[center][img]http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo63/NMShape/cooltext141339446595706_zps6fzmac2f.png[/img][/center] It was a warm mansion, despite the extravagance it always seemed welcoming. As a large hand stretched out and stroked the long brown hair of a wide grinned girl who was more than happy to be scooped up in his arms, as his face glowed and strands of gray hair falling in front of his face while the young girl rested on the back of his left arm he held a book in the other. “How’s my little mouse.” The aging man spoke as wrinkles pulled and contracted across his chin. The girl responded with a muffled, mhmm. More excited to be spending time with her Grandfather as he was about to read to her. The fire crackled and danced Alistair weaved his enchanting tale of might and magic, of knights and dragons. And as he reached the midway point between the story just as the Moon was rising through the sky a young Evangeline had dozed off head bobbing in her Grandfather’s lap. “I just wish I’d been a better Father, maybe my Son would have become the one who’s lap you’d sleep in. For now.” He said in hushed tones, “Time to get you to bed little mouse.” As he picked her up and shuffled himself off to tuck her in. There was a pause, Alistar lingered in the doorway as Eva slept before he flicked off the lights. He walked into his study and sat at a grand desk carved from expensive wood as his will lay upon it. He took a quill and dipped it in ink. And among the many lines detailing how his estate should be divided a few stood out. To my Son I leave my vast businesses with whom you can rebuild our fortune, an intelligence will serve you well in dealing with these, for if handled efficiently and re-structured they will bring in a hefty sum. Our fortune isn’t something that can be regained in a lifetime but perhaps you can continue to lay the groundwork. As he skipped past the rest and began to write a new entry; his cursive writing began with. And to my Granddaughter Evangeline I leave my New York Mansion and all that’s inside it, as well as a sum a gold to keep you through hard times. As his hand fell to the paper he sat the quill back and snuffed out the candle all the while sealing the Will back into an envelope. Outside his window the Moon hung lower and the clock chimed throughout the room as a soft series of knocks echoed from the first floor. The door opened to reveal a tall and thin looking man with rugged facial features. Yet there was a strength to him, he felt able to slay monsters with a single motion as he stepped forward. “Evening. Been to long Alistair. Would have come to the door sooner but you had company.” Alistair quickly ushered him inside, as he had two items wrapped in cloth. “Lurking outside long then? Cold nights for New York.” “Only a couple hours, not the longest I’ve spent. But. The Knights are reforming, they’ll come for the fragments that is their namesake. They’re no longer safe with me, they know who I am. But you my friend are an unknown. They know not your involvement in my escape decades ago, nor our short friendship.” He said as he unwrapped the two long objects. “You fashioned them into spears? A long and short spear, interesting. Do you wish to know where I hide them Callum?” The man currently known as the infamous Van Helsing shook his head, and placed a hand on Alistair’s shoulder. “No. It’s better that I do not know. I'm endangering your family already, it’s best we cut ties one last time after this. Hide them where no one will think to look.” “Then this is goodbye Chum. Do take care, there are Demi Humans who’ll need your help in the days to come.” Callum covered his face with a cloth mask, and nodded. “I shall try. You are not the only one with grandkids after all.” Alistair watched him take his leave and then turned to the table mulling over what to do with the weapons forged from fragments of the Demon killing Black Sword. He knew only a little of the Supernatural world, only that he needed to mask the presence of magic with the stones left to him by Callum. He’d devise something a way to hide them; he knew a few who might be able to help, but as he stood there deciding what to do next the world began to fade.. As a female voice sounded. “I’m losing the memory. It’s the end of this segment. Your Grandfather saw naught what he did with the spears.” A young man awoke from the shared memory, as his Grandfather lay beside him wrought with old age and senile from Alzheimer's. “Well we have our lead then. Whoever created this Soul Stone is powerful, few in my arsenal can hope to match what this thing can bring to the table. If these spears are forged from a demon killing weapon then maybe they’ll have enough power to even my odds. We’ll need to find out who this Alistair is, and where he might have hid them.” “That.” The woman said gleefully. “I can help with.”