Last Fall we sent out a bunch of playtesting packets for Demon Hunters: A Comedy of Terrors. We got some good feedback. We got something else too. Robin Chadwick, one of our playtesters, in addition to a bunch of useful gameplay notes, sent us a story. A story so good that I immediately wrote him back asking if I could post it on the Demon Hunters site. And then immediately forgot all about it until Don sent me a prodding email a couple days ago. So here we go. It doesn’t exactly fit into canon, but it’s not as far off as you might think. Enjoy!

Three Eyes, No Chance

by Robin Chadwick

I gazed into my reflection in the polished metal of the elevator’s control panel as I tried to get my tie straight. If it weren’t for my data-monocle, an eyepiece that displayed information from my PDA, I would have passed for a fairly presentable guy. My assistant Delilah shifted uncomfortably in her burkha as we reached our floor.

As soon as we exited the elevator a map of the floor appeared on my monocle, guiding us to the meeting room. I hate these meetings. I know that as a member of the Order of the Infernal Scepter, an organization aiming to make sure that Evil has the upper hand in the final battle against Good, I’m officially not a nice guy, but some of the freaks I meet at these get-togethers seriously creep me out. I’m just here to get research funding from people who don’t mind me ignoring scientific ethics or the laws of physics, I’m not one of the hard-core psycho types that this organization tends to attract.

Delilah cast aside her burkha as soon as we arrived in the meeting room. Her golden eyes, horse-hoof-and-cockerel-spur feet, reddish skin and twisted horns could possibly be passed off as contact lenses, unusual shoes, sunburn and some sort of fancy hair band respectively, but combining all of the above with a pair of oily membranous wings gives her a look that mundane folks shouldn’t see outside of comicons and Halloween. The skimpy leather dress and rusty metal vambraces she wore didn’t exactly help her to be inconspicuous either.

I quickly spotted Rick Masters, my team’s surveillance expert and a former cop who got kicked off the force for trying to sell confiscated drugs, next to Dani and Joe Brewster, the self-proclaimed “Bonnie and Clyde of the 2010s”.

I recognised one of the other team leaders, an immaculately dressed lady in her 50s by the name of Mary Marcus. She nodded to me briefly before returning her attention to a weathered tome. Next to her sat a young man I assumed was her new apprentice and two fae, one an androgynous sidhe and the other a large grey-skinned guy I pegged for some form of troll.

At least two other teams were present, both comprised of a mix of humans and half-blood demons. Their dress-sense and equipment suggested petty gangsters. I doubt they’re along as anything other than expendable muscle.

A fallen angel going by the name “Nepherial the Accursed” chaired the meeting. His well-tailored grey suit did a good job of hiding the stumps where his wings used to be, but clashed with the odd mottling patterns of his skin.

“Glad you could make it here Eugene.” He turned to me. “Tell me, have you heard of an organization known as the Yellow Sign Militia?”

“Of course I have,” I respond, hoping he didn’t notice that I’m using my monocle to research them as we talk. “A bunch of survival nuts. They were disappointed when civilization didn’t collapse in 2012 as foretold by the idiots who misread their Nostradamus, leaving all those wonderful doomsday survival plans going unused, so they thought they’d get in touch with beings outside of reality to set things straight.”

“Those are the ones,” he nodded before turning back to the assembly as a whole. “A local cell has allegedly acquired something that would be very useful to us. You’ll find the details listed in the files here.”

“The Eyes of Hastur?” One of the half-demon thugs asked, reading from the first file. “What the fuck are they?”

The room suddenly went quiet. For a brief second I could have sworn that I felt something crawling on back of my neck.

“We do NOT use that name around here! To invoke the H-word is to gain his attention. I have no intention of letting that creature notice me.” Nepherial was suddenly right in front of the guy, his eyes glowing and his composure gone.

“Okay, I get it. No using the H-word,” the thug whimpered.

“Returning to the matter at hand.” Nepherial returned to his normal calm almost instantly. “The Eyes are a collection of gems that contain some sort of link between the various planes of reality. At least nine are know to exist, most of them in the possession of the Yellows. Three of them are in town for use in a ritual tonight, hidden in the King’s Rest Hotel while the building is closed for refurbishments. They are very valuable to one of the higher-ups down below. We don’t know the Eyes’ full properties, so Dr Eugene Heartwood”—he gestured to me—“and Professor Mary Marcus will be along to provide the closest thing to an expert opinion we’ve got. The rest of you are here to act in assault and extraction capacities. Your files will tell you what is expected of you. The operation will take place in four hours. One final thing people, the Brotherhood is quite active in the area at the moment, so try to avoid attracting their attention.”

With that he dismissed us. ↓ Read the rest of this entry…