Scott had shrugged off any concerns about the jacket.  It was just a jacket and nothing he was particularly attached to.  But the face Rafi had made was gratifying.

A little nervous, Scott watched the coins fall to the floor, wondering how something that seemed so benign could carry such a weighty warning.  But then, things were not what they appeared in this strange place.

He closed his eyes as directed, and opened them once again to a different perspective.

Whoa. He muttered again, this time its tone held last fascination and more foreboding.  Yeah, different. Scott shuddered, Really different. His voice was hushed.  Though rooted to one spot, he was still shrinking back away from the coins.

Wh…wh…what happens if you touch it?  It wasn’t that he had any plan or inclination to do so, absolutely not.  The question was clearly born from curiosity,  he’d seen enough movies to have some ideas and now he was wondering just how much of what he’d always scoffed at and dismissed he shouldn’t.

With the third sight given by Rafael, you look at the coins.  There is a palpable feeling of power coming from each.  Each has it's own aura, each differing slightly from each other, but each feels wrong, evil on an epic scale.  The symbol on the coin is incomprehensible.  It isn't that you can't see what it is, something just prevents your mind from even trying to understand it.  On the side of the symbol one word can be made out: Ordiel

"Don't touch them." Rafael shot back, looking at Scott in visible alarm, then when it appeared that the question was a theoretical one breathed a little easier and said rather more calmly, "Bad shit. Really bad shit. Think of them as the infernal version of radioactive rods." He looked over at Jethro with a slight smile,

"Yep, Roman silver. Put it this way, I've heard there are thirty of `em, each with a coin." He continued to focus on the coins, reaching out with a little magic to flip them over. He wanted to see the symbols on the other two.

The circuits started clicking in Jethro's head as he started piecing the situation up.

"Thirty pieces of roman silver? You don't mean . . . "

He watched the darkness aura pulse from each coin as he tried to read them still.

Scott shrunk back further.  Like he would reach for them, no bloody way.  He gave Rafi a look like duh?

What? He looked between Rafi and Jethro, frowning again, wondering if he was going to be feeling like an idiot around these two for the rest of his life.

"Kid, do you remember the story of the betrayal of Christ? The Roman legionaries paid Judas 30 pieces of silver in exchange for his location."

He looked over to the coins. Looking intently at each one.

"Upon recieving the reward, Judas killed himself.  Some say the coins were taken by the soldiers, others say they were brought back to Pontius Pilate himself. Every hidden gospel says different things. It seems you are holding 3 of those pieces, kid."

Rafi shrugged at Jethro, "Who knows? Probably.Or perhaps they're symbolic representations. Sometimes symbols can be as powerful as the real thing." He looked over at Scott,

"That's what you get for a secular education. Thirty pieces of silver, Roman coins, was the price that Judas was paid to betray Jesus." He looked apologetically to the young man, "Sorry I snapped but touch them, even the slightest brush against your skin and the fallen angel associated with that coin..." He grimaced, "... they get a direct line to your brain."

The coins flip over, as Rafiel flips them over using his magic, two different symbols appear.  Two different words... Varthiel and Urumviel.

Giving a vague nod at the others explanation.  He had never been one to pay much attention to things of that nature and while both his grandparents were devoutly religious in their own particular traditions, both his parents had rebelled.  The result was he had warped knowledge with huge gaps.  He frowned still in concentration, trying to remember things and piece it together,

As Raf's magic turned the keys he stepped back further.  He wasn't even happy to have had those things in his pocket, the thought of coming in contact with it made his stomach lurch.

Fallen angel associated ... He parroted, thinking. Those coins are named. He glanced at Raf.  Why are they together? His mind was racing with potential explanations, all of the probably wrong, but it had to be something big if the Big Bad wanted them.  Otherwise, it seemed logical to him that Big Bad would have wanted these coins dispersed and dispersed to many.  But the the dead guy had kept them together and wanted them delivered together.  That did not seem insignificant.

Rafael looked at the other coins carefully and then stood up and put a supportive hand on Scott's arm,

"It's OK. You didn't touch them. We can't dwell on what could have been." He nodded at Scott's comments, "They are named. The names of the Fallen." He thought a moment,

"The mage who gave them to you was probably involved in collecting them. No-one in their right minds wants those things out in the real world. He was probably taking them somewhere to be kept safe." He looked at both of them,

"We have to get them to that place. I don't know why our special friend was after them, but whatever reason, it can't have been good."

Scott shook his head.  In part to reaffirm, he had NOT touched anything, but also thinking that it made no sense.  He said... Now self doubt plagued him, regardless of what he knew. Had he heard right? Remembered right? What if he was wrong?  New York City...Father... Father Flanigan? How could a priest help? Nothing good ever came out of New York.

Jethro glared at the kid. Now wasn't the time for a normal rivalry so he let it slide.

"Best place to look I guess would be St. Patrick's. With a name like Flanigan, it's sort of a fitting place to look.  Looks like I am going home, huh?"

Rafael caught the look between the two Americans and rolled his eyes, "No sports rivalries, boys... " He grinned, "Everyone knows the best sports team in the world is Liverpool FC." Although he knew they should be focused, he found the occasional moment of relaxation or levity comforting: otherwise, they'd all go nuts. Still, he shook off the comment and thought a moment,

"A Father Flanigan in New York. Christ, talk about a needle in a haystack." He grimaced, "A priest will make sense." He looked at them both, "True faith is one of the most effective forces against the infernal. Not the only one, fortunately... "

"Needle in a haystack? Not so."

The singer leans back in the chair and puts his feet up once more as he takes a drink.

"He called him Father, so he most likely will be Roman Catholic. New York City has quite a few churches, but luckily, they are all are interconnected. No one priest works at one church their entire life. Most of the higher ups would know each other. I still say we start at Pat's. If anyone can track down someone that can handle this, they would be there."

Standing up he began pacing a bit.
"I'd say we throw them into a volcano, but that is probably a literal highway to hell. If we are going to wander in New York, its not as common as people think, but the chance of someone lifting them from us it too high. I'll be right back."

Now with his guitar he sits down near the coins and takes a multitool from inside the case. He begins to open the guitar and slide around some of the guts.

"Well, like I was saying, spare change in a pocket is a target. If people want to take something, they avoid big things. It slows them down on the getaway."

Using the tongs, he pushes the coins into the case for the multitool. Being extra careful, and still using the tongs, he puts the case inside the guitar and sealed it back up.

"If you cant tell, I've used this trick before," he commented with a smile. "If you got a better transport method, speak up. These things just sitting on the floor, though, was starting to bother me"

"No, no, that's good." Rafael had watched Jethro carefully, flinching just slightly but ready to intervene if necessary. He was glad they were out of the way too: just having them in sight made him uneasy.

"I've been to New York a little, but if you're a native, I guess we should follow your lead to find this Flanigan." He looked to Scott, "How's about it, boss?"

Scott winced and shrunk back as Jethro dealt with case an tongs.  He knew he didn't have to remind him to not touch, but still the words were choked in his throat.

He had to admit, he was happier with the coins less open, but even with them away, he was not happy.  He'd listened to the guys discussion.  Nodding the more Jethro talked, Boston was like that too.

Someone that knows New York would be good. The unease was clear in his voice. The City scared him a little.  Boston was his back yard, New York was "The City."  He had the sense it was big, dirty, crime ridden ... Been to the Garden a couple times, but that's been it. He said mostly to Jethro and reminding himself that those occassions what he had seen and watched out the bus window were not the same as his mental images.

He nodded at Rafi.

Besides, he told himself, he'd just met a demon...  he'd traveled to this place... he'd seen a creature with a bug hat...What was New York? He wasn't convinced.

Rafael gave Scott an encouraging grin,

"New York's easy, especially in the last few years" He glanced over to Jethro, "We mustn't forget that your New York might be a little different from ours," He then shook his head a little,

"Believe me, once you've walked through the Victorian London slums at night, NYC is a walk in the park." He took a big swig of beer, "Anyhow, between the three of us, who's going to stop us?" He drained his pint and finished his scotch and looked to the two of them,

"Sooner we get going, the sooner we get rid of those things. "

Stumbles into the room and looks around to see how many people are here and decides to lean on a wall instead of taking a seat.

Jethro takes a deep sigh when then giant walks into the room. Realizing he should have locked the door, he shook his head. There was little he could do now. Now he was just glad that the coins were out of sight. Heaven and Valhalla forbid the orc getting in contact with one of them. He turned back over to Rafi and Scott.

"I haven't been home in over half a decade. I don't know what New York to even go to though. I don't know if mine would be right. Though, if you can get us to were I was, I have a plane waiting for me that can get us anywhere. I still don't think my time is right. Rafi's is probably our best bet. Now, how the hell, erm, Hades do we get back?"

As the orc entered the side room, Rafi just stopped and looked at him, holding back a grimace at the intensity of the stench in the small room,

"Excuse me." He looked more surprised than anything else, "Can I help you?"

None of the conversation was giving Scott encouragement.  He was trying to think of anything he'd over heard about traveling back since he'd gotten there.  When the ... big thing, guy entered he smiled at him.

Best to be friendly to a large creature with a bug hat.  He shot Raf a look thinking his tone was not nearly polite enough.

Maybe he comes from New York? Scott whispered, thinking if he had to go to the city, a ... thing like him would be handy.

Jethro glared at Scott.

"I don't think so, kid. Something tells me he has more in common with the Metal Marine than anyone else."

As the great stinking thing just stood there, Rafael could finally take it no more. If nothing else, the room was just too damn small to be that close to whatever it was on the orc's head. Shrugging to Jethro and Scott and grabbing his bag, he went to the door,

"C'mon lads. We can continue this as we walk. If you're ready."

[To the Tavern]

Scott looked pained at Jethro's words and shrunk back some.  Perhaps it was best that it was kind of occupied.  He decided then that he was being prejudice and if he stayed alive and made it back to where this...it, he? was, he'd talk to him.  Ask about his bug hat, maybe?

With a friendly nod to ... bug hat, and Raf, Scott followed along.

[To Tavern]