Simple Creatures {An in-depth, continuous Rp}

[iZiggie]

Hooray, my first Rp thread! biggrin

Okay, so here's the gist of everything:

The year is 2097, and the world is dead. Well... not dead in the real sense, but long dead in spirit as the apocolypse spread throughout the earth. The Taint, as they call it, first appeared after the last civilization of the Old World fell; the Taint: an evil, supernatural substance that sparks a curious reaction in all humans. It makes them unnaturally violent, more susceptible to pain and misery. It changes people, and blackens the land in which they live.

Today, only one city remains on the planet (where the Rp will take place), but the biggest landmark the world has ever seen since its conception is also the sole embodiment of the utter evil that has saturated the land. It is bathed in the corrosive aura of the Taint, and total anarchy reigns. The Riots of 2080 are lost to history, but their aftereffects still plague the City's inhabitants; it is as if a great weight burdens their shoulders as the vast majority of them have lost their destructive drive.

Man has fallen, and all manner of heathens and creatures have slithered in from the black crevices of Hell to bask in the glory of Earth's ascending chaos. But along with the underworld's demons there have arrived a myriad of other beings: Heaven's angels, purgatory's wraiths, and those humans who's appearance has been twisted by the Taint. Monstrosities that lurk in only the deepest, darkest chasms of the imagination have found their way into the New World, transforming Earth into a living Hell itself.

What will your place be in the New World?


::Rulesies~

1. Courtesy of the subforum mod's rules, keep the violence, cursing, intimacy, etc. down to a minimum. If you have to kill, then it'd better be for a damned good reason. Stuff like mugging is okay, as long as you don't get carried away with it and make it graphic.

2. Keep it literate, plzkthx. No four-liners. I want paragraph(s), people, meaning at least five lines of descriptive writing. We're not in kindergarten anymore, folks.

3. There is no limit on how many characters you can have. Go crazy, but keep it neat, please, as in no neglecting any of your characters in the storyline.

4. Speaking of the storyline, I'd really really really like this Rp to be continuous, so if you're unsure about joining this thread, don't. ...And on another character note, I won't allow new ones to be created and old ones discarded for every time you come on to post. If you hate the character you're currently Rping with a burning passion, then fine, make up an excuse for his/her death, but please don't make it a habit.

5. Be creative with your character! Have a full biography and history readily made for him/her, dig their personality. Want them to be in a gang or something? Cool. All you have to do is come up with a plausible explanation of how he/she came to be in said gang. Want them to be the leader of said gang? That's cool too. Message me, and we'll talk about it. If I dig the idea, I'll even have the gang/organization/club made official, to where other members of the Rp can also have their characters join. Like I said, this is a very in-depth Rp.

6. I'm going to be somewhat lenient on your character(s) "abilities", if he/she has any. Remember, "power" doesn't necessarily proclaim them as the big boy on campus. In other words, there will always be someone out there tougher than your character. Period. So don't get it in your brain that you can create someone uberly powerful who knows it and thus throws their weight around, because they most likely wouldn't live out the day. Please keep in mind that the average psyche of the normal citizen is very wary and suspicious of, well, everyone. This isn't a contest for power or rank, this is a contest of survival.

Your character can be a range of species, some of which I have completely made up. ...If I can be arsed to do so, I will post some of these creatures in a separate post... I'm even going to be playing a special lil' guy o' mine who's an unheard-of species, called the "Avian". I'll elaborate on this later.

Let's see... For "elemental" character thingies, again keep in mind that there is a limit to which he/she can extend their abilities. If your character is a full angel or demon, they would be expected to be extremely powerful beings... but within bounds. Typically, angels will never attack another being without just cause, and a smart demon couldn't be bothered with causing random havoc, as they would most likely have better things to do. Sooooo that means no thrill-killing either, a'ight? Killing/maiming, etc. is perfectly allowed, but in that there must be solid reason. ...I know that this excludes psychopathic killers, but I don't want everybody's characters getting iced in their first post or so, poor things.

Let's see... examples... My main character, Angel, is the "Avian" I've previously mentioned. His species is that of an angel/demon hybrid, a completely unheard-of coupling that defies countless laws made by both Heaven and Hell. Don't get me wrong, he's not the only one of his ilk out there, but he is a rarity. From both ends of the gene pool he's inherited the powers of both his angel mother and demon father, but because the coupling of these beings is not, erm, natural, his powers are wonky. In simpler terms, although he's more powerful than the average demon or angel, he cannot control the abilities he was born with. He could very well kill the person he would be walking next to and not even mean it. His mentality is also all out of whack, as is the case with basically all of his kin, though this is underlying; there are periods when the Avian goes into a state of uncontrolled psychopathy, where almost anything could happen.

So in a nutshell, balance your character's powers out, and we'll be good all up in th' hood, yo.

7. THERE WILL BE PLOTS! Hooray!


::How to Get Started!

Read everything? Wanna get going already? Cool! Just post this little character form here in the thread (below), and if you have any questions, message me:


Name:
Nickname(s):
Age:
Species:
Gender:
Alliance (Good, bad, etc.):

Mutations (Wings, horns, etc.):

Appearance (write it out or post a picture):

Personality:

History (Optional):

Other (Optional):

----------------------------------------------------------------

And for godsakes, before you begin to Rp, wait for me to clear you.

I really hope this works out for the better, guys! <333  

[Lady_Conspiracy]

Name:
Kelra Lelune
Nickname:
Kel
Age:
18
Species:
Nature Demon, with some human blood
Gender:
Female
Alliance:
Neutral
Mutations:
Wings and some animal features
Appearance:

Personality:
Kelra is sharp as a tack, but her quick and stubborn character makes her quick to anger, and even easier to target. She is a strong and independent character with a strange nack for mischeif and trouble. She longs for adventure and freedom, but always seems to find herself in over her head. Easy to anger, however it makes her all the more loyal and protective. She can be gentle and loving, but has choosen to never show her vulnerability to anyone.
History:
Kelra's family for generations had all been forest demons, or earth demons, or air ones. But it all had to do with nature. Until her grandmother married a human, with the taint. Since then, her form, although filled with the black forest wolf, also carries white wings. Her family started a sort of guild for protection. They did not wish to join the war, or chose a side, so instead they acted neutral. Given protection from those persecuted. Also giving their gifts as healers to those wounded or injured. That was until the other demons did not enjoy having their guild tend to angels and those taken with the taint. While Kelra was gone searching for herbs. Her family was attacked and killed, along with everyone seeking refuge. As the last of the Lalunes, Kelra is left alone to figure out her own loyalties and her own way in life.
Other:
-Fights with a long stave, staff, and a sabre.
-Can change into at will a black wolf (accused of being a werewolf)
-Fly on great white wings
-Has healing powers, and forest powers
-Is quick to anger and often doesn't think before acting or speaking
-Is weak before all fire (fears fire)

 

[iZiggie]

Lookin' good there, Lady_Mac (I almost called you Lady Macbeth). smile I'mma gonna give your character the A-Ok. And since now I know that at least one person is interested in the Rp, I'm also going to go ahead and type up a bio for my character.

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

::The Basics~

Name: Angel.
Alias: Angel.
Age: 240 years (around 17 human years).
Species: Avian (Angel x Demon; better explained below).
Gender: Male.
Alliance: Neutral, though more inclined toward Good.
Mutations: Two great angel wings, black as a raven's; retractable sabre fangs and scythe-like claws.
Religion: Agnostic. He'd like to believe in a greater, kindly being out there, but because of the whole apocolypse deal he's lost faith in that notion.

::Appearance~

In all respects, Angel is a very particular being, both physically and mentally. But focusing now on his appearance, it is plain that he is a very tall drink of water, standing at no shorter than seven feet. His build is not only lenthy, but lanky also, lending him a very lean, rangy figure. Scrawny could be a nice word here; you could even go so far as to call him malnourished from the look of him, though that in itself is not terribly rare in these troubled times.

Moving on to his visage now, a hint of handsomness caresses his features, and he would indeed be so had he not the air of a dog who's been given one too many kicks by its owner. Dark shadows underline his eyes, viva la insomnia, only adding to his mien of melancholy. Speaking of his eyes, though, one could call them his most lovely feature: The startling color of burnished gold, tinged a slightly darker shade around the iris. His hair, a deep indigo, hangs long around his jawline, unkempt and slightly stuck up in the back. Two great black angel wings sprout from both his shoulderblades and taper down to his calves, the feathers themselves scruffy and ungroomed.

When unconcealed, his sabre fangs curve down to his chin, both sharpened to a deadly point and having all the lethality of a butcher's knife. His claws, when also unveiled, are each one inch in thickness and also razor sharp.

: razz ersonality~

Oh, the poor boy... How else can I say it? Angel is one messed up kid. A drug problem, several rather serious health issues, a grisly past... he's got it all. None of it's made him bitter towards the world, however, quite the opposite: It's made him terrified of it. Oh, but he's not a bad kid, he's actually a really nice guy, once you past the whole "street hooligan" façade; he's sensitive to others' emotions, and would gladly go out of his way to give aid to those who need it. He does have his demons, however... His father's constant beatings as a child has instilled in him a suspicion and fear of everyone he meets, and an instinctive reflex to shrink away from any kind of physical contact. He's also lost his faith of the good in people, though he doesn't necessarily think badly of anyone save for himself.

::History/Autobiography~ (Written in my character's point-of-view, hooray!)

"The apocolypse has been hard on all of us, and my family is no exception... I've tried, I really have, to save my mother from him... But I failed... Just like in everything else I've tried, I've failed horribly. All the signs were there, heck, I've witnessed first-hand what he's - what's he's done to her... what's he done to me. What he's done to my siblings, rest their poor souls... I'd be lying if I said that he beat her under stress of our situation. No... I've seen it on him, he liked doing what he did to her, he liked it when he killed them, my baby brother and sister... So young, their lives snatched mercilessly away from them, like feeble candleflames extinguished with one brief gust of wind... Sometimes I wish I could only be there with them, wherever they are. My mother has crossed over into the Void as well, and I can't help thinking as I lay awake at night that I could have made a difference, that I could have been the one to rescue her from that - from that b*****d.

My mother, she was Heavenborn, an Angel. And my father... he was hellborn, a Demon. And I... I am of both races. A spawn of both Light and Shadow... a freak. There are times when I... black out... Time becomes infinite, and I know nothing except the bliss of knowing nothing... But it frightens me, because sometimes when I awake from these periods of nothingness I - I find blood on me... Oftentimes it's mine, small gashes I suppose where some barbed wire or the like snagged on me... but sometimes it's not... and that's what worries me...

I cannot control the terrible powers I have inherited. Why this is, I do not know. What I do know, however, is that it is imperative that I do not keep in close contact with anybody... anybody... For I might just kill them, too... like I killed my mother... How I let her die at the hands of that - that monster... And my siblings... my dear siblings... How could you ever forgive the likes of me? For that my father was right about: I'm nothing more than the dirt at the bottoms of his soles. A washout. An unnatural freakshow. I am what they call the Avian, a creature as timeless as the very stars suspended in space, albeit a rare and most curious species. Am I proud of what I am? Heavens, no. Hypothetically (well okay, it's more factual than anything, really), my birth contradicts all the laws of both worlds, of Heaven and Hell. It is even said that when an Avian is born, the fragile veil of the space-time continuum frays at the seams our existence is so unnatural. This makes us widely feared, but also hated, especially by those Heavenborn, my Angel half-brethren. They think of us as a disgusting sin, a manifest of their flaws, something definitely not tolerated regarding their ideals... and their pride. But I suppose their attitude is not too biased...

After all, we have been known to be... highly unpredictable..."

 

[Lady_Conspiracy]

Kelra wandered the city, her wings folded back, and her detached although cold stare keeping away even the most rude of people. It was dark out, so there weren't many who weren't looking for trouble. She gripped her stave harder. Presently it was her walking stick. Her hood was up, and her golden hair down, but her keen eyes saw through the darkness and she stepped into a bar.

"Something hard sir." Her voice was steady, and as she was handed her drank, she sipped quietly, letting it burn the back of her throat, and hopefully burn away the memory... The still image of finding her family laying sprawled on the ground, protecting the others... Her hand gripped the glass until she felt it break. Many turned their heads, but no one dared approach her. "Another drink sir, and I'm sorry about that glass I will pay for it." Once again her voice was cold, and the eyes she looked out from, although clear and angry were unmoving and bright, black circles hung from under them.  

[iZiggie]

Ooc|| Sorry this is so long... I was really feeling the muse at the time. biggrin

Hundreds of stars speckled the nighttime firmament, a
velvety black expanse marred only by the occasional tall charred building and radio tower. It was mid-December in the last remaining city on Earth and the cold was tangible, nipping at bared flesh and stinging ears and noses bloodless. A fine layer of powdery snow blanketed the icy sidewalks and streets, though this was more a cause for dejection than celebration; namely, when one needed a quick getaway, they had to go about it very carefully nowadays, else suffer a fractured skull or somesuch. It had snowed the previous night, when iron-gray clouds had ribbed the sky and shed their fat flakes. The snow on the ground as of now was of the same stock, for the two days' temperature had hardly fluctuated at all. If anything, it had dropped a few degrees. Happy holidays, dreams of sugarplums, and good will toward man were all things of the past.

Angel was feeling especially down in the dumps, so to speak. Hands shoved deep into his pockets in a feeble attempt to keep them warm, the Avian trudged down what was formally known as "Goodlove St." (a rather ironic name indeed), occasionally losing traction on the slippery sidewalk and sliding a few inches where one of his holey Converse sneakers would become buried in a snow mound, thus making him even colder. Finding seasonally appropriate clothes large enough to fit his tall frame was a particularly difficult feat, and he hadn't managed to nab what he now donned (a dark felt trenchcoat, olive gray slacks, and a faded wine-red scarf) until last November. Bad times, folks, bad times indeedy.

A sudden gust of icy wind smacked him hard, staggering him back a few feet. It felt as if thousands of tiny little needles were puncturing his face. "Damnit..." One hand shielding his pale visage, he struck out the other and gripped the edge of the nearest brick building corroded black by the Taint and thrust himself sideways into a dingy alleyway, where he promptly fell back against the brick wall and breathed out a sigh of relief. He'd never remembered any winter being this cold... Perhaps it had something to do with the entrance of untold thousands of demons into the world, but that in itself was just a theory, another of those dark rumors passed on in dodgy places. ...But speaking of dodgy places...

The youth's golden gaze passed across the back door of a generic nameless bar, recognizable only by the faint murmur of hushed conversation and the soft clatter of silverware and glasses drifting in from a gaping bullethole in one of the dirty windowpanes. But all that wasn't important... They had a fire going. A freaking fire. Its orange glow washed across his skin, and though he couldn't see it from his standpoint he had a notion that it wasn't small. Man, if wishes were ponies... or something...

Gazing wistfully at the simple wooden door of the tavern, Angel found himself caught in a sudden dilemma; it sure would be nice to go in and warm himself, but for him it wasn't that easy... Being what he was, an "unnatural" was the current stereotype, he couldn't just walk in and say "howdy". Bang bang, you're dead, freak. Of course, most wouldn't be that bold, but it took just that one fellow hopped up on whiskey and Malboros, plus a shotgun, and... yeah. "Fight, or flight..." The temptation was great, and the baggy trenchcoat that he was wearing concealed both his wings most comfortably, so he could easily pass for just some tall dude, right? Right... Just some tall dude with blue hair and yellow eyes. 'Ah, but my hair is just the right length to hide my eyes, now...' 'Oh really? Now then, just how do you plan on staying out of sight? I mean, you're not exactly small there, junior. A skinny little runt, sure, but I'll give you ten bucks if the top of your head doesn't brush the ceiling. And get real, this is a bar... People are bound to want to ask questions disguised as mere friendly conversation. That reason enough for ya, man?' '...Shut up.' A second chilly breeze filtered into the alleyway, brushing the side of his neck and fingers and instantly numbing them. This was the convincer, however, and the Avian stepped forward cautiously and fingered the door's brass knob, wincing as the frost coating it bit into the palm of his hand; he stalled a few seconds, and then abruptly turned it and stepped past the threshhold.

It didn't matter that dozens of curious eyes turned in his direction, eyeing him up, and it didn't even matter that the bartender accidentally dropped the glass he was wiping, spraying glittering shards of faux crystal everywhere. Nah, that was all just a small order of fries compared to the relief he felt as the warmth from the fire blazing in its grate washed through his body. He could have moaned in pleasure and relief, but that wasn't such a good idea at the present place and time, so he just settled for quickly drifting across the room and taking a seat at the bar. His happiness knew no bounds, until a familiar sensation stole him over; an icy prickling on the nape of his neck and wrists, and a sudden catch in his breath...

There was a demon present.

As inconspicuously as he could, the Avian glanced to his immediate right, where the fireplace's flames were crackling and leaping merrily, and then to his left, where he spotted it... well, her. As instinctively as he knew his own name he recognized the cause for his unease: A young woman was sitting a scant two seats over from him, her hood drawn up over her head and the sad remains of a splintered glass littered around her. An aura of bitterness radiated from her, making the fine hairs on his neck and arms bristle. The portly bartender was standing off a ways, almost resolutely avoiding making contact with him. But that was all right, he had no money anyway. Few did now. Angel reluctantly averted his gaze from the strange girl, instead busying himself with the task of warming his numb hands.

 

[Lady_Conspiracy]

Kelra felt eyes fall on her, a tremor ripple through the air. The bartender became almost white. She knew that new presence... Angel? No... There seemed to be many different aura's to him. Demon too. A freak. nothing more. She shook her head as a new taste of bitterness whelled up in her. They were the reason, both sides. All her family wished to do was to find peace, and give help to those who needed it. Demons yes. But that was all, they didn't bow to the darkness, they were not even dark demons, not bound to those of the hellish forces. No, forest demons with human blood. She gritted her teeth angrily. It was his fault, his and this damn war.

"Freak..." Her mind threw its hate to every other in the bar. Pushing them into a field of their own aggression. She didn't even need to lift a finger.

Kelra glared at the man as she downed the last of her drink, and slipped off her hood, revealing her high cheek bones, pink from the cold, and her long golden locks of hair that tumbled untamed and flecked with ice and snow. Her eyes danced wildly, challengingly, their soft velvet colouring like that of the shadows that melted moved silently in the dark forests. "Freak. What do you want with me? come to finish me off?" Her mind shot across into his. She left her own open, left her own open to show him the story, the memories of their murders.

"They had done nothing but care..." She turned her eyes away from his. He was no more then a simple loner like she, cast aside from all sides of this war. An outcast. Why torment him so? Not even worthy of playing with.

But was she? Kelra closed her eyes, they had grown hot and misty. She missed them dearly, but it wasn't worth it. All this pain. "Bartender, please another one." She didn't bother putting her hood up. If the locals in the bar wanted her gone, they would have done so already. She would drink away the last burning memory of them, and continue on her own, the last of the Lelunes. She would find her own way in the world, and thier memory would only serve as a cruel reminder.  

[iZiggie]

"Freak..."

That word alone sent the fine hairs bristling again, and a renewed chill raced up his spine. As the she-demon's sullen bitterness peaked into something more intense - anger - the room that was so cozy and comforting before with its warm wood paneling and crackling fire surged with the cold electricity of a pissed-off "unnatural", metaphorically speaking, of course. Indeed, the orange glow cast from the fire's grate seemed to dwindle indefinitely, and the light from the burning lamps set in iron sconces at intervals along the walls also dimmed. Soon the whole bar was bathed in shadow, and they too seemed alive; writhing and twisting in contorted shapes, slithering along the darkened corners and caressing the locals' bewildered faces.

His wide golden gaze met the other's burning glare - her damning glare - and for a moment he couldn't think of any kind of adequate reply, and it remained so in the space of the few seconds it took her to draw the hood off her head. He blinked.

Her face, previously draped in the shadows thrown from her cloak (and quite a pretty face, he thought distractedly) was of a completely different stock from the type of demon he had at first supposed her to be. She was a demon for sure, that much he had surmised was correct at least, but she didn't belong to the more devious brand of her ilk. He couldn't quite put his finger on the specifics of her species, but the important thing was... boy, she looked mad...

Unable yet to come up with anything to say, the Avian instead gave her a weak, highly nervous smile, at the same time attempting to drop his gaze which would hopefully result in allaying some of her anger. Quite the opposite, another broadcasted voice invaded his frazzled mind: "Freak. What do you want with me? Come to finish me off?" Woah... and just who was the victim here...? Wasn't she the one who was antagonizing him? He frowned a little in confusion, one eybrow lifting in what he prayed didn't appear as sardonic. His fingers twitched slightly upon the counter, a bizarre tingling that had nothing to do with the choking cold of the room spreading through them. 'No...' His eyes widened in horror as realization hit home. But why did it have to come now, of all times? 'Goddamnit, no!' He screamed inwardly at the eerie prickling which was now progressing its way up his wrist, a thrumming, pulsating energy that was his magic, the bane of his living.

Suppressing all other emotion, Angel did what his b*****d of a father had always told him to do whenever his magic awakened within him: He attempted to touch its core, to manipulate the flow that was now running freely to his fingertips and reverse it back into submission. Unfortunately, the poor boy had somehow never been much accomplished at this, and surprise of surprises, he was unable to do so this time around. He drew in a sharp inhale of breath as he reopened his eyes, his hand now positively quivering with the combined elements of both light and shadow. Even with his gaze averted, he could still sense the other's glare upon him, so he unassumingly stuck his trembling hand under the counter and touched the bottomside of it, where it promptly fused itself there with the wood. With this discomforting new thought in mind, the Avian slowly turned back toward the she-demon, just before a vision of hers illuminated his mind.

What he saw was unsettling: Bodies lying spread-eagled on the ground, their limbs bent at odd angles and eyes staring lifelessly up at the ceiling. He was no doubt viewing a murder scene, and each of the sad, anonymous corpses could only be those that were once important to her. Probably still important to her. The vision faded once more into blank darkness, and the image of the bar's beer taps behind the counter slowly replaced it. 'They had done nothing but care...' '...I'm sorry.' It was all he could think of to say. I mean... just what could you say about that?

Even as he felt the warmth seeping from his fused fingers under the counter, the she-demon's eyes finally wandered from him, consequently alleviating some of the chill that had penetrated what seemed to be his very soul. Moreover, the fire's tepid glow creeped back into the reaches of the room as the woman's aura shifted into... sadness? He gazed questioningly at her despite himself, and as he did so he could not help but feel an invading sense of pity for her. And why not? He too was an orphan, had long since been.

'...Was it the demons?'

 

[Lady_Conspiracy]

A silent and quivering chill raced up her spin. Hot tears dropping onto the counter. It didn't matter who saw her. They would all know of her survival tomorrow, when one person stumbled onto the mess they had left in her home. She had held her younger sister for hours before she had left, and needed to change after as the blood had destroyed her previous dress. She shook her head as the voices filled her head, and let her wings droop down low in seething hate.

"Demons... Yes, the bastards. They couldn't stand us... For we chose not to fight, but to aid all those in need... They destroyed us. My survival was accidental... Damn them to hell. Damn them all!" More tears fell from her face, and Kelra had to whipe them away with her sleeve. The inhabitants of the bar stared at her with confused faces, fearful ones, as though she would turn and take her anger out on them.

Kelra sat still, utterly still as the loneliness began to consume her. Bit by bit until she felt nothing else. There was nothing else for her. It was a quick motion that made everyone stand in fear, their faces bathed in the emotion. With all her strength (which was quite alot) She threw her glass against the counter, watching as the shards zoomed everywhere, slicing open even her own skin. That didn't matter though. She could heal herself faster then any human anyways. She placed her money on the bar before leaving, making sure there was enough to cover the damage she had done. At her exit, she felt the bar become alive once more as the people began to talk.

Lelune.. The name will not even matter anymore. The last, it is to die with me... Snow and ice hit her face, and caught in her hair and lashes, Kelra didn't bother to replace her hood either. So what if anyone saw her, so what if she became cold?  

[iZiggie]

Ooc|| This pains me to post this, because it sucks.
:<

A maelstrom of motley emotions bombarded the youth's senses all at once
as glittering crystalline tears dropped from the she-demon's lashes, and yet the slithering black wrath of anger lay coiled like a serpent, ready to lash out at those least expecting it. It was not the vengeful hatred that unsettled him most, though, but the unmitigated sadness; for sadness bloomed into something more grotesque and ugly: Pure, unadulterated rage. And in a demon especially, that wasn't good news.

A slight frown creased the Avian's brow as he watched her mourn, tendrils of pity taking root in his heart despite himself. She had obviously been through a lot the past few days, which was completely understandable, by all means.

'Oh...' He didn't know what else to say to a girl who had just lost her entire family to a pack of bloodthirsty demons, except a noncommital 'oh'.

'Well... they're not all bad... My father, for instance, he - ... Well, I guess he was kind of a jerk... Okay, bad example... Look, just don't go looking for trouble, alright? You seem pretty upset, which I can understand, but... They're a powerful lot, demons, and I wouldn't want to see you getting hurt.' Oh what a charity case he had become.

He paused momentarily, searching for his next string of words when the she-demon suddenly cocked back her arm and flung the shot glass at the counter, where it promptly exploded into thousands of tiny, glittering shards. The glass flew in every possible direction, embedding themselves in some of the more unlucky bystanders' flesh with frightening efficiency. Angel yelped and ducked down on his stool as a few of the shards grazed the top of his blue hair. Nice.

The cloaked woman then abruptly stood, recompensed the hapless tavernmaster, and strode out the door, leaving him standing there dumbstruck. It had all happened in the span of a few seconds, a little more than he could digest at once. He was only vaguely aware of the prickling sensation of a million invisible needlepoints in his trapped hand.

His first instinct was to follow her, and offer what comfort he could. But then... it didn't seem as if she had really wanted any help. Or did she? Jesus Christ in a wheelchair, why were women so damned hard to understand?

With a sigh of resignation, he made to follow suit out through the bar's threshhold, but was abruptly hindered by a sharp jerk of his right limb. He whirled around and found, lo and behold, his hand still quite firmly attached to the counter's underside. And therein lied the problem, verily.

To start with he gave a few experimental tugs, to no avail. He directed a concentrated flow of his Magick down to his fingertips, intending to sever whatever it was that held him prisoner there; the only thing that succeeded in was having one of the patron's pint glasses implode, spraying the polished wooden floors with yet more sparkling fragments. Whoops. Gritting his teeth in concentration, he attempted to channel a more fine thread of combined Magicks into the invisible matter, and this time he could distinctly feel the unrelenting hold on his fingers loosening. 'Just a bit more... Aha!' He yanked back his freed hand with a wild grin of triumph, which was soon after replaced with a look of utter revulsion. A thick tar-like substance coated his palm with a glistening black sheen.

"Oh, sick..."

He flung his hand at the glass-littered floor, mucking it with fat droplets of the gelatinous goo, all too aware of the dozens of eyes glued to his back. ...Oh God, the stuff stank! He vigorously scrubbed his sticky hand on his pant leg, adding yet another dark stain to the already decrepit material. It was just as well... why bother washing your clothes these days? All that did was waste precious energy, and distracted your attention away from what could be lurking in the alleyways beyond.

Once he was mostly free of the disgusting goop Angel cast a quick glance around at the gaping customers, gave them a sheepish grin and shrug, and then trotted over to the bar's sidedoor where he deftly slipped back into the shrouding night.

He peered anxiously ahead of him at the mouth of the alleyway, trying desperately to penetrate the enveloping gloom for a glimpse of the retreating she-demon. His tentative footfalls crunched the snow lightly as he slunk past the narrow brick walls, dainty snowflakes landing upon his face before dissolving into icy water. His breath issued from his lips in a smoky cloud, the temperature having dropped a few paramount more degrees since the tavern drama.

 

[Lady_Conspiracy]

Kelra breathed out the cold air, shivering slightly. The night was starless and cloud covered, and the wind that blew was frozen and dry. She wipped the tears away from her eyes with her already frost biten hand. It didn't bother her at all however, she could heal it whenever she chose to. Kelra moved through the streets, in no particular order nor did she have any destination in mind, she just kept moving, leaving behind her past, and trying hard not to fly back just to check, make sure this wasn't a nightmare. A very vivid nightmare... She thought to herself sadly.

Movement from the alley forced her to turn her head. Kelra adjusted her eyes, as she stepped into the bleak darkness, her wolf senses picking up more then her human. Figures, many of them... Five... Four demon, one half breed, a child. Stopping in her tracts, she blended herself into the shadows. They had not noticed her yet... But would soon.

She focused her senses, pushing them to watch the figures. The demons were dealing with the half breed, an human/demon child to be exact, for a failure to which they were not speaking of.

"I told you to report right back to us, you fool!" The cold voice of the leader hissed quietly. Kelra could tell from the voice alone that the man speaking was ancient.