The old man passed a wrinkled hand over his eyes, seeming to calm now he had finally found someone to talk to.<br/>"I don't think... you see there... well." He stammered. "Daniel... I think it's a Baron. Nobody has recorded anything like this before. We don't know what to do. Oh, well, there are the surmisings from some of the writers, of course, but those are guesses, nothing more..."<br/><br/>A Baron. One of the 'Nobility' of the evil planes. This was impossible, unless as the old priest suggested, some kind of doorway had been opened to let the metaphysically 'larger' entity through.<br/><br/>"All you can do," the old man continued, "Is try the usual things and see what happens. I brought a new box." He indicated a blocky square shape under the hard wooden seat. Holy water, a consecrated bible and wooden crucifix, shotgun shells filled with salt, a silver dagger... these and other things were the tools of Daniel's trade, little supernatural tricks that people like him had learned through the passing years, ways to hurt and kill the things that went bump in the night.<br/><br/>And probably as useful as a pellet gun against a Baron. Nobody knew for sure.<br/><br/>The old man still clutched the book as if it were a lifeline. There was a large, soft cloth bookmark tucked in near the end of the book. His gnarled fingers stroked it as if soothing a cat.