Druid's Lane, nearby Cult Headquarters.
HGJ: "Are you sure you don't desire backup, Jack?"
CJH: "Yeah, yeah. It's too dangerous for anyone else."
IQ: "Well, I have a number of law enforcement officers standing by, should you wish us to actually do our job."
CJH: "Appreciated, but unnecessary, Inspector."
GL: "Still, Captain, there should be some sort of signal, in case you require any help..."
CJH: "Stop fussing Prim. I've dealt with far worse people than this bunch of fanatical murderers. I've tangled with Exentria Gallumbiss without breaking a sweat. Maybe a couple of bones, definitely some hearts."
GL: "Dash it all, I don't like this Henry. We don't belong on the sidelines."
HGJ: "I'm sure he'll be fine, he's a strong cove."
GL: "We shall see."
Exterior Of Cult Headquarters.
CJH: "Right Jack, time for the softly softly approach. You know talking to yourself is not helping matters, but when you're as old as I am, it's hard to find someone with similar life experiences. Beggars can't be choosers."
CJH: "Oh look, an broken upstairs window, right next to a drainpipe. Almost too easy. Kind of makes the robe a bit redundant though."
Jack quickly made his way inside the structure. The dingy room in which he found himself was deserted, baring years of dust and several colonies of scuttling insects. He progressed cautiously onto the upper landing.
Still, nobody was nearby. From atop the stairs, Jack could make out the flickering of torches below, and the unmistakable chanting of the cultists echoed upwards. Enough was enough. The Captain bounded down the stairs.
CJH: "Honey, I'm home! Hands in the air, all of you. This ends. Tonight!"
Cult Leader: "Ah, tonight's glorious sacrifice has joined us."
CJH: "I think not, pal. You have heard of pistols, yes? This one is pointed at your head. No sudden moves, any of you."
CL: "What do you think this is, exactly?"
CJH: "Nothing. Not anymore. Your sacrificial circle is broken."
CL: "There is but one of you, and seven of us. Not counting our lord and master, of course."
CJH: "Yeah, but how many of you are packing heat?"
CL: "Such spirit! Oh, our Lord will enjoy feasting on you."
CJH: "Cut the crap. If you were really communing with a deity, some powerful force, you'd be showing off! Not just prancing around in these admittedly fetching robes."
CL: "You wish to see a demonstration of the power of the Typhonian Beast?"
CJH: "That old fairytale? Seriously, that's your all powered God? The Galaxy Crusher? The Endless Death? Satan? The story parents tell their children to keep them in line?"
CL: "Do not mock Sutekh, Lord of Death! Sutekh kaftan dolgarrog, ni lamba'kahn!"
CJH: "Oh, I'm just shaking in my boots. Come on then, Sutekh. Do your worst! I've stared down Abbadon, you don't scare me!"
Despite his bravado, Jack was mildly concerned. A strange wind had begun to swirl around them, the shadows cast by torchlight were stretching impossibly far, and he could feel a pressure pounding on his skull.
CJH: "Ok, I've seen enough psychic disturbances to know when an ethereal presence is trying to enter me uninvited. Maybe there is something to you tale after all. But I'm not gonna stop. This is your last warn..."
A sudden invisible force jolted the Captain, sending his revolver skittering to the floor.
CL: "Feel the power of Sutekh! He is yet unable to take physical form, this is but a taste of his power! Imagine his potential when he is freed!"
CJH: "I am! And it doesn't end well for anyone. You included. You really think that a Lord of Death will let you worshippers live?!"
CL: "That is not the intention. Sutekh will wipe all pitiful life from the cosmos. Us faithful will merely be reborn in his glorious image. Our reward awaits us beyond this mortal carcass."
CJH: "Oh great, a cult with a death wish. Just your luck Jack."
CL: "Enough prattle! Bind him to the chair. It is time to offer a sacrifice! Sutekh requires immense life energy to break his prison bonds."
Jack found himself unable to resist the advance of the cultists. He was unable to move his limbs of his own accord. Trapped in his mind, body puppeteered where they wanted him. But he held enough control to be able to scream as they began carving ritualistic symbols into his flesh....
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