The Owl
A Local Pub in Markham
Town Hall Meeting
Thursday Night
August 25, 2016

Pastor Preston Prowler purposefully made his way back to his table, satisfied that he had delivered his message to the gathered throng in such a way that one or more attendees would approach him and share some vital information, regarding the 'Man in White'.

People flood up to Pastor Prestons' table, some laughing and calling you pastor bullock and just happy to interact with you. Some ask for prayers concerning family and some come up to you with worries concerning their relative falling into sin. Only a handful of people actually come up to talk about the man in white, and they speak in whispers. A concerned secretary at a highschool informs you of the man in white lurking around and the tragedy that occurred. Others have theories that it's the devil sent to lead those into sin. Another has the theory that he steals someones soul and thats why the start to sin.

Preston was courteous to each individual as they crowded around his table. He joked good-naturedly with those who merely wanted to interact with the famous 'Pastor Bulloch' by either catcalls or friendly banter.

He even took the time to sign a few autographs and pose with 'admirers' as they snapped selfies with their cell phones and posted the photos to their Facebook pages.

Preston provided comforting words of encouragement to those who expressed concerns for relatives who had fallen into sin.

He listened intently to the whispered bits of information regarding the Man in White, including the secretary of a high school, who gave him some detailed information and rumors of said subject of interest lurking around the school grounds and of the tragedy that had occurred.

Preston was patient as he listened to the various theories that were presented to him, regarding the intent and purpose of what the mysterious figure was doing and why he was doing it.

Most of his prayers for concerned family members were along the lines of: "Heavenly Father, may You grant the Peace that Passes All Understanding to Rule and Reign in the Hearts and Minds of these precious loved ones and their families in the Mighty Name of Jesus, Amen."

Eventually, the information turns more and more useless as people begin to drink more and then the Pastor notices an envelope entitled "For your eyes only. Pastor Preston. -L

Preston nonchalantly looked at the envelope on the table, after the last person had shaken his hand and thanked him for his prayers and kind words.

He took the necessary precautions of discerning whether the envelope had been tampered with a harmful substance, or cursed with some foul oath or spell, before cautiously picking it up for a closer examination.

((OOC: On the basis that the envelope is free of any evidence of tampering or cursings, Preston proceeds to open it and read the contents inside!))

His first thought was 'What a Curious Letter' as he hastily read the contents, then furrowed his eyebrows, as he more intently re-examined the contents of the envelope!

((OOC: Depending upon what is revealed inside the envelope, Pastor Preston will welcome any interaction that Nomad will provide with his character!))

The Owl, a Local Pub in Markham a Suburb in Toronto, Canada. Thursday, August 28th, 2016.

"But, Norman," turning so that he can rest his elbows on the bartop, he draws the beer to his lips and takes a quick swig. "You said there was this Man in White and then you start referring to ‘They' like there's a group of them. There more than one, man?"

"I, I don't know. There has to be more than one of them. There's no way one of, those things could be spreading this much mayhem. I, I haven't seen more of them though, Just the one." His shoulders drop slightly.

"I see." Resolving another swig, Colum studies a particularly fine-looking waitress bussing a table. "And why do you suppose the crowd up there wasn't exactly eager to discuss this fellow—this country gent walking around in a white suit?"

"They're afraid! Afraid of seeing the truth. The devil sits on their doorstep and they refuse to do anything about it! Call me crazy, They're the crazy ones for not seeing! His breathing starts getting heavy as he says this very heatedly in a low voice.

"Not very neighborly, if you ask me." Grinning, the biker glances at his conversation companion and jokes, "I thought all you Canadians were supposed to be fine apologetic people."

He pauses and then lets out a soft chuckle. "Well.. We were better than this but.. This whole thing has got us scared. If you stick around, I can show you some of our canadian hospitality" A very toothy grin.

Downing the remainder of his original beer, the biker turns just enough to set the bottle on the scarred wood surface of the bar and pick up the new bottle that Misty had dropped off. "Where've you seen this Man in White devil, Norman? I want to steer clear of trouble and if the Devil's in town I can assure you that I don't want to meet him."

"Well... They say he is all around town. Strip clubs, casinos, bars, schools. I've heard of sightings everywhere! But some of those came from kids so I don't know how trustworthy they are."

"I appreciate it," hoisting the beer, the biker offers a salute before taking a swig. "Anything else you think I should know about? Just rolled into town and was thinking of sticking around for a bit, maybe pick up an odd job or two, ya know?"

He pauses for a moment and then says "well you picked a bad time to roll into town then. I might be able to scrounge up a place for you if you're looking for a cheap place to stay. I'm in construction.. I might be a bit old but I sure as hell can still help out!

"You've been a scholar and a gentleman, Norman," Colum sincerely offers while skipping over imposing upon the old man's hospitality. "You gonna be all right? Can I escort ya home, call you a cab, anything?"

Norm gives Colum a very happy grin and says "I think I'm gonna be fine. Thank you so much for listening to me. I feel better knowing that you're around."

"Well, I don't know about that, but it's been a pleasure. You want to know what's going on in a place, I say you talk with the folks who've been around for a while." The information that the old codger had provided is not very helpful but there's no use in pressing the fellow further. The problem with most cases, Colum has discovered, is that they are usually slow to get into. Details are difficult to come up with and witnesses who have seen the supernatural are reluctant to talk lest they be treated like old Norman here. There's also the fine balance of knowing what to ask and when or being defined as a crazed outsider and shunned outright (or run out of town). Norman has served his purpose for now. Perhaps Colum would return to him as a source, but for the time being it would appear that the Man in White was the point of focus. What he is as yet undefined though his purpose does seem to resonate around locations where sin is taking place, or sinful behavior is likely taking place. Frankly, it mention of the Man in White hadn't happened, Colum might have dismissed this whole neighborhood meeting as a preacher's work to draw the People together. But now, now the biker has something that intrigues him, something to hunt.

Lifting the beer to his lips once more, the rough man drains it and allows the warmth of the low alcohol content to course through his chest before opening his eyes and nodding to the bar tender his thanks. Leaving the bottle on the bar, he gives the old man a friendly pat on the shoulder and turns to make his way up the stairs once more. The traffic exiting the rooftop meeting place is practically non-existent so he surmises the meeting must still be underway. In his estimation, the next place to continue the investigation is to get to know the victims. What did they all have in common? What linked them to this Man in White? Who better to start with than their confessor, the preacher running the show?

Climbing to the open air space once more, McRath eyes the occupants of the space while attempting to glean something from the nearby conversations and determining his next move. Being a transient with no ties to the community doesn't engratiate him to the local pastoral leadership and having been caught just arriving in town didn't provide him with much in the way of options as far as alternate identities to pull from. Most of the fake IDs he'd ever worked with are burned anyhow, but he would have liked a couple of options.

Ambling through the gathered masses he picks up a drink and some finger food from the table and finds himself close to Pastor Prowler. Time to settle on his new identity.

"Evening, Pastor," Colum rumbles in his deep voice. "Just arrived in town, working the circuit as a Biker Club Pastor and documenting possible churches around the northern hemisphere where bikers such as myself who love to travel would be welcome in their worship. Name's Ephraim O'Malley, out of Chicago. I heard what was said and am wondering if this is something I should warn my fellow sons and daughters of the Lord away from. Partly, it seems as though these incidents are a little shocking, but no less surprising than those found in any community where people have secrets. I mean," Colum affects a cavernous chuckle to soften what he says next, "with my kind of people, drinking, womanizing, etc. well, it kind of comes with the territory. What am I missing here? If you don't mind me asking, one man of the cloth to another."

Preston listened to every single person, every single bit of information. A lot of it was hear-say, it conflicted with one another.

Despite this, he persevered, giving more comforting words to people. Eventually, he worked out that the most amount of "sightings" were centered in Vaughan. One even sheepishly asked for forgiveness as he admitted seeing the man in white at a small "adult entertainment center". A place called "Club Pro".

As more and more drunks appeared, the information got less valuable. Still Preston was patient with all of them, until he eventually noticed a small letter.

Eventually, the information turns more and more useless as people begin to drink more and then the Pastor notices an envelope entitled "For your eyes only. Pastor Preston. -L
He sat down after praying with everyone and then opened the rather thick envelope. It appeared that someone else has been investigating him.
A map with a circle and the words first time? on a small daycare center is inside. A newspaper article of a disastrous daycare that was forced to shut down. All of the workers decided to get hammered, neglecting the children. This happened approximately a year and a half ago. Preston read more and cases are detailed, spanning back this year. About 2 cases predated this time when suddenly multiple cases popped up this month.

Finally, there appeared to be a very blurry image taken from a traffic camera of a man in the background holding a cane. The picture was very grainy but it appears he was wearing entirely white.

At this point, Preston is brought out his thoughts as Colum comes up to him.

"Evening, Pastor," Colum rumbles in his deep voice. "Just arrived in town, working the circuit as a Biker Club Pastor and documenting possible churches around the northern hemisphere where bikers such as myself who love to travel would be welcome in their worship. Name's Ephraim O'Malley, out of Chicago. I heard what was said and am wondering if this is something I should warn my fellow sons and daughters of the Lord away from. Partly, it seems as though these incidents are a little shocking, but no less surprising than those found in any community where people have secrets. I mean," Colum affects a cavernous chuckle to soften what he says next, "with my kind of people, drinking, womanizing, etc. well, it kind of comes with the territory. What am I missing here? If you don't mind me asking, one man of the cloth to another."

Preston blinked for a moment, taken by surprise by all the information before smiling broadly at the man. "Welcome my good friend! It is a pleasure to meet another man of the cloth indeed." As Preston sized up Colum, he said "Just another flock that has lost their way. I'm sure that as a community we will be able to come together once again.". He paused for a moment, his thoughts lingered on the last phrase. He looked knowingly at the rather large man. "Say Colum... do you believe in the devil?"

-------------------------------------------------------

Alexander tried to cut off the being, tried to watch him from the corner of his eye. It was damned difficult. If he didn't look at him just right, the stranger would flicker out of his vision and he would lose him.

He stood up, his drink still in his hand as he walked to the stairway, trying to keep pace with him.

((Rolled composure + Wits, DC:3 to be undetected entirely. Result: 5d10 (9, 1, 2, 5, 10))

Alexander kept going, trying his best to be inconspicuous. Alexander lingered by the stairs for a moment, keeping watch from his periphery, when suddenly, 2 red eyes locked onto his. Alexander caught a good long glimpse at this creature underneath it's scarf. Its eyes were big and red, the flesh of his face looked torn and horribly disfigured as well as his nose was nothing more than a swelling lump on his face. As he looked at this creature, you saw there was no hint of malice within it's eyes.. no it just looked like they were surprised.

Alexander kept going, trying his best to be inconspicuous. Alexander lingered by the stairs for a moment, keeping watch from his periphery, when suddenly, 2 red eyes locked onto his. Alexander caught a good long glimpse at this creature underneath it's scarf. Its eyes were big and red, the flesh of his face looked torn and horribly disfigured as well as his nose was nothing more than a swelling lump on his face. As he looked at this creature, you saw there was no hint of malice within it's eyes.. no it just looked like they were surprised.


Castle looked at the 'creature?' in front of him. Despite the red eyes, he felt no real sense of malice. Somehow, he had the feeling that thing was surprised and, if anything, scared. Was it on their side? He didn't know.

"Who are you?" he whispered, but with the creatures eyes locked on his he was sure it understood. "Please, don't run."

(OOC: Obviously exactly what the thing does will determine Castle's next move. If he just leaves Castle will watch him go as long as possible, trying to learn as much about him as possible. But he will not give chase. Then, after the rest of the crowd thins out, he will approach the pastor. "Pastor, I want to speak to you about that letter you received . . . "

Ambling through the gathered masses he picks up a drink and some finger food from the table and finds himself close to Pastor Prowler. Time to settle on his new identity.

"Evening, Pastor," Colum rumbles in his deep voice. "Just arrived in town, working the circuit as a Biker Club Pastor and documenting possible churches around the northern hemisphere where bikers such as myself who love to travel would be welcome in their worship. Name's Ephraim O'Malley, out of Chicago. I heard what was said and am wondering if this is something I should warn my fellow sons and daughters of the Lord away from. Partly, it seems as though these incidents are a little shocking, but no less surprising than those found in any community where people have secrets. I mean," Colum affects a cavernous chuckle to soften what he says next, "with my kind of people, drinking, womanizing, etc. well, it kind of comes with the territory. What am I missing here? If you don't mind me asking, one man of the cloth to another."

Preston blinks for a moment, taken by surprise by all the information before smiling broadly at the man. "Welcome, my good friend! It is a pleasure to meet another man of the cloth indeed." As Preston sizes up Colum, he says, "Just another flock that has lost their way. I'm sure that as a community we will be able to come together once again." He pauses for a moment, his thoughts lingering on the last phrase. He looks knowingly at the rather large man. "Say Colum... do you believe in the devil?"

McRath considers the question while turning a BBQ wing about in his fingers. There are a couple of paths that he can take here and each of them have consequences. Which path will return the correct results is a gamble that Colum must risk. If he makes light of the question, he'll surely turn the other man off to further conversation. Still, it's a strange question to ask a pastor and the biker wonders if his adopted identity has been seen through. Best to attempt to draw this out further to gauge where the strange question is taking them.

"Wouldn't be much of a Man of God if I didn't, now would I?" Colum shrugs and turns about to survey the crowd. "The Devil grabs hold of all kinds of people; not just those who put two wheels to the road." Glancing sideways at Pastor Prowler, he raises his eyebrows, "Why do you ask?"

Alexander whispered ""Who are you? Please, don't run." and as he looked at the creature, he knew without a doubt that he didn't have a trace of malice in his eyes.

The creature stared at him for a moment, before beckoning him to follow him with a crooked, mangled finger. The creature descended down the stairs and it appeared as if no one noticed him. People moved out of his way and never gave him a second glance. Yet somehow, Alexander never lost sight of him.

((OOC: You can follow or not, I'm gonna write my post assuming you follow for the sake of brevity but I can always change things))

The door to the back slowly opened, the creature peered behind him to make sure no one saw him and as he opened the door, you got a very clear look at him. He's about 5'6", quite short wearing a fedora and a trench coat. His hands were ungloved and it appeared as if there are numerous scars on them. His nails were unkempt and it looked almost claw like.

Haze found himself nestled in the alleyway of the owl, quite carefully hidden in the dark. Upon hearing the door open, he couldn't help but take a peek and he saw a man dressed rather tightly come out of the building. (Same description as above)

Soon afterwards another man came out and Haze is able to listen to the following conversation.

"You... You can see me. Why?" The man asked in a nervous voice. It was quite gravely and rough, as if he smoked a dozen packs of cigarettes a day.

(response))

"I'm... no one. Just looking to fix up this neighbourhood. I've been doing research y'see. On this.. person. the man in white." At his last words, his voice lowered to a whisper. "Go see the pastor. I gave him all the information I have.".

(response))

((OOC: He is willing to talk briefly but will leave very soon unless stopped))

----------------------------------------------------
Preston nods quite emphatically. "Yes, that's true.". He agrees wholeheartedly with your sentences and says "The Devil takes those away from Jesus and I pray for their salvation.".

Collum glanced sideways at Pastor Prowler, he raises his eyebrows, "Why do you ask?"

Preston leaned forward, propping his head on his arms and said. "Just wondering what type of things you've seen. Some think of the Devil as a metaphor, something to scare the people to the masses. Others think of him as this spiritual being that tempts the weak. Me..?". He looked knowingly at Collum, seeming as if he was gauging his reaction. "I think the Devil takes many forms on this lovely earth. And sometimes, someone has to deal with it.". He gathered all of the documents and placed them into the envelope, awaiting Collums response.

Chill, dude, Just chill, The words played and replayed through the kid's mind like a mantra as he crouched in the alley, his knuckles white from the grip he kept on the rebar and his head throbbing from how tightly he'd scrunched his eyes closed. Ya gotta get it together, bro, Find yer mellow to fix the jello, Wasn't nothin' but words, nothin' but words, And so it went for the next several minutes; clutching the rebar, rocking back and forth in the dark of his hastily found hiding place, and talking himself out of the panic attack which had been spawned by the mere mention of ‘The Man in White.'

"How ya gonna let some friggin' words freak ya out," Haze mumbled in the wake of a shuddering breath that blew past his lips. He wrung the length of iron in his hands, forcing his eyes open, and made himself concentrate on drawing in his breath more slowly. "Ya've seen more than any o' them words, dude, Just chill," It took a few more tries and a few more twists of the rebar to get his breathing even, again, but he got there and, when he did, that first even breath escaped his lungs in the form of an almost relieved sigh. His face was still tingly but the tension in his shoulders had eased off and his heart wasn't threatening to pound through his chest, now. "It's all good," he whispered, his wary gaze flicking from one end of the alleyway to the other. One hand let go of the rebar and, after he'd wiped the sweat and rust from his palm onto his pants, sought out his board. He flipped it onto it's wheels and slid it under his backside, using it as a makeshift seat as he relaxed enough to stretch his legs out a bit further into the alley.

"Ugh! Gnarly," he winced, settling his shoulders against the wall and noticing that his feet were now flanking the pool of puke he'd deposited on the pavement a short while ago. "So much for the free grub." He chuckled softly, then, relaxing a bit more and shaking his head a bit, Prob'ly more left in there, he told himself, at last letting go of the rebar and laying it across his lap, if ya ain't too scared to go back in an' hear people yak. Could snatch some up an' take it with ya,
"Yeah," he mumbled, reaching for his backpack, now, and zipping open the small pocket in which he kept his stash, "Mebbe in a few minutes. Lemme magnify my mellow, first, heh,"

He had just finished twisting up a pinner and was fishing in his pack for a lighter when he heard a door open not far from where he hid. Mumbling a curse under his breath, the kid hurriedly secreted the tiny joint in the pocket of his coat and, lifting the rebar from his lap, again risked a peek past the trash bins in the direction of the sound. A few yards down the alley, a kind of creepifying looking dude stepped out into the night, he wasn't physically imposing, really; not much taller than Haze, himself, but the trenchcoat and fedora combo lent an unnerving air of mystery to the guy, and, Those hands, dude! What the hell's up with those hands?! The claw-like appendages threatened to kick Haze's heart into overdrive, again, and, in reaction, the kid's eyes darted nervously about, looking for an escape route if he had to bolt, S#!t-s#!t-s#!t,

The sound of the door opening, again, snapped his attention back in creepy-dude's direction. Haze hoped that he (it?) had gone back inside and he could slink out of the alley and get gone but, instead, another dude stepped out, apparently following the creepy-guy. This other man, Haze was sure, he'd seen inside, Kinda reminds me of Mr. McGinty, the kid mused, recalling the look of his Freshman History teacher, Nowhere near as gnarly as that guy., The kid tried his best not to eyeball Mr Creepy (or "Mr McGinty," for that matter), but, with both of them standing in the alleyway, now, there was no way Haze would slip away without one or both of them noticing, "Not cool," he muttered softly,

"You, you can see me," the creepy dude rasped, sounding like there was more than a little gravel in his throat, "Why?"

A year or so ago, a question like that might've made Haze snicker a little. After what he'd experienced in that time, though, it sent chills down his spine and set his heart to thumping a little too hard, now. "Oh, sooo not cool,"

Mr McGinty-dude said something in reply to Mr Creepy but, whatever it was was lost to Haze's ears as, as quietly as possible, he tried slipping his pack over his shoulders and gathering up his board. He risked a glance over his shoulder then, thinking about trying to sneak his way out of the alley, but that gravelly voice froze him in place and drew his eyes and ears back to the conversation.

"I'm, no one," Mr Creepy said, "just looking to fix up this neighborhood. I've been doing research, y'see? On this,person, the man in white,"

That uncomfortably familiar prickling started at the back of Haze's neck, again, and he swallowed a lump in his throat as the conversation continued and he tried to become one with the shadows in which he hid,. Sooooooo not cool!
((OOC: He's reluctant to do so, of course, but since he's more afraid of being seen by Mr Creepy, Haze is going to remain in his hiding spot for now and continue listening to the conversation all while trying to be invisible,))

Castle was surprised when the man/creature indicated he should follow. Of all the possible reactions, that was not one he had anticipated. He'd expected flight and feared some subtle attack. He had not expected this. Leaving the crowd seemed dangerous, but this silent and secretive thing had made no threatening moves towards anyone yet. And seemed to have offered some information. Perhaps there was more. Just his identity would seem to be more.

All of these thoughts ran through his mind in the second it took him to nod his head in agreement. He quietly slipped out of the room and down the stairs, following the thing. Strangely he had no trouble following. He had half expected to lose him half way down the stairs, but he didn't. He had no trouble seeing him and following in his wake - a near invisible tide that moved others out of his way. They went to the back door and out into the night.

The alley was dark and filthy. It stunk of garbage and puke, like most alleys behind urban bars. The strange man/creature turned to him and spoke.

"You... You can see me. Why?" The man asked in a nervous voice. It was quite gravely and rough"

"I don't know. It isn't easy. Who are you? Why can't others see you?"

"I'm... no one. Just looking to fix up this neighbourhood. I've been doing research y'see. On this.. person. the man in white." At his last words, his voice lowered to a whisper. "Go see the pastor. I gave him all the information I have.".

The comment on the pastor seemed be a prelude to leaving, so Castle quickly spoke. "The Man in white. I've seen him. Others here have as well. It is why I came. It is why you came." He paused only briefly for the last line to register. "Clean up the neighborhood? How? If you don't mind my asking, why you? For that matter, why any of us and why this neighborhood?"

Alexander Castlebrandt allowed the other a chance to respond. He had plenty of more questions if the man would just stay a little longer.

When the man moved to leave he quickly made one more comment. "Please. You know more than the rest of us. If we are to do something, your continued help would be very valuable. If you won't come back in with me," and here he gave a slight nod towards the door, "is there some way I could contact you? My name is Alexander Castlebrandt. You know who the preacher is. You can reach us, but is there a way I could find you?"

He hated giving his name. His involvement in the occult was not something he advertised or that his employer was likely to support. But somehow he doubted this man would be running to the University to tell on him. Risks balanced with rewards. Right now the problem was that he had no idea how big either was.


(OOC: Other questions he might pose to the man if time and behavior seems to allow:
*Is the man in White causing these things?
*Why would he do it?
*What is your connection?
*How does he do this?
*Is there a way to stop him?
*How did you end up this way?/Are you human? (Only if it seems appropriate. He would not push this.)
*Have you seen him elsewhere?
*is his area of activity limited? Just this neighborhood?
*What can we do if we see him? How do we avoid being victims?
*He will share what he has seen so far if it seems appropriate so that he gives as well as receives information.

When the conversation is over he will go back inside and upstairs. When the preacher is no longer surrounded he will approach and ask how things went. After a little preamble he will ask about the letter. He really wants to see what is in it. If need be he will reveal that he saw the person who left it.

Also, I assume the kid stays hidden during the conversation. If he spots the kid he will talk to him. What are you doing here? What did you hear? Does it sound like anything you know? He would not chase the kid if he ran. But he isn't happy about the possibility that the kid overheard everything, even if he isn't sure why. He would likely see the kid as someone in trouble and in need of help, not a threat, although he would be cautious about a robbery.)

Castle watched as the man/thing left the alley.  

He had many questions still unanswered.  Damian, apparently the things name, did not seem to know everything, but he knew something.  And Castle had questions about Damian himself, which he likely could have answered had he wished to do so.  But clearly he didn't.  He looked down at the phone in his hand and wondered what it would take to make him call it.  He wanted to dial the number right now.  But that obviously had not been the intent.  So he resisted that urge.  

But he had spoken about leaving information upstairs.  That would likely be the letter he had left for the preacher.  Castle was now very curious about that letter.  He paused, about to turn back into the bar, and wondered, why would the Man in White be here because of Damian?   Just more questions, but perhaps the letter upstairs would help a little.  He turned to move inside.

(OOC:  I'm assuming the above didn't take long to ponder, but that our lurking skateboarder would likely jump out to talk before he got inside.  If not, he'd go upstairs and approach the preacher once the others are gone.)

 

From his place in the shadows, Haze listened (and watched when it couldn’t be avoided) as the conversation between red-eyed Mr Creepy and McGinty-dude continued. The whole thing made him more than a little uncomfortable and, at more than one point in that eavesdropped discussion, Haze had the urge to bail; consequences be damned… At the same time, though, he knew that doing so would almost certainly draw Creepy’s attention and, to Haze’s way of thinking, eyes like that weren’t the kind you wanted peeping you, at all, if it could be avoided. So, crouched rather uncomfortably amidst the trash in the dark of the alleyway, the kid waited the conversation out and, when Mr Creepy finally slinked off into the night and McGinty-dude… Castlebrand¸ Haze corrected himself, Dude said his name’s Castlebrand… turned to head back into The Owl, Haze gathered his stuff and, finally, extracted himself from his hiding spot.

 

He had hoped to skate off unnoticed, of course… get himself as far from Markham, its talk of this Dude in White, and the red-eyed Damien, as he possibly could. As luck would have it, though, a strap on his pack snagged a trash bin and produced just enough of a clatter to draw Castlebrand’s attention…

((OOC: Presuming a bit of this initial conversation based on Nomad’s prior posts… If it doesn’t read right to you, Nomad, just let me know and I’ll edit accordingly.))

S#!t, Haze cringed, feeling the old-dude’s gaze swing his way.

“Hey,” Castlebrand called, his progress back inside the pub halted at the sight of the kid, “What are you doing here?”

A little disappointed that he’d been spotted, Haze heaved a sigh and pushed an errant lock of hair out of his eyes as he turned and regarded the man. “Dude,” he said with a shrug, “I was just hoping to nosh on some gratis grub, right? But then that got all twisty-turny-sideways when you people turned a bountiful buffet into a full-on-freak-fest.” The kid’s weight shifted nervously from one foot to the other and, for a split second, his eyes scoured the darkness into which Mr Creepy, Damien, had recently disappeared before ticking back to Castlebrand.

“How much of that did you hear,” the older man asked, realizing that this disheveled kid had probably been lurking for a good while.

 

“More than I wanted to, bro,” Haze grimaced. He considered letting that be the sum total of his conversation with this old dude but, for whatever reason, instead of letting it lay and skating off, he fixed the man with an almost admonishing expression and added; “Y’know… ya really shouldn’t talk to…” he waved a hand in the direction the Damien thing went, “…to things like that. Good way to end up dead or somethin’…”

 

((OOC: And I’ll end it there, for now… Don’t want to assume too much about where the conversation goes next.))

The priest leans forward, propping his head on his arms and says, "Just wondering what type of things you've seen. Some think of the Devil as a metaphor, something to scare the people to the masses. Others think of him as this spiritual being that tempts the weak. Me..?". He looks knowingly at Colum, as if he is gauging the biker’s reaction. "I think the Devil takes many forms on this lovely earth. And sometimes, someone has to deal with it." He gathers all of the documents and places them into the envelope.

McRath chews on his tongue while contemplating the turn in the conversation. His experience is that people are loathe to speak of the supernatural at all except in jest or in reference to a movie. That this pastor is hinting so blatantly—or is he? Second guessing Preston’s meaning, Colum clenches his jaw and glances at the shuffling papers being stuffed into the package.

There’s benefits to being blunt… there’s also a fair share of troubles that follow. The “Devil as a metaphor” comment paired with the flat out declaration of “dealing with it” are points that make up the rough man’s mind. If Pastor Prowler looks at him sideways afterward, so be it.

“I’ve seen my share of weird, Pastor,” Colum shares warily, looking at the other man from beneath his brow, his head slightly dipped. “There’s a very real fight, that’s for certain. It takes a special someone to handle that fight and often requires more’n a sermon.” Glancing about at the crowd milling in proximity, McRath decides to take the plunge. “This white-suited fella seems to be always in the mix or thereabouts from what I hear. You gonna go looking for him?”

 He had hoped to skate off unnoticed, of course… get himself as far from Markham, its talk of this Dude in White, and the red-eyed Damien, as he possibly could. As luck would have it, though, a strap on his pack snagged a trash bin and produced just enough of a clatter to draw Castlebrand’s attention…

S#!t, Haze cringed, feeling the old-dude’s gaze swing his way.

“Hey,” Castlebrand called, his progress back inside the pub halted at the sight of the kid, “What are you doing here?”

A little disappointed that he’d been spotted, Haze heaved a sigh and pushed an errant lock of hair out of his eyes as he turned and regarded the man. “Dude,” he said with a shrug, “I was just hoping to nosh on some gratis grub, right? But then that got all twisty-turny-sideways when you people turned a bountiful buffet into a full-on-freak-fest.” The kid’s weight shifted nervously from one foot to the other and, for a split second, his eyes scoured the darkness into which Mr Creepy, Damien, had recently disappeared before ticking back to Castlebrand.

“How much of that did you hear,” the older man asked, realizing that this disheveled kid had probably been lurking for a good while.

“More than I wanted to, bro,” Haze grimaced. He considered letting that be the sum total of his conversation with this old dude but, for whatever reason, instead of letting it lay and skating off, he fixed the man with an almost admonishing expression and added; “Y’know… ya really shouldn’t talk to…” he waved a hand in the direction the Damien thing went, “…to things like that. Good way to end up dead or somethin’…”

Castle looked at the kid that had been lurking in the alley.  Clearly he wasn't trying to mug anyone, just get some free food.  "Gratis grub" and a "bountiful buffet."  He wouldn't normally expect to hear phrases like that from a skateboarding kid that looked homeless while hiding in an alley.  And the more the kid kept talking, the less he seemed like your normal teen punk.  

"Things like that?"  He aksed.  Something about how the kid spoke and looked around nervously seemed to suggest he knew something.  "Things like the guy who just left?"  He tried to get a good look at the kid without appearing to study him.  "What do you mean?  He didn't attack me."  At this point he did give the kid a direct look.  "Or you for that matter."  He glanced back the way Damien had gone.  "You were upstairs.  After the food.  I don't know much about either bit of strangeness.  Why shouldn't I talk to him?  He didn't seem to be the bit of strangeness causing all the trouble."

The kid knew something.  And he was scared.  For a reason.  Castle wanted to know why.  Making the kid feel like the expert might keep him talking.  Lectures rarely worked, even in the classroom.  And there might be more food upstairs.  That might keep him around as well. 

"Yeah, dude," the kid answered, "like the guy that just left. Just cuz he didn't attack you don't mean he's bringin' good juju to the table, y'know?" Haze shifted nervously again, wondering why he was even talking to this guy and not flat out kicking it back for Toronto. His eyes skittered past Castle, once more, searching the shadows for Mr Creepy or anything else that might've been drawn out of the dark. When his gaze found it's way back to the older dude, Haze sighed and shrugged. "Dude wasn't natural, bro," he almost whispered, "Not of this world, y'know what I'm sayin'? I learned a while back that stuff like that's best left alone... Don't want it comin' after ya in the night... and talkin' to it just kinda invites it in."

Juju?  Somehow the more the kid talked the more Castle was pretty sure he knew his juju.  And he meant that in all its meanings.  Because this case really seemed to have some weird juju.  He nearly fell into lecture mode with some sort of "it is here whether we want it to be or not . . . hiding doesn't help . . .gotta do our part . . "spiel, but it just didn't sound right and even sounded annoying, even to him.  So instead he focused on what the kid knew and the grub.  "You learned a while back?  Kid, I've seen some strange things, and it seems I'm not the only one in this stinky alley that has.  Look, that guy, he's gone for now - and if he gave me a way to contact him he probably isn't about to come back."  He paused and assessed the kid.  There is still some food upstairs."  He'd seen a bit of splash on the kids shirt and shoes and guessed he might need to reload.  "Right now this place is probably as good as any - and it has some good food.  I'd love to hear about what you have seen - maybe I'll learn to run faster.  Should we go get some more of that gratis grub?"  

“Yeah,” the kid drawled in response to the first question, his eyes wandering away from Castlebrand for a second and taking on a distant haze, “a while…” As the older man continued speaking, Haze continued to stare off, somewhat sadly but, still, with something like anger mixed into his expression; fighting memories he wished he didn’t have…”

“…Maybe I’ll learn to run faster. Should we go get some more of that gratis grub?”

Those words snapped the kid’s attention back to Castlebrand and, for a minute, he just kind of gawked at the guy the reminded him of Mr McGinty. The expression on his face, then was caught somewhere between confused and on the verge of laughter. “Heh,” he allowed a chuckle and a crooked half-smile to finally crack that expression, “Yeah… You seen what I seen, dude, an’ you’d run faster than ya ever thought ya could…” His gaze ticked warily toward the Owl and his settling stomach grumbled at the possibility of reupping on the food it had recently chucked out… “and ya wouldn’t stop.” He’d almost whispered those last words, as if he’d only meant to think them to himself rather than speak them aloud. He shrugged, then, and offered another weak chuckle as his eyes turned back to Castle. “I could do with a refill on the grindage,” he said, “but I dunno that I really wanna talk about what I’ve seen. That cool?”

"I'm certainly not going to force you to talk, although any warnings you might have would be welcome.  For now, there is some stuff upstairs I want to see still.  And the grindage."  He turned towards the bars back door and help it open.  "Upstairs to some food?  My names Alex by the way.  Or 'Castle' to some."  He held the door open and followed the kid in.

The kid nodded; “Yeah. Cool.” Normally, he’d be wary of guys like this but, something about the way Castle reminded him of Mr McGinty along with the almost laid back vibe he gave off set Haze somewhat at ease and he only hesitated a second before following the older man’s lead. “Thanks, Castle-dude,” he said with a grin as he stepped through the door, “Most people that bother to talk to me call me Haze.”

((OOC: This post construed and constructed by Eol and Nomad. I figure Haze will follow Castle’s lead for the time being… back up the stairs to get some more grub and let Castle do his poking around.))

Castle opened the door for Haze and followed him in.  As they crossed the first floor to the stairs he took the lead.  He had a general sense that the kid would feel less nervous if someone older were there to make him look legitimate.  As he climbed the stairs he couldn't help but wonder what the kid had seen.  More than any kid his age should have to witness from the sound of things.  

When they reached the second floor he moved over to the table where the priest and another man stood.  A biker from the look of him.  Interesting.  "What can I do for you?" the priest asked.  

Before responding to the question, Castle turned to the kid and said, "Why don't you get some of the food and then come back."  It was, after all, why the kid was here.  He then turned and responded to the question.  "Hey.  I'm Alex.  I was here for the meeting earlier.  As have others here, I've seen the Man in White.  And I saw when that envelope you have got dropped on the table.  I'd be curious to see what is in it."