^ (OMGGG im so glad you like it thank you so much <3 im so glad it fits in with ur campaign, that's awesome!!)
(this is absolutely the PERFECT setup for dove so thank you for writing it SJKDf when i read it i just had to claim. sorry to silas)
^ spoiler for length!
Sure enough, the house looks trustworthy, with its rows of well-tended flowers in the windowsills and the small, neatly kept yard. One couldn't fault Silas for relaxing. Unfortunately, it seems that was preemptive: he'd caught the attention of something truly terrible. And now that it had his scent, it wouldn't easily lose his trail.
After Silas knocks, a deep male voice is heard, muffled from inside.
"Coming," it says, and sure enough the door swings open within a few seconds. Dove stands there in his usual business suit, smiling cordially, and he backs off from the doorway.
"Mr. Phelonius," he says, addressing the man politely as he holds open the door for his guest. How did he know his name? Well, perhaps it wasn't too outlandish... "I thought I might be seeing you soon. Feel free to come inside- it's a bit chilly out there, isn't it?"
The welcoming house is as tidily kept as its exterior. In fact, it seems quite cozy, with a warm palette and assorted knick-knacks lining the shelves. A framed canvas proclaims 'Live, Laugh, Love'. Dove meanders into the living room, his hands clasped behind his back. He turns and looks at Silas with a warm smile.
"I'm sure you're wondering why you're here; what was up with the card, all of that. I'm honestly glad you came, I wasn't sure you'd be interested in pursuing such a non-descriptive lead. But I'm glad you're here." Dove talks to Silas like he's an old friend. That being said, something feels... wrong. Something about his energy, his aura... it's not right. His mismatched gaze is trained steadfast on its target, but looking at his eyes alone it's hard to feel a threat lying there. No, it's something else...
"I thought you might come, because you're a curious soul, aren't you? Always getting into things. Places where you might not belong," Dove says, and he slowly paces the living room, the carpet plush underneath his meticulously polished Oxfords. "You know, I think you're very strong, I'll give you that. Both in capabilities as well as spirit. But there are some things man was not meant to know- I'm sure you've heard something like that before, right?"
Dove pauses and looks to the coffee table. There's a thick tome there, aged and weathered. It looks completely out of place in the modern- if kitschy- dwelling. Dove picks it up and flicks through it aimlessly. Once the pages are open, a horrible feeling radiates through the room. This thing shouldn't exist. Still, Dove handles it casually.
"I wanted to show you what happens when you get yourself into a little too much trouble," he says. "The person who lived here was like you, you know? I'm sure you can guess what that means. Curious. They found this book, and by reading it, they tapped into knowledge they shouldn't have. By getting a little too curious and bold, they engaged with something that they should have never known about. Now that I'm here, that's been dealt with."
The surroundings suddenly flicker, as if they're a glitching computer screen. The room shifts and trembles. Then, its true nature is revealed. It's the same house, with the quaint knick-knacks, the rosy brown carpet, the family photos... but it's absolutely destroyed. Blood spatters the walls. From the TV to the glass coffee table, everything is broken. There are dents and scuffs in the walls, as if something were slammed into them with great force. Above all, there's a body at Dove's feet. It looks... difficult to recognize. Whatever he'd done to this person, it had been devastating.
"Do you see what I mean, Mr. Phelonius?" he says with a smile, and he closes the book. "Tread lightly, that's all I'm trying to say. I'm just trying to be helpful to you. Aren't you glad you came?"
< Dove is what could best be called an Inquisitor, created by eldritch gods to serve their purposes on Earth. Those dabbling in magic, crossing dimensions, and engaging with any manner of cosmic horror are sure to catch his ire, unless they intend to worship his masters. He also gets rid of artifacts like the book in the above post, or ensures that they fall into the 'right' hands. He has a lot of fun with his job.
v For whatever reason, you've found yourself in an abandoned church. Perhaps a bout of exploring, seeing what there is to see, poking around where you don't belong? Regardless of the circumstances, the place is certainly eerie. But... something calls to you inside, too. Against your better judgment, you descend into the darkness of the basement, using whatever you have handy for light. The feeling goes stronger and stronger still as you walk down the steps, wood creaking underfoot. It's almost like a yearning for something- like something is crying out for you, deep in these holy corridors.
Deep beneath the church, you see it. A pedestal. Atop it, a strange orb sits, perfectly balanced. It's about the size of a basketball. It wants you, you think, or maybe the thought is just implanted into your mind? Regardless, you move closer, approaching to examine the sphere in further detail. It's a smooth, strange stone, polished and heavy. It seems precarious, balanced on such a small pedestal, and you find it curious that no delinquent teenagers have come down here to spraypaint and knock the thing over. You come closer, ready to take it, or touch it, or something-
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," says a jovial, amused voice behind you. It's resonant in the basement, with a British accent that feels very upper-crust to you.
Several paces behind you, a man stands, wearing a sleek black suit and a red tie. He stands nonchalantly, his hands in his pockets.
"I've come to get that sphere, you see. Whatever happens when you touch it, I don't think it's what you want."
vv At the comparison to a dog, Dove merely broadens his smile. There's something unpleasant about it, even if he looks friendly enough. His hands remain in his pockets as Lux approaches, though his eyes flick to what was once a beautiful astrolabe, now a tiny replica of a quasar. Fascinating. The astronomical imagery reminds him of what he fondly considers home- the cold, glittering expanse of space, where his gods dwell, and where he had been born as an altricial entity being prepared for its sole purpose. To serve. Treasured memories, fleeting though they were. He'd never consider Earth his home, no matter to what extent he was forced to linger here.
"Well then. I can't say I'm often entitled to the pleasure of anyone seeking me out," Dove says, and it's true. People, mortal and supernatural alike, tended to spend their time avoiding him like the plague. It's unique, seeing what seems to be excitement on Lux's part, and he can't deny being flattered by it despite just being compared to a domesticated animal. It makes him feel important.
"But you're right. I sensed a... pressing disturbance here. Now that I see you, I understand why it felt so urgent." Yes, Lux was someone special, not some bumbling mortal ready to expose themselves to power beyond their imagination. Even without his accoutrements- his ears, his tail, his little galactic nucleus companion- Dove would be able to detect it. His presence is unique, his aura distinct.
"It's my pleasure to make your acquaintance, then. I imagine we're both keen to learn about each other."
