( your heart bleeds like mine )

[suninhades]

Who: The Guild of Battling Preternatural Horrors, AKA Hellsing.
What: Open Hellsing log!
Where: The Hellsing Guild Hall and grounds in Sobek Croix, The Ankh.
When: Any time.
Notes: I tossed up a couple of random headers + a planned thread starter, but feel free to make your own threads, and use this post for as long as you like - I know it's been a while since we've had one.
Warnings: Fucked up beyond all reason.

The climate around the guild hall in past weeks has been turbulent - tense in places, happy in others, confused, and as ever, over-worked. Returns, resurrections, and the typical slew of workday horrors all combine into a uniquely Hellsing cocktail of emotions. (Unless you're Mr Lestrange, presumably.) But there's still work to be done, hauntings to be investigated, monsters to slay, wards to cast, reports to put off...

Comments

[payglorytoashes]

Rodolphus doesn't bother to make some kind of apologetic or conciliatory gesture. Everyone's busy. He'll buy Hellboy a drink later. (The least cordial, most expressionless drink.)

While he's not sure of the specific properties of Hellboy's sword that make it effective against the blobs, Rodolphus considers it a sign that magic is not totally out. A sword like that has pretty much got to be magic in some respect. So he can still provide support in some capacity, even if it turns out he can't in anything else. He makes a brisk gesture with his wand, knocking two entire rows of them back with magical force. They tumble over each other blobbily. Strangely, many of them seem to be shying away from the tanks.

[hehaseatenthepancake]

The problem with swinging a sword two-handed like it was a Louisville Slugger, as effective and impressive looking as that may be, is that it leaves your back at risk for a few moments while you recover from the follow-through. The one blob whose reflected attack had strengthened it takes the opportunity presented to make its own lunge, knocking Hellboy down from behind.

"Crap!" Hellboy exclaims. He quickly rolls onto his back, and barely gets Excalibur's point up in time to intercept the creature's attempt to capitalize on its success by stomping on him. The pain of having effectively thrown itself onto the sword causes the blob to howl and stops its attack short.

That's all the distraction Hellboy needs, allowing him to get out from under the monster and to his feet. "Well," he says, keeping the blob pinned in place with his sword, "that magic it was using seemed pretty dark to me. What's the opposite of that stuff?" He clenches his right hand into a hammer of stone, and punches the blob back off his sword and a few feet further besides.

"BOOM!"

[captaincocksure]

Jim, meanwhile, has been trying to provide cover.

And wrangle the new recruit.

"Cover fire!" he barks back at the younger man (and that's saying something, have you seen this captain who doesn't look old enough to have a ship), who stands there entirely frozen, staring up at the blobby creatures.

"Seriously. You start providing some cover fire, or my next projectile is you. We clear?"

...He wouldn't, not really.

...Probably.

But the new guy doesn't need to know that, right? Especially not when it's enough to snap him out of his panic. He drops the entire armload of weapons, blinks down at them a minute, and then he grabs a shotgun and starts blasting some of the creatures.

"Now we're getting somewhere," he mutters, turning back to the fray in time to hear Hellboy's question and see that pretty fucking amazing punch landed.

"Uh," he calls out, his tone and face clearly conveying hold on, hold on, I've got this, I know this one, "...light... magic, or good magic, white magic, whatever the hell you all call it where you're from. We got any of that between the three of us?"