NSWRPF Archive Aria of the Soul

IC: Nibiru Vajra

Suburbs of Chicago, Illinois, USA

Mayhem. That's what was happening all around them. Nibiru was aware and kept mental track of what was happening around him. The Hellish Hounds that emerged from the infernal gates had caused the group of spiritualists to disperse. There was no action plan or pre-determined team effort. They had all been caught by surprise, so they'd have to do their best.

The wandering monk sank down on his stance as he held the Spirit Chain that held the Hell Hound pinning down the 'gunslinger', for lack of a name. The hellish dog-beast snarled in vicious protest as it tried to shake off the bindings. The chain went immediately taut and Nibiru marvelled at the strength which the beast possesed. If he hadn't sunk into his stance, he would have been flung off his feet. As it was, he was dragged forth a few feet. This was obviously not the type of daemon he'd encountered in his travels.

"Mighty Creator, give me the strength to overcome this fiend..." Nibiru said through clenched teeth, arms straining from the effort, leg muscles already burning from vascular use.

And almost as if in answer, Nibiru felt an influx of spiritual energy flow into him. Holding onto the chain became suddenly less of a struggle. As experience would have it, Nibiru was not in essence 'surprised' by this. Many times he'd asked for divine assistance when in trouble and it was given. This time was no different, situationally speaking, however...there was a slight difference he noted.

As the spiritual energy filled him, Nibiru felt the connection it made with the source. It flowed through him and through the 'gunslinger' as well, and back to... the priest.

Nibiru could almost hear him praying in the back of his conscious mind.

So, the priest was lending them a portion of his spiritual strength. A valiant man, this priest. Apparently not like the 'other' pretenders of the faith he's come across.

Nibiru made a mental note to thank the man when it was all over, assuming they survived the experience.

As it was, Nibiru understood the nuances of the situation. Seven Hell hounds, three spiritualists focused on one. Nibiru didn't quite like the mathematics of their present predicament. The priest had courageously entered the fray and was now leaving himself vulnerable so they could take care of the task at hand.

His efforts would not be wasted.

Feeling much stronger now, the young monk took in a breath and then yanked the chain with all of his might.

"We must end this now..." He said to the gunslinger, whom he knew was now filled with even greater spiritual energy. If he could get the man free of the Hell hound and manage to pull it up, the beast's underbelly would be exposed and open for the gunslinger to finish the job.

Needless to say, they had to work hard and fast, for the odds thus far, were against them.

Tag:Rally_Fan, Imperial_Hammer, Apadamek, Hammurabi, Blubeast, Beedlebroxh (Ok, ok, sorry. I got carried away. That's it for me. No more exposition until thursday.)

 

OOC: Actually Sinre, I'm going to forego the translation bit. Just too... irritating for me to do right now.

IC: Avinash Ekagrah/ Car Outside The Airport/ Kathmandu/ Nepal

Glancing at a clock, the Old Man realized exactly how late this detective was. His time was too valuable to be wasted like this. I will have to discuss this with the Shedim. If they want to send someone they should damned well do it on time. Revealing nothing of his personal feelings on... well, anything, Avinash looked the man outside over. Unshaven, and dressed reasonably carelessly it was not an appearance that would precisely inspire the greatest confidence in a potential client. But this was a man who HAD dealt with the spiritual. And survived, which meant that looks were a less than accurate depiction of this rather ragged individual.

After speaking together for a few moments, and Ekagrah knew exactly what she was doing, she entered the car and leaned forwards giving a rather magnificent view from either direction: front or back. Having been told the Detective's name, one Rufus Jameson, she slid rather gracefully into the car next to him. No one did graceful like Lilith, and she knew that all too well.

Looking at the cigarette in the Detectives mouth, bent in a spiralish kind of fashion and rather stained by some substance that would simply not do to contemplate (all of which went completely unnoticed by the King) , Avinash's mouth twisted in contempt and disgust. Of all the vices out there, tobacco simply had to be the worst. All it did was erode one's lung capacity. Rufus would likely have trouble breathing when he grew old.

Attention being drawn quite naturally to Lilith again, he just looked. There was nothing to say, and they were simply waiting for the man outside to be finished with the smoking weed that for some reason was so attractive to westerners.

Finally the cigarette was tossed to the side, and Rufus entered followed by the pungent odor that always followed a smoker who had just lit up. Fighting wrinkling his nose, Avinash motioned for a vacuum to be activated so that the smell would not get into the seats. That simply would not to, for then the car would not be posh and would then have to be replaced.

The King said nothing, merely watching, observing the younger man. A greeting was given, to which the Old Man merely inclined his head slightly. Getting a clearer look at the Detective than through the tinted glass was rather revealing. A rather attractive man, who would be more so should he actually give a flip about his appearance. His eyes were brown and haunted. The eyes of a man who has seen more than any man is truly meant to, and tried to hide it in the bottom of a bottle. Avinash knew the kind rather well, after all many of his advisors had the same look. Overall a man who was likely competent but not precisely the best at anything. A smile twitched at the corners of the Kings lips. Getting this one to break his own rules would be quite amusing. We shall see, should he prove useful in some capacity. Learning the truth of freedom would be a great form of payment. More than a simple man such as this deserves.

The simpleness of Rufus came through very clearly in the next few moments. Or perhaps simple was a slightly inaccurate word. Uncouth and low class seemed vastly more accurate as the Detective deigned to attempt touching the King. Avinash stared at the appendage for a moment, remembering how the west does things. Utterly uncivilized. After a few seconds, and listening to the rest that was spoken, Ekagrah ponderously accepted the others hand and squeezed in a vice-like grip. "Yes, we would have." The Kings voice came out in a venomous whisper. Sure, he could speak louder, but why bother when everything he said would be taken at that much greater importance for having to work to hear it. It was also an extremely cultured voice, every word enunciated precisely.

Cocking his head ever so slightly he looked over the Detec

 

Aspen Cain
Downtown London, England, UK

Aspen had a clove between her lips and a lighter in her right hand, when a gateway straight from hell appeared before her. Aspen dropped the lighter and brought her camera up to her face. She flipped it on and snapped three quick auto-focus shots of the gate, wreathed in demonic flames. Her fingers adjusted the camera to manual focus, in time to catch the emergence of five demon dogs.

Behind her camera, Aspen?s jaw dropped, and her cigarette fell, too. Aspen cursed and snapped off a few shots of the lead dog and off the dog behind him, before leaning down to pick up her Black. Djarums were far to expensive to waste. She brushed it off, with muzzle blasts ringing in her ears and lay it back in the carton. Aspen crouched and picked up her lighter, too. When she had pocketed both, Aspen glanced down at her bag and deliberated. Gun, or spirit?

Aspen touched her neck in response. Too many guns going off and Aspen was a god-awful shot. She directed her fingers towards the neck of one of the five hell hounds and clenched them. Compressed air should close around that dog?s throat, and snap it?s spine.

Aspen grabbed her camera, again, to document it.

Tag: UK and Ramza

---

Everett White/Ronald White
Near Campus in Newark, Delaware, USA

Everett muttered to himself, as he lit a cigar. The thick smoke wafted around his head, and the toxins in the cigar ignited in an explosion of flavor. For a split second, Everett was in heaven. Savor, savor, savor, release. His pleasure quickly gave way to boredom. He rhetorically asked the air in front of him, in a hushed tone, ?What are we doing here, again??

In his head, Ronald answered in a monotonous fashion. Metatron sent us here to deal with Samael?s scouts.

Everett?s face twitched beneath his mask. He rolled his eyes and put his lighter in his pocket.

A gate appeared before in place of the Deli shop and everything went to ****.

Eight hell hounds came bursting through the barrier, like a knife through butter. They phased into existence, but that wasn?t even remotely surprising, compared to how fast one of his group moved. Standing still, he was nothing spectacular, but in motion, the guy became as fluid as liquid. He met the hell hounds, and Everett expected an explosion. A few other people moved, but they all worked independent of each other. Everett pulled his gun from his shoulder holster and disengaged the safety catch.

Everett was as efficient with a pistol, as any one. And, he shot faster. The trick, was to see. As fast as that regal guy moved, Everett could trace his path with his eyes. He was entirely aware of everything.

He pulled the hammer back slowly. Savoring the sound before the kill. He aimed; pulled the trigger. The muzzle of Everett?s gun flashed, thrice. He watched the bullets fly.

Tag: Ramza/ Delaware

 

IC: Claire Glass, Delaware


When Claire arrived, her short broad heels clicked slightly. She looked around at the other people, quickly assessing them as best she could. Quite a group. Varying stages in life. That might help. But that was peripheral, especially when she saw exactly what they had to deal with. Eight large dogs, no, hellhounds jumping out of a porthole from Hades right from the wall of the deli. This was what she had prepared for, meeting creatures like these, from the hand of Samael?s underlings.

Her eyes widened in shock as one of the creatures leaped at a man who was just standing on his porch and literally bit his whole face. Claire winced and shuddered, knowing that that image would be burned in her memory forever, especially since it had happened up close. Being able enough to protect herself using her Spiritual capacity, she took a split second while her heart was not beating and everything in her perception had gone silent to wonder if she could also protect others from spiritual attacks such as these hell hounds.

Taking several steps back in order to view the situation more correctly, Claire bumped shoulders with a person just behind her and to her right which caused everything to speed up, her pulse and heart rate, her perception and the scene around her. Not taking the time to say she was sorry or to excuse herself, Claire stepped forward a step and lifted a hand to the diamond around her neck, the one made from her grandmother?s ashes. Calling upon her spiritual ability to defend against such fearsome beasts, Claire set a barrier around the hell hound that had taken the life of the man.

TAG:


ramza, blubeast1237, Fisto_Hero, HanSolo29, Ktala, NickLitYouAFlame,
Qui-Gon_Reborn, WINKWINK

 

Assistant Anubis
-Chicago

Last night had been wild and Anubis had enjoyed every bit of it. The party had not stopped until...well he did not exactly know for he had been out by three and the drinks were still being poured. Anubis had awoke himself, several hours later, laid out on the street corner. His head was pounding, balance was off, but he had enjoyed himself. It was only a few minutes after he had found his bike and had begun to drink some tea that he felt the disturbance. A spiritual disturbance, angry in nature, that sent shockwaves through his well trained sensors.

So the day had come when Samael would open his gate and unleash his wrath upon the earth. Metatron had not trained him for anything less and the Assistant was prepared, not hesitating to start his bike and rides towards the epicenter of energy being poured into the living world. Samael would destroy this world, Metatron had spoken to him. Anubis was to stop it; There was nothing else he needed to worry about.

He arrived early, getting peculiar looks from the inhabitants as he put on his glasses and equipped his gauntlets before leaning back on his bike and waiting for the appearance, patiently. Others appeared, but Anubis did not move until the gate itself lurched from the ground. The star and the asian man were quick to act, the priest assisting. Anubis stood beside the priest, his face in intense focus.

"First time?" He asked as he raised his hands towards the sky, attempting to summon lightning to his call. The sky would grow dark with storm clouds, the lightning would crack the sky with its light, and the hellhounds would find their way back to Samael. Extending two fingers, Anubis made a circle in the air and put an arm through it, bringing to his palm to be directed at one of the hellhounds.

"I denounce your master, dogs. Tell him I said so."

Tag: I_H, Chi-Town

 

Carolyn Summers
Near Campus in Newark, Delaware, USA

What had she gotten herself into?

Carolyn could only wonder briefly, the circumstances that had brought her to this place, as she and several others stared at the wall of the Newark Deli and Bagels. She didnt know any of these people who stood out here with her. Mater of fact, she just was told to show up, place and time..and to expect something.

Yeah, what a joke. Alfonso, was at her side, shaking his head. "I dont like this...!" he exclaimed. Of course, no one would her him except her..and perhaps Max. She looked down at her purse, to see a small nose stuck out from her bag. Max was doing soft growls. "Im not liking this myself, either!" Lyn stated softly to the pair, as she looked at the others around her. A blonde-haired woman, probably nearing middle age. A man, who made her clothing seem quite normal. Then there was a tall, powerful-looking type with a commanding presence, and? a masked man and a skateboard punk. Carolyn raised her eyebrow slightly. Not to mention what appeared to be a much younger girl, high school age at the most, and a big, military type with a rather nasty looking assortment of armaments. And if it wasnt for the fact, that they all seemed to have a aura that was WOW on the freak-o-meter...Lyn would have just wondered.

But not today.

Not after her regular reading had been interuppted. Poor Alfonso nearly became coporal, it scared him so badly. And Max was having fits. They, all THREE of them, had been recrutied by the Malakh, for some type of battle to come. Something that if she understood correctly, was supposed to be battled by mankind itself. But as the wall opened up, and eight supposedly mythical hounds of Hades leaped out, immidately killing one pour soul, it sure didnt seem like MANKIND to her.

One hand clutched her cane, as the other fell near the item on her hip. A military strength taser. But first, she would try for help from the relm of spirits, and other benign beings. A sudden strong draw of energies, made her turn and look at the woman in front of her. She was holding on to a necklace, and seemed to be concentrating as well. Another like herself? Perhaps. But now was not the time to wonder. She began to concentrate, even as all around her, guns blasted the area in front of them, as the more armed members of the group, began to blast away. She idly wondered how to explain THAT to the police! She began to cant softly, as Max dived down into the bag. Alfonso, hovered close, standing behind her, as she began to call for a webbing of protection, around the main part of the group close to her.

"Alfo...watch my back, would you?" she asked with a wink, as she returned back to her chanting, drawing on the powerful old spell that she knew, as she wove her protection around the group, making sure not to disturb whatever what is was the other woman was doing as well.



TAG:BultarSwan, HanSolo29, Qui-Gon_Reborn, blubeast1237 (KG), Fisto_Hero, WINKWINK, NickLitYouAFlame (Everrett)









Mac..
Downtown London, England, UK

Mac looked down the alley he was standing in. He had woke up, not too long ago. Some annoying voice woke him up. Silly accents. Far too noisy for his tastes. He frowned, as he looked at the others staying in his alley. Why were they here? Why was HE here? The others looked far too proper. He squinted, and rubs his chin, before he walked over, and placed his hands on the careflly folded stack of plastic bags. They rustled softly.

"Oh..."

His hand drifted down to his belt, and he gave a soft grin. Yes, he remembered as the hairs on the back of his neck began to get that strange tingley feeling he knew so well. He had chased a special bag to be here. It was important. A very nice, fancy bag it was, it even had a faint smell of perfume inside. Red. Yes, it was red. The store that it came from, was far from here. But the bag taunted him. Letting him sometimes get a faint grip, before it sailed away high in the air. So he had followed it. He didnt complain. He had earned 15 dollars

 

GM Approved

Name: Fredrick Michaels
Gender: Male
Age: 20
Appearance:
Height/ Weight: 5'7"/185 lbs
Hair/ Eye Color: Dark brown/Storm gray(Though prone to changing)
Skin Tone: Light Tan
Hair Style: Spiked and short.
Typical Outfit: T-shirt, Jeans, typical college student attire.
Inventory: He carries on his person a single short sword which is engraved with a series of lightning bolts. He also has a pendant with the Japanese kanji for storm on it.
Combat
- Melee 7
- Ranged 3
- Spiritual Attacks 7
- Spiritual Enhancements 4
- Physical Defense 2
- Spiritual Defense 7
Persona: Your typical college student who is interested in history and philosophy, he acts how he appears.

Biography: Fredrick was born in a small community in California, and later moving to the east when his father died. Fredrick had always been the weird kid in school, the one who would go over and start talking to some random spot in the sky, or maybe look out the window and watch a massive thunderstorm as it rolled over, smiling. Later on he discovered he had an innate ability to manipulate the weather, more accurately the ability to call up storms, wind, rain, hail, what have you. As he grew older he started detecting dark auras around certain people around him, he also noticed that they all fled when they heard thunder, researching he discovered that evil spirits are fearful of thunder, especially in the Americas.

After learning this he began to study the arts of magic, how the elements functioned and all that. He eventually gained control over his powers, but when his mother was brutally assaulted by someone with a dark aura, someone who had been after him, he lost it, pulled out one of the swords his father had left him and ran the man through. The assaulter burst into flame and turned into ash, leaving nothing behind. Fredrick was soon contacted by a group called the Malakh, who informed him that the people who had attacked his mother were evil spirits by the name of the Shedim. Offered the chance to fight against them Fredrick asked only this "Where do I sign up?" With that he joined the ranks of those who fight for Metatron against the legions of Samael. Some of his abilities include the ability to shield himself within an actual storm cloud, as well as use it to lash out at his enemies, he is also deadly with short-swords and other small blades. His eyes also shift colors from storm grey to electric blue during fights, like there is a storm rolling behind them, which could very well be the case.

IC: Fredrick Michaels
Chicago Suburbs

"God, why is it that whenever I finish class I always find myself angry with my professor?" Fredrick huffed as he left the campus. He'd just gotten out of his philosophy class and had managed to piss off his professor by making him look like a total idiot in front of his own students. He was heading back to his apartment when he saw something that made him completely lose it, a bunch of hounds with pitch black auras. 'Hellhounds, just what I need.' he said as he rolled his eyes and drew his sword from his backpack. He ran forward and as he did so a dark cloud began to form around him flashes of light rolling through them, as well as the sound of thunder.

"I've had enough of these peices of Shedim filth stinking up my home!" he said as he quickly slashed at one of the hounds, using the small cloud around him to give him cover. Meanwhile small bolts of lightning shot out at the other hounds, drawing them away from the other people who were presently fending them off. "You guy's need some help with these beasts?" he said his voice booming slightly over the clouds as he continued to slash at the hound that he'd surrounded in his cloud.

TAG: Chicago group.

 

GM Notice: Some of you have gotten PMs to this fact, but I feel it is necessary to stress this point one more time:

PLEASE DO NOT TAKE MORE THAN ONE ACTION PER COMBAT POST.

If you fire multiple shots or swing your sword around a bit, that?s fine. But don?t target multiple opponents (Unless you are attempting an area effect spiritual attack) and don?t combine totally different actions. This combat is a grace period, but after this TAKING MULTIPLE ACTIONS WILL CONSTITUTE AS ONE OUT OF THREE TOTAL STRIKES.

Thank you for your cooperation. For those of you who accidentally posted more than one attack, I went with what would prove easier to pull off.

---

[link=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=szamhMElzQA&feature=related][i]The Realm of the Shedim[/i][/link]

[i][b]IC: Samael, the Lord of Death and King of the Shedim[/b][/i]

Samael was not amused by Ba?al?s latest piece of information, and he pointed a bony finger accusingly.

?My? my humblest apologies, Lord Samael, I could not have known that the Malakh would be prepared for us! The only casualties appear to be on the advance troops, my Lord, nothing more, nothing??

Samael continued to point a finger at Ba?al.

?I? I will dispatch Beelzebub, my Lord. He will find out what is going on.?

Samael lowered his hand back to his throne. Ba?al, cowardly assistant that he was, skirted off post haste. It seemed things were going to be a bit more difficult than he had foreseen. He fingered the vial he always wore around his neck. It could even require his [i]personal[/i] intervention later on.

[hr]

[link=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zZnTQbXSKpE&feature=related][i]Near the University of Delaware, Newark, Delaware, USA[/i][/link]

[b]Berruin?s[/b] shots missed the mark, but the flak found its target, burrowing into the hell hound?s flesh and causing it to growl angrily before it pounced in retaliation. The proved to be all the warning the man needed, however, as he deftly side-stepped the lunge. When another of the infernal beasts came at him, he ducked down and threw the hound over onto its back, leaving it wide open for an attack.

After [b]KG?s[/b] fists came pounding down on its head, the hell hound he had singled out was too dazed to retaliate effectively, and batted mindlessly with its claws, which the young skateboarder easily avoided. However, this left him open for the claws of another hell hound to rake across his back, providing some mild discomfort, but what could have been a far more decisive blow was reduced by [b]Lyn?s[/b] protective spell.

The third hell hound twitched involuntarily as it felt its insides give way as a result of [b]Nobody?s[/b] spell, but this only made it more angry, as it brought it?s jaws scraping across the man?s arm, causing him a mild amount of pain.

[b]Everett[/b] was dismayed to discover his twin-barreled assault had missed its mark, the hell hound that had devoured the bystander?s head was living up to its earlier speed? But not even that could prevent it from being trapped by [b]Claire?s[/b] barrier, its claws leaving not so much as a dent against its semi-translucent walls. Another hound tried to seize this opportunity to score a blow of its own, but Everett wasn?t about to get caught by that, and he allowed the hound to soar past him as he ducked down to avoid its attack.

As a fifth hell hound discovered to its dismay, it was no match for [b]Fredrick?s[/b] sword play, the cuts slashing across its eyes and the blood rendering its next attack not only useless, but also providing an ample opening for another strike.

[b]Jeffrey and Kayla[/b] waited for their chance to make a move. It was time to retake the offensive.

[b]TAG: BultarSwan, HanSolo29, Qui-Gon_Reborn, blubeast1237 (KG), Ktala (Lyn), Fisto_Hero, WINKWINK, NickLitYouAFlame (Everrett), Chanbill[/b]

[hr]

[link=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rtF5T3IoYgs][i]Suburbs of Chicago, Illinois, USA[/i][/link]

[b]Cid?s[/b] choking grapple proved to be just the distraction necessary, and when combined with the mi

 

APPROVED!!!

Name: Lieutenant Richard McCall

Gender: Male

Age: 47

Appearance: A buff, giant of man with dirty blond wispy hair, that is receding at an alarming rate . He almost looks square headed, and his face is so withered it like it was carved out of marble with a dinner knife. He has a short beard that goes from ear to ear, that doesn't go that far of his face. His hands are twice the size they should be, and along with him. This along with his blue eyes and long dirty trench coat.

Inventory: Sawed off Shotgun, Revolver, Chainsaw

Combat (Distribute 30 points among the following. Each stat must have at least 1 point and no more than 10)
- Melee: 7
- Ranged: 3
- Spiritual Attacks: 3
- Spiritual Enhancements: 5
- Physical Defense: 7
- Spiritual Defense: 5

Persona: A sardonic, yet serious man. Life has even him both a short temper, and a low tolerance for others failings. Those he doesn't show outright contempt, he shows great friendship too though. Still has an extremely low opinion on humanity, but at the time is easily amused at the simplest of things. To all though he is a Paragon of what cops should be. He plays by the rules, he stays with in the bounds of the law, and even when their is a loop hole, he will obey the spirit of it. And he never back down for Evil.



Biography:

McCall, the hero cop of Detroit, Michigan. As he'll tell you that's a load of crap. He just does what he can here and there. He is much to weak and stupid to make much of hero. A thousand other cops saved kids from kidnappers and certain death, he's just the one who was in the right place at the right time to get credit for his work.

Well that doesn't really matter. Born to a single mother on welfare, with six kids...things didn't look good for Dick. His mom cared for her children deeply, but was too busy looking for work, and working at part time jobs to really make a difference in their lives. For that unfortunately, they would have to relay on their teachers. And their teachers where either to busy or too apathetic to care. With the exception of his high school History teacher Rachael Riscko, that was the case for McCall particularity. His brothers Jimmy and Dante where in jail by the time he graduated. He would be himself if it wasn't for the intervention of his teacher, till then he lived a life of petty theft and fighting and vandalism. Her dragging him into class when he ditched, and forcing to stay after until he wrote his notes and did his assignments added to that.

Thanks to her, he began to buckle down in school, and after saving his money for a part time job he had at a Dairy Queen went to study at a police academy. He graduated only in the middle of his class, due to him having to juggle his time taking care of his brothers and sisters at home, and working to pay for his school, he only had a limited time to study. He was lucky to do as well as he did.

After a half a decade on the force, Jack applied for the Detectives Exam and passed with flying colors. Soon he began claiming the ranks, and ascertained a position on the city's Violent Crimes Unit. Since then, Richard has had been having a weird vibe though. A very weird one, where he is sure there are dots he's seen but hasn't connected yet. Ones that could change the whole picture of everything he's seen or done.

 

IC: Kale Elysar
Downtown London, England

Kale felt his focus narrow as he sighted down his rifle. His earlier edginess fell away, as did the rest of the world - Mina, Clive, everyone else, even the other hellhounds - nothing existed but him and his target. He focused on that spot between the hellhound's eyes, and squeezed the trigger -

The bullet flew home.
But somehow, the hellhound kept coming.

Freakin-! Time sped up again. It was a full melee now, from the sound of it, but Kale couldn't spare the time to look. The one he had attacked snarled, shaking off the blow, and leapt - too high. Kale ducked and flipped his rifle around, slamming the butt into its chin and lifting it up above his head. It landed a few feet away, slightly dazed, but that wouldn't last. It never lasted.

No time to see how Mina or Clive were doing, and anyway, they could take care of themselves. The young man spun, pulling back the bolt; the empty shell clattered somewhere. He ignored it and clicked the next one into place. The target was still alive, and at this range he barely needed to aim: he just pointed his weapon down at the hellhound and fired again.

TAG: London - Trimaj, Sarge, Peng, Nick, Ktala, Ramza

 

IC: Nazmina Lazzal/ Downtown London/ England

A loud boom resounded as air literally ripped into the poor hound, tearing chunks out of it's body and leaving it drastically battered and bloodied. Another nice effect of this was that it's momentum was now more or less nil. Still, the creature kept coming and Mina just stood there teeth bared in some semblance of a grin as she drew on more power for a finishing blow.

Noting how slowly the hound was moving Mina deicided to hazard a glance to see what was going on while focusing the power for another attack. Checking on Kale first, the doggish beast that he had shot kept on coming, but was ducked as it leaped too high. There was also an explosion nearer to the gate, and a blast of hot air blasted into her.

Through the ringing in her ears a sound basically at her feet drew the Sorceress attention back to her own fiend. Oh crap! Mina's left arm flew up of it's own accord as it tried to deflect the hounds rapidly descending paw.

Oh, she DEFLECTED it alright, but she had understimated some things. For one, she'd not realized how bloody strong the monsters were. Even having been shredded somewhat they still had an obscene amount of muscle. Number two was how sharp the claws of the beast were, and as such she now had some new holes in her favorite duster and glove.

Eyes flaring Mina jerked back as the claws made marks in her skin. You did not just tear my coat. A cold calmess settled over her, and a growl escaped her full lips.

Somewhere else in the alley another crack from Kale's rifle echoed, and the tiny redhaired woman lashed her hand out at the hell hound, pushing at it hard enough that it should basically turn it into a smear on the wall. Either that or it would likely go THROUGH the wall, but that was the less desired effect admitedly.

TAG: XAN, KTALA, NICK, PENG, SARGE, RAM

:snoopy

 

Clive Reading
London, England

Howls of pain, inhuman, came from the throats of the hellspawned dogs attacking those assembled. Clive didn't want to look as Nazmina tore one apart with unseen knives, bat Kale fared much better in a close encounter than the old man had given him credit for. For a battlefield, the alley was remarkably silent, aside from the snarls and gunfire. Chaos didn't adhere to rules, and Clive appreciated that, a respect reared from years in the field fighting for his life or the lives of others. Despite the inherent violence, nothing was ever drawn out longer than it had to be. Fights happened; observation was near impossible, and he forced himself to stay focused on possible threats.

The click-whir of the shutter caught his ear, and he turned in time to see one of the dogs snapping away at the woman with the camera. Stupid girl, he thought. He'd hated caring for ignorant journalists back in the old wars he'd fought; now was no different.

In a flash, Clive closed the distance, knife ready to strike. With the head thrashing about in attack, snap judgement caused him to target where the neck joined the body. His knife arm snapped out hard and fast.

Tag: Ramza, Nick, Trim, Xan, Sarge, Ktala

 

Rufus Jameson
Limousine, Kathmandu, Nepal

He did not feel nervous, he felt anxious. They had shipped him of to Nepal. They wouldn´t do that if not for good reasons. He usually hated good reasons for stuff like that.

They shook hands.`Yes, we would have´, was the simple reply of the King. Spitted out like a threat.
Than Lilith offered hers. "I believe this is more customary with a female?" That smile screamed duplicity. It seemed to honest.

"There are things men like me don´t touch, without invitation, Ma´am." He smiled his neutral smile. And shook her hand. Watching the King from the corner of his eyes. Reactions told you everything. Especially the lack of them. First thing you learned about interrogations after burning the rule-book.

He meet the Kings eyes, while watching them. To ****ed up to get intimidated, your Majesty. His inner voice smiled. By him. It added then. And he hated his inner voice for that. So much, he would have loved to drown it in a Whisky, or suffocate it through the tart of a cigarette.

"Or perhaps we should say 'They' would have, did they care about etiquette in any capacity. I assume you know who 'They' are?" A voice like a razor. If someone on first street addresses you like that, he sells H. Rufus looked at the man. His eyes kept their cool now. The guy was a pro, surely. Rufus was the rookie on the block. But when it all came down to the facts about the King, he was a guy in a limousine. Probably thinking whatever of himself, but basically a guy in a limousine. A guy who slept with women like Lilith, a guy who had people like him flying to Nepal first class, a guy who gave orders, a guy who knew more and who had more and who . . . had no clue how things worked outside his heavy guarded, luxurious, well-informed and well equipped cage. And a cage was a cage and a limousine a limousine.

And who are you then, Rufus? he gave this thought a second. Always good to know where you stood. The guy they would hit when they jump the lights with their nice, big car and then they would never care to stop to see if you made it alive.

Rufus wanted to grab his cigarettes, but second guessed his decision and took out his chewing gum. Then he realized it probably wasn´t any more polite when talking to a King. "Nevermind." He said smiling and stashed the gum away, again.

His anxiousity left him. The guy did creepy. The guys who tried to get you burned always made a terrible bad interpretation of friendly. But this guy did creepy. Creepy was good.

"Who they are?" He repeated the question and looked to the minibar. "Care if I serve myself? Hell of a flight. No fluid since Russia." He said and already leaned forward. He probably disappointed them by not going for the scotch. He surely disappointed himself, but he took a coke light. In one of these small glass bottles that were so close to come by, in the age of plastic. "Well `they´are pretty much known, aren´t they? Not by their real names, probably, not as exactly as their internal job description might read, but `they´ have been described forever, I guess. And I am catholic, after all. Problem is, people don´t believe in them, do they? My King, I have no other options left in that matter. I´ve seen . . . enough to know they are here. I guess won´t stay secret for long." He opened the bottle of Coke with his teeth, out of habit and looked at both. "Let´s face it, Age of Enlightment? So yesterday." He gave them a dry smile.

Then took a mouthful of Coke. "But one can hardly read any files of the NYPD without realizing that some them are on the move. And after a few child corpses and stink-holes full of blood one can hardly deny, some of them . . ." He waited a moment. " . . . are unfriendly. Rapid mobilization, I´d say. And the ones who do this? They are the unfriendly bunch of Them. The one who send me? Friendlies. So, I got the dots, the woman send me to you for the lines.

 

IC: Cid Bowe
Location: Chicago suburbs

---

[i]*Grateful for the save, Cid got up, started dusting off the plethora of ash that the dog had turned into, and was about to greet the strange almost monk-like man that had most likely saved his life when yet another pair of dogs attacked the two, leaving Cid unhurt but the other man with a few gashes.

Cid kept his eyes on the dog that had passed close to him, now running in a wide arc around them. Rushing forward he pushed the other man slightly behind him*[/i]

"Go back-to-back with me pal! They can't sneak up on us then! If we live through this ill buy you a beer afterwards!"

[i]*He was still keeping an eye on the dog, and it was starting to turn towards him. However, the dog had picked a bad spot to do it in, for behind it was what looked like a priest. He could only hope that the man was listening*[/i]

"Move Padre! Flying lead incoming!"

[i]*Since he had used 4 rounds previously, Cid knew he had 6 left. Coupled with the fact that he had only two re-loads and that there were plenty of dogs left, full on combat firing was not the answer, rather a bit of discresion.

As he brought the pistol up in his weaver stance as taught to him by the DIs in San Diego and aimed, time once again seemed to slow to a crawl for him. He became hyper aware of not only his breathing but his heartbeat and the intervals between them.

Cid held his breath and started feeling for the times between heartbeats, the perfect time to fire.

Beat...fire...beat...fire.

His pistol was a Jericho 941 "Baby Eagle". Although he was once a Marine, he had quickly picked up his first 941 from a friend who was an Israli Army tanker, and had sworn by them ever since. Although he also had an M1911, the 941 could not only carry more rounds but also had significantly less recoil, something that helped him to shoot both rounds right at the upper chest of the charging hellhounds.

In one motion, Cid clicked the safety on and re-holstered the pistol. Balling his fists, he made himself ready to either hit or toss the charging hellhound if possible in the event both .45 ACP rounds didn't do what they normally did to anything that they hit, namely kill or damage it severely.*[/i]
[b]
Tag[/b]: Nibiru (Grayjedi), Father Benson (Impy)

 

Nettle
Suburbs of Chicago

Nettle's eyes flicked from one encounter to the other. It was clear the other members of the group were too caught up in their individual problems to recall the woman hovering above them like a guardian angel. With a bit of luck, the dogs would have forgotten her as well. So it was prudence had brought Nettle into the air. Providence had kept her there. From her vantage point, she was detached from the battle below. And so when a particular dog targeted a particular young woman, Nettle was the only one to notice the girl's lack of a weapon.

In a moment, an eternity of memories. Past fights. Trying to save people from violence, only to find she'd made things worse. Bars destroyed. Cars totaled. Houses trashed. Every time, there was an opportunity to help, and every time, the consequences or her intervention were almost as bad as if she had not stepped in at all.

Even as she recalled past failures, Nettle's wings fold into her body, streamlining for her dive towards the hound that was still charging the apparently defenseless young woman. Her years as a competitive diver when she had been known as Allysa came into play as her body traced a graceful curve through the air. Her wings elongated, tracing her path with streaks of light, leaving a crackling trail of lost energy, as if the sky wanted to remember her form for just a few more moments, reluctant to let such fluid grace leave it's presence. Her arms extend, her hands clamped with the tenacity of someone determined to do no more wrong to the shaft of her spear.

The blade glows brighter, a blue glow to match her eyes, hungry for the blood of the hellhound as she dives, down, towards the beast that dared to encroach on HER plane of existence.

Tagged: Hamm, Ramza, Chicago Group

 

Ic berriun Hashier
Deleware.



Berruin watched as his first two shots missed, but blasted debris into it's shoulder, slowing it for half a second and giving him time to prepare himself more fully to dodge. He also tried to listen over the sounds of battle to try and find where that women whom he assumed was shielding the group was.

One of the first things you learned in combat, protect the person making you harder to kill.

The hound charged sooner than he expected but he still easily dodged to the side, almost took a shot at it, but was pounced on by another one. Ducking under it's talons he reached under it with his right hand and flipped it as hard as he could onto it's back.

Damn, should have done that with my sword arm, i could have sliced down the middle he thought, taking a quick glance around the battle "Field". he spotted the women and started to circle towards her as he took an almost point blank shot at the head of the hound he had dodged.

one good thing about losing my last gun, if this thing gets a bullet in it's head from a 22...

Berruin grinned.

 

IC: Saito Sakimori
UK, England, Downtown London

Hm, tougher then it looked apparently.

Saito had wounded the beast but that was not enough to kill it. It had even tried to retaliate with an attack of it's own but the Japanese man easily sidestepped such an attack. It looked like the dog wasn't going to go down so easily. An explosion occurred somewhere nearby but as long it wasn't an attack on him, Saito just ignore such distractions, focusing on the beast he was facing.

"Fudan," Saito spoke while flinging some of the gunk off his sword that his blade had managed to catch during it's strikes on the beast. Persistent.

Saito did come from a family of swordsmiths, his blade had been forged by his own hands because of it, but they knew more then just how to make them. He had been taught several techniques to help master his blade work, from battojutsu to some of the other techniques that his ancestors of the Shinsengumi had favored like the hirazuki.

Turning to face his hellhound again, Saito clutched the hilt of his sword in two hands and brought it up to his right shoulder, the tip pointed to the beast. And then he charged at the beast again, closing the distance between them once again before he struck. His right hand released the hilt, leaving his left hand to hold the end of the hilt before he thrust it forward, the change in grip allowing over an extra foot of reach.

The left-handed thrust like the hirazuki was probably an overly-complicated move to use on a mutt but it wasn't every day that Saito could test his metal even if it was against a dog.

TAG: darthramza, DarthXan, Trimaj, Penguinator, NickLitYouAFlame, Ktala

 

OOC: Short posts, I know.

Everett White/Ronald White
Near Campus in Newark, Delaware, USA

Everett missed his initial shots, but he just shrugged it off. He had a bigger problem. The dog he had been aiming at, was barreling towards him. Everett flourished his arm and side stepped. He puffed on his cigar and crouched. As the dog leapt past, Everett brought his Beretta right underneath the dog?s belly.

He pulled the trigger twice. He was too close to miss this time. Everett let the smoke he had been cultivating trickle past his lips.

Tag: Ramza/ Deleware

---

Aspen Cain
Downtown London, England, UK

Aspen gasped and fell back. She kicked out with her feet and then rolled over, sheltering her camera. With a quick motion, she stuffed the Nikon into her bag and pulled out her pistol, as the hellhound came back for another strike. She raised the gun, and let out two rounds, at nigh point blank range.

Tag: Ramza, London

 

Carolyn Summers
Near Campus in Newark, Delaware, USA

Well, things had not gone nearly as well as she had hoped. But then again, they were still alive. If this was the opening volley, she was going to HATE to see what came next. They had not had time to prepare. Would have been nice to know what everyone was capable of doing first. Time to worry about that AFTER the fight.

Carolyn looked looked around her at the group. Several had taken hits, though none of them seemed life threating at the moment. Lyn bit her lower lip slightly. These were spawned from the pits. What if she...

["Ahem.."] It was Alfonso speaking to her. She hated when he did that. Especially since no one else could see him. When he had that TONE to his voice, she knew he was up to something. "What is it?" she asked softly, as she kept her eyes on the action in front of her.

["Well, Chika, Im guessing those things are demon spawn..With bad breath too, I might add. And they can SEE me, and I dont like the way one of them is looking. So why dont you just send em back home packing..?!"] Lyn lapsed off into a mishmash of words from different languages. "Oh..so is THAT all I have to do?" she quipped back. Sure, I'll just whip out Deamon Casting for Dummies, and..." Carolyn stopped when Max started to whine like mad.

Time to move. Carolyn, kept up her carefully woven area of protection, and once she moved back abit, she began to chant once more. She held her hand over the ancient symbol that was protection from evil, and began to weave a banishment spell within her protection spell. This one, was much more draining than the first spell, for trying to send something back to its own plane when once hear was NEVER a simple thing. She had learned that a long time ago. Alfonso taught her that much. She could hear Max growling, but she continued her chant, leaning on her cane, as she wove the necessary spell. With half closed eyes, she pulled out bit of sage, and began to gesture as she worked her magic. She hoped it would be enough.



TAG: BultarSwan, HanSolo29, Qui-Gon_Reborn, blubeast1237 (KG), Fisto_Hero, WINKWINK, NickLitYouAFlame (Everrett), Chanbill








Mac..
Downtown London, England, UK

Mac gave a soft snort, as he watched the doggie chew on his 'toy'. The dog still going, it?s jaw dangling limply out of position? Mean mutt. Funky breath too. Mac took a few steps back to assess the situation, his hand drifted to his belt. He didnt care of the hounds ate the others. But the others would help him protect the bags. And he had to protect them. They were important. They had chosen HIM. He grew annoyed that the dog had eaten his 'toy', and survived. He could use his OTHER toy..but that would probably hut the others. Far too showly for his taste. Course, there was still 'Big Sam' Maybe if he got em to suck it down further...

Mac looked around, while the others were making his head hurt, with all the guns going off. He found a stick. Sticks were good. Good. Not as good as plastic, but it will do in a pinch. Sticks were great for jamming stuff. Not too far from him, someone had blasted a hole in the dog, but the thing shook it off. Man, these things would have been great in the desert. The dog had lunged the guy, but he man used his rifle to lob the dog over him, watching it land a few feet away.

Lucky for him.

He jabbed a gob of of the magic stuff and jammed it on the end of the stick. With a dark grin, he lowered the stick for a moment, and waited his turn. He would use his stick, to jam the stuff into the opening already made by the guys gun, or down the animals throat, whichever presented the best target. And then..

Click...BOOOYAH!


TAG: Sarge221, Trimaj, DarthXan, Penguinator, NickLitYouAFlame (Aspen)

 

IC: Nibiru Vajra

Suburbs of Chicago, Illinois, USA

In a fierce explotion of brimstone and ash, the Hell hound was suddenly no more. Nibiru had no time to feel relieved for he knew there were more of the hellish creatures about. His green eyes now aflame with blue spirit energy, scanned the area quickly. There was a flash of lightning somewhere very close, but before Nibiru could triangulate the exact location, four hell hounds were coming in the direction he and the gunslinger were located. Form their formation, Nibiru could tell they were probably attacking two for each one of them. Not only that, from the way they were snarling, Nibiru could also tell they meant to tear them to pieces.

The wandering monk did not hesitate and immediately did a twisting somersault over the incoming creatures. The evasive move was meant to get him airborne and clear of the creatures, but they were fast. Much faster than he'd anticipated.

Nibiru grimmaced and grunted as he finished his aerial rotation and experianced what felt like fiery blades gash his upper shoulder and back. The creatures clawed at him as he sailed over them, but he still managed to land smoothly and with just enough breathing room betweem him and the beasts. The pain he felt, he could take. Only those who knew the ways of the Monks could honestly understand the real meaning of pain resistance training.

Of course, this was going to cost him later. Hopefully after it was all said and done.

"Go back-to-back with me pal! They can't sneak up on us then! If we live through this I'll buy you a beer afterwards!" came the voice of the gunslinger.

"No alcohol for me, but you have a deal." Nibiru answered evenly, even a she tracked the hell hounds who were making ready for another pass. Four beast were engaging them, and they had vanquished one. That meant that two were still unnacounted for. Hmm. Maybe that's what the flash of lightning signified. There was no way of really telling at the moment. At least these four were not attacking innocents, though that would be little to no comfort should they fail here.

"Move Padre! Flying lead incoming!" The gunslinger yelled suddenly.

Nibiru and the gunslinger seemed to go into action almost simultaneously. As the gunslinger fired his shots, Nibiru uttered a word and blue spirit energy enveloped him completely, then took the form of a suit of blue-ish armor. His left hand still held the Spirit Chain, and on his right hand, blue spiritual energy formed a perfectly balanced Saber Sword.

It had been sometime since the monk had to call upon such effects.

"I hope I won't need to use the Genki Dama." Nibiru muttered under his breath even as he lashed out with the Spirit Chain to ensnare the Hell Hound who was closest to the Priest. Nibiru's intent was to be the creature's focus of attention and distract it from the praying priest, who had to be protected as best as possible. Of course, He had not forgotten that two of the creatures were keen on attaking him. On the contrary, he counted on this, for he had a plan.

Nibiru deftly twirled the Spirit Sword in his hand and declared in a stern voice: "As it is written; Not by Might, nor by Power..."

And as he continued the quote, the sword intensified in brightness, for it was a touch of Divine Energy which the monk called into being. Against this, surely no hell hound could stand against.

There was only one way to find out.

Tag:Tag:Rally_Fan, Imperial_Hammer, Apadamek, Hammurabi, Blubeast, Beedlebroxh

 

IC: Avinash Ekagrah/ Car Outside The Airport/ Kathmandu/ Nepal

Silence. There was silence for several moments. As much as it is possible in a moving vehicle. The path they followed should have been rather straight forward, and for anyone else it would have been. But the Kings path was never straight, having many switchbacks and turnings back upon itself. Avinash never noted this.

A breaking point was reached, at which time the Detective had apparently finished sizing the Old Man up. It seemed reasonably apparent he wasn't terribly thrilled with what he saw, and reached for something in his pocket. Ekagrah smiled ever so slighly, just the merest twitch of his lips. Some gum was what the Detective pulled out, despite the fact that something a bit more substantial was what he wanted. Reliance on the smoking weed is a weakness. Stupid westerners, it makes them too easy to read. Then mumbling an apology Rufus put the stick back, having realized how rude it was to chew on something while speaking.

Up til this point Avinash still had not reacted to anything that the westerner had done. Patience was a virtue. One of the few that the Old Man practiced.

Finally Rufus said something, although it was just a question. Who are "They" indeed, young man. He then asked for a drink. Rather magnanimously Ekagrah waved a hand towards a mini-bar, although the Detective did not wait. Ah, a soda. Yet another western custom I will never understand. But it seems that Lilith was right in suggesting some be brought along. Avinash considered getting some water, but decided that he would not deign to drink in front of one so much beneath him.

Quickly it became apparent that the Detective knew just enough to know nothing at all. Just enough to get him hurt, or killed. At least it gave Avinash a starting place. Completely ignoring the actual question that was asked, the King looked at Rufus for a moment impassively. Poor, poor fool. You have no clue, do you?

After several seconds passed, "We should start at the beginning it would seem. What you know 'Them' as would be Angels and Demons. That is not what they call themselves. What would be considered Angels are actually the Malakh. Their counter parts are the Shedim. But things are never quite so clear cut, are they? Neither are purely good, nor is the other purely evil." Avinash knew he was lying through his teeth, as other people would see it. The problem with that was from the Old Kings perspective they truly weren't evil as they held traits that were quite sought after by him. Propigating this was very much in his own best interests. "We have many of the same traits, including war. Only this goes somewhat beyond the petty human wars. This is the War. The battle for souls, and ruling all." Ekagrah knew this was probably nothing terribly new to the younger man sitting across from him, other than perhaps the names. Time for it to get more intersting.

Continuing on in the serpantine whisper, "I have spoken with many members of both sides. Both have tried to woo me to their way of thinking, and both are somewhat wanting in numerous regards. The Malakh are too stiffnecked, and do not approve of anything that most humans would find particularly pleasurable." Avinash glanced at the pocket that held the cigarrettes the other man was apparently quite addicted to. "Personally I have found the Shedim's vices to be far more palatible. They lack patience and discipline in many cases, but they do know how to enjoy themselves." The second mose important thing in life behind power, which the Shedim have in abundance. "Recently the tide of the war has turned. I do not know precisely what has happened, as there has not been a chance to contact anyone on either side." As if I would speak to one of those weaklings the Malakh send. Again the King paused for several seconds, letting what had been said sink in.

Tilting his head again, just slightly, it was time to get to the man's question. "As to why you were sent halfway aroun

 

IC: Nobody
Near Campus in Newark, Delaware, USA

The earth shuddered and lurched beneath Nobody?s feet, hurling dizzying sparks through the fragments of his mind?s eye. Setting his jaw with the strength of his uncompromising resolve, Nobody lowered his frigid gaze and stared into the hellhound?s lustrous black eyes. Fueled by some strange intensity that must have been composed of pure, untainted evil, the beasts shining orbs, glistening with blinding darkness, bored into the depths of his soul. They seemed to generate an internal light, an eternal power, through the sheer, extraordinary volume of expression they could portray.

Gasping in a single low, shuddering breath, Nobody sensed the fluctuation in the atmosphere around his battle-frenzied frame as the hound he had inflicted with his power shuddered, racking spasms shattering its gaunt frame. A white foam gathered at his red-stained lips as the creature?s organs crashed in upon themselves, and his dark eyes, the stuff of madness and nightmares only moments ago, grew glazed with unbridled pain.

As if abruptly waking from a unfathomable slumber, the beast trembled slightly and, bearing its vicious jaws in leering triumph, leapt for Nobody?s left arm.
Trapped by his momentary unawareness, Nobody grunted, more out of surprise than from pain, as the hound sunk its sodden jaws into his forearm. He leapt backwards, landing in a crouch with both daggers at the ready, silently thanking the Malakh itself for sparing him the full impact of the beast?s formidable strength. Rubbing his right hand against the wound, he sighed as it came away slick with blood, but knew, of course, that it could be much worse.

He could be dead.

But, as long as this was not the case, improvisation was always a good option. Brandishing the blades with a luscious flourish in each hand, relishing their gentle, soothing weight against his sweat-slicked palms, Nobody gathered his strength about him, calling upon every ounce of focus that he did possess. His heartbeat slowed, his pulse dropped, his eyes misted in the intensity of his gaze, and Nobody lapped eagerly at the sensation of centered tranquility, growing ever deeper...deeper...deeper...and...

...his eyes snapped open, his legs pumped in powerful, bounding strides toward the sneering satire of superhuman power that lay before him. The hound emitted a low snarl, vibrating deep within the back of his gnarled throat, flexing its haunches in preparation for his adversary?s offense.

His masterful stride transformed into a violent leap, carrying Nobody?s head over his feet as he descended downward toward the creature?s back. Veins pulsed at the surface of its glossy exterior, muscles rippling in strength or, perhaps, in pain. Gripping the daggers so firmly that his wrists nearly began to tremble, Nobody prepared to plunge their darkened blades into the heart of the hellhound.

As he closed his eyes, Nobody thought he could hear lingering echoes of a thoughtless past?and fleeting visions of a daunting future.

TAG: WinkWink, BultarSwan, HanSolo29, blubeast1237 (KG), Ktala (Lyn), Fisto_Hero, NickLitYouAFlame (Everrett)

 

Because we're impatient little people who want to post more ... a combine from me and Trimaj!


IC: Nazmina Lazzal and Kale Elysar
London, England

Earlier That Day ...

Typical was the best word to describe the house that stood amidst many other typical houses. Semi-worn brick with dark green trim and a black roof. Everyone has a black roof. Nazmina had changed nothing about the outside of the building. All that was really abnormal was that the shrubbery had been allowed a free reign, and as such was now nowhere near the pleasant garden plots it had been once upon a time.

Inside was similar to the exterior. Spartan and functional would be the best way to describe it. There was a slate gray leather couch, the one true concession to luxury or comfort as it was overstuffed to the point that Mina could practically disappear in it should she wish. All other furnishings were well made. The coffee table was blockish, as was the TV stand across from the couch. The other two chairs, which were practically never used, were straight backed and would be comfortable in any Victorian setting. A reasonable sized television, a rather bland Persian rug and a couple of lamps completed the ensemble.

Mina currently resided upon the rug, sitting cross-legged with her eyes closed. Rather obviously she was meditating, focusing on a recent lesson she had been given, doing her best to squeeze out every ounce of understanding she could before being trying to apply it in any real life situation. Dressed in her typical black clothing, a strip of pale flesh was visible between her shirt and pants, along with what little space was visible between the arms of the t-shirt and her long, black suede gloves. Her red hair cascaded down her back and across her front, framing her exceedingly pale face.

Kale was pacing. Up and down, round and round, circling the room like a caged animal. More like a restless predator, rather - a hunter anticipating prey. His path took him around the television, between the coffee table and the couch, around Mina on the rug and then back again, his boots absolutely noiseless even on the wooden floor.

He stopped. A glance at Mina showed that she had not moved a muscle. He strode over to the little window and twitched open the blinds: nothing. He let it fall and turned back.

"They should be here by now," Kale muttered, pacing again.

He had finally gotten on Mina's nerves. Without opening an eye, "They'll get here when they get here. We still have fifteen minutes before they're late." Her lilting voice was cold, but lacked any hint of command to it, merely showing her displeasure at the situation. They won't be late. They never are.

Kale sighed impatiently and stopped again. He glanced at the front door, the bookshelf, and back again at the door. His fingers twitched. The hour before a fight was always the worst, when anticipation became like a fiery itch under his skin. "Bugger waiting," he said. "We should just go."

Faded green eyes opened and speared Kale with a frosty glare. "If you so much as look at the door again you will be sorry. Now sit down and shut up." Frozen was a good term for what her voice had become. Frozen and soft, requiring attention to be paid to understand it. "Five minutes Kale. If you can not sit still and silent for five minutes then..." She trailed off, knowing he would come up with something for her to do.

Kale glared back - but he was not quite impatient enough to disregard sense when he heard it. Mina's temper quite aside, they weren't supposed to know what was coming. If they left now, everything would be ruined.

He leaned against the back wall and crossed his arms. Think about something else. On his wrist was the studded leather band he always wore nowadays - years old, but it still looked as good as new. He stared down at it for a long moment. How old had he been when he got it - sixteen, seventeen? Kale couldn't quite remember. It had been a long time ago.

Just as he was starting to get impatient again, there was a little shift at the edge of his