Entries tagged with regains ahoy

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43rd Resurrection

[It's this simple, Mayfield: Theo Crawford comes home to find a black and white cat asleep on his bed. This is not his cat. It does not belong to anyone in town. But he recognizes it immediately.]

Aristophanes?!

[The cat rouses, seemingly happy to see the familiar face, and walks over to Theo demanding attention. Any members of the household or visitors who investigated the exclamation will find Theo staring dumbfounded at large tuxedo cat.]

--

[He hasn't forgotten the girl who murdered him during Mayfield's last event, either. Revenge will come, but Theo has learned some patience since he's come to live here. Every day in Mayfield was the same. He was irked about be snuck up on, but felt better when he found out the prizes for the battle royale were pretty lame. His paranoia will be in overdrive, though. Anyone out today who is within a block or two of Theo, and can sense magic, will be able to detect strong protective spells radiating from him.

He's sitting on a park bench, reading a spell book while making notes in another. One of his crows sits on his shoulder, gently chattering at its master. The other is teasing the tomcat, squawking and dancing around it, but the cat doesn't really seem to care.]

Deimos, would you leave him alone already? If he claws you, don't come crying to me.

[The cat looks at Theo, who returns a flat look.] That's not an invitation, so don't get any ideas.

[Approach?]

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40th Resurrection

[Mail call! Theo's at the mail box on his way home when he notices there's been a delivery. Inside is a small envelope with his name on it. Great, more bullshit from home, he thinks. Whatever it is, is small and most likely metal.

He takes it inside and opens it at the kitchen. Out of it falls a small .38 caliber bullet which clatters to the table. Looking at it closely, it's smeared with blood. Theo stares at it blankly. He immediately knows what it is.]

You sick sons of bitches...

[Family members are free to come across this scene.

Later, Theo can be found walking around town, glad the weather is finally warming up. He's looking rather sullen, but accompanying are his two crow familiars. One flies ahead, or slowly around him, and the other sits on his shoulder. He's also talking aloud to them, and they chatter back.]

No, I really can't explain it. I missed a lot of it. There was a highway, and then a robot, and... no, you're not going out to the highway. There's nothing there.

Except maybe bears.

[Approach/accost/etc?]

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22nd Resurrection - News from Home

[Theo is standing out by the mail box this bright Tuesday morning, reading the newspaper. That's a bit odd alone. He's also reading it intensely with a look of mixed emotions. Anger, confusion, fear. Newspapers in Mayfield were pretty useless, but this wasn't a Mayfield paper. Anyone close enough to take a look will notice it's actually the San Francisco Chronicle. But you might not notice that next to the large headline: HUNDREDS DEAD IN OCCULT ATTACK, which was already was an understatement of what it was about.

Anyone who gets close enough will notice the date reads December 19, 1948. Theo's picture is on the front, as well other ones detailing destruction, victims, and... zombies. Yep, zombies. Highlights from the front page include details of how one man brought terror down on the streets of SF and its surrounding towns in an unparalleled magic-based attack that flooded the towns with monsterous undead, who attacked and killed anyone in their path, only to have the victims rise up and join their ranks. The attack was quelled by members of the Lumen Conscientia magic guild who banded together quickly, but not quickly enough. The body count is difficult to assess since they're not sure how many were already dead, but it's upwards to a thousand people. The culprit was actually fished out and captured by the FBI, and was gunned down.

You can probably at least get those details from the front page, as Theo won't notice you unless you say something to him. You might want to be careful if you plan to interrupt him. He can't stop staring at it. He hasn't noticed that his hands are shaking yet, either.]

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16th Resurrection - No Place Like Home

[Theo wakes up back in Mayfield, and he's not sure if he's relieved or not. Being still alive, that was good. Still possessing the hastily-attached hand given to him by Fran, not so good. The stitches were red and irritated, starting to look infected. Wires poked in and out of the skin in an effort to replace nerve function. But it didn't work.

After Westport, Mayfield returned his collection of spell books. They were back again, so maybe...

Theo quickly went outside to check the mail. Sure enough, there was an envelope in the mail box with his name on it. Inside was just a card with an arcane inscription on it.

It was a spell for raising the dead.

Grinning, Theo sauntered back inside, and headed straight to his study. Taking one of the books off the shelf, he picked out a simple spell he could cast without any components. A few words in Latin, a few hand gestures, and suddenly all the light in the room was dampened, as if it was suddenly sucked away.

A small light did appear after a moment - the lighting of a match for a cigarette. Theo chuckled.]

About damn time.

[Better keep it under wraps for now though. For now, time to get this hand fixed. Healing spells were too difficult for him, so better get it fixed the old-fashioned way. Time for the phone!]

I don't know where that insane blonde scientist is, but she did a number on my hand, and now I'm some sort of... science experiment gone wrong. And before this thing gets infected and fucking kills me slowly, I'd rather have this taken care of. Any doctors out there up for a challenge?

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5th Resurrection - Joke's on You

[My, my. That's a large delivery sent to 337 Brady Lane! Several small, heavy crates are dropped off sometime early in the morning for one Mr. Theodore Crawford.

Theo comes out to look at them, frowning, cigarette in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other.]

What the shit is this. KAY!? Who the HELL would send us stuff in the mail?

[Sure, he's paranoid, but he's also morbidly curious. He pops the lid on one of them to take a look. His eyes grow wide, and - miracle of miracles, Mayfield - he smiles. He grins ecstatically, holding up old, worn books. He laughs. They were the one he worked so hard to ~~steal~~ get, only a few months before he was brought to Mayfield. Several dozen rare spell books.] Unbe-fuckin-lievable!

[He flips one open frantically. He finds the easiest, stupidest spell he can find, one that doesn't require any components. Something even he could handle. Holding up the book, he recites something in Latin, and gestures with his free hand.

Nothing. Grr. He tries again. Zip. GRR. One more time. Zilch! He throws the book down angrily and storms back inside, grabbing the phone.

Call to everyone. Yep, everyone. He speaks quickly, almost growling. He is LIVID.]

Is this someone's idea of a JOKE?!! To send me all these books like this?! Don't you know that these are FUCKING USELESS IF I STILL CAN'T CAST?! Real goddamn funny, Mayfield! Don't think I won't figure out a way to use them. Just you fucking wait.

[The phone is slammed down.]