine our reaction to such a sudden gift." Never before has anyone given us such a ... direct gift. And then Hammerfield, who has never been on a good level with our editorial staff, especially after that ill-fated Simpson article on Mombasa ...
- Yes, I remember that - Devyn grimaced - To this day, I do not know why you insisted on this absurd claim about the influence of early African pictorial cultures on ...
- Okay, okay - the fat man interrupted hurriedly - now is not the time for such deliberations. Anyway, the parcel arrived ... we tried to communicate with the professor to explain such an unusual decision ... but for the last few days he was completely out of reach ... even for his relatives. The notary confirmed that the professor had commissioned him to hand over these pages a week earlier, just before he disappeared without a trace.
Walking slowly through the dark corridor, they finally came to a small door, almost invisible next to a large artificial palm tree.
`` This is our private emergency escape route, '' said Morden with a lopsided smile, `` you don't even know how nice it is sometimes to jump out quickly for a pizza or a beer without groveling in front of the editor and our cable receptionist ...
The key rattled against the slightly leaning lock.
The interior of the editorial office looked almost prosaic. A large room, full of workstations, shoddy desks piled high with papers, computers and coffee makers. In the air you could feel this specific smell that hovers in every larger office - a mixture of coffee, sweat and tiredness af`` In theory, such an old find should have been handed over to the museum a long time ago, '' Morden said grimly as he and Devyn entered the large glass elevator, `` but we have a small deal with the management of the New York Museum of History and Archeology ... editorial experts, their institution is always at the top of our monthly rankings ...
Devyn snorted softly. He had gotten a bit used to the fact that, even in noble fields like history and archeology, the human drive for power and tangible gains outweighed the sheer thirst for Truth - but he still felt uncomfortable with such pettiness.
- So tell me where did such a thing come from in your editorial office - he said, trying to distract himself from unpleasant thoughts - you conceal it as if it was some amazing secret ...
"Why," growled Morden. "It's just so trivial that it's a shame to talk about it." It came to us as a notarized shipment ... the sender was a certain James Hammerfield.
- THIS Hammerfield? - Kiasyd gasped from the impression - Professor of archeology, world renown, discoverer of many ancient artifacts ???
"Same," Morden muttered, stepping out of the elevator and gesturing for Devyn to follow him, "imagine our reaction to such a sudden gift." Never before has anyone given us such a ... direct gift. And then Hammerfield, who has never been on a good level with our editorial staff, especially after that ill-fated Simpson article on Mombasa ...
- Yes, I remember that - Devyn grimaced - To this day, I do not know why you insisted on this absurd claim about the influence of early African pictorial cultures on ...
- Okay, okay - the fat man interrupted hurriedly - now is not the time for such deliberations. Anyway, the parcel arrived ... we tried to communicate with the professor to explain such an unusual decision ... but for the last few days he was completely out of reach ... even for his relatives. The notary confirmed that the professor had commissioned him to hand over these pages a week earlier, just before he disappeared without a trace.
Walking slowly through the dark corridor, they finally came to a small door, almost invisible next to a large artificial palm tree.
`` This is our private emergency escape route, '' said Morden with a lopsided smile, `` you don't even know how nice it is sometimes to jump out quickly for a pizza or a beer without groveling in front of the editor and our cable receptionist ...
The key rattled against the slightly leaning lock.
The interior of the editorial office looked almost prosaic. A large room, full of workstations, shoddy desks piled high with papers, computers and coffee makers. In the air you could feel this specific smell that hovers in every larger office - a mixture of coffee, sweat and tiredness after hours of sitting. If he had not been aware of the purpose of this place, Devyn would never have guessed that it was the editorial office of a journal dealing with distant travel, history and archeology.
"The document is in the safe, in the chief's room," Morden said, turning the light switch, "you're lucky the weekend is starting and, apart from the cleaners, no one is in the office ... so you have until Sunday evening for your unfortunate" analysis ". although in my opinion it doesn't have the slightest ... what is it?
Suddenly a monstrous thud, a crash and a clink of glass broke into his ears. A hoarse scream towered over everything.
- It's from the chief's office! Morden shrieked, lunging tiger leaps toward the sizable brown door.
- Stop! Devyn shouted, but it was too late. With a thud, the thick door to the office flew off its hinges, slamming its weight against the confused fat man who had the misfortune to be right in front of them at that moment. Morden only let out a soft gasp, then slammed to the ground with the broken door. Kiasyd winced at the hideous crunch of broken bones.
And then he forgot about the editor of the World Review.
A bundle of arms and legs burst into the shambles with a roar and a grunt - it was only after a while that Devyn noticed that they were two figures fighting each other. Tense together, in terrible fury, the two men dealt mighty blows, kicks and bites. One of the desks burst under their weight as those remembered in an orgy of hatred collapsed, crushing office equipment. The computer monitor fell to the ground with the crash of a cracking screen.
Having fallen to the ground from a crushed piece of furniture, the opponents split for a moment, giving Kiasid time to examine them more closely.
One of them, dressed in black trousers and a jacket, hiding his face under a balaclava, was unrecognizable. The other was a short, young man with a pale complexion. The animal's face gleamed with a murderous grimace of teeth, from behind which came a growl that would not be ashamed of a wolf ...
Devyn knew he should do something ... he just didn't know what ...ter hours of sitting. If he had not been aware of the purpose of this place, Devyn would never have guessed that it was the editorial office of a journal dealing with distant travel, history and archeology.
"The document is in the safe, in the chief's room," Morden said, turning the light switch, "you're lucky the weekend is starting and, apart from the cleaners, no one is in the office ... so you have until Sunday evening for your unfortunate" analysis ". although in my opinion it doesn't have the slightest ... what is it?
Suddenly a monstrous thud, a crash and a clink of glass broke into his ears. A hoarse scream towered over everything.
- It's from the chief's office! Morden shrieked, lunging tiger leaps toward the sizable brown door.
- Stop! Devyn shouted, but it was too late. With a thud, the thick door to the office flew off its hinges, slamming its weight against the confused fat man who had the misfortune to be right in front of them at that moment. Morden only let out a soft gasp, then slammed to the ground with the broken door. Kiasyd winced at the hideous crunch of broken bones.
And then he forgot about the editor of the World Review.
A bundle of arms and legs burst into the shambles with a roar and a grunt - it was only after a while that Devyn noticed that they were two figures fighting each other. Tense together, in terrible fury, the two men dealt mighty blows, kicks and bites. One of the desks burst under their weight as those remembered in an orgy of hatred collapsed, crushing office equipment. The computer monitor fell to the ground with the crash of a cracking screen.
Having fallen to the ground from a crushed piece of furniture, the opponents split for a moment, giving Kiasid time to examine them more closely.
One of them, dressed in black trousers and a jacket, hiding his face under a balaclava, was unrecognizable. The other was a short, young man with a pale complexion. The animal's face gleamed with a murderous grimace of teeth, from behind which came a growl that would not be ashamed of a wolf ...
Devyn knew he should do something ... he just didn't know what ...
We are all searching for someone whose demons play well with ours.

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Triss Merigold
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Re: The sign of the Scarlet Moon

Post by Triss Merigold » Fri Jan 29, 2021 1:37 pm

The first thing Devyn did was dive past the nearest obstacle until the combatants paid attention to him, and his eyes were covered with opaque black as he instinctively summoned the shadows to hide his position. Second, very slowly and carefully, he began to sneak around the fighters so as to at least see the safe. If he was gutted, he would have to find out who had the cards and try to get them. If it's still intact, he might be able to get the document out unnoticed.

Devyn concentrated and gave his body the command of the will. Blood boiled through his veins, and his steps grew more silent and controlled. "One of our legacies is cat's agility - and she will serve me best right now."
I always try to suit my clothes to my company. It is the only way to be inconspicuous.

Woland
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Joined: Thu Jan 14, 2021 9:32 am

Re: The sign of the Scarlet Moon

Post by Woland » Fri Jan 29, 2021 1:40 pm

The pale-faced man let out a long and lingering animal howl. His nails grew longer and longer until they finally turned into sharp, elongated claws. He ended his shout with a whimpering note, then lunged at his opponent, slightly dazed by the fall. There was a long moan of pain as they both crashed against the wall. Chunks of plaster fell off.
- Now! Devyn decided, throwing himself across the rubble into the office. His opponents did not notice him, rolling again among the broken furnishings. Kasyd thought grimly that he could march with the orchestra and the fanfare - being mad they saw no one and nothing but their enemy.
The editor-in-chief's office was a picture of poverty and despair. Devyn was there sometimes and always admired the chic interior design, with a delicate hint of finesse and decadence - dark wood furniture, an antique desk, paintings by contemporary painters on the wooden paneled walls. A real bullfighter's paradise.
But not today. Today everything was in powder - the remains of broken furniture lay in disarray against the wall, the paintings were torn, their frames were broken, there were traces of powerful blows on the walls.
And there was also a safe.
The hiding place hidden in the wall so far has been torn entirely from the brick wall. A metal container, stained with plaster, was lying on the ground. The bent door revealed ... an empty interior.
The original document has disappeared.

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Veldrin
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Re: The sign of the Scarlet Moon

Post by Veldrin » Wed Feb 03, 2021 10:26 am

Devyn reached the safe in no time and took off one of the gloves. He touched the twisted steel box and concentrated ...
"The secret summons other secrets ... to the secrets of the Good People, show me what you see ..." - he brushed his fingers against the broken lock. A mist swirled in his head from which visions emerged ...
...disbelief in magic can force a poor soul into believing in government and business...

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Sylfil
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Re: The sign of the Scarlet Moon

Post by Sylfil » Wed Feb 03, 2021 10:36 am

Among the cacophony of colors, images began to crystallize ... images intertwined with feelings. Hand ... hand in a shiny black glove reaching for the safe. The feeling of enormous strength ... master ... joy ... at the master's soon-to-be joy ... pain in the hands ... scratching plaster ... the roar of an iron box being pulled from the wall ... blood ... thirst for blood ... blood which is an award ...
The door gives up. Ecstasy ... fulfillment. A hand reaching for yellowed pages stuck in a waterproof foil.
Master ... master ... bring ... blood ... blood ...
And the pain of a sudden blow from behind.
And then nothing. The flickering white swirls and fades in Kiasyd's mind, giving way to reality.
Fantasy is hardly an escape from reality. It's a way of understanding it

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Onirke
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Re: The sign of the Scarlet Moon

Post by Onirke » Wed Feb 03, 2021 10:40 am

Two beasts of the road, designed to satisfy the human thirst for speed and freedom, filled the silence of a narrow New York street with the roar of powerful engines. The dark figure squatting on the car bounced into the air again, landing with a groan of bent sheet metal on a small van, standing several meters from the frightened Nina. The young woman hid in the dark as best she could, she tried to be invisible, she wanted to disappear, dissolve, melt into the wall ... but at the same time she was unable to tear her fascinated gaze from what was happening in front of her. The surrealism of the whole situation, taken out of some cheap thriller, was so great that in one moment it seemed to her that the whole event was a delusion ... a dream ... that she would wake up in her bed at the dawn of a new day ...
But there was no awakening.
The rickety light of a nearby lantern illuminated the mysterious jumping individual well. A tall man with a pale, narrow but extremely attractive face was crouched on the roof of a van belonging to a nearby bakery. His outfit - black patent leather shoes, elegant, chic and perfectly cut suit, tie - was so unexpected, so unrealistic that Nina almost pinched her cheek - the feeling that she was dreaming it all grew.
Then the gunshots boomed - speeding motorcyclists opened fire. The thud of a finger from some high-caliber shotgun mixed with the rattle of a submachine gun. There were shouts nearby, and lights began to come on in the windows.
The windows of the van shattered to fine. The elegant man with feline agility did a wonderful backward somersault, avoiding the whistling projectiles, then fell to the sidewalk a few meters from the safe shadow in which Nina hid.
The girl looked around quickly - a few steps from her was the safe door of the antique shop, the keys were still dangling in the lock. Will he ...? Maybe it's better to stay put? Or maybe there is some other way out ...?
Time was pressing.
Be the change that you wish to see in the world.

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Perv
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Re: The sign of the Scarlet Moon

Post by Perv » Wed Feb 03, 2021 10:45 am

The keys swayed as if in the wind, chiming softly, tempting. Nina looked away from the scene in front of her with difficulty. Fascination fought her fear for her life as she slowly, step by step, tried to reach the door on her knees. Just a few more steps… Just low against the wall, very low.
Just stay away from the light. Now the shadow is her ally!
Yet fear still battled with fascination. The man in the suit was elegant and handsome, she often had such clients, and she liked them the most, they were "her type". But there was something else about him, some otherworldly aura ...
Nina mentally scolded herself.
"Not now, stupid!" she thought, stretching her hand towards the keys, only a few more meters ...
It's so good being bad

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Devil Baby
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Re: The sign of the Scarlet Moon

Post by Devil Baby » Wed Feb 03, 2021 10:48 am

Rifle butt. A roar in the ears, a monstrous sound of gunshots ... and a killer tongue of flaming pain suddenly bursting between the ribs, the terrible suffering intensifies, devours the self, takes away the ability to think logically, An outbreak of monstrous suffering spreading throughout the body like a fire ravaging the prairies.
The bullets throw Nina against the wall, the girl slides down on her, leaving a bloody trail on the cracked concrete.
Scream. Painful, piercing.
After a while, she realizes that her own mouth is issuing it ...
In her mind, apart from unearthly torment, there was a shocking awareness, the certainty that this is what it looks like ... you are leaving Nino ... life is leaking out of you with every drop of blood seeping between the pavement ... you can't stop it, you can't do anything ... you can only watch as death slowly takes possession of you ...
And then the girl feels piercing eyes. A pair of eyes belonging to a handsome man pierce you right through ... a sense of reality returns to her suddenly ... a feeling that she hasn't died yet ... that she lies in her blood ... that she feels shocking spasms of pain ... but she's not dead yet. ..
Curled up, reclining against the wall of her own antique shop, Nina tries to wake up again. Unfortunately, the pain was as real as possible ... something tells her that at this point she will have to do the opposite - fall asleep ... fall asleep forever ...
"Do you know," a pale-skinned man leans over her, "how beautiful the look in your eyes is, already obscured by a light haze of death ...?
Sell your soul

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Vanity Fair
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Re: The sign of the Scarlet Moon

Post by Vanity Fair » Wed Feb 03, 2021 10:51 am

"I'm not dead yet ..." this sentence keeps coming back, knocking on her head in moments when her nerves are not overwhelmed with pain. She feels her blood pouring out drop by drop and her body, and with every single speck of that red liquid - life ...
"No ... It's not like that ..." the other thought that flashed through her head like lightning is more painful than anything. He is dying and there is nothing he can do about it. She is dying, even though she is less than thirty years old, dreams and plans ... So many things that she did not have time to do.
"I don't want to die ... This is not how it was supposed to end ..." thoughts flow more and more lazily. Although fractions of seconds have passed since the bullets threw her against the wall, it seems like hours. Bring her voice back to consciousness ...
"Do you know," a pale-skinned man leans over her, "how beautiful the look in your eyes is, already obscured by a light haze of death ...?" -
She would like to shake her head, ask him to call an ambulance, but where deep down she knows he wouldn't. That he doesn't belong to her world, but to some other ... Not better, not worse, other than HER. Although she cannot speak because she is choking on her own blood, the look of her black eyes says it all. He is not afraid of death, but he does not want it. Her eyes do not express fear, but determination.
And if there is fear, it is not that he will die, but that he will not live his days fully, in the manner written to it ...
Nina doesn't want to die. Not here and not today. Not like this. In his mouth he feels the metallic taste of his own blood ...
“Not like this! Not today! No"
Nina doesn't say anything, she can't. Her beautiful black eyes say it all.
All is vanity, nothing is fair

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Anansi
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Re: The sign of the Scarlet Moon

Post by Anansi » Wed Feb 03, 2021 10:54 am

You've come to the wrong place at the wrong time, antiquarian - the words he spoke sounded extremely soft and pleasant in the man's mouth - so to some extent we are both to blame for this unfortunate situation ...
The calm steps sounded like a gunshot in the girl's head. Slowly, almost for a walk, two tall men with faces covered with black domed motorcycle helmets were walking towards them. They held a weapon in their hands that - previously spewing and spitting fire - seemed so quiet and calm and gentle now.
They took their time. They saw the game that could not escape nowhere.
Or she didn't want to.
"Wait a minute, my dear," the man said in a calm, distinguished tone that would be better suited to a party, "we'll finish our discussion in a moment ..."
"And why did you run so much, Horatio?" The man's voice, muffled under the black motorcycle helmet, sounded grim and ominous. Out of the corner of her eye, Nina saw his partner raise his pistol quickly, "Don't you know the Hounds always find their prey?"
- Well, for so many years I haven't had proper entertainment - the elegant man smiled crookedly - I wanted to laugh and feel what it's like to be young again. You kids don't know what it is yet ... eh, hot heads of youngsters ... - there was an irony in his voice.
"You're about to lose your urge to make stupid jokes," the motorcyclist growled, "you've started meddling in things that don't concern you ... and you have to pay for it. Our Master, in his infinite grace, has, however, resolved that your presence would not be revealed to the New York Sabbath ... that we would do this ourselves. With your last breath, bear that in mind ... if the Black Hand found you, you would be dying for weeks ... so you should be grateful to us for this act of mercy. Because you will die right away, quickly and painlessly ...
"Indeed," the subject called Horat sighed theatrically, "joy fills my whole being, to the limit." Oh, what a generosity ... but with deep regret I must give up this extremely tempting offer ... you must be sorry to hear it, but I am not going to die ...
"Enough," the attacker growled furiously, "finish the son of a bitch, Otto!" We will bring the Master his carcass ...
- AAAAAAAAAARGH !!!!! - his words broke suddenly inhuman howls of his companion. A shudder shuddered through the man's body, and his eyes twinkled with awe. Otto bent forward like a slave bowing his master, grabbing his throat with both hands.
The long hilt of a bone knife protruded from it ...
- Oh, - Horatio smiled apologetically, looking at his hand in mock amazement - forgive me, I interrupted you? Somehow this nice knife fell out of my cuff ... but please, I broke your perora. Go on, feel free to ...
"You ... you ..." wheezed the motorcyclist, he wanted to add something else, but the remaining words stuck in his throat with a hollow rattle of rage. With a wild howl, he aimed his rifle and pulled the trigger ... but he was slow.
Too slow.
Nina knew that she was dying, that these were most likely her last minutes ... but she couldn't take her eyes off the spectacle unfolding before her eyes. She had never imagined that someone could move with such skill and grace ... yet with deadly precision. It was one of those views you would like to keep under your eyelids ... she felt a slight twinge of happiness ... she would go away seeing something so beautiful.
Horatio dodged the speeding ball with unbelievable speed, scratched his legs quickly, then jumped to the attacker repeating the weapon and swung. His fist crashed into the tinted glass of the motorcyclist's helmet with great force, piercing the dark glass like a thin sheet of cardboard.
Something made a hollow crunch, then the body of the man hit went limp and softly fell to the ground.
It all took just over a second.
"Buggers," said Horatio with disgust, taking a white lace handkerchief from his pocket, "first they chase me for half an hour, firing kilograms of cartridges, waking up the whole city ... and then they don't even have the dignity to at least pretend to be serious opponents ... oh, where is this world going ... 'He sighed, pedantically wiping his bloodied fingers with a handkerchief.
His words grew quieter ... despite herself, against her will, the girl felt that she was floating away, moving away somewhere far away ... everything was obscured by a purple mist ...
Police sirens wailed from afar.
She felt that she was carried somewhere ...

Less and less pain ... fading away, fading away somewhere ... a feeling of contentment ... liberation from the body ... death ... the dark softness of death waiting for it ... sleep ... fall asleep and never wake up. ... the bliss of detaching from the body ... slowly disappearing somewhere in the spheres inaccessible to the living. The final frontier. So close, very near, a little longer ... And suddenly pain. Monstrous, ineffable pain. Brutal jerk, return to the protestor with every cell of the body. Liquid fire down the throat ... terrible
Everybody going to be dead one day, just give them time

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