Fellowship of the Dice

Nightmare fuel. That's all Jamison can think of as the pile of dismembered and disfigured bodies come into view. No one signs up for this type of shit, and most certainly don't expect it, but He knew this was something he would carry with him for years. For now, all he could do was choke back the bike creeping up how throats and tune into the rest of the area.

Chemistry was never a strong subject back in high school. There was always that one kid, half clown half idiot, who mixed together a couple of random ingredients and nearly burnt a lb station down: amateur hour. With what little he did know Jamison recognized that whatever the hell was on that table was not for him to touch, breathe, or think too hard about. As luck would have it one of the concoctions could be whatever alchemical abomination that stole the lives of those people back in the alleyway. Which wasn't something to chance.

In the midst of this landscape lay a perfectly clean symbol, its points polished to perfection amongst the ruin and gore. Every bone in his body told Jamison that this was probably the most fucked up part, but duty kept him in place... for better or worse. "My knowledge of weird religious symbols isn't the best Sarge. Is this some sort of satanic thing? Is there some sort of satanic thing in Islam?" He had no frame of reference except for why he had seen in movies. In typical horror fashion one could see a 5 pointed star in a circle and undertones of satanic ritual. 8 points was a whole new beast. Maybe the devil just got bigger?

The Sergeant catches up to you, then stops still. "More of a symbol of chaos, than directly satanic. Usually. But what fool would ...." He pauses, then something seems to click in his mind. "Oh hells. I'd hoped we could get through this without pulling out these stops. Alright, soldier. Take cover, and wait for my orders. We need to know what we're dealing with."

He takes a couple steps forward, and plants his feet firmly. He straightens his shoulders, and holds his Rod towards the ceiling. "Discutere!" The runes carved into the wood flare with a blindingly white light, and the air seems to ripple outward from him. As the ripple flows over the Circle, it glows with a sullen red light, then the illumination stutters and goes out. Colors explode wildly in the contained space, then dissipate, revealing two Figures standing right there in front of you.

The first could be at a particularly emo or goth costume party. He is wearing a full-length cloak, the hood pulled up, obscuring his face. A Staff similar to the Sergeant's is in one hand, glowing with a sullen purple light. Your gaze turns to your right, but doesn't really want to analyze what you're seeing. Your eyes go up, up, and a bit more up. The creature has a helmet-like head, large spikes coming out from its shoulders, and seems to have fire constantly consuming its legs. And it stands at least 15 feet tall.

The man looks smug, standing next to the giant. A pendant at his throat lights up, and you hear him speak perfectly unaccented English. It sounds both amused and malevolent. "You dare come into my sanctum, Hermes? Flee now, and we can pretend this never happened. I won't even feed your little apprentice to my pet." He smirks at you. "Come now, Flambeau. You won't get a better deal than that."