[Quiet Man Cometh]

The façade was kept neat, an old relic maintained to advertise the city’s historic nature, but the door was locked and the building abandoned. In the upper floor, Henri looked out the tiny, antique window. The street was frequented by tourists and sightseers, but none approached the old store, or any of the other old buildings in this section of the city. The floor he stood on now wasn’t furnished in any fashion, but it was free of infestations and provided a workable space for him. It was adequate; therefore, it was enough.
The summoning would require space, and it would be messy. Best to see to it elsewhere.

Bucket and brush in hand, Henri stood back from his handiwork: the meticulously drawn summoning circle painted in blood on the concrete floor of a lavish fountain. He had disabled the water for the time being. Satisfied, he lifted the bucket and dumped the remains of the pig blood over himself, and extended his marked hand out to the circle, and chanted:

“Thou art bloody…thou art bold…thou art resolute…call'st thyself a hotter name than any is in hell. Swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn! Brandished by man that’s of a woman born!”