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RavenWolf1010

The Light and the Dark (Reboot)

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War.

 

Humans are selfish creatures. They constantly fight and bicker among themselves. And for what? To prove that one religion is more righteous than another? No, perhaps it's simply over a mad dash for power. They climb over each other, step on each others' toes, kill, and so on. They don't see that they are all one in the same. Race, appearance, religion. Deep down, they all are still just mortals. In their strife over oil, money, power, they leave their kin to slowly die of diseases and starvation.

Not only, are they selfish, but they are naive as well. While one could be corrected in time, in enlightenment, the combination of the two is a self destructive one. Humans destroy themselves before they get the chance to learn. And those few that are wise, those that can see past just themselves, get lost among the much louder, much more dominant fools that are too narrow minded to broaden their views. In their own mind, they are right.

Now of course, they had help. Many powerful politicians in office, had been those influenced by our lesser kin rather forcefully. They were those out to start trouble. We let them run rampant; let them stir the pot. When it got out of hand, however, we would take care of it. An 'accidental' death. The mortals would be none the wiser. But then came the much more powerful ones. They'd managed to worm their way into high places. General of Wars, Presidents, right under our noses. They set the humans against each other, and let them nearly destroy themselves. Of course we had to step in at that point. We had to set the world straight again. But we were led into a trap. The demons were waiting. Thus began the War that Lasted Centuries. It was at that point that I realized, we are no better than them. Humans. With our petty arguments and wars of our own, we were just like them.

 

The war left the world in turmoil. It took another century after that, to set the world back on track. While most of it had been resolved, humans, demons, and angels, still butt heads. Our and their presences are known- but as the years have worn on, slowly we have inked out of their existence. But with darkness on the rise again, another war seems to be on the horizon.

 

-From the journal of the archangel, Michael. Est. date written- 2015 A.D.

 

 

 

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Basically, you're either a demon, angel, or human. Since the war was long ago, humans would now be skeptical of the existence of such creatures. Angels mingle with humans (despite the fact they aren't really allowed to). Angels and demons don't get along.

 

There will be a possibility of the allowance of halfbloods. I haven't decided yet.

This time around, they will be allowed. But, how many depends on ratio.

 

The setting is a city hugged by forest and mountains.

 

 

Rules

 

- All basic DC forum rules apply.

- No super overpowered characters. Angels and demons are pretty powerful though. They are immortal, but can still be injured badly.

- Minor cussing is allowed.

- No killing without permission.

- Try to keep numbers even as far as gender and species goes. Doesn't matter that much though.

That should cover it all for now.

Edited by RavenWolf1010

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Forms

 

[B]Username:[/B]
[B]Name:[/B]
[B]Gender:[/B]
[B]Age:[/B]
[B]Species:[/B]
[B]Personality:[/B]
[B]Appearance:[/B]
[B]Weapons/ Powers:[/B] (If any- Limited to swords. Don't go crazy)
[B]History:[/B] (If they fought in the war, where they've been hiding, what they've been doing, optional)
[B]Other:[/B]

 

 

Characters

 

Angels

 

Archangels: Michael, Raguel, Raizel

 

 

Username: RavenWolf1010

Name: Gabriel

Nickname: Rain

Gender: Female

Age: Looks to be in early twenties

Species: Fallen Archangel

Personality: She's kind but serious. (Rest in RP)

Appearance: Like this

Weapons/ Powers: She has a sword that she calls Ekaitz. She also can control weather.

History: Rain is a high ranked, and highly respected war general for the angels. During the war, she lead many successful battles against the demons. After the war, she was put in charge of keeping the other demons in check.

Other: She now has a mark on her chest of the Fallen.

 

Username: RavenWolf1010

Name: Marchoasis

Nickname: Raven

Gender: Female

Age: Looks to be in her early twenties

Species: ("Fallen") Angel

Personality: Sullen, but kind. She enjoys helping the humans, and is currently a senior resident at Mercy Falls Hospital. (Rest in RP)

Appearance: Like this, and she has black wings.

Weapons: She can shape-shift, and has a basic sword.

History: Raven was the offspring of an archangel and demon. After her mother, the archangel, was killed, she was raised to take her mother's place, ignorant of what she was.

 

 

Username: RavenWolf

Name: Ezekiel

Nickname: Zeke

Gender: Male

Age: Late twenties

Species: Archangel

Personality: Mostly, he acts like a total prick. Peel back the defensive layers though, you just might find your dream boy.

Appearance: Tom Hiddleston-ish

Weapons/ Powers: A sword called Mareak, meaning Tides.

History: Ezekiel fought in the war with much reluctancy. After, he became a car insurance salesman. When he grew tired of that, he took to being the gossip girl of Heaven, and relays rumors and information to anyone who listens.

Other: He's brother to Rain.

 

 

Nephilims

 

 

Username: CharonDusk

Name: Sheridan

Nickname: Sherry

Gender: Male

Age: Early twenties

Species: Half-demon, half-human

Personality: Suave and silver-tongued, Sherry is a charmer through and through. Whenever in a new environment, he always seeks out whoever appears to be in charge and tries to win their favour with honeyed words and by stroking their ego. But at the same time, he goes amongst those who are pushed down, oppressed and angry, and with that same sycophantic tone he stokes the fires of rebellion, urging them to rise up and attack their "overlord", which is normally the same people he has been sucking up to. Then he just sits back and lets the fires burn.

Sheridan thrives on pandemonium, feeling truly alive when in the middle of the fallout caused by his actions, his playing the sides against each other. For him, there is no greater joy than in manipulating those he considers weak-willed, regardless of their social standing, and takes immense delight in orchestrating the downfall of people who are in the higher rings of society. He is little more than a conman, using his powers to his advantage, taking what he needs before casting aside his "playthings" in search of the next big score.

Appearance: Possessed of a height of nearly seven feet with a physique so slender and elegant as to appear feminine, Sheridan is pale-skinned with facial features that are soft, like full lips and wide eyes, that belie a sharpness to his face, portrayed in his blood-red eyes and razor teeth. A trio of scars run from the top of his right eye socket, all the way down the side of his head to just above his shoulder. Black hair streaked with white falls in thick curly waves down to his knees, though he normally keeps it tied up into a bun. Across his body are numerous swirling black tattoos.

When out and about, Sheridan normally wears a pair of immaculately pressed black pants over knee-high and heeled boots, a white shirt with a red pinstripe vest and a floor-length red coat. His accessories consist of a red fedora, around which is a black ribbon holding in a single black rose and feather, and a choker necklace that is a simple black ribbon with a silver bell on it.

Weapons/ Powers: Illusions - Sheridan has inherited watered-down versions of his mother's powers, only capable of using two abilities in particular. One is the ability to cast illusions, to manipulate what a person sees, hears, even physically feels. However, this power weakens with as the number of people present increases, with it being at it's strongest used against one person and it's weakest when there's more than a group of 5 present. As well, once cast on a person, further castings on the same person are less effective to the point where the victim is immune. As a result, he uses this ability sparingly, normally either to escape a tricky situation or when he's stealing.

Siren Song - When Sheridan sings, he can entrance people, making them susceptible to his commands. However, there are numerous drawbacks: 1) Once a person hears his song, it won't work on them again. 2) Large groups, whilst entranced, are very difficult to control, most of them instead just appearing catatonic. 3) It only works whilst the victim is in range of his voice. The further they are, the weaker it becomes until they snap out of it completely. 4) Sheridan can't stop singing otherwise the spell stops, not to move or even to breathe. So he is extremely vulnerable while singing. Due to these drawbacks, he only uses this ability in the most desperate of situations.

Weapon - Sheridan does not possess a sword. Instead, he owns a short dagger that he calls Solas Na Gréine.

History: Born towards the end of the war, when his demonic mother met and fell in love with his human father, despite it being against her family's wishes. To protect the soon-to-be-born son, the couple fled the battlefield, hiding amongst the humans in an attempt to find some peace. And for a while, it worked.

Until Sheridan was a teenager. A roving band of angels met in combat with a group of demons near to the family's home, and when it became clear that one of her siblings was involved in the fight, his mother went to the aid of the demons. She never came back, and the surviving family tried to flee when the "angels" came calling, but only Sheridan escaped, left scarred for the remainder of his life.

Ever since, he has made his way in the world by using his powers to his own gain. But what he truly seeks is something far beyond dangerous: a weapon which can kill both demons and angels, and with it, revenge on those who killed his parents.

Other: Best way to make him flustered is to earnestly be nice to him. He doesn't know how to react to someone actually WANTING to be nice to him for the sake of it.

 

 

Demons

 

Username: RavenWolf

Name: Mackenzie

Gender: Female

Age: Mid-twenties

Species: Demon

Personality: Rp'd

Appearance: (Working on it.)

Weapons/ Powers: Mackenzie possess the power to manipulate shadows. Her moods can also affect this power.

History: Mackenzie wasn't around until a few months after the war. However, she was picked up by a band of angels, and stuck in a prison until recently. Her prison break though, left her with a severe weakness- the inability to use any of her powers, due to the enchanted cuff on her wrist.

Other:

 

 

Username: Kirito

Name: Aaron

Gender: Male

Age: Mid-twenties

Species: Demon

Personality: Rp'd

Appearance: (Working on it.)

Weapons/ Powers: Aaron can manifest weapons from his own blood or if permissions given another'. He can also melt in and out of shadows at his leisure.

History:During the war Aaron stuck to himself only fighting when he needed to for himself. That was one of his rules look after yourself and only yourself. After the war he became a P.I trying to contribute a little to this so called human race.((Yes he your stereo typical P.I with trench coat and cigarette

 

 

 

Username: CharonDusk

Name: Malice

Gender: Male

Age: Appears early twenties

Species: Shadow Demon

Personality: This guy can be summed up in one word; jerk. He is loud, brash, so foul-mouthed he would make a sailor blush and, above all, loves pulling pranks on people and laughing at their expense, though these pranks are rarely designed to do more than slightly embarrass the target - if they are human or Angel. Demons rarely walk away unharmed.

Always happy to start a fight – usually between two other people, - numerous are the time he has wound up starting a mass bar-room brawl, only for him to be nowhere in the fray, instead seated somewhere inconspicuous, watching with a beer and a huge grin as the chaos unfolds.

Appearance: Malice possesses sharp, narrow features and lean but muscular build at just over 6 feet in height. His almond eyes are a deep red shade, with reptilian pupils and a small scar running under his right eye, with faint barely perceptible markings running from the corners of his mouth up to just below his cheekbones, teeth that are incredibly sharp, and his black hair has a slight curl to it, reaching down to his midback and is always worn down: all of these traits combine to give him quite an intimidating appearance when you first meet him. Mal wears a black full-bodysuit, covered with a heavy black hooded cloak depending on the weather, and is usually barefoot unless forced to wear shoes. With regards to accessories, he wears a gold choker necklace inset with a single large red stone, and when out and about he wears a pair of black aviator-style goggles.

Weapons/ Powers: Shadow Manipulation - Malice can manipulate shadows, giving them a physical form - mostly whips/tentacles - with which he attacks. Due to the nature of his power, using it in well-lit places is very difficult.

Familiars - Malice has a number of familiars, small shadow creatures that are permanently near him. They are sapient, though they will rarely do anything without Malice telling them to, and they are also extremely photosensitive, dying in strong sunlight. On their own, they're no threat and normally only on a scouting mission, but as a group, they can be formidable in dark areas.

Sword - Malice possesses a traditional sword, similar to those used by medieval knights, which he refers to as Solas Na Gealaí.

History: Very little is known of Malice's past before the war, and he prefers it that way.

During the war, he made his living by effectively ruining the plans of the other demons, using his familiars to spy on their plans and then finding ways to sabotage them by any possible means, be it by attacking them himself or by leaving "anonymous" messages to the Angels. As well, he took particular delight in watching battles between the adversaries before "cleaning up" by picking off any demons that survived and dragging away demonic corpses to refill his larder.

After the war, he took to traveling the planet, taking up the self-styled mantle of "demon hunter" by night, private bodyguard by day.

Other: Loves the taste of demonic flesh, but human or angel flesh makes him sick, which is why he has no interest in them.

 

 

 

Edited by RavenWolf1010

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((Would a "good" demon (translation: still dislikes humans and angels but hates his demonkin above all) be allowed?))

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Username: Kirito

Name: Aaron

Gender: Male

Age: Mid-twenties

Species: Demon

Personality: Rp'd

Appearance: (Working on it.)

Weapons/ Powers: Aaron can manifest weapons from his own blood or if permissionis given another'. He can also melt in and out of shadows at his leisure.

History:During the war Aaron stuck to himself only fighting when he needed to for himself. That was one of his rules look after yourself and only yourself. After the war he became a P.I trying to contribute a little to this so called human race.((Yes he your stereo typical P.I with trench coat amd cigerete))

Other:

((Is this ok?))

Edited by Kirito

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Is this okay?

 

Username: CharonDusk

Name: Malice

Gender: Male

Age: Appears early twenties

Species: Shadow Demon

Personality: This guy can be summed up in one word; jerk. He is loud, brash, so foul-mouthed he would make a sailor blush and, above all, loves pulling pranks on people and laughing at their expense, though these pranks are rarely designed to do more than slightly embarrass the target - if they are human or Angel. Demons rarely walk away unharmed.

Always happy to start a fight – usually between two other people, - numerous are the time he has wound up starting a mass bar-room brawl, only for him to be nowhere in the fray, instead seated somewhere inconspicuous, watching with a beer and a huge grin as the chaos unfolds.

Appearance: Malice possesses sharp, narrow features and lean but muscular build at just over 6 feet in height. His almond eyes are a deep red shade, with reptilian pupils and a small scar running under his right eye, with faint barely perceptible markings running from the corners of his mouth up to just below his cheekbones, teeth that are incredibly sharp, and his black hair has a slight curl to it, reaching down to his midback and is always worn down: all of these traits combine to give him quite an intimidating appearance when you first meet him. Mal wears a black full-bodysuit, covered with a heavy black hooded cloak depending on the weather, and is usually barefoot unless forced to wear shoes. With regards to accessories, he wears a gold choker necklace inset with a single large red stone, and when out and about he wears a pair of black aviator-style goggles.

Weapons/ Powers: Shadow Manipulation - Malice can manipulate shadows, giving them a physical form - mostly whips/tentacles - with which he attacks. Due to the nature of his power, using it in well-lit places is very difficult.

Familiars - Malice has a number of familiars, small shadow creatures that are permanently near him. They are sapient, though they will rarely do anything without Malice telling them to, and they are also extremely photosensitive, dying in strong sunlight. On their own, they're no threat and normally only on a scouting mission, but as a group, they can be formidable in dark areas.

Sword - Malice possesses a traditional sword, similar to those used by medieval knights, which he refers to as Solas Na Gealaí.

History: Very little is known of Malice's past before the war, and he prefers it that way.

During the war, he made his living by effectively ruining the plans of the other demons, using his familiars to spy on their plans and then finding ways to sabotage them by any possible means, be it by attacking them himself or by leaving "anonymous" messages to the Angels. As well, he took particular delight in watching battles between the adversaries before "cleaning up" by picking off any demons that survived and dragging away demonic corpses to refill his larder.

After the war, he took to traveling the planet, taking up the self-styled mantle of "demon hunter" by night, private bodyguard by day.

Other: Loves the taste of demonic flesh, but human or angel flesh makes him sick, which is why he has no interest in them.

 

 

Username: CharonDusk

Name: Sheridan

Nickname: Sherry

Gender: Male

Age: Early twenties

Species: Half-demon, half-human

Personality: Suave and silver-tongued, Sherry is a charmer through and through. Whenever in a new environment, he always seeks out whoever appears to be in charge and tries to win their favour with honeyed words and by stroking their ego. But at the same time, he goes amongst those who are pushed down, oppressed and angry, and with that same sycophantic tone he stokes the fires of rebellion, urging them to rise up and attack their "overlord", which is normally the same people he has been sucking up to. Then he just sits back and lets the fires burn.

Sheridan thrives on pandemonium, feeling truly alive when in the middle of the fallout caused by his actions, his playing the sides against each other. For him, there is no greater joy than in manipulating those he considers weak-willed, regardless of their social standing, and takes immense delight in orchestrating the downfall of people who are in the higher rings of society. He is little more than a conman, using his powers to his advantage, taking what he needs before casting aside his "playthings" in search of the next big score.

Appearance: Possessed of a height of nearly seven feet with a physique so slender and elegant as to appear feminine, Sheridan is pale-skinned with facial features that are soft, like full lips and wide eyes, that belie a sharpness to his face, portrayed in his blood-red eyes and razor teeth. A trio of scars run from the top of his right eye socket, all the way down the side of his head to just above his shoulder. Black hair streaked with white falls in thick curly waves down to his knees, though he normally keeps it tied up into a bun. Across his body are numerous swirling black tattoos.

When out and about, Sheridan normally wears a pair of immaculately pressed black pants over knee-high and heeled boots, a white shirt with a red pinstripe vest and a floor-length red coat. His accessories consist of a red fedora, around which is a black ribbon holding in a single black rose and feather, and a choker necklace that is a simple black ribbon with a silver bell on it.

Weapons/ Powers: Illusions - Sheridan has inherited watered-down versions of his mother's powers, only capable of using two abilities in particular. One is the ability to cast illusions, to manipulate what a person sees, hears, even physically feels. However, this power weakens with as the number of people present increases, with it being at it's strongest used against one person and it's weakest when there's more than a group of 5 present. As well, once cast on a person, further castings on the same person are less effective to the point where the victim is immune. As a result, he uses this ability sparingly, normally either to escape a tricky situation or when he's stealing.

Siren Song - When Sheridan sings, he can entrance people, making them susceptible to his commands. However, there are numerous drawbacks: 1) Once a person hears his song, it won't work on them again. 2) Large groups, whilst entranced, are very difficult to control, most of them instead just appearing catatonic. 3) It only works whilst the victim is in range of his voice. The further they are, the weaker it becomes until they snap out of it completely. 4) Sheridan can't stop singing otherwise the spell stops, not to move or even to breathe. So he is extremely vulnerable while singing. Due to these drawbacks, he only uses this ability in the most desperate of situations.

Weapon - Sheridan does not possess a sword. Instead, he owns a short dagger that he calls Solas Na Gréine.

History: Born towards the end of the war, when his demonic mother met and fell in love with his human father, despite it being against her family's wishes. To protect the soon-to-be-born son, the couple fled the battlefield, hiding amongst the humans in an attempt to find some peace. And for a while, it worked.

Until Sheridan was a teenager. A roving band of angels met in combat with a group of demons near to the family's home, and when it became clear that one of her siblings was involved in the fight, his mother went to the aid of the demons. She never came back, and the surviving family tried to flee when the "angels" came calling, but only Sheridan escaped, left scarred for the remainder of his life.

Ever since, he has made his way in the world by using his powers to his own gain. But what he truly seeks is something far beyond dangerous: a weapon which can kill both demons and angels, and with it, revenge on those who killed his parents.

Other: Best way to make him flustered is to earnestly be nice to him. He doesn't know how to react to someone actually WANTING to be nice to him for the sake of it.

Edited by CharonDusk

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((Both are accepted! I'll go ahead and start us off.))

 

Raven stumbled into work barley on time. She went to her locker and exchanged her backpack for her white doctor's coat and pulled it over her scrubs. "Long night?" One of her interns asked from behind her. "Don't you have rounds?" She snapped. The intern straightened from surprise. She was usually much more friendly. "Yes, Doctor." He scuttled away sheepishly clutching his clipboard. Raven sighed. All last night she had continuous nightmares. By now she could only remember bits and pieces, but one that rang out in her mind was the one with Gabriel. She watched her get her wings severed off, and her chest branded with a strange mark.

Raven shook her head. Her own wings, tucked safely beneath her scrubs, fidgeted uneasily. "I need a coffee. Better yet, a straight I.V. of caffeine." Closing her locker, she went out into the main part of the hospital. It wasn't long before the intern was back at her heels, with a cup of coffee. Kiss ass. He wasn't doing it to be kind, he was trying to get back on her good side. She took the coffee anyways. "Let's go to work."

 

 

"Step right up, will you be the lucky winner? Maybe you, sir. You never know until you try!" God this censorkip.gif sucks. Zeke looked towards the shoddy wheel. It closely resembled one of those game show ones, complete with "mystery" sections of the circle, and smaller "grand prize" ones. The difference was was that the wheel spun haphazardly, and the paper slips were coming off. Not to mention a few of the prongs that were supposed to slow the wheel had broken off. That cheap censorkip.gif*** can totally afford to buy a new one of these. His "boss" (quotes because no one would really boss Zeke around, he just decided to) had the bright idea to start trying to appeal to the 9-5 workforce. Of course everyone out right now were just trying to get where they needed to be and wouldn't bother with such a ghetto rendition of Wheel of Fortune.

 

 

Gabriel was perched atop one of the many high rises downtown. She was scouting, watching for any possible demonic activity. Between her and Raven, the majority of demons that had resided here were either 'dead' or long gone. Others had opted to stay low, off their radars. She knew there were some around though. Somewhere.

 

Despite it being a warm morning, Mackenzie wore a hoodie and jeans. She self-consciously pulled down the sleeves to cover the cuffs on her wrists along with the scars that crisscrossed her arms from trying to get them off herself. She needed either a powerful enough demon, or an angel to help her. Neither side would help her. Demons often laughed and called her a "pet" of the angels. And angels would slay her onsite. Her original captors had taken some pleasure in torturing her, and then left her for dead during the war. She had no idea that angles could be so cruel. She wished they had killed her. Anything was better than struggling to pass as a human, and always looking over your back to make sure they hadn't come back to finish the job.

Hunger pains drove her to the nearest fast food joint. She slipped inside and nervously scanned it. You could never be too careful.

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((Hope you don't mind, but I added a second character I'd like to use, if he's okay?))

 

A soft purr escaped from the lips of the man as he sauntered down the street, black cloak billowing out behind him like a pair of ominous wings, ready to take flight at a moment's notice. Red eyes flicked back and forth beneath tinted goggles that resided upon his face, surveying those who passed him by with a small smirk, lips parting into a wicked grin for anyone who looked at him as if he was mad, a grin which usually sent such people scurrying away as quick as possible in order to avoid the promise of pain that it offered.

Now those lips parted in a wide yawn, sharp teeth clicking as they came back together, and he stopped, momentarily gazing around before starting on his way again. The pause was very deliberate: he could feel them nearby, watching, waiting. So long as he behaved himself, he could give them no reason to so much as spare him a second glance, though he knew full well that they're kind lived for combat as much as his ilk did. In all honesty, they were as bad as each other, but eh, what did he care? Let them kill each other, it just meant more food for him.

Speaking of which, he needed to eat soon, if the persistent growling in his stomach was anything to go by, and his larder was near empty, such a bad week for hunting it had been. The question was where to go? There was the temptation to head to the hospital, since his prey sometimes crowded the place like vultures, looking to feed on the misery and pain that such places held. But with such places came risk of being caught, since the others also hunted there, too, and while it pained him enough to cause the smirk to change into a grimace, it would seem the best option would be to sate his hunger at one of the watering holes that the humans called "fast food restaurants".

What an oxymoron.

Still he let his empty stomach dictate the direction, leading him towards the nearest one, which he glanced at in disgust as he approached.

"Malice, Malice, Malice....you really need to stop eating this garbage..."

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Mackenzie was in line fidgeting with her cuffs. Her mind has started to wander. What if I cut my hands off, remove the cuffs, and put my hands back on? Humans can reattach severed limbs, surely I could. "Next? Next?" Someone tapped her shoulder. In mere seconds she had turned and grabbed the wrist and pulled a knife, holding it to the man's neck. His face paled and he trembled in her grip. Everyone in the restaurant had grown silent. In the whole process, the hood had fallen back from her face, revealing intricate tattoos that started at her temple, close to the hairline of her brown, wild hair, and down to her jaw. They continued down her neck and spine. Faint scars also crossed most of her body, adding to her already menacing look.

Mackenzie then realized she wasn't under attack. It was only a human. Someone came up behind her. She dropped the man and whirled to see a timid teenager. "M-miss, you're going to have to leave. Weapons aren't allowed here." The demon scoffed, putting away her knife in the holster on her hip. "Whatever. This food is censorkip.gif anyways." Brooding, she pulled the hood back up over her face and shoved past a few people to get to the door. Whispers grew to a low hum. "Freak..." The last thing she heard as the door shut was someone ask if she was meth head. Great. Wait, what was that? Someone was near. She could sense their presence. Time to get the hell out of here.

Edited by RavenWolf1010

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Aaron walked up the steps to his office building looking at the now flakeing golden laters on the door that had his name with P.I at the bottom. "Well back to the grind." He said letting out a sigh as he unlocking the door and walking in hanging his coat on the wall as he looked around inside.

"Hmm?" He spotted some notes taked to the cork bored were all the cases were, his receptionist must have put them there just in case. He pulled them off to look them over and walked into his office taking a seat in his chair as he read them over. He let out a low sigh "well theres not much here is there a lost puppy..business is not to great now is it." He leaned back into his chair closing his eyes.

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((I'll post for Sheridan once it's okay to do so, since I am unsure if he's okay or not.))

 

Well, this was certainly an interesting and amusing development.

Standing in line, waiting for the vapid wastes of inedible flesh at the counters to serve the worthless cattle who were waiting in line, waiting for whatever grotesque slop they had ordered to be burnt and then served to them, all the white pretending they were actually looking forward to shoving the poisonous filth down their throats. The very thought of having to eat that slime himself made Malice sick, but his stomach was growling so loudly that any coherent thought not revolving around food was drowned out. He couldn't even muster the energy to smile at those people who stared at his strange attire, instead responding with glares for any who dared look at him.

It was already shaping up to be a terrible day.

Then the line started to move, allowing Malice a quick glimpse of those in front, eyes drawn to the figure dressed equally as strange as he was, even down to the pulled up hood. Whoever was under that caught seemed lost in thought, but that sharp jolt that was oh so familiar burst through his body, and even before she rounded on the fool behind her, causing the hood to fall and reveal the wild-eyed face beneath, he knew exactly what he was looking at.

A demon.

Malice watched with growing interest as the scene unfolded, watching the knife that seemed to appear out of nowhere and found itself at the throat of the trembling mortal, only for it to fall away seconds later before the female was asked to leave. His gaze followed her all the way to the door, lips parted into a wicked grin. Despite the persistent noise in his stomach, he wasn't foolish enough to go after her straight away, no point in further alerting her. Just wait a few seconds...and then he was going for the door.

The hunt was on.

Edited by CharonDusk

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((Sorry! I thought I ok'd it in my last post. unsure.gif ))

 

 

Gabriel sighed and jumped from the building. Opening her wings, she glided down. While she was in plain sight, a human had to first be aware of her existence to see her. Or, she had to reveal herself to them. When she landed a glint of gold caught her eye. It was flaking gold lettering. This place needs some TLC.

 

Mackenzie moved uneasily through the streets. Did that human follow her wanting revenge? I need somewhere to lay low. A long abandoned apartment building caught her eye. That'll work. She jogged over and started looking for a way in.

Edited by RavenWolf1010

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((I apologize if I sounded rude unsure.gif I just didn't want to post with him in case he was rejected.))

 

A small chuckle came from beneath the hood as Malice watched his prey's body language change, growing increasingly tense and wary as she made her way through the masses, and a jolly hum began in his throat as he followed, all pretense of nonchalance now completely gone. After all, she knew that she was being pursued, so what was the point in continuing to pretend to be an innocent bystander?

Let her be aware that she was being hunted, it just made things more entertaining when she inevitably panicked.

He watched as she rounded a corner, pace kicking up a notch as she went,and of course he followed, looking ahead of his prey to wherever she was headed, specifically what appeared to be an abandoned apartment block. That sent an irritated twitch through his skin: buildings like that were little more than a labyrinth, all too easy for her to hide in and thus escape his grasp. He darted down an alleyway that ran parallel to the building, eyes darting this way and that for an entrance. It was far too bright out for him to sends his eyes out, but once inside...that was a different story, and a cruel giggle came from his lips as his gaze fastened onto a potential opening, a window long broken.

This would be entertaining.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

"Step right up, will you be the lucky winner?"

Across from where the sad rendition of a carnival game and the young man who reluctantly captained it, ruby eyes watched from beneath the shadow of an equally red hat and soft-red lips parted briefly to allow their owner to take a sip from the delicate martini glass that was clasped between long, thin fingers tipped in red. In fact, almost everything about this man was some shade of red, the only differing colours being the darkest black in ribbons that adorned both hat and throat and the pants he wore, as dark as the curls that slipped out of the loose bun that held back his hair, and the skin so pale as to be almost white.

Those eyes glinted with amusement, tips of his mouth curling up into a small smile as he watched the other attempt to entice the punters into gambling away their hard-earned coin. And failed miserably as everyone just walked right on by, barely sending a glance towards the rickety contraption.

Amateur,

With a whisper of a noise, he was on his feet and sauntering towards the wheel, heels clicking gently as he walked and coat swaying in the breeze. As he drew closer, his face split into a wide grin.

"My oh my, a wheel of fortune, hmm? How...quaint, I haven't seen one of these since I first started hustling,"

There was a lilt to his voice, a ghost of an accent that gave his words an almost melodic feel to them as he spoke, gently running his finger along the edge of the wheel, before he turned back to the young man, drawing so close that they were almost touching.

"So, tell me, my dear...what is it that I could win, hmm?"

Edited by CharonDusk

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Aaron finished looking at the papers and calling the numbers got up from his chair and stretched as he walked up to his office door "man i need some coffee.." he mutterd rubbing his eyes and scratching the little bit off fuzz that was beggining to grow "ill need to shave again soon to damn facial hair." He went to the coffe machine grabbing a cup and taking what ever was left from the previous day and walked to the front door opening it and sitting on the steps taking in the fresh air.

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Suddenly the door opened and there was a man. Gabriel didn't move, opting to instead watch the man. She stood as still and silent as a statue. The angel had dissipated her facade and should've been visible. Humans are so oblivious.

 

Mackenzie's blood rushed in her ears and her heartbeat thrummed in her chest. That presence she'd felt earlier hadn't gone away. Someone was tailing her. The demon was running now. Squatters within the building looked up groggily as she passed. Gotta hide. Gotta hide. She muttered string after string of curses. If only these cuffs were off. Her power would return to her. Then she'd show this guy who's boss. You didn't mess with the daughter of a circle of Hell leader, disowned or not. She maintained still maintained the power passed down to her. I'll tear every feather from those harp-playing censorkip.gif when I find them. God, how amazing she used to be. Demons and angel alike had feared her. Had known her name. Maricha. The Commander of the Dark. The Bringer of Night. Now, her name had faded from minds of most. She was a joke.

Anger surged through her. She wanted to face this entity and put them back in their place. Mackenzie knew better though. If she wanted to live, she would have to run like a cockroach from light.

 

 

Zeke was initially startled. First, by the fact someone actually approached, and two, this someone seemed very out of place. After the initial shock passed, the angel cranked up the charisma. "For just the small sum of fifty dollars, you can enter to win a hundred, five hundred, or if you're really lucky, a whole whopping thousand dollars." As Zeke spoke, he pointed to each of the correspondent slivers, each smaller than the last. "So, whadda ya say?" He winked, apparently unphased by the proximity of the man. Zeke sensed the demon in him. The thing was he didn't care. The war was over and he had served his fight. In his opinion if they weren't bothering anyone, they weren't a problem. "Or since you're our first customer, you might just be luck enough to win a date with yours truly." He flashed his winning smile. Something about this half-breed was magnetic. Zeke liked it.

 

 

((Zeeekey has a bit of a cruuuush. xd.png

Sherry is the exact guy that fans someone like Zeke. And poor Zeke always ends up falling for people like that. And always ends up with a broken heart.))

Edited by RavenWolf1010

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((Poor Zeke, he either has got lucky or he's gonna get played like a fiddle. Knowing Sherry, probably the latter, but we'll see how things go xd.png))

 

Exactly as he had feared, the building that Malice now found himself in was little more than a maze of rooms and corridors, the pounding of his prey's footsteps echoing from all around Malice as he tried to follow her, making it seem as if she was just next to him one minute and then several rooms away in the next moment. The fact that the lost ones of society called this place home helped little, only further confusing his senses.

It made his blood boil, the normal smirk twisting into a feral snarl. He had no intention of letting her escape, not after such a bad week, and as reluctant as he was to do so, he had to use his ace. A soft click, barely audible, came from between his hands as he undid the clasp of the cloak and let it fall away from his body. Barely had the black material hit the floor before the cloak seemed to explode, erupting into a frenzy of movement as it split apart, a multitude of fragments that slithered and writhed as first eyes formed, followed by gaping mouths of teeth which hissed and squealed.

Malice looked down at the gathering swarm, and there was a warmness, almost a sense of fondness in his smile as he watched the little mewling things that now clustered around his legs, like children seeking attention from a parent.

"Find the demon who walks these halls, and lead me to her," he purred softly, "But be wary, she knows we hunt her and I would not wish to see you harmed, my little ones,"

With that, there was a flurry of movement as the familiars sped off, some disappearing through doorways whilst others burrowed through the very fabric of the walls. Malice waited a few seconds, consciously counting them down, then with a small sigh, he removed the goggles and closed his eyes. A series of images shot through his mind, of doors and hallways and empty rooms, of plaster and brick and wood.

For what seemed like the longest time, nothing.

But then - a new image, this one he focused on, his prey running down a hall completely unaware of the tiny creature keeping pace with her in the rotted wall. From so close, a vague sense of familiarity came over the watcher, but he quickly squashed it down.

Prey was prey.

"Run while you can,"

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

"Oh ho, a date, you say? Aha, quite the little charmer!"

For a moment, the man was surprised at the forthright flirtation, but he did well to not let it show too much. With a chuckle, he spun away from Zeke and came to a stop on the opposite side of the wheel, gently leaning on it with a pout, though his eyes glowed with a seductive light.

"Though I must say, fifty dollars is a bit steep, is it not? Hmhm, no wonder I'm your first customer,"

He disappeared again, almost seeming to glide back to the table he was sat at and grabbing the bag that was there in the same movement he used to spin back towards Zeke and his wheel, hand dipping in as he walked back over.

"First rule of hustling, my dear, is know your punters," he said as he leant back against the wheel, hands now engaged in flicking back and forth a deck of cards, "See, these folk, they got 50 notes just lounging in their pockets, chances are that these prizes are little more than spare change to them. And the ones that would love these prizes most likely don't have 50 dollars burning a whole in their pocket,"

With that, he smirked before reaching back into the bag and pulling out an item wrapped up in purple fabric, something so small that it easily fit in the palm of his hand, and he leant forward towards Zeke, grin full of mischief as he held the item between them and his voice dropped down to a whisper.

"Now, game like this? Perfect for tourists, especially those that don't speak English too well. But crowd like this? Gotta give them something that will REALLY catch their eye,"

With that, he gently peeled back the violet cloth, revealing the treasure hidden within: what appeared to be a perfectly cut ruby lay in the centre of his hand, luscious dark red gleaming beautifully in the light. A chuckle and the stone was hidden again as the youth spun away to his table, the deck of cards in his other hand now spread out across the wood.

"Let's have a little fun," the soft lilt was full of mischievous glee, "Drop your price down to a dollar a spin, while I have my own little game right here, and let's see who can reel in the most money, hmm? I win, you treat me to dinner, but you win...well, I'll let you decide what you get if you win,"

The mouth split into a grin, revealing wickedly sharp teeth.

"Name's Sheridan, by the way, but you can call me Sherry,"

Edited by CharonDusk

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Mackenzie sensed the powers surging in the area around her. Enough. If she was going to die, so be it. She was tired of living the way she was. Skidding to a stop, the demon exhaled and dropped back her hood. She turned to face where she thought the source was. Repressed frustration and rage boiled to the surface. The darkness around her quivered, but didn't come to her. Oh how it longed to. It missed her gentle touch and the power she lent to it to do wondrous things. It loathed the gleaming silver cuffs that drove it away from her.

 

"In my defense, it's my" he lowered his voice "none-too-smart boss's idea." Zeke grinned and shrugged. He watched intently as the man then produced one of the most beautifully cut gems he had ever seen. "Wow, it's almost as nice to look at as you." The angel chuckled. "Alright, I'll match you. If I lose my job though just know it was totally worth it." He straightened his tie and adjusted his white dress shirt (looking quite similar to a Mormon missionary ironically enough). "Alright. On your mark, get set-"

"EZEKIEL." The angel's head dropped. "Here we go."

A short, stout, red-faced man came sauntering out of the storefront behind them. He was dressed in a pinstripe suit that fit too loose, had a golden watch on his wrist, and a cigar in hand that had been chewed to hell. His hair was grey and thin with the typical receding hairline. In short he looked as unpleasant to interact with as he really was. "What the hell is this?" The boss man asked as he gestured to Sherry in a thick Bronx accent. "This chump is gonna scare off all our customers. Just look at 'em! What are ya, one of those new gen prostitutes or sumthin? Get outta here, this is a good neighborhood. We don't need freaks like you comin' an' muckin' it all up." With each word his boss said the more and more he cringed. He is totally blowing my chance with this guy. What is an angel to do?

"Mr. Donahue! I am shocked! Is that any way to speak to a paying customer?"

"This guy?" The man raised the cigar to his mouth and started to chew. "You're kiddin' me, right?"

"Mr. Donahue, when would I ever try and pull a fast one over you?" Zeke suppressed a snicker. "This gentleman has just wagered over five thousand dollars based on who could get more money with their game. Now hear me out: look at what he's playing at. He has playing cards. No one is going to trust a guy with cards to not cheat enough to give him money! We got this in the bag! Think, five big ones just to entertain this guy for a few hours. You and the Mrs. could finally buy that big screen you two have been looking at. Picture it with me the Superbowl on the big screen! You'd be the talk of the neighborhood." The man was obviously well under Zeke's thumb at this point. "Alright, fine then. Just for a few hours. If you lose it's coming outta your paycheck."

"Done and done, sir." He flashed him his winning smile. The boss rolled his eyes and went back inside. "Well, in case you didn't gather I'm Ezekiel but Zeke will do just fine."

Edited by RavenWolf1010

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((My apologies for the late post, but I wanted to give Kirito a chance to post as well so that they weren't feeling left behind in the activity, though it seems they've not been on yet.))

 

The shadow creatures, small and apparently insignificant, crawled and hissed their way through the floor, the walls, every available nook and cranny was overwhelmed by inky blackness as they emerged, converging on a single point not to far from where the demoness stood, like the building was alive and it's blood was as black as coal, spilling out into the hallway. A thousand spots of light, baleful eyes in the darkness, turned as one to fix their gaze upon her, but once the torrent from the walls had stopped, the only sign of movement from the black mass was a gentle but consistent ripple as the small creatures breathed.

The sound of footsteps is what drives the creatures into motion, moving towards the sound like a shadow, coming to rest in a mound at the feet of their master, the unnatural silence broken by soft mewling as the creatures grasped and clawed at his legs. Malice responded by smiling down at the little things.

"Very good work, my pets,"

Those words brought squeaks of delight from the little familiars. If it wasn't for the natural terror one would feel from seeing them and their master, it would be almost cute. But now Malice turned his attention from them to the demon who stood across from them. He was not surprised that she had stopped running, and smirked when he saw her stance, one that exuded defiance and anger, a pose that a vast majority of his prey struck before he cut them down.

But once again he was hit with that vague sense of familiarity, that something about this girl was something known to him, though it was a few moments before he realised what, when he felt the tug at the shadows around them, a pull that was not his own but one that the shadows could not - would not? - answer.

The revelation brought out a cruel laugh, and the voice with which he spoke was filled with a mixture of confused amusement and contemptuous sarcasm.

"Well well, if it isn't the Bringer of Night herself! Now what brings a high-class demon like you to a dump like this, eh?"

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

"Hmhm, why thank you, my dear, though you are not exactly unpleasant on the eyes, either,"

Sherry purred as he placed the wrapped-up gemstone down on his table, just opposite where the cards lay in a messy line. He looks up at Zeke, smile wide and filled with the promise of mischief yet to come. If only the youth knew what was really wrapped in that cloth, Sherry doubted he would be willing to play along, but best to keep that revelation until the game was over, just in case the little one decided to skew his chances of winning.

Not that Sherry had any plans of playing fair himself, but he wasn't one to take chances. Besides, as far as he could tell, the youth was a simple, plain human, and so unlikely he'd even begin to suspect what Sherry was playing once he started to weave his spell. And even if he did, his flirtation made Sherry wonder if he would be willing to actually do anything about it. Whichever way it went, the halfblood was sure to find the next few hours entertaining.

"Oh, then I am looking forward to this -"

Then that blustering buffoon had appeared, huffing and puffing like the pig that he was. It took Sherry a second to realise that this was obviously the boss, as vile in manner as he was in appearance, and his first instinct was to simply ignore the oaf, let him bluster and blow like the pathetic specimen he was, even smirking when he heard that overused term - chump - thrown at him. If only the pig knew he was the one who would be the chump tonight. And even being called a prostitute, while insulting, was far from the worst thing he had been called, so it was laughed off as well.

But then that word, that one word he could not stand.

Freak.

A bolt of purest anger, an unbridled rage, shot through his very core, cocky smile twisting into the very image of animalistic rage. Unbidden memories shot to the forefront, clouding his vision in a red mist, and unconsciously his hand went straight for the item concealed within a hidden pocket in his coat, all intention of using that item to make this worthless creature before him pay for using that word, for calling him that word. He didn't care who saw, he didn't care if it ruined his plan.

He. Did. Not. Care.

The only thing in his mind at that one moment was to punish the imbecile before him, if only to silence the scathing, long-dead voices in his mind that taunted him from those memories. But then...

"Paying...customer?"

The youth - Ezekiel, was what he had heard this man call him, - began speaking, drawing Sherry's attention away from the red thoughts and on to his voice, listening to what he said as he tried to placate the boss, even if it was a blatant lie, but it seemed to do the trick in more ways than one, as the boss returned to his store and Sherry felt his anger start to fade, albeit slowly. He turned back to Zeke, but the smile now was tight, and his breathing heavy but measured as he brought himself back under control. Now was no time to let anger get the better of him, not when he was in the middle of a game.

"$5000? My my, that's going to be one expensive dinner, Zeke. Now, shall we continue where we were before that....interruption? Game ends when someone wins my ruby or...let's say 5 hours has passed, whichever comes first. Agreed?"

 

((Fun fact: Sherry has trouble telling demons and angels apart, even from humans tongue.gif))

Edited by CharonDusk
New forums are borked

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