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Drag's Fun Silly Characters For Fun Silly People haha

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Drag's Fun Silly Characters For Fun Silly People haha

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Drag's Fun Silly Characters For Fun Silly People haha

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Drag's Fun Silly Characters For Fun Silly People haha

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Drag's Fun Silly Characters For Fun Silly People haha

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Deadwood: Hope, Death, & Misery [Closed]

Missionary Croix

_______________________________ NAME: Croix AGE: 30(?) RACE: Human PRONOUNS: He/Him HOMETOWN: Alphos HEIGHT: 6'6 WEIGHT: 194lbs _______________________________ "The changing of this world is not as fearsome as it sounds."

_______________________________ Bearer Of The One Truth Bearer Of The One Truth "Well met, do you have a moment to discuss the word of The One Being?" ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅ What are you? What are you? APPEARANCE ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "An irregular Missionary, perhaps. But a Missionary none the less." At a distance, Croix could easily pass for your stereotypical marauder or general thug. His build is stocky and tall, his face and body littered with scarring, strange markings and the general dirt that comes from travelling the Deadwoods. And his mangy shoulder length silver hair and beard. Yet when closer inspected his dress sense does not evoke that of a brigand, indeed, he is closer to that of a priest. There are... Liberties taken with his choice of outfit compared to how one would typically picture a priest however. His collar is discoloured and appears homemade and his overall outfit is worn and tattered. Fitted more for Deadwood's hazardous terrain than a sermon. He wears two layers on his body, one being a standard black duster style coat while the other is a torn cloak worn over his shirt and jacket in order to protect against the colder nights and terrain. He also wears a wide brimmed black hat to combat against the sun along with handwraps to offer some degree of protection when needing to hold or tear through the sharp brambles in the heavily forested areas. CAPABILITIES ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "To spread the word of The One Being. One must be ready to face those unwelcoming to hear it." In spite of his spirituality, Croix's skillset is much more suited towards his frame than his faith. Able to wield an axe or great-sword like it was a common long-sword without any obvious difficulty, yet his powerful frame does not seem to be justification enough for his raw strength and durability. While normally affable, even jovial, in a fight he seems overcome like a mad beast. Swinging his axe with enough force to split trees and taking punishment that should realistically stop him in his tracks all while seemingly revelling in the bloodshed like a man possessed. It is theorised by some who have seem him in battle that he is possibly part giant or split with another race, whatever he may be, it is not fully human. In terms of weakness however, Croix is not unstoppable. While he can swing weapons his height without any physical problems on his part, he is still slower on the swing than someone using a much lighter weapon. Furthermore, his style is inherently bestial, meaning that while it often only takes one hit from him to at least force an enemy into panic, his attacks can be blocked, dodged or parried by skilled or fast enough enemies. Lastly, while near everyone is susceptible to magic regardless, Croix seems to be debilitated by it more than most. His strange durability means he can withstand it most of the time but offensive spells that hit or effect him often make him clutch his head in pain or even make him fall to his knee outright while he composes himself. EQUIPMENT ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "My faith is all I require... And perhaps some wine." Croix typically travels quite light, typically his largest and most prominent item is his Axe for which he has no scabbard or way to hold it save carrying it rested against his shoulder. Beyond that his notable items are a small coin purse with rarely much currency within and his leatherbound locked tome, the key for which rests on a necklace that Croix never removes. Although often friendly, if offputting, he is extremely protective of his book and will politely but firmly deny any one else the chance to read its contents or even hold it. Though vague, Croix at most insinuates the book is related to his religion and knowledge of The One Being but refuses to go into much detail beyond this.

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▅▅▅▅▅

Who are you?
Who are you?

GOAL
_{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}
"Endure. And in enduring, grow strong."

Quite simply put, Croix hopes to spread and preach the word of The One Being wherever he travels. Croix is incredibly strong but he is still one man, by journeying the Deadwoods alongside others he is eager to deepen the reach of The One Truth. It is hard to imagine he can do worse anyway, considering he touts a religion no one in the land has heard of and its followers amounts to just himself.

PERSONALITY
_{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}
"Our fires never stop burning, friend. All we can do is temper them. Through hope... And through faith."

Croix is a conflicting and strange presence to get an accurate reading. Most of the time he is quiet yet polite and even friendly. As though he is existing in an alternate world unseen by the rest of the Deadwoods. He is willing to listen, patient even to the most belligerent of people he finds himself in the company of and of course more than eager to discuss the various faiths of the land as well as espouse on his own.

Yet he is also unsettling, Croix has a strange manner about him, a serenity that often makes him come off as detached and indifferent to the horrors that surround him. His hopefulness, while seemingly genuine, can easily be seen by others as denial or rejection of the current state of things. In his mind, The One Being represents change and the current state of the world is merely its endurance as it forms into something new and is not to be frightened, but this is little comfort to those who consider themselves more in touch with reality. This is all to say nothing about him in combat, where he seems to regress into a monster of man, laughing and hollering with joy at the carnage he unleashes. While he can tell apart friend from foe and even strategize and coordinate his attacks when in enough control of himself, he seems to revel in the suffering inflicted upon his enemies.

While he is a friendly and outright optimistic sort regularly, there is undeniably a darkness to him that lurks underneath his warmth, hope and faith.

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅

Why are you?
Why are you?

"Who I was does not matter. I am something more. Changed."

Croix's birth was unremarkable, a meeting between two members of a Bone Clan no doubt long since claimed by the harsh world. Unwanted by both parents he was birthed and left in the city of Alphos. This, truthfully, should be the were the story ends as life for children in general is not comfortable for most of the Deadwood's denizens yet Croix survived. Adopted, so to speak, by an orphan house in the city. Life was almost idyllic growing up for Croix, his fellow orphans being a motley crew that looked out for one another, something out of a story book really.

As happy stories typically go in the Deadwoods, it ended up taking a dark turn. Around the time Croix became a teenager, his home and friends began to act stranger around him, introducing new phrases and worldviews little by little as he grew older. He learned not to question the wisdom of the people who had so generously took him in yet he could feel himself slipping away piece by piece as information was filled into his head. About the power and superiority of demons and magic over the common man, the inevitability of demonic rule over these ruined lands. By the time Croix was becoming an adult, he was all but indoctrinated into the cult that his caretakers truly were, along with the rest of his brothers and sisters.

The cult consolidated their people and resources into a single purpose, their goal to summon and bind a demon to their will. In spite of being a small ramshackle orphanage in Alphos, the cult had grand ambitions of a crusade, led by demons and their own magical prowress, to slaughter or enslave the denizens of the Deadwoods and Exusia to their rule. The idea was that by binding and forcing a demon to submit to a mortal host, not only would that person's physical and mental capabilities shoot up considerably, it would give the mortal access to the demons unknown and strange magic, perhaps even eliminating the need for rituals all together. Each iteration of this ritual resulted in the chosen host simply twisting and contorting to disgusting angles before perishing, in one case outright exploding. But Croix was so conditioned by this point he did not question the horrors subjected to him and his once loving family, until the night where his name was called.

The Cult had failed repeatedly and was growing more and more desperate as their once small company of loyal followers began to dwindle. Croix, by that point being their physically strongest follower left, was ostensibly their perceived best chance at successfully binding the demon to a subject who could withstand it. The ritual began and the incantations murmured in the dead of night, Croix's eyes shut, awaiting either successfully serving his masters yet again or the embrace of oblivion. But something unexpected occurred. As Croix shut his eyes a light engulfed him, a disembodied voice spoke, one that opened his eyes to the lies upon lies fed to him almost since his birth. In what felt like an instant, with information it could not possibly know, the voice unravelled Croix's mental conditioning and awoke him to the truth. That voice was 'The One Being' and it needed a follower to begin prepping the world for what would soon follow. When Croix awoke, it was in the blood of his former family, those that had only ever saw him as either a tool or a fellow disciple. Yet, he couldn't feel any sadness, instead for possibly the first time in his life, he felt hope.

Though his body seemed change from the experience, that he was still alive seemed to indicate The One Being had intervened before it could destroy him completely. Armed with faith, his mind and something rarest of all in Deadwood, optimism. Croix left Alphos and travelled the land, stories began to emerge about a strange mountain of a man in a wide brimmed hat, preaching change and forgiveness as he went.

It was not until word reached him of the expedition organised by the Queen in Exusia that Croix felt purpose beyond merely spreading The One Truth. With this quest he could perhaps understand the Cataclycsm, find out what the world would change into under The One Being, use the gold and status offered by The Queen to even begin a full church if possible. These thoughts invigorated Croix's already unshakeable belief, with a smile he set off. Eager to spread The One Truth in earnest.

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▅▅▅▅▅

What else is there?
What else is there?

The One Truth - In spite of its far reaching consequence of implication, Croix's religion is actually quite straightforward. Croix believes in a deity known as The One Being, one who exists in every form of religion as their god (or gods) as well, merely in a different face and manner. The idea is that The One Being seeks to unite the people of Deadwood in preparation for the world's change into something new after its destruction. Croix believes that, while not strictly benevolent, The One Being exists to facilitate change in the world and all things. Growing them into a better version of their original self or something outright new, and that this process is merely happening to the greater land as it morphs to something better, or at least different. There are other specifics to it but this, above all else, is the 'One Truth' Croix is so passionate in spreading to the world.

Deadwood: Hope, Death, & Misery [Closed]

idk haha

Missionary Croix

_______________________________ NAME: Croix AGE: 30(?) RACE: Human PRONOUNS: He/Him HOMETOWN: Alphos HEIGHT: 6'3 WEIGHT: 194lbs _______________________________ "The changing of this world is not as fearsome as it sounds."

_______________________________ Bearer Of The One Truth Bearer Of The One Truth "Well met, do you have a moment to discuss the word of The One Being?" ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅ What are you? What are you? APPEARANCE ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "An irregular Missionary, perhaps. But a Missionary none the less." At a distance, Croix could easily pass for your stereotypical marauder or general thug. His build is stocky and tall, his face and body littered with scarring, strange markings and the general dirt that comes from travelling the Deadwoods. And his mangy shoulder length silver hair and beard. Yet when closer inspected his dress sense does not evoke that of a brigand, indeed, he is closer to that of a priest. There are... Liberties taken with his choice of outfit compared to how one would typically picture a priest however. His collar is discoloured and appears homemade and his overall outfit is worn and tattered. Fitted more for Deadwood's hazardous terrain than a sermon. He wears two layers on his body, one being a standard black duster style coat while the other is a torn cloak worn over his shirt and jacket in order to protect against the colder nights and terrain. He also wears a wide brimmed black hat to combat against the sun along with handwraps to offer some degree of protection when needing to hold or tear through the sharp brambles in the heavily forested areas. CAPABILITIES ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "To spread the word of The One Being. One must be ready to face those unwelcoming to hear it." In spite of his spirituality, Croix's skillset is much more suited towards his frame than his faith. Able to wield an axe or great-sword like it was a common long-sword without any obvious difficulty, yet his powerful frame does not seem to be justification enough for his raw strength and durability. While normally affable, even jovial, in a fight he seems overcome like a mad beast. Swinging his axe with enough force to split trees and taking punishment that should realistically stop him in his tracks all while seemingly revelling in the bloodshed like a man possessed. It is theorised by some who have seem him in battle that he is possibly part giant or split with another race, whatever he may be, it is not fully human. In terms of weakness however, Croix is not unstoppable. While he can swing weapons his height without any physical problems on his part, he is still slower on the swing than someone using a much lighter weapon. Furthermore, his style is inherently bestial, meaning that while it often only takes one hit from him to at least force an enemy into panic, his attacks can be blocked, dodged or parried by skilled or fast enough enemies. Lastly, while near everyone is susceptible to magic regardless, Croix seems to be debilitated by it more than most. His strange durability means he can withstand it most of the time but offensive spells that hit or effect him often make him clutch his head in pain or even make him fall to his knee outright while he composes himself. EQUIPMENT ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "My faith is all I require... And perhaps some wine." Croix typically travels quite light, typically his largest and most prominent item is his Axe for which he has no scabbard or way to hold it save carrying it rested against his shoulder. Beyond that his notable items are a small coin purse with rarely much currency within and his leatherbound locked tome, the key for which rests on a necklace that Croix never removes. Although often friendly, if offputting, he is extremely protective of his book and will politely but firmly deny any one else the chance to read its contents or even hold it. Though vague, Croix at most insinuates the book is related to his religion and knowledge of The One Being but refuses to go into much detail beyond this.

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅

Who are you?
Who are you?

GOAL
_{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}
"Endure. And in enduring, grow strong."

Quite simply put, Croix hopes to spread and preach the word of The One Being wherever he travels. Croix is incredibly strong but he is still one man, by journeying the Deadwoods alongside others he is eager to deepen the reach of The One Truth. It is hard to imagine he can do worse anyway, considering he touts a religion no one in the land has heard of and its followers amounts to just himself.

PERSONALITY
_{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}
"Our fires never stop burning, friend. All we can do is temper them. Through hope... And through faith."

Croix is a conflicting and strange presence to get an accurate reading. Most of the time he is quiet yet polite and even friendly. As though he is existing in an alternate world unseen by the rest of the Deadwoods. He is willing to listen, patient even to the most belligerent of people he finds himself in the company of and of course more than eager to discuss the various faiths of the land as well as espouse on his own.

Yet he is also unsettling, Croix has a strange manner about him, a serenity that often makes him come off as detached and indifferent to the horrors that surround him. His hopefulness, while seemingly genuine, can easily be seen by others as denial or rejection of the current state of things. In his mind, The One Being represents change and the current state of the world is merely its endurance as it forms into something new and is not to be frightened, but this is little comfort to those who consider themselves more in touch with reality. This is all to say nothing about him in combat, where he seems to regress into a monster of man, laughing and hollering with joy at the carnage he unleashes. While he can tell apart friend from foe and even strategize and coordinate his attacks when in enough control of himself, he seems to revel in the suffering inflicted upon his enemies.

While he is a friendly and outright optimistic sort regularly, there is undeniably a darkness to him that lurks underneath his warmth, hope and faith.

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅

Why are you?
Why are you?

"Who I was does not matter. I am something more. Changed."

Croix's birth was unremarkable, a meeting between two members of a Bone Clan no doubt long since claimed by the harsh world. Unwanted by both parents he was birthed and left in the city of Alphos. This, truthfully, should be the were the story ends as life for children in general is not comfortable for most of the Deadwood's denizens yet Croix survived. Adopted, so to speak, by an orphan house in the city. Life was almost idyllic growing up for Croix, his fellow orphans being a motley crew that looked out for one another, something out of a story book really.

As happy stories typically go in the Deadwoods, it ended up taking a dark turn. Around the time Croix became a teenager, his home and friends began to act stranger around him, introducing new phrases and worldviews little by little as he grew older. He learned not to question the wisdom of the people who had so generously took him in yet he could feel himself slipping away piece by piece as information was filled into his head. About the power and superiority of demons and magic over the common man, the inevitability of demonic rule over these ruined lands. By the time Croix was becoming an adult, he was all but indoctrinated into the cult that his caretakers truly were, along with the rest of his brothers and sisters.

The cult consolidated their people and resources into a single purpose, their goal to summon and bind a demon to their will. In spite of being a small ramshackle orphanage in Alphos, the cult had grand ambitions of a crusade, led by demons and their own magical prowress, to slaughter or enslave the denizens of the Deadwoods and Exusia to their rule. The idea was that by binding and forcing a demon to submit to a mortal host, not only would that person's physical and mental capabilities shoot up considerably, it would give the mortal access to the demons unknown and strange magic, perhaps even eliminating the need for rituals all together. Each iteration of this ritual resulted in the chosen host simply twisting and contorting to disgusting angles before perishing, in one case outright exploding. But Croix was so conditioned by this point he did not question the horrors subjected to him and his once loving family, until the night where his name was called.

The Cult had failed repeatedly and was growing more and more desperate as their once small company of loyal followers began to dwindle. Croix, by that point being their physically strongest follower left, was ostensibly their perceived best chance at successfully binding the demon to a subject who could withstand it. The ritual began and the incantations murmured in the dead of night, Croix's eyes shut, awaiting either successfully serving his masters yet again or the embrace of oblivion. But something unexpected occurred. As Croix shut his eyes a light engulfed him, a disembodied voice spoke, one that opened his eyes to the lies upon lies fed to him almost since his birth. In what felt like an instant, with information it could not possibly know, the voice unravelled Croix's mental conditioning and awoke him to the truth. That voice was 'The One Being' and it needed a follower to begin prepping the world for what would soon follow. When Croix awoke, it was in the blood of his former family, those that had only ever saw him as either a tool or a fellow disciple. Yet, he couldn't feel any sadness, instead for possibly the first time in his life, he felt hope.

Though his body seemed change from the experience, that he was still alive seemed to indicate The One Being had intervened before it could destroy him completely. Armed with faith, his mind and something rarest of all in Deadwood, optimism. Croix left Alphos and travelled the land, stories began to emerge about a strange mountain of a man in a wide brimmed hat, preaching change and forgiveness as he went.

It was not until word reached him of the expedition organised by the Queen in Exusia that Croix felt purpose beyond merely spreading The One Truth. With this quest he could perhaps understand the Cataclycsm, find out what the world would change into under The One Being, use the gold and status offered by The Queen to even begin a full church if possible. These thoughts invigorated Croix's already unshakeable belief, with a smile he set off. Eager to spread The One Truth in earnest.

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅

What else is there?
What else is there?

The One Truth - In spite of its far reaching consequence of implication, Croix's religion is actually quite straightforward. Croix believes in a deity known as The One Being, one who exists in every form of religion as their god (or gods) as well, merely in a different face and manner. The idea is that The One Being seeks to unite the people of Deadwood in preparation for the world's change into something new after its destruction. Croix believes that, while not strictly benevolent, The One Being exists to facilitate change in the world and all things. Growing them into a better version of their original self or something outright new, and that this process is merely happening to the greater land as it morphs to something better, or at least different. There are other specifics to it but this, above all else, is the 'One Truth' Croix is so passionate in spreading to the world.

Recollections: Magnanimous (Cancelled)

---

The Vanburen Estate

---

"... But maybe let's try to talk them out of something stupid, 'kay?"

Shane didn't really know how to respond. On one hand he agreed that they had basically no plan save for "attack" but on the other he stood firm on the view that the cult had to get broken apart. He had difficulty formulating a response that would make this view clear to Sabrina without possibly upsetting her but thankfully it seemed the Vanburens had already decided to set off. Sabrina went on ahead to join up with the family and their magical expert guides spilling out the door.

Shane lingered, instead making his way to his father's study where he took in the sights. Memories of frustrated conversations about the future and images of his father pouring over a seemingly unending stack of files at the desk flooded back to Shane. He scanned the walls and display cases at the weaponry James had accrued and seen as tasteful enough to show off in his home. To his knowledge, the majority of rifles and other assorted firearms on display were inactive, and Georgie had already taken James' personal rifle. But rifles had never been much Shane's preferred option anyway.

He stood over James' desk and crouched to the bottom left drawer, sliding it open with a creak to reveal a slightly dusted brown case. He picked it up and placed on the desk and forced it open in spite of its unused mechanism. Inside lay a black Browning Hi-Power pistol next to some cartridges filled with ammo. It was a gamble as to whether it'd still be here after all these years, but it seemed James was content to let things lay if he didn't need them.

Shane took the pistol out and aimed down the sights, it wasn't quite the type he was used to but it'd do him well enough. He didn't plan on having to use it against the cultists but whatever the hell they spawned outside the house? Might as well have some options, especially if he was stone cold sober at his family's insistence. James didn't have a pistol belt or any kind of holster tucked inside so Shane made do with the inside pocket of the jacket made by Mary Roberts, fitting tight enough to dissuade some of his worries about a mishap even with the safety on.

With that, he left the estate to join his siblings.

---

The Edge of the Woods

---

Shane felt somewhat vindicated in his decision making as the Vanburen siblings stood before a talking skeleton with horns protruding from its skull.

He hadn't voiced it, or indeed anything at all, but his annoyance at their lack of prep grew on the journey to the cultists hideout. He was planning on pulling Justin aside when they reached the building proper to try and at least coordinate a strike plan. Kids with magic sure but dumb kids none the less, just treat it like a police crackdown on your regular old hideout.

It was only now that Shane was reminded of the fantastical nature of their mission, any attempts at pulling the current proceedings down to a level of reality he could digest seemed determined to fail. The skeleton addressed the Vanburens and seemed to wish to talk with ONLY the Vanburens as he shut Justin down.

Shane folded his arms but felt his right hand press close against the gun in his jacket. He didn't like this at all. Even Shane didn't need Oscar or the kids to fill him in that not all of these magical creatures used force to get their way, some used cunning. Ezra seemed willing to indulge the... Man? Better him than most, at least. Especially the one that also interjected herself into the conversation, the annoying girl who's name escaped Shane. Along with Alexander and Raymond.

Truthfully, Shane didn't focus so much on the topic of discussion, he was content to glare intently at the Skeleton Man, waiting for the slightest twitch that he was about to engage the Vanburens. In spite of his cold attitude, to Ezra in particular, he found himself slowly moving forward to stand alongside him, at least in case his intuition was correct and things did take a... Violent turn.

'Bullet might not phase this thing, but that's not all I got if he tries making a move.' He thought to himself as he narrowed his eyes at the skeleton, awaiting its response to his siblings.

Recollections: Magnanimous (Cancelled)

---

The Vanburen Estate

---

Shane felt his fist involuntarily clench as his peace was disturbed and the glass pulled away from him. Had it been anyone else save Sabrina... Well, something about fools and vices and probably the possibility of violence. Shane looked ahead, his face neutral but inside he felt his anger stew, exacerbated by Sabrina's words confirming the Vanburens plan essentially was indeed to charge in there without any kind of plan and hope for the best.

"No offence, but even if I drank the entire bar I'd still probably be more use out there than most of them." The unsaid generalisation included Sabrina. Shane felt enough warmth and sympathy to not directly say as such but it was likely even she understood that.

Most of the Vanburens were not fighters, he couldn't really be quite as sure with Alexander or the new girl but as far as he was aware the rest of them were lucky to have seen a schoolyard scrap much less a situation with real, possibly life threatening, danger. Trisha, Ezra, Georgie. All of them were egocentric and headstrong, though come to think of it so was most of the Vanburens. How lightly they took the prospect of directly fighting the cultists, possibly even going further than merely beating them infuriated Shane as much as it distressed him. He wasn't any kind of commando but he had the frame and the experience to handle a gun, Georgie on the other hand would likely break her fucking shoulder if she tried using that rifle, yet she carried it haphazardly on her shoulder and whisked it off into her little pocket garden. He didn't doubt the Vanburens couldn't win if they went forward with a direct confrontation, but their collective arrogance was going to get someone hurt... Or worse.

Shane realised he'd went off into his own world as he heard Sabrina speak again and sit next to him at the bar.

"I don't think going to fight the cult is a great idea... what if one of us gets hurt? Or what if we hurt one of them? I don't really want anything bad to happen to anybody."

He shrugged and folded his arms over the bar table.

"Be nice to at least do it with a plan of attack." He muttered just loud enough for his sister to catch. "The reality is, Sabrina, that we don't have the luxury of considering much else. Sure, maybe Arabelle's faith is right and this cultist turncoat is willing to help us stop them, how do we know they won't already have packed up and moved by the time we figure something out? Or that they've switched gears and started getting ready to hit us again, or that they have friends they've called in. Or any number of variables that take away our advantage of knowing where they are right now and what they want."

He turned his head slightly to face her. "You saw that blonde girl today. They already know we're searching for 'em, odds are they're prepping to go to ground as it is and we have to pray for a new lead to find 'em again."

His expression softened to one slightly more sympathetic as he unfolded his arms.

"I understand you don't want to fight them. No one's gonna make you either. But the reality is that these kids won't stop, 'less we break apart their operation." There was more he wanted to say. An admission of faith in his sister, a statement of resolve that would renew Sabrina's confidence that her former cop brother had things under control. Even something as simple as a thanks for checking up on him even if it was unasked.

But it all eluded him. The old Shane would be able to flash her something as simple as a smile to set her mind at ease, but he could not even find it in himself to give her that. All he could do was place a hand on her shoulder for a moment before turning back to face the bar. No less bitter and on edge after having been interrupted during a chance to strip away some of the anxiety of being surrounded by his family. He looked ahead at the bottle of Jack Daniels placed deliberately on the shelf adjacent to him. Seeing his warped reflection in the brown glass.