2015.03.11 - Two White Knights

M for Mature Audiences Contains undead, violence.

St. Jude's is a humble parish.

With a humble priest.

And a humble cemetery that spreads out behind the old church, where those who have 'passed on' may rest in peace, while life continues on for the rest of the world. Alas, would that it were so. Tonight, the dead buried at St Jude's are anything but 'at peace'. The moon is high, the sky is more or less grey with clouds, and a wind (with a slightly unpleasant bite to it) blows down the street, over the grass, under the trees and past the headstones of graves that once contained bodies.

Some of those graves are now open, having been dug out from within, and the first of the zombies lumbered out into the path of oncoming traffic only an hour or so ago.

Most pedestrians and motorists have already fled the scene, their screams and frantic phone-calls having summoned the local law-enforcement (which is not much). A single police car is parked on the opposite side of the street in this backwater suburb of New York, with the police hiding inside as more undead claw their way out of their graves.

A second car pulls up - and a tall, broad-shouldered man in the white cape of a knight-templar steps out. Slung over his back is a massive broadsword, and a silver cross hangs about his neck. He walks toward the police car...

There is, in fact, one other car..though the dented cab is a couple blocks distant, so anyone focused on the horrors rising from the modest church can hardly be faulted for not noticing it; really, that's the point.

Though the lights are flashing brightly when the broad and shining figure approaches it.. the police car itself is empty and abandoned. There is a shout from the building across the street; a uniformed man waving for attention. "Buddy, get out of there! It's not safe, not until backup can arrive!" the police man is clearly panicked, but trying hard to project assurance that somehow more of the force will be able to contain this...

However, looking upwards to view the man at the window if he chooses to would also turn out to be a very good angle to see another shining flash of white - Someone leaping deftly from the rooftop and gliding towards the roof of a small crypt in the church, on a cloak in the shape of a crescent moon.

Michael stands up again after bending forward to check the police car. Spotting the police officer himself, he breaks into a jog and comes to a halt just in front of the building. "It's alright, Officer," he calls out in a broad, slow drawl. "Have faith. And please, tell me what the problem - "

The knight's eye catches a glint of white in the air above him, and turns his gaze toward the rooftops, just in time to spot a figure in mid-leap. Following the man's trajectory, the knight turns about fully... and pauses, stock-still. A collective moan arises from the overgrown gardens beside the old stone church; it is unlike any sound a 'normal' human voice could make, and Michael feels a shiver run down his spine. The policeman's car-alarm goes off as one of the nearer zombies reaches it, climbing over the hood - and in the shadows left by a non-functioning streetlight, one can see other bodies twitching on the sidewalk. Their limbs have been blasted off - presumably by gunfire.

From the church, something pound on the heavy wooden doors - from the inside. A muffled male voice cries out for help. Michael, his eyes wide at the sight before him, crosses himself and reaches up over his shoulder for his sword. "Christ preserve!" he murmurs, then he looks to the other 'white knight' in the vicinity. "I pray that is in ally, and not another foe..."

It's hard to tell for sure, as the silver figure glances around from the small crypt where it lands, and then slips off over the far side, disappearing from Michael's sight. It is in the direction of the closed up Church though, and Michael can see a flash and possibly a hiss or two of smoke a moment later, in the distance. Hopefully it's as good sign..

He may not have too long to wonder though, as there are more of the undead shambling towards him, drawn by his the flashing lights, shining cape, and now the wailing alarm. The policeman above cries out, firing wildly at the zombies on the streets, but if things weren't bad enough, the zombie on top of the car is bashing it's emaciated fists clumsily into the lights of the police car, abruptly putting them out. The churchyard is deathly dark in their absence, with the nearest street lamp already a casualty. There's some light right around Michael from the windows of the building, though.. enough to see the four zombies zeroing in on him.

"Stay inside," Michael orders the police officer - now that he knows what's afoot. The hand upon the hilt of his sword slowly draws it out, and Amoracchius' lambent radiance lights up the street. With a faint prayer on his lips, the knight advances upon the nearest undead - the gnarled remains of an old woman probably dead a year. "I am sorry," Michael drawls as the glowing sword slices through the air; there is a burst of white fire as the blade connects with the corpse's head, severing it. "But this world is for the living."

The rest of the body crumples to the ground, burning with the same white flame until there is nothing left but ash. The head strikes the side of the police car, denting it. As the knight turns his attention to the three other zombies converging on him, more of the restless dead follow the flashes of light coming from behind the church - a group of five or so, each with a lumbering gait, and dragging limbs. At least one of them appears to be the animated remains of a small child.

The banging on the doors from within the church grows louder as more of the undead gather around the lowest of the stained glass windows on the far side of the building, smashing it in. "Oh God!" the man within cries out. "No - they're breaking in! They're breaking in!" The banging ceases, and an object comes flying out the broken window to strike a zombie in the face.

A hymn book.

Followed by another.

And another.

The fourth hymn book sails over the undead and straight for the caped crusader fighting them.

The policeman was already turning to the stairs to run back down, shouting, "Look, you need to get -out- of th--" though he breaks off with a gasp when Michael's heavy sword flares into life, cutting down the abomination before him. The policeman stalls, staring.. It looks like he'll stay inside after all. The other three don't seem to care one whit for the fate of their comrade, and advance on Michael together, gouging, swiping, snatching at his clothes and flying cape.

Meanwhile, inside the church grounds, the cowled figure is fighting in much the same situation, only with a pair of twin crescent blades instead of a sword. His moves are efficient and purposeful, cutting or simply shoving a path through those risen towards the church and the screaming man. "Go back to your graves, and leave the living be!" he growls, stabbing one in the chest with a flare of holy energy. When he turns to face the next he doesn't hesitate, but a softer murmur of protest escapes him, "She's just a little girl!" even as he cuts her down. "-Was- a little girl." he states coldly. "The man in there still lives." And he ducks as he makes his way towards the building, muttering in a dryer tone, "And with aim like that, he definitely needs help."

"I'll be a monkey's - ahh!"

The head of yet another walking undead flies, and this time strikes the screen door behind which the police officer has barricaded himself. Grinning in a thoroughly macabre fashion, the skull drops to the ground with the faint 'squelch' of what little flesh still clings to it, and turns to dust. Michael, murmuring one prayer after another for the poor souls of these abominations, thwacks one in the chest (or what is left of a chest) with the hilt of his broadsword, igniting it. He looks over the top of the last two zombies clawing at him, eyes narrowed at the church.

And the flying hymnbooks.

And Moon Knight.

Hands from both zombies behind him grab him by the shoulders...

In the church yard Moon Knight heads for the doors since they're closer, and wrenches one open. "Get back!" he orders the man inside, slamming the doors shut again, and advancing on the window. A bottle neck seems to him a better way to deal with these creatures; at least when there's a civilian to protect.

The poor officer makes a poor job of biting down on a shriek when the morbid missile rebounds off the screen. He ends up leaning on the wall, knees wobbly when he makes the mistake of looking down at where the grinning remains fell. He does manage to call, "Look out!" though, just as the zombie from on top of the car throws itself on top of Michael, scrabbling at his face, grabbing at his chin as if preparing to try and wrench his head right off while his fellows try to gain solid grips on Michael's arms.. the cop's eyes are wide; he can't shoot, not into that kind of melee in the dark, and he seems to think it a very real possibility he's about to see Michael's head join the one by the screen.

As three of the malicious undead clamber on top the Knight of the Cross - determined to separate his head (and other limbs, surely) from his body before their own suffer the purging of holy fire - Michael lets out a bellow. Righteous anger...

...and simple pain.

A fleshless hand tugs at his beard, whilst bony fingers wrap around his throat... leaving a smear of blood across the man's broad neck. Muscles bulge as he attempts to dislodge pasty white digits, as the twisted hands of the other two zombies grip his arms and pull in opposite directions, tearing his cloak and the sleeves of his jacket underneath.

Tongues of flame burst to life along the forearms of each undead creature, but they do not let go. Thick, inky smoke and a stench that can only be described as 'unholy' rise up from the homicidal aberrations as Michael sinks to his knees, his teeth gritted and lips moving in prayer. "Blessed Lord, lend your strength to your humble servant..."

Meanwhile, within the church a single priest - young, from the look of him (perhaps in his mid-twenties), thin, dark-haired - wheels about on his heel to see Moon Knight charge in. He has in his hands another silver candlestick, and a dish of holy water both poised to defend himself... and such is his fright that throws both at his rescuer. "N - no! Get away!"

Outside, a blinding flash of light illuminates the street, the yard, and every window on one side of the parish. Three rotting bodies fly in three different directions...

Moon Knight freezes.. and as a result both the candlestick and water bounce off him, knocking him back very slightly, but ignored. For what reassurance it offers the priest, the holy water neither burns nor hurts him, though one has to wonder that a solid silver candlestick wouldn't.. He turns slightly towards the door a moment before the blinding flash from the street. "The hell?! There's someone else - " his tone snaps low. "Someone new - " the flash is bright even through the tiny windows of the heavy doors, backlighting him as he turns to the priest again, extending a silver hand. "We must get you to safety. Something is coming." his words are weighty and solemn, despite being also a tad obvious.

"Oh, Blessed Mother of Christ forgive me!" the priest exclaims the moment he realises Moon Knight is not a threat to him. "I - I didn't know! I didn't realise you - " Continuing to stammer, the priest appears about to fall to his knees in supplication, but the hand offered to him strengthens his resolve somewhat. "They just... started coming up out of the ground - it was... it was...S-something else?"

With the sound of shattering bone, a corpse strikes the open front doors of the parish and explodes into a shower of marrow, rotting flesh and scraps of material. A finger-bone bounces inside, landing at Moon Knight's feet. A severed hand lands a few inches away, clawing feebly at the carpet in the priest's direction. Outside, the other two zombies also explode upon impacting the policeman's car, and the house in which he took refuge simultaneously.

Seconds tick by on the grand old clock hanging above the parish doors. Footsteps approach: heavy, purposeful - and the man with the glowing broadsword comes to a halt just outside the parish doors, where he can see inside. He lowers the sword to rest its tip lightly upon the ground, and beckons with his free arm to both priest and Moon Knight within.

"They're gone," he says in a deep, calm (if slightly raspy voice). "Thanks be to God."

Outside the policeman has fallen to the floor, only murmuring a stunned, "Good Lord.." as Michael strides away towards the church, unimpeded.

Inside, meanwhile, Moon Knight may have been about to answer.. though the corpse shattering against the woodwork draws his attention, and he stomps forcefully on the creeping hand, head whipping up to looking around.. the zombies at the windows... they've stopped as well? Did that burst destroy them all? He mutters under his breath, turning towards the doorway and the steps approaching. "Which god do you serve?" he retorts, standing in a somewhat bristled manner. "..He means thanks for the help, by the way."

Resting both hands upon the pommel of his broadsword, Michael takes a moment before replying to lean back and scan around the side of the church as best he can from his vantage point. It is not a perfect view, but there is no more moaning and groaning (not from any zombies at least) that he can hear, so... Taking a deep breath, the Knight at the door lets it out through his lips, slowly, and shifts his grip on the sword's hilt.

He tries not to look tired.

With... dubious results.

His voice, at least, is clear and strong. "You're welcome," he drawls with just a faint tinge of wry humour to colour his words. "And... thank you, too," he adds with a half-smile at Moon Knight - and the light of curiosity kindling in his honest, blue eyes. As for answering the question about which god he serves, the Templar-looking man holds off, and shifts his attention to the trembling priest.

"Father," he says in a voice with obvious respect, despite his clearly being much older than the priest, and much more confident, "It's going to be alright; you're safe now - and the souls of his place can rest in peace." To Moon Knight, he lifts his chin firstly - and then his sword, in salute. "I think... we both have our guardians watching over us," he remarks quietly, and lowers the sword. "Whoever they are." His lips part in a warm smile. "My name is Michael, and I am a Knight of the Cross, of Christ."

The priest, if he's in any state to notice, may have seen that the moon symbol on Moon Knight's chest was glowing faintly when he first came in.. but after that white flash, the glow was snuffed. Whatever the case, for now he just nods quietly to Michael, thankful that this ordeal seems to have passed.

To Michael of course, he is simply facing some strange costumed man in a cowl.. but one who, with somewhat begrudging respect, dips his head and sheathes the crescent blade he was still wielding. "..We both have someone watching over us..? Yes, I think that much is clear." he responds. "My name is Moon Knight, servant of Khonshu." this too is said as if it was an entirely serious statement of fact; a simple introduction. His weight shifts subtly, and his fingers fidget. "Are you alright..? Do you need a ride?"

There is a slight frown on Michael's face at the mention of 'Khonshu', but he does not press the matter. Details can wait. Sheathing Amoracchius in the scabbard on his back, he takes a couple of steps closer, and nods his head.

"Moon Knight. Thank you. And, I'll be fine - the cuts are shallow, and the fire burned out any traces of the abominations." He winces at that last word, and looks at the priest. "I'm sorry, but it's true, Father...?"

The priest shakes his head finally comes to life, stepping forward - not quite between the two 'knights', but at what would be the 'third point' of a triangle formed by all three men. He vigorously shakes Michael's hand and then turns to Moon Knight, hands extended. "Father Damian. Damian Whills. Thank you! Thank you, both! Sir Michael - Sir Moon! I... I don't know how to repay you - and I have no idea what caused all of this. There were... noises outside, then people screaming... I called the police, but no one patrols this neighbourhood very much. Oh, Blessed St. Jude..." And regardless of whether or not Moon Knight lets the priest shakes his head, the younger man then puts both his hands over his face, a draws a shuddering breath.

"It's my third day here," he murmurs.

Moon Knight 's head tilts very slightly at Michael's troubled expression, but he keeps his council as well. In response to father Damian he hesitates, but after a small reproving sigh, he shakes the man's hand warmly enough, even patting his shoulder when he covers his face. "You did well. You called for help, you kept safe. You let us know where you were.." he hesitates again, looking to the window. "I don't know what caused it, but this isn't the first appearance of the undead this week."

Moon Knight's last comment elicits a deep frown across Michael's brow and he lifts a hand to massage his forehead in consternation.

"Lord be with us." To Father Damian he turns and lays a large, calloused hand on the young priest's shoulder. "Fear not. There is a policeman outside - and I saw several remains of the undead with bullet-holes in them. He did what he could." He smiles and releases the man.

"I can't stay, but if you pray, and believe, God - ours or his - will see that you're protected. Trust me. Trust Him." Michael smiles warmly, and motions to the door whilst keeping his eyes on Moon Knight. "I don't believe our meeting here was a coincidence, Moon Knight," he tells the masked Champion of Khonshu. "And this... affair with the restless dead has me... worried." He lets out a sigh. "Times like this I wish Harry were on-hand, but... there's no telling what he's up to." Looking up, the bearded knight offers the masked knight an open hand.

"I'll help. I need to let my wife know where I am -- but I think you and I should talk."

Moon Knight turns his head a bit to look at Michael sidelong at the plural.. his own experiences with Abrahamic disciples have generally been far less..inclusive. He nods to the young priest though, supporting Michael's sentiment.

Moon Knight keeps pace with Michael, the warmth of before has reverted to guarded caution, though at least it's better than the nearly open hostility he first greeted the champion with. He straightens in surprise though; "Harry?" he pulls a scrap of paper from a pocket in his cloak; Written on it are the name Harry Dresden, and a phone number. "This Harry?" he inquires. "..I was going to seek him out tonight before -this-." he waves a hand to the pieces of the dead still littering the yard and street. He adds more earnestly, "..A woman was attacked and gave me this, saying this man may know how to cure her."

Michael halts in his stride and turns with a sweep of his torn cloak to look at Moon Knight and the piece of paper in his hand. He frowns, his gaze flitting back to the man's 'face' and down again as if trying to get a sense of the fellow. "Yes..." he murmurs in surprise. "That Harry. Harry Dresden, Wizard..." his lips curl just the tiniest little bit at the word 'wizard'. "That's his New York address...Good Lord."

Before replying any further to his fellow 'knight', Michael's eyes close and he bows his head. Words issue forth from his lips in a very soft prayer - thanking God for His guidance and provision, and timely intervention. While the man prays, the aura about him 'thrums' like the sound of music through a thick stone wall - a nigh-tangible sound or sensation.

He opens his eyes.

"I don't know what is going on here," he drawls in complete honesty to the masked man beside him. "But I do know it's big - bigger than just one church cemetery for sure. C'mon. I'll meet you at Harry's. God is on our side, and I we can't fail."

Moon Knight hms, a decisive noise. It does seem it's not coincidence.. none of this. He pauses though, looking at Michael as he prays.. and taking a step back, as that much divine energy from another god makes him wary... especially after the debacle with Loki's Mask earlier. It's still unsure if the fallout from that is complete yet, though Moon Knight won't acknowledge it.

At any rate, he's familiar enough with praying for guidance.. he waits at a distance until Michael's eyes open again. "The sooner the better." he agrees. "Let's put an end to whatever this is, before it gets any more out of hand."

For now, the night is young, and Harry Dresden is due some visitors.

END TRANSMISSION