You all know this story.
It's the middle of the night. The farmer's duaghter is in the outermost barn on the property making out with her boyfriend from the city. They're both sweaty, down to their underwear, and the things that go bump in the night sneak through the barn door.
A few seconds of screaming later, the two kids leap out of the loft, half naked and white as a sheet, they scramble to their feet, running for the farm house faster than they knew they could run.
Five laughing monsters bound out of the loft after them, fangy mouths on protruding jaws in otherwise all too human face. Their bodies are burly humans', but their fingers end in horible claws and they bound after the terified teenagers on kangaroo legs.
The city boy goes down, but the farmer's daughter, strong from a lifetime of solid work, pulls him to his feet and they run on, weaving between haystacks, about too pass a group of strangers with swords and guns.
That's part of the story you don't know.
"Take the ghasts."
The part where we bump back.
* * *
Mr. Gerald Montegue sits on the board of directors of the Crysalis Corperation. Seemingly a law abiding megacorp, Crysalis is in fact the pawn of The Children of Chaos, a cult determined too prepare our war torn world for the coming of an elder god known as The Endless One. Along with money and influence, they wield powerful sorcery and the Rite of Transfiguration--a powerful ritual which sacrifices the souls of their upper management and key agents for the power to become monstrous dohanoids.
Having aquired a New Earth Goverment contract to build an Archology here in Kansas, Montegue is able to move thousands of his people into position to do his dirty work.
All that stands in their way is a motorcycle collecting occult scholar...
...a Nazadi sword-saint with a taste for old movies...
...a playful fox...