The Scottish manor was filled to the brim with Wizards of the White Council. The manor belonged to Senior Council Member and the Merlin of the Council, Arthur Langtry. He was known as the most powerful wizard on the planet. He was the world’s best knowledge of warding magic and had several centuries of practice. One does not become the Merlin of the White Council by collecting bottle caps.

The manor was chosen as a meeting site because of its size. But, more importantly, it was also chosen because of its threshold. The manor had been in the Langtry family for several hundred years. So, naturally, it had a threshold as strong as they come. The White Council could use all of the precautions they could muster.

Not all wizards are good. In fact, a good number of them never followed any sort of “good” school of thought. One such wizard was called Heinrich Kemmler. A warlock. More practically he was a necromancer. The Council had already killed him six times at this point in history. He’d done several things including being responsible for World War I. The White Council killed him last at the end of World War II when he had been reanimating mass graves.

The Council held an emergency meeting at the Langtry residence in order to discuss a recent development. Kemmler was back once more.

~

The manor bustled with black robed individuals, wizards, most wore an assortment of additions to the black robes; blue stoles for full members, red stoles for those with a century or more of service, a braided silver cord for master alchemists, gold stitched caduceus for master healers, copper chevrons for a doctorate in a scholarly discipline, a seal of soloman for a master of exorcisms, and an assortment of other trinkets and symbolic recognition. The Senior Council, seven of the strongest and oldest wizards in the world, wore purple stoles instead of the blue or red of other members. The two odd colored robes in the Council were Wardens and Apprentices. The first of which wore combat fatigues under a grey clock and the latter wore brown robes without adornments, unless they’d earned them – but most hadn’t had enough time as a member to.

“Settle down everyone! The meeting is about to begin.” The accented voice of Anastasia Luccio, the captain of the wardens, filled the large house, magically amplified. The wizards had gathered in a rather large dining hall some had to stand for a lack of adequate seating. “Thank you.” She inclined he back slightly as she stood at the front of the room next to a long table which had been set up perpendicular to the rest of the wizards present, it had seven seats. “Honored Merlin.” She stepped aside as the Merlin of the White Council stepped forward, his robes billowed behind him as he quickly made his way to the podium that had been set up near the front of the room.

“Before we begin,” he spoke in English with a slight accent that suggested nobility. “I’d like to state, as we have honored allies present, that we proceed in English. It would not befit a host nation to exclude another by speaking a language they are not familiar with.” After that matter had been addressed he gestured to the present guests. One was clearly from the Summer Court of the Fae - the Summer Knight with a silver sword of Faerie-make at his side, another wore armor adorned with a white cloak, a red cross on it. He bore a sword at his side in a scabbard. There were several other individuals and some groups.

“Now, I present the Senior Council. Wizard Petrovic, Wizard Listens to Wind, Wizard Liberty, Wizard LaFortier, Wizard Mai, and of course the Gatekeeper.” As the Senior Council took their places he gave them each a small bow. It any watching who had been to a meeting before, it would be obvious that they were rushing through the formalities.

“We have now, before us, once more a threat.” He gave a slight pause, “Heinrich Kemmler has reappeared –”

There was a collective groan from the gathered wizards and much shouting. After a few seconds, Warden Morgan, the second in command of the wizarding police, shouted into the crowd. “SILENCE!” He had forced some will into his voice, everyone calmed down quickly.

“As I was saying,” Langtry continued, “It would appear that after the last time we dealt with him, he must have transferred himself into another body. We do know that he is in London, as you may have noticed none of you were invited into the house.” Many nodded in agreement. “This was a precaution, in the event that the enemy has already infiltrated; they would have to leave their power at the door…”

The meeting went on as such for a little while longer. After which the present wizards were split into groups and given tasks. Nothing as complicated as one might think. The most complex plan was essentially search and kill.



“Right!” Melvus spoke to the group on the steps of the Manor the night was old and crickets could be heard. “I’ve been assigned, as the most senior wizard present, to lead this team.” He spoke at a normal pace, but he wasn’t sure what he was meant to say. He knew what their task had been – split up and search London. “Remember that the last time Kemmler was around, it was heavily indicated that he needed to do something on the night of Halloween… That’s two days from now. We need to find him and his ilk before them if we want to put a halt to whatever he is planning… Are there any questions?” Garth gripped his staff, he was very aware of how hot his robes were, the red stole he wore didn’t help. The braided silver chord and copper chevron didn’t hinder, thankfully.

Most beneficial to the group was the addition of Roger, the French Knight of the Holy Cross. He bore the sword Amoracchius at his side.

Ansgar did not appreciate being so suddenly recalled from assignment. He also didn't appreciate that it had been abrupt, being pulled through the Nevernever due to how hastily he had to be taken off station. Even more so, since he went from the arid deserts of the Middle East, due to rising tensions in the communities of the supernatural that swore sides in mortal affairs between East and West. He especially didn't appreciate having to utilize formal wear for the official meeting of the White Council again. Probably what was the only redeeming factor? The weather. It reminded him of home, he had not been back to Germany in some time, not since the Second World War had reached its conclusion with the death of Kemmler. That mad man, Ansgar remembered, gave the German people a bad name, and that was saying something when the hatred for Germans, transposed from the Nazi regime, still simmered in places. That was a fact Ansgar was all too aware of, despite lacking the traits of the Übermensch in the eyes of that old Reich. The fact he spoke perfect German when casting, and was most comfortable with that language, with Latin and then English last? Didn't help matters at all.

However, despite being lost in thought, Ansgar glanced up as the meeting finally began proper. He had managed to secure seating after an apprentice mistakingly got up to take care of something, rapidly losing his seat. One does not readily surrender their seat in this kind of meeting. He had nothing of particular note to say as things began, keeping his peace despite the presence of the Summer Court's mortal champion, the Summer Knight, alongside one of the wielders of the Holy Blades, a Knight of the Holy Cross. What warranted such guests that they would be invited? Of course, his question was rapidly answered, much to the chagrin of Ansgar. Heinrich Kemmler was back. Included in the shouting was not him, but he muttered loudly enough to be heard by those around him, although the German was lost on most of them. "Verrückter Kemmler ist zurückgekehrt? Scheiße, muss mehr von der Welt brennen, um seine wütenden Systeme zu beenden?*"

After order was restored, the orders and plan was put out. Teams were going to scour London for Kemmler before he could enact whatever madness he intended to use against the world. Of course, the meeting was ended and, before reporting to his team, Ansgar ditched his formal gear into a rucksack he had snagged before taking a Way to the manor. He was thankful to be outside, after all, he had access to his magical abilities again. Looking at their leader who had not yet ditched his formal wear, the now more casually dressed German wizard listened to what was being put out. He certainly did remember the last time Kemmler was around. He had been in Germany when the man was slain again, and had personally put some of his work to the torch. Dark times indeed, and the world thought the Concentration camps that had been revealed to the world had been bad. He spoke with a frankness only matched by his accent, leaving no question to his place of birth despite the long time not spent living there. "I was in Germany when Kemmler was active at the end of the Second World War, before and after his death. So, only one real question right now. Do we have a contingency for when London must be put to the torch? I've seen Kemmler's handiwork near the end of his last known activities, and finding him in London will take a god forsaken miracle, no offense meant Six-Weeker." It wasn't a nice way to speak to the French Knight of the Holy Cross, but it was as frank as Ansgar always was.

"Kemmler." Lady Elizabeth Harris let out a deep sigh of frustration. "I guess it's true what they say, you can't kill a cockroach." It had been a nice, slow couple of months in Liverpool. No ghouls running loose or pissed off Unseelie nobles. However, it looked like she was going to be in for rough time of it. The vacation was definitely over.

"Personally, I'd really like to know how he keeps bringing himself back from the grave. If we can figure that out, we can put him down for good. I'd much rather this be the last time we kill the bastard."

Lena stood silent a few steps behind the rest of the group that had gathered outside the mansion. That was the way she liked it, out of the way, but close enough to listen. Master Regan was often commended about her well-behaved pupil, either openly or in the form of a snarky comment (Do you spray water in her eyes if she misbehaves?). She was often silent, no point in making speech sounds unless she had something to say, and someone had something to reply. She'd stood silent like a gargoyle through the meeting as well, although she'd begun to regret it halfway through. Master had warned her about the tediousness of wizards, but she hadn't been close. Luckily she'd found a small cluster of apprentices and the unspoken, and never revealed practice of rotation had begun. A few minutes at the front, looking spry and alert, a few minutes at the back leaning against the wall to get some weight off your feet.

The apprentices were also a good source of information. Any piece of information that fell out of the mouth of one of the proper wizards were retold and emptied of all relevant info amongst the apprentices. Sometimes she feared that their whispers would draw the rage of someone, but it seemed like everyone had too much to do. She'd gotten some info on this Kemmler-guy. Necromancer, killed before, come back. Like Jesus, but the women were weeping fr entirely different reasons.

Discreetly, Lena shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She wanted to be done with it all. She wanted to go back home to her cauldron. She'd been up late last night collecting light from the moon to use in a potion that would boost the senses and she wanted to try it. Her robe was too coarse and a hair from her armpit had somehow managed to get stuck in it, which meant that every time she moved her arm, she also tugged at that single hair. The sooner she got away the better. But of course there were no such luck. The people who had spoken so far had just gone around in circles... "I saw him once", "I wonder how he does it", what if we fail?"

Not bloody important, how do we find the bloke? That's a question worth asking. Why now, what is the frequency between his reincarnations and what kind of preparations are needed? Knowing that, a counter-measure should be childs play to figure out. Lena buried her gaze in Master Regan's head, trying as best as she could to force her masters thoughts to sync with her own. Ask the important questions or let's go.
Of course, unless you knew Lena well, you wouldn't think that she was doing anything else than following the conversation, her face was entirely relaxed apart from her eyes, which were locked on her master.

[Melvus]

“Yes, part of what I'd like us to find out by the end of this is how he's been reincarnating himself. Off of the top of my head I'd say that he may be transferring himself into another's body before his own dies.” He let that sink in for any who hadn't faced the necromancer yet. Then he added; “Each time we've encountered the man called Kemmler he has worn a different face and body. I assume that he's not cared for his old one or that he switched with someone else, this given that it takes more effort than is necessary to actually fabricate a body." He ground his staff into the first and grass. "And, no we have no intention of burning London down. It does seem like he needs to be in London. This is aided by the fact that it's the symbolic center of the world.”

Most wizards understand that symbolism isn't just symbolism. While London isn't actually the center, because the world’s round, it appears roughly as the center on a world map and so it is symbolically the center. This symbolism gives it a kind of power. Melvus understood this and assumed that everyone present did as well.

[Roger]

“None taken my friend. Words cannot hurt me while I serve God and his greater purpose.” His accent wasn't very thick. It sounded as though he was born in the US to French parents. As he said the words he glanced upward. “Now, master wizards, how do we plan to get to London? This is your quest, I've been placed here as a humble helper and nothing more.” He said the words as though he'd just finished Sunday service; cheerful and full of delight.

[Melvus]

“My first thought was the Nevernever. We could open a way into London. The only issue with this is that Kemmler might have guards near the entrances…” he took a moment to think, “we could use a mirror… more dangerous but possible and can get us past whatever defenses he has in place.” While Melvus allowed the others to discuss how they'd get to their destination, he removed his formal robes, revealing his casual clothing underneath. He replaced the formalwear in his bag and fastened his woolen overcoat around himself.

As the briefing went along Regan very carefully kept herself from tapping her foot, though her impatient and frustration practically begged her to do something bitter and petulant. The purpose of this meeting had been kept top secret. Gossip among wizards is a vicious thing, so it didn’t shock her that they wanted to keep the news that the strongest and most successful dark wizard in the past few ages was back from the dead…again. But even though the secrecy made sense to her, she couldn’t help but be frustrated. She had at least five tools that would be helpful on this mission, or they would in theory at least. They were also highly specialized so they weren’t the sort of more general utilitarian magical knick-knacks she kept with her always. If she had known what was up, she could have brought everyone helpful toys. But if a wish was a coin I’d have change to spare Regan thought to herself ruefully, especially since by the sounds of it they didn’t have time to make a trip to her work shop in Ireland and grab half a dozen handy tricks.

But despite the dire stakes of their mission and likely the limited amount of time they had to act; they met here and not on site to do their planning. Looked like there would be Lots of talk, few ideas, and plenty of indecision was going to be the underlying theme of this team. White council business as normal. This is exactly why she preferred to work as a lone warden, or to focus on her medical work. No hemming and hawing, get the job done or lives would be lost. She thanked any god that her apprentice was not a lollygagger. She wanted to snap at the group to shot up and get them to London so they could start seeing what clues they could find and what actions they should actually take as opposed to what may be found and what might be done.

But she was the junior most wizard in attendance on this task force, and she was not a warden commander nor even that high ranked among the wardens. She was well enough respected. If her Mum’s station as a warden higher-up wasn’t enough, her more than adequate skills in both combat and life-saving made up for it. But respect did not match the voice provided by rank or age among the white council. Regan could feel Lena’s gaze resting on her as it always did during meetings or other long boring formal affairs. She returned a sharp look to her appliance, urgering her to hold onto her patients for the time being. Though she was almost certain the girl would be able to tell Regan’s own ability to move in the correct member of a respectable wizard of the white council was already rather strained.

“We can’t discount that London is also one of the oldest cities in the world, meaning many very old grave yards, and it’s on an island with a rather intense bloody history. The number of skirmishes and battles waged over the centuries in Britain is hard to calculate. On top of both of those facts, it’s a cultural hub. Meaning lots of very genuine articles and artifacts that could hold a lingering spiritual presence. Unless I’m missing my mark, it makes London kind of a perfect place of a beast like Kemmler.” She rolled the smooth wood of her shillelagh in her gloved hands, looking mostly down to not meet anyone’s gaze as her mind worked through words and ideas that would express her need for action but also keep from stepping out of line. For the time being. The day was young and the fiery soul that was Regan Shauna O’Bagley rarely staid unkindled.

“I’ve heard plenty of him but never gone to field against him. But I do know that to catch a beast you must understand what it hunts for.” She added “Kemmler is likely to be after what he is always after. Power. We need to find what parts of London could offer him the most power and start our hunt there.” She lifted her gaze as another thought struck her. “We should have more muscle on call than this force, if possible. Doesn’t the Mad Man have a handful of followers who are no lightweights themselves?"

"His followers shouldn't be as much of a problem as the man himself. If they were as dangerous as Kemmler, they would have killed him long ago. With all the dark magic and breaking of the Fifth Law, their minds have been twisted by unrestrained ambition. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if they think they're gods already."

An idea came to Elizabeth. "The older the corpse, the stronger the zombie, right? I have no clue what Kemmler and his cronies plan to do, but they're going to need defenses, and the easiest way to get them is to go to the source. There's got to be some old graveyards around here, like medieval old. That's where I think we'll find them."

“I agree with finding them near a graveyard. And yes, likely a really old graveyard. They're likely to be raising an army. Also, you should not underestimate his followers… they may think they're gods and they're not too far off. The last time the Council faced them his followers proved to be well more than enough to handle. I shudder to think what they've become by now, if all of them are still around.”

Melvus’ thoughts trailed to memories of the horrors the necromancer band had caused in the past. “We must remember that they don't just have the dead on their side… ghouls and the black court answer to them as well. Hopefully Mavra isn't going to be present…” Yeah, and maybe I'm going to find a cure to cancer…

The alchemist rummaged through his pack and came out with a few vials and a large beaker. He set them in front of himself, floating in air. Well, floating wasn't the right word. They were sitting upon a surface, but it wasn't a visible one. Melvus had created a kinetic table the same way one would have created a kinetic shield. He used this as a field work table.

He mixed the chemicals, silver nitrate and sodium hydroxide, both in water solutions and then in the large beaker. After both solutions met they formed a dark precipitate of silver oxide. He stirred and added another vial, of ammonia, to the mix. After a few minutes of stirring the silver oxide had completely dissolved again. Using another, smaller, beaker he poured a small amount of sugar to the mix and stirred until it was completely dissolved. He replaced everything in the bag, in their proper compartments, leaving the new solution out.

He poured the solution that he'd created onto the kinetic table, the table was revealed to have lips at its edges to prevent liquid from rolling off. He pointed his staff below the table and whispered, “Infirno” and a small jet of flame shot out and lit the stone sidewalk beneath the table.

After several minutes the silver began to cling to the surface of the kinetic table. Melvus turned the table over, allowing the remaining clear solution to spill onto the stone sidewalk on Langtry’s property. The result was a mirror attached to the kinetic table. The table, itself was rather large about eight feet one way and four the other. The alchemist tapped it and forced a bit of will into it while thinking of his lab in London and it appeared in the mirror. He'd created a direct doorway to the place.

“Mirrors are dangerous and I'd like to drop this one and the one back in my lab as quickly as possible. Please step through and you'll come out of a door mirror in my London lab. Once I go through my link to this one will break and it will shatter and when I cross through I'll cover the one in the lab and throw it outside.

Lena took in the conversation as it progressed. Learning, comparing, analysing. Each new Kemmler incarnated into a new body, which probably meant that the thing which carried his life, energy, self... his soul for lack of a better word, was not a physical piece of him. Perhaps he was bound to some kind of item and simply possessed the next sad sod who happened to come across it, she'd read a book about something like that. Being in London meant access to a lot of power, potentially, and a huge amount of corpses. When the Romans invaded and "founded" Londinium there was already a settlement by the Thames, the amount of corpses in the general area would be almost impossible to calculate. On top of that, the city had its fair share of depressing history which produced corpses at an alarming rate such as the plague during the 14th century. Simply put, finding a necromancer in London could be like finding a needle in a haystack. They needed more information.

Then the alchemist, Melvus (apparently), started to bring out his tools of the trade. Lena edged herself closer so she could have a better view of what the man did. Alchemy was her passion. Mainly she mixed potions, and reckoned that she was pretty good at it, for an apprentice at least. Her potionmaking was held back thought, by her own mental brakes. She imagined she had a good handle on how magic worked, the fact that her focus item actually worked meant that at least she wasn’t far off. She based her theories on the fact that magic was fueled by belief, a wizard that did not believe in his magic could lose it. While alchemy was based unpon the real ingredients it was still an expression of magic and would obey the rule of belief. With that logic, so would the ingredients, the ingredients in themselves were just things, the important part was that the mixer believed that they were the best or most suitable ingredient for the job, and wham! Potion. The same ingredients would only mix muck for another wizard, because his mind worked differently. Lenas mind always went back to things that could be easily found or purchased, the smallest common denominator. She’d even been toying with the idea of making a potion with seven parts water, each part representing something new for each sense, but her master had shut the idea down and made her mix complicated potions with expensive ingredients for a week. She’d never heard about half of the stuff before she put them in the pot. Suffice to say, at least half of the potions failed.

With that in mind she was a bit disappointed to see that the master alchemist was using only pure chemicals. She’d been convinced that the high-ranking members if the white court were all scientists and explorers in the field of magic like herself and would use the strangest things for ingredients and focus items. But no, pure chemicals for potions, wooden staffs and wands for focus items, regular rings, armbands, necklaces and earrings for enchanted items. Sure, they worked, obviously, but would no one ask why? And why not something else would work just as well or better? It was 1961 for Christ’s sake! Not the middle ages! Technology was a bit iffy, but that was no excuse to leave the house carrying a small tree around.

Lena’s eyes went into full alert, and after a few blinks she figured out why. She’d zoned out and people had begun leaving. Her eyes had caught the figure of Master Regan moving to enter the mirror, but the brain hadn’t registered it properly. As the warden put her foot into the mirror Lena’s eyes had figuratively screamed that something was weird right in front of her. Assuming that this was what they were supposed to be doing, Lena followed her master into the mirror.