In a perfect world, Irwin would call upon the might of a hundred angels. But he was living in the real world and, in the real world, all he had in his army was ninety-seven witches, a giant, an immortal queen, and a pagan god. Which was not that bad, actually.
Since he would not have to waste manpower in deactivating the outer dome shield of the sanctuary, the bulk of his army would be dealing with the witches and lesser demons under the command of Dagon.
There would be heavy casualty, in that he was sure. But it appears the leaders of the Grand Coven care not for their numbers, merely in nourishing their deeply depleted resources; thanks in full to the Men of Letters political maneuvering over the ages.
Once they were inside and in skirmish with Dagon's forces, the powerhouses–the trio, him, and Olivette–would head towards the compound and force their way into the pavilion where Dagon slumbered.
From there the Angel Garrison serving under him, alongside the trio, would weaken Dagon while Olivette and Irwin would disable any other defensive measures set up by the Borrower witches.
Olivette was sure that whomever made the sigils and wardings would make a failsafe in the center of the island, as it would be highly stupendous to run a large-scale magik without a way to turn it off. That's how tales of nightmarish monsters are born, she remarked, speaking of the various myths and folklore that their kind had never seen before.
"Then I'll make the killing blow! Also, I need all the corpses. Every corpse, even the lowliest familiar." He reiterated repeatedly all over the war meeting.
"Yes. yes…" Hephaestus rolled his eyes, returning to the group. "Now, where was I? Oh, aye. All the witches should have the leather armor I made for them. It is made of the same material and I've imbued my ability into the enchantments."
"What would that be?" Irwin asked, as he was always curious about pagans like Hephaestus.
Sam and Dean would always be fighting off against some pagan or another every season, all of whom were either defeated by a blood-dipped stake or the supernatural weapon equivalent to a nuclear weapon. They would always have specific abilities that relate to their mythologies and use those to kill people and feed off of them
Vestra would compel people to tell the truth and force them to kill themselves or each other. Chronos was sucking people's life essence just so he could bone a woman in the 1940s. Plutus could control souls, or at least Irwin thought that was the fat bastard's unique ability as he was not sure if every pagan deity had the ability to do what he did to Kevin Tran's mother.
Hephaestus gazed at Irwin. "I can imbue items I had crafted with my will to either empower them for a short time or… depower or curse or consume their mortal soul."
The god almost looks ashamed by his abilities, Irwin noticed.
"So, you can do anything whenever someone wears your items?" Someone wanted to clarify.
"It depends on their range and the power with which I initially imbued it with." The god replied, much to the relief of the witches in the room.
Olivette cleared her throat, elegantly showing off her regal gown made of purple silk. "Let us focus on the matter at hand. Once we disabled the defenses, I will part with Irwin and finish off any straggling witches that are left behind. While Irwin breaks the chains of the angel in the Aegis."
Olivette gazed at Irwin. "Who gets the Aegis?"
"Lady, that's 50 tonnes–I mean, almost 40,000 kilograms each piece of stone. If you can retrieve it, then it's yours. Fair and square!" Irwin shook his head at the absurdity of the Grand Coven acquiring the stone.
"Might as well occupy the island!" Irwin joked further, but he pursed his lips when the witches hushed their conversation and shared knowing looks.
"Alright," Hephaestus clapped his hands. "We've got a basic plan of what to do. Group the witches into squadrons, so that they'll be more cohesive. Restock their potions and spells. How are we going to travel there, Irwin?"
"I need a few more corpses for that, but expect long-distance teleportation." He replied.
"Meeting adjourned." Olivette said, leaving with the witches behind her back.
Irwin stood next to Hephaestus as he gazed at the mountain range sprawled across the table. His thoughts were unknown to all but him.
'The angels are probably gonna die since Dagon has my Angel Blade. Half of the witches, too, because I just recently escaped and they may have increased their defenses. It doesn't matter, Irwin. They're evil creatures, corrupted by their powers and authority. If we're gonna stop the apocalypse, then we need to be prepared for sacrifices.'
Irwin deluded himself, knowing full well how hypocritical his thinking was. He doesn't know if all the witches within the Coven were evil or have done crimes deemed unfit for a human, but he knew that corpses gained from the raid would bolster his personal power.
"Are you alright?" Hephaestus' voice rang beside him.
He nodded. "Fine. Just trying to perfect the battle plan."
"By the looks of it, we'll have to move after the raid." Hephaestus remarked.
Irwin was slightly startled by his words. "Why is that?"
The pagan deity gazed at Irwin with a smirk, "I've seen a Prince of Hell, boy. I'll be lucky if I still have my arms after the fight."
"Well, if everything goes well on my part, I have a manor in the New World that has a few extra guest rooms." Irwin said.
Hephaestus chuckled. "I might just take you up on that."
Irwin and Hephaestus left the room before diverting ways. The latter removed himself from the Castle and down to his little shack, preparing for the on-set of predicted movement. The former, however, went up the spiraling tower and to the open roof of the castle.
The air was thin, but refreshing. Such a breeze would normally calm Irwin, but he was here not to enjoy the amenities provided by nature, but to welcome the advent of the Angel Garrison.
He held up his arm, marked by Zachariah's branding, and willed forth his magik.
A storm darkened the sky, arousing thunder and lightning to strike the mountains as if the Heavens were full of wrath. It continued on for a full minute before a peal of lightning struck too close to home, blinding Irwin for a moment.
When his eyes had opened, a group of seven individuals appeared before him. Each and everyone had a look of grim determination and haughty exuberance, as if their prowess made the very world quake in fear.
Irwin would have agreed if it were not for the same branding inked on his wrist.
The lead angel, whose vessel was a man of great statute, stepped forward. "Are you the heathen in charge of this operation?"
"I am. Although I will appreciate you not calling me a heathen in front of my people." Irwin chuckled at the angel's words.
"Understood," The angel nodded. "You may call me Malkanthor. This is my Garrison."
"From the burning in my eyes, it means you're a strong team. What is your specialty?" He asked.
It was another angel that spoke, one that took on a brunette light-skinned woman with a terrible scar on her face. "We smite demons. Our Grace is attuned to sniff out demonic incursions on Earth. Perfectly capable of destroying a stronghold like the island."
"'The witches will handle Dagon's forces," Irwin clarified, much to the confusion of the Garrison. "Three things you need to do. First, destroy the barrier around the island, which will allow me to teleport the army intact. Second, remove the shackles that bind Barchiel unto the Aegis and be wary of the traps the demons may have set-up. I don't need another angel on the opposing side."
"Lord Zachariah has already informed us of the initial plan." A radiant bolt of lightning, seven inches long, appeared on Malkanthor's hand. "He had given us access to Heaven's Armory and allowed us to take two items that would help the siege."
"What is the third objective?" Another angel asked, wearing the skin of a dark-skinned man with a face full of tattoos.
Irwin took out a crystal ball from his pocket, small enough to fit his palms, and generated enough magical energy to activate it. It was a memory crystal, a mystical item worth 20 credits that, as the name stated, invokes a moving image of a memory.
The crystal brightened and revealed the face of Charlotte, a memory he held from before they went to Portland. She was sitting on a couch inside of the Greythorne Manor.
"This is your final objective. Her name is Charlotte, she is a witch. She is the most important thing on this whole operation." He gazed at the angels, emphasizing the severity of his words. "Once you find her–and I want her alive–one of you will then transport her here…"
The image transformed into an aerial view of Lisbon Valley, then to a view of the Greythorne Manor.
"...Greythorne Manor, Lisbon Valley. That's in California in the New World. Remember this, memorize it." He let the images play once more. "I don't care who gets in your way and what you do with them as long as you complete this mission. I don't care what the fuck you do afterwards. Understood?"
The angels shared a look with their fast reflexes, but Irwin could still see hints of their knowing looks. Malkanthor nodded, along with the other angels, as if agreeing to his words.
An angel wearing a man with long blonde hair stepped up. "Don't worry. I can handle her rescue. I'm the fastest in the bunch, after all."
Irwin turned his glare to the angel. "That's good. I don't want this to fuck up. What's your name?"
The angel smiled. "Balthazar."
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