NSWRPF Archive Aria of the Soul

IC: Cid Bowe
Chicago Suburb

---

[i]*Up until this moment, Cid had been steadfastly neutral in this equation. He had done what had been asked of him, fought the mutated dogs, and he did not share the others' fanaticism.

He had gotten into his [link=http://www.dragtimes.com/images/9848-2006-BMW-M6.jpg]white BMW M6[/link] which was parked half a block away, intent on going home and taking the edge off chemically.
However despite the fact that he tried to bury it, he still had a conciseness, and it would not shut up. Sitting there with the engine of his wine red BMW M6, letting it stew in his brain until he could only yell the same words three times while striking the steering wheel with his palm*[/i]

"Dammit, Dammit DAMMIT!"

[i]*Instantly his hands went to the shift knob, threw the vehicles transmission into a forward gear, then acted.
The engine howled and the tires spun, launching the vehicle from the position it had in the lot in a spectacle of furious sound and motion.

Once again, the world seemed to slow down for Cid as he deftly threw the vehicle through the short set of corners to the lot, and it was a simple trick to bring the vehicle screeching and smoky turnaround stop. Even before the vehicle was fully stopped, he practically kicked the door open and jumped out, drawing his pistol and pointing it at the creature which had changed form twice previously.

He had the oddest sensation that he was somehow familiar with the creature, not through a memory or recognition, but the oddest sensation of fleeting familiarity in the back of his mind, as if a deeply submerged thought were fighting for the surface from the depths and against the tentacles of some leviathan.

His actions and words were more immediate however. Cocking the hammer as he spoke, he let his stance be known rather quickly*[/i]

"Look pal, it's been a long enough day, just take whomever joins and leave the rest of us in peace, alright? I'm sure that there are more pressing matters that we all can be attending to besides this whizzing contest."

[b]Tag:[/b] Chicago Group, GM

 

January 25, 2012

Spiritual Realm of the Shedim, Room of the Gates

IC: Samael, the Lord of Death and King of the Shedim

Samael stood atop the newly constructed balcony, running his bony fingers along the railing. Perhaps ?new? was the wrong word, seeing as he had very recently willed it into being. That was the nice thing about this realm ? its sheer mutability, and the fact that he controlled Metatron?s Cube had only made him that much more adept at harnessing the realm around him. Still, there was only so much space in this Spiritual Realm. Expansion would be required.

He glanced out at the assembled hordes of Shedim, teeming with motion and so clearly primed for battle. They were his army, and he was their god. And today, God had some exceptional news.

He began the speech he had dreamed of giving for so many centuries.

?My loyal followers, our time has come at last. While the hated Malakh have managed to battle our advance troops to a stalemate, or worse, in nearly every corner of the globe? We have at last secured ourselves an opening, a gate where the Malakh have been unable to suppress our hordes.?

With a wave of his hand, the gates pressed up against the wall save one.

?By focusing the powers of the Cube on this one gate, we can spread it open to nearly any size. It is through this gate that our invasion shall commence. Immediately.?

There was a roar of enthusiasm as the hordes began their march forth.

---

[i]La Plata, Province of Buenos Aires, Argentine Republic[/i]

Elo grasped at his side, wondering just what, precisely, had gone wrong. None of the recruits Metatron had hinted at had arrived, and his troop of Seraph had been overwhelmed by the sheer number of hell hounds that had been pouring out of the Gate: at least a dozen and a half.

There were still a few left, beginning to spread out into the rest of the city. Dismayed, he turned toward the gate. And the unthinkable happened.

[link=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A7zODjhXbI4]The Gate of Azazel grew larger, and a horde of Shedim the likes of which he had never seen began pouring out of it.[/link]

Before the end came, he managed to send out a final, desperate communiqué: ?La Plata in need of backup.? And the horde marched on. At its rear, atop a throne of bone, was a sight that horrified the relatively young Elo.

It was Samael.

Samael was on Earth.

[hr]
[i][link=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WEeuetOsxKg]Near the University of Delaware, Newark, Delaware, USA[/link][/i]

?Ah, yes, Mister? Brown, was it? Just sign on the line, please.? Ahriman replied with a grin. Once the task was done, he quickly glanced at the Gate before turning back to the others. ?It seems some pressing business has come up, and Mr. Brown and I will need to be on our way, then, yes, thank you kindly, you?ll come to us of your own accord eventually, et cetera et cetera good day, then,? he finished, and with a snap of a gloved finger both Ahriman and Brown were off.

?My money,? said someone, ?Says they?re off to that silly little realm the Shedim call their own. Brown?ll get his wishes, alright, but I wonder at what cost.? The voice was apparently coming from a well-dressed man, practically Ahriman?s double complete with fedora, except for his shock-white hair and red sunglasses. There was something else, too, something far more kind and sincere about this one. It didn?t take much spiritual power to have him pegged as a Malakh.

?Howdy, folks, name?s Fravashi. Sorry I couldn?t show up sooner, I was a bit tied up dealing with a Gate in California,? he took an apologetic bow while lifting his hat in greeting. ?Shame I couldn?t get here in time to help Mr. Brown, but c?est la vie, I suppose.?

[b]TAG: Delaware Group[/b]

[hr]
[i][link=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GD-rE5ARM1A]Suburbs near Chicago, Illinois, USA[/link][/i]

There was a beating of wings as another figure descended through the dome. ?They raise a good point [i]Shedim[/i],? it said almost like it was a swear

 

IC: Nibiru Vajra

Suburbs of Chicago, Illinois, USA

The sudden appearance of the Arch Angel Michael was almost too much for Nibiru to take. This was a being of the highest order, one that has been part of creation almost from the begining.

The demon; Avaddon was his name, he seemed to be well acquainted with the Arch Angel from the sound of it.

There was no doubt in Nibiru's mind that Arch Angel Michael's appearance was the sole reason why they were all still alive. If Avaddon was Michael's arch nemesis, then they never did stand a chance against the demon. Who then would have signed that contract in order to 'save' their life?

The question was moot at that point.

The demonic energy dome was dispelled and they were free to go, but Nibiru wasn't planning on leaving. Not yet.

The young monk disengaged his spiritual armor and weapons and threw himself before the angel. He did not look up, not feeling worthy to look upon the radiance of the celestial being.

"Please, I ask of you, is there anything you can do to help our fallen comrade? The Egyptian, he is a warrior of the Light who stood bravely against the demon you have banished. Have mercy upon him. Please help him."

Nibiru remained as he was, kneeling before the Angel with his hands stretched forth and on the ground. The immortal soul of the Egyptian was in peril. Certainly the Arch Angel could do something to restore him to his fullness.

Tag: GM

 

The final part of grey's post. Golden.

Anubis
-Between Space

He heaved a great sigh and threw up his hands in despair. "I am obligated to agree with you there." He forced out through disspated patience. It seemed that he was destined to be here for awhile. More like until his earthly body died. He suddenly had an itch to his scalp and reached his hand up to soothe it. What was he to do now?

"Spare me, I will not be taking that route. Thanatos, there has to be another way." It was beginning to look like Anubis would have to look for a way out himself. In the meantime, he crossed his legs and sat down, well, not actually sitting down, for he was still floating, but he performed the movements of a person settling down.

He would decipher a possible way out, however, in the meantime, the ruler of Between Space was his only company. "Thanatos, tell me of the Old Times."

Tag: Ramza

--------
KG Esonne Brown aka Mr. Brown
-Argentine Republic

"Nice trick." Complimented the surprised Mr. Brown as he and Ahriman landed in presence of thousands, maybe even hundreds of thousands, of demons and hellhounds. He looked at Ahriman, but thought better to ask what was happening. The scene told the story: the demons were proliferating all over the land, as far as Mr. Brown could see. There was a creature sitting on a throne behind it all, bathing in his glory and being a bit exaggerated. He was sitting on a throne...a throne made of bones.

"Ahriman, I'm going to assume that I've stepped into something that is beyond my worse nightmares. Damn, I feel lucky as hell." He grinned as he kicked up his skateboard into his grasp and ran his other hand over his bald head. Then wiped the sweat on his pants.

Tag: Ramza

 

IC: Nazmina Lazzal/ Urban London/ England
Nazmina's house

The previous night (Joint with Ramza)

Dark and dank. Most basements fit this category, yet this one was not amongst that number. Oh, it was dark but most certainly not dank. It was also a rather well appointed basement, at least this particular room of it was. Kale's was a bit... different, but that was his problem. Nazmina sat upon one of her many rugs, eyes closed and meditating on something she had been taught the previous week. As usual she was determined to wring everything possible from everything she was taught, even if it did come from a Malakh in this case.

In some ways it was quite odd, her life. Knowing about the spiritual realm for most of it had left her rather poorly equipped to deal with the "real world" as most people saw it. People were not her thing, never had been. She understood them in a fundamentally different way than most of the race of humanity that she supposedly belonged in. On a very basic level she was stronger, better than humans. Faced with ninty-nine percent of the population of earth they would be dead within three seconds. Nazmina knew this because she had proven it on many occassions. Sheep is what the masses were, especially when faced with their own mortality. The begging was something that had always excited her, at every cut or jab they cried out for her to stop. Intoxicating did not cover it. That was something she'd learned years ago, and now there were hundreds that had been unaccounted for... disappeared at her hand. Pleasant memories one and all. They had grown decidedly more pleasant after Kale became a part of her life. Certain urges were handled much better after one of her playtimes. That his appetites matched her own only made it that much better.

Were one to look around the room, there would be equally ample evidence of her rather odd tastes. Archaic symbols, both holy and profane, covered the walls of the room. Carpets that were somewhat bloodstained also covered the floors, and it was on one of these which she sat. Books on obscure arcane subjects filled a armoire, some of them extremely old and in protective cases. Most of them had been stolen from one place or another, others Clive had so generously donated to her studies. Then there were the implements that were on one of the two tables. Some of them were extremely unpleasant looking things, whose only purpose could only be nefarious. On the other table was a workstation where she worked on other projects of the non-organic variety, and was also where she had made her focus. There was a desk as well, upon which were several open books and journals with varied thoughts, translations in progress and her personal diary. Not something a regular person would want to peruse by any means.

Tranquil, to one of a disturbed mental variety. This tranquility was ruptured by a flash of light and a fairly familiar being suddenly standing in the middle of the room. Mina had learned long ago to stay out of the middle, as that was where beings of a spiritual nature liked to appear for whatever reason. Ignoring the being for a moment, Lazzal took a deep breath and pulled her mind back to reality more fully. Only then did she stand and open her eyes. "Beelzebub," her tone was respectful and she inclined her head to match said respect.

Before her stood a decidedly abnormal looking fellow, comedy and drama vying for control of his face while the eyes remained pure darkness. His clothing could almost be called foppish, yet still held a certain something from a bygone era. "Nazmina," the masked figure replied, removing his distinctive top hat and bowing with his usual flourish of a greeting. "I like what you've done with the place. Very very very very very VERY you," he continued, glancing around at the room as he replaced his hat.

She stood passively, waiting for him to continue. Nazmina did nod in appreciation of his liking the room, she was quite fond of it herself.

"As you could probably guess, unless you didn't

 

IC: Saito Sakimori
UK, England, Downtown London

?If you?re not going to take me up on my offer, I?m just going to have to kill Mr. Richards here. And then I?ll be on my way. Ta-ta!?

Saito actually reacted to that, his hand dropping to the hilt of his katana before quickly sliding the blade out from it's sheath. It had been a quick draw, but it was far too late for him to do anything about it. As soon as he had drawn his katana, Beelzebub had already vanished and there was just nothing that the Japanese man could do for Richards as the translator's limbs disintegrated before his head exploded...into butterflies.

With a quiet growl Saito slid his katana back into it's sheath. That had been unfortunate, and it hadn't been Geoffrey's fault for what just happened to him; the blame was Saito's. He had asked the man for his services and that had been the only reason that the translator had been here to die. There was guilt that was felt behind the Japanese man's neutral gaze and, his hands at his hands, he bowed in the direction of where the translator had just been while a quick, silent prayer was recited within his mind for the man's soul.

Standing straight again, Saito turned to look at the rest of the group that he now found himself with. He glanced back at the hobo, the one that he thought had actually helped them in their fight, but otherwise focused most of his attention on the rest of the group.

"Saito Sakirmori," he introduced himself, and made sure that he cited his name in the correct order. Usually Japanese introduced themselves with their last name first but as the rest of the world preferred to go by first names, he made sure to switch the order for this introduction.

TAG: London Group

 

IC: Lieutenant Richard McCall
Chicago

Richard was about to join in on the group heckling of the demon, just as the dark hole appeared and dragged the other man down to his death. Something he never expected to happen in the least. As the giant in blue stared at where the warrior had once stood a moment ago, wondering if they would all face this fate. A dry lump formed in his throat. And what would happen to the world if this class of demon was allowed to roam free.

As McCall managed to drag his eyes away, he caught sight of something, for lack of a better word was simply majestic. A white winged, angelic being that looked like it had lept from the canvass of same famous artist in Italy, like Michelangelo, into the real world. With a few choice words and a fewer actions the demon, fled. The joy Richard felt was bittersweet though.

Where was this Arch-Angel Micheal when these other people could be lying dead on the street needed him? Why is it just now, after some talented fighters popped up, and handled the immediate threat, that he decided to show up when something told them the deal could swing the other way? Did saving the innocent mean nothing to this guy? Where they all expendable pawns of his boss, unless they could be turned against him?

?As you might have guessed from that exchange, my name is Michael? although some of you may have already known that, regardless. It?s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.? The Angel said

" It would have been a pleasure, if you had the decency to show up when all these damned people needed you." Jack howled pointing at building behind him. "People could have died you know, and you float there saying howdy do's? How about an explanation instead ?"

TAG: Chicago

 

Rufus Jameson
Guest-Chamber in the Palace

He looked around and carefully checked the 15 obvious possibilities where they could have planted some additional ears. The room was larger than his appartment. It was larger than any appartment he had ever lived in. So, he did what was expected, he played the impressed american. Actually he was not.

"Wow, Lilly, you know how to bribe a guy from crowded little NYC." He smiled at the cold beauty.
Hew wouldn´t have been surprised if she took of her clothes, took out a gun or simply took off never to be seen again. He simply would wait for her to lay her cards on the table. He was in a comfortable position, here. He had nothing on the table, nothing to loose. And for now nobody had called. They all loved themselves to much being smart to be actually . . . smart. Not his to worry, he wasn´t smart to come here. he wouldn´t get any more smart by staying.

Self-love. Gods gift to man. A selfmade opiat.

"Balcony, hm? Beautiful." He said and stepped out. He was a fast drawer, when it came to his gun. But he wouldn´t have been half as fast, as he know was with the disgusting cigarettes he had bought on the airport. It flipped into his mouth and he took out his zippo. Enjoying the cold steel in his hand he lighted the cigarette and breathed in, inhaling the foam. It spread in his lung, bringing calm and raw comfort.

"You know what, Lilly. I guess under all his cool fascade, it makes the King crazy we two are here and he has no idea what is going to happen." Rufus grinned. "Of course he has more important things to worry about. I wonder how long you guys will need . . ." He talked as if to himself then lighted a second cigarette to follow his first.


Tag: Sinrebirth

 

ooc: Made a few interpretations of my Enhance skill, hope it is ok. Mostly dramatic purpose, though

The Man
Palace of the King, Nepal

Walther, he liked to think of himself as Walther, was frustrated how even the tightest security of this times seemed old and flawed to him. He had watched security develop of the years, from motion sensors all the way back to temple-guards with clubs. And every age lacked the ability to keep him from going where he wanted to be.

Damdam. Damdam. Tamtam. Tamtam.

The drums did not stop but had yet to choose their object of desire. They became a more aggressive intrusion into his mind. If it get worse, he would kill ´em all. To silence the drums. But not to know what that would mean . . . were these people a key to a door he could not open. Where they?

He avoided further motion-sensors by taking the wall. Walking on all fors like a spider, he climbed the palace and waited near the americans chambers. He saw them come out. Smoke. Talk. Lilly. He called her Lilly. He waited, not revealing himself for now.

Perhaps he should talk to her? He would know then, if she was the one. Later, observe first. He had time. Endless time and nothing to fear except the absence of fear and what it meant.

Eternity was torment.


Tag: Nepal crew if you feel you have to, otherwise, I´ll post again once you have gone a bit ahead

 

IC: Nibiru Vajra

Suburbs of Chicago, Illinois, USA

No wonder they were all destined to burn in HELL.

Nibiru remained bowed and kneeling, despite the sudden urge to leap up and throttle whomever had spoken to the Arch Angel with such disrespect. This person did not seem to understand that both life and death were part of the cycle, inexorable facts of existence. He was so blinded by his own views to fully see the miracle infront of them.

The Arch Angel Michael had appeared before them, and the best he could do was insult the celestial being??

Sounded like the man wanted the angel to come down and save every single person faced with death and oppression around the entire planet. Nibiru would be more than happy to take up that philosophical and theological debate, but this was not the time for such things. Besides, he was sure that Arch Angel Michael could provide far better answers than he ever could, should he choose to do so.

"Please, forgive his disrespect..." Nibiru managed to put in, even from his position.

He waited patiently for the Heavenly being to restore the fallen Egyptian (should he choose to do so), and hoped no one else was foolish enough to speak to the Arch Angel in such self-righteous and irreverent tones.

Tag: GM, anyone listening.

 

IC Berruin Hashier
Delaware




Berruin stared at the newcomer and rolled his eyes thinking this guys almost as annoying as the last one

He sighed and rubbed his face gee I wonder what he wants

He looked at the Malakh "Let me guess, you going to say pretty much the same thing, only from a slightly different perspective?" Berruin pasted a smile on his face "Your in a much better position to do so than the last guy"

---

TAG Delaware ramzha

 

IC: Kale Elysar
Downtown London, England

Kale watched the butterflies, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. Beelzebub was an odd sort, and not at all like Kale's impression of the Shedim: if he were human he would be considered childish, flamboyant, and absolutely mental all in one go. But Beelzebub wasn't human, and Kale had a feeling he wasn't nearly as crazy as he acted.

"Well, that was overly dramatic." Mina, dry as always.

Around them, everyone was standing down: Mina let down her magical barrier, and the Asian guy sheathed his katana and bowed in the general direction of his translator's remains - Kale smirked and clicked his rifle's safety back on. A polite gesture, but he doubted the dead man appreciated it.

As if picking up on Kale's cynicism, the Asian - Japanese, to be exact, by his name - straightened and looked around at the others. And introduced himself as Saito Sakimori, for good measure.

"Kale Elysar," Kale said casually, slinging his rifle back over his shoulder. "You're a long way from home, Sakimori. What brings you to sunny England?" No disdain in his voice, though, only faint curiosity and a touch of sarcasm. It was never sunny in London.

TAG: Sarge, Trimaj, London

 

Carolyn Summers (Lyn)
Near Campus in Newark, Delaware, USA

The demon named Ahriman seemed a bit ticked off that he couldnt make a deal. The fact that he mentioned that he was 'available'..was almost sick. Not that Lyn was going to mention it, seeing what he had done earlier. But then, one member of the group, suddenly took him up on his offer. Carolyn turned her head in surprise to see who was so desperate enough to try the offer. The demon gave her the answer quickly.

"Ah, yes, Mister? Brown, was it? Just sign on the line, please." Ahriman replied with a grin. Once the task was done, he quickly glanced at the Gate before turning back to the others. Something had to be going on. He spoke, "It seems some pressing business has come up, and Mr. Brown and I will need to be on our way, then, yes, thank you kindly, you?ll come to us of your own accord eventually, et cetera et cetera good day, then," he finished, and with a snap of a gloved finger both Ahriman and Brown were off. "He sure took off like a bat out of...well, you know." Lyn said softly, as she watched him go away. What would drive off a demon, as powerful as that one away so easily? Almost as if they read her mind, someone spoke out.

"My money," said someone, "Says they?re off to that silly little realm the Shedim call their own. Brown?ll get his wishes, alright, but I wonder at what cost." The voice was apparently coming from a well-dressed man, practically Ahriman?s double complete with fedora, except for his shock-white hair and red sunglasses.

Lyn nearly jumped out of her skin, as she whirled around, noticing the suddenly appearance of the strange, who had so much spiritual energy coming from him, that she stepped back, mumbling in all three languages.

"Howdy, folks, name?s Fravashi. Sorry I couldn?t show up sooner, I was a bit tied up dealing with a Gate in California," he took an apologetic bow while lifting his hat in greeting. "Shame I couldn?t get here in time to help Mr. Brown, but c?est la vie, I suppose."

Max let out a long howl, which caused Carolyn to back up, carefully comforting her poor friend who seemed to be having as much trouble dealing with this as she was. She heard Al speak close to her.

"Geez kido. What group you get us into now?"

"Good question." she answered back deadpan, as she looked at the newcomer. She was starting to feel REALLY ANNOYED with this business. Almost no information, they had not had any time to even say hi, when the gates showed up, and then after all the fighting, and losing 2 people, this being shows up, and says..c'est la vie? Is THIS what she was fighting for?! Someone else must also felt the way she did for one of the other folks spoke up.

He looked at the Malakh "Let me guess, you going to say pretty much the same thing, only from a slightly different perspective?" The guy pasted a smile on his face. "Your in a much better position to do so than the last guy." Lyn looked around at the others.

"Names Carolyn. Call me Lyn." she looked at the Malakh. "Not to sound ungrateful and all Fravashi, but could you just MAYBE give us a bit more info? Having my spirit guide tell me I need to be here, and not much else is just...kind vague. What in the heavens is going on?" she asked, as she petted poor Max, feeding him some comfort food, while she sat on the ground. Her last volley of spells had left her quite tired, and it was either sit or fall down. She waited patiently for a response.


TAG: Delaware Group







Mac..
Downtown London, England, UK

Mac looked up. "Hmm, dinner AND a show." he murmured softly to himself, as he watched the demon pull what could ONLY be described as a full blown HISSY FIT!

Beelzebub stomped his feet in frustration. "Oooooooo? this is making me all so very angry!" He practically yelled, shaking his fists in frustration. [/i]"I hate hate hate hate hate hate HATE YOU PEOPLE!"[/i] Mac fished around in his pocket, and found some floss. He began to floss his teeth as he watched the

 

IC: Laxtiin Bach Kiar (Little Fugue)
Delaware

The demon left taking a prize and ignoring any more questions, so much for the word of time to answer them all. Probably wouldn't have worked out anyways, might have been a phantom illusion of his parents instead of the real deal, or die and there you go here they are! But now he might never know if he missed his chance to see their faces again, to hear his mother call out for her 'Little Fugue' again, or his dad to guide his fingers across the keys merely talking of what the music would be like before letting him play.

Alone, and so he must stay.

?My money,? said someone, ?Says they?re off to that silly little realm the Shedim call their own. Brown?ll get his wishes, alright, but I wonder at what cost.? The voice was apparently coming from a well-dressed man, practically Ahriman?s double complete with fedora, except for his shock-white hair and red sunglasses. The man also seemed to have a more honest quality, a Malakh.

?Howdy, folks, name?s Fravashi. Sorry I couldn?t show up sooner, I was a bit tied up dealing with a Gate in California,? he took an apologetic bow while lifting his hat in greeting. ?Shame I couldn?t get here in time to help Mr. Brown, but c?est la vie, I suppose.?

He turned to take in the new speaker. If the being had used any more cultural uphemisms or coloquialisms he could have been running for president of a diverse nation. Such as the one he found himself in now.

The others made several remarks at which he merely took a lean against the wall were the portal used to have been. And waited. And Watched, and hoped.

TAG: Delaware Group

 

IC: Saito Sakimori
UK, England, Downtown London

"You're a long way from home, Sakimori. What brings you to sunny England?"

Saito had simply stared at the other man who was known as Kale, letting the seconds tick by as if he was trying to digest what the other had spoken and only glancing when the more poor individual - Mac - introduced himself. That character Saito had no idea what to think about as while he seemed to be content with picking away at garbage he had seemed willingly to help take down some hellhounds.

Shifting his gaze back to Kale, Saito finally replied, "Kiritsu", while he tilted his head in question at the other man. Order.

That was something that Saito deemed was enough even if Kale or any other member of their group couldn't speak Japanese. With none of the others having decided to sign their lives away, Saito figured that they were all on the same side for this. Their reasons for having done so, while no doubt completely different from Saito's own, were something he would discover either now or later.

TAG: London

OOC: Bleh, early morning postage

 

Rufus Jameson
Palace, Nepal

Obviously she has as little trust in the Kings ability to stay ahead of the game as he did. Which was somehow a shame. He had hoped the other man had simply tricked him. He took another breath of his cigarettes and looked at her naked back, she obviously offered him to watch. She was good. He had to admit it. Very, very good.

"What do you expect from me, Mr. Jameson. I am to 'entertain' you? Like a Russian prostitute would?" She almost whispered. He looked at her, taking his time to answer. What a pleasant thought. And how she knew how pleasant that thought was to him, didn´t she? Brushing his eyebrow with his finger, he let another moment pass. Leaving it open between them. Letting it sink in. Smoking.

What do I expect? You to betray me the moment I begin to trust you? You lying? You playing with my head, the moment I let you in? You never revealing what you are truly about? You killing me? You using me? You never being used by me? In short, you being my potential greatest problem.

Quite a summary of his expectations he decided, but leaned forward instead of backing away. Coming a bit closer to her while taking another breath of his cigarette. He looked her deep into the eyes. Smiling. Why was she so sure he joined her game? She was beautiful, surely. He would probably dream for month about the perfect form of her body. Seductive. But in the end he was not sixteen anymore. And he thought few things to be irresistible on earth. Cigarettes did not count.

Same thing as ever. Remind yourself of your lessons, Rufus. His inner voice whispered.

Biting his lips he forwarded, almost as if he would kiss her. She, like every woman, has developed her own strategy, he thought. And hers seems to include seduction as another weapon. What men can be bend by seduction? Those obsessed. Those not used to fail in having anything? That explained the situation.
He was not used to ever get what he wanted. He had learned to accept that. As long as he did not get what he deserved he was fine.

"Lilly. Please call me Rufus." He gave her a warm, mild smile. His face next to hers. "This prostitute thing. And I know I have this nihilistic American badguy image written all over me but in truth," He theatrically smiled, letting all his sarcasm sink into his voice, "I am one of these shy `never kiss on the first date´ kinda guys, ya know." Nodding he turned and leaned against the balustrade. "And I don´t believe in entertainment on the job." He winked. "So, waiting is another thing I don´t believe in." Eyeing her. "Why don´t you tell me what you think would be a smart thing for me to do, now. To get out of here with all my organs intact. As you are obviously the smart one of us two."


Tag: Sinrebirth

 

The Man
Palace in Nepal, above the unlikely couple

Waiting in the dark, Walther turned away from them. They were playing games. They were searching answers. They were not who the drums meant. Not yet, at least.

Dadam dadam. Dadam dadam.

---

[i]A week before[/i]

The hunter had been superior to him. Superior in every thinkable and few unthinkable ways. It had found him. Him, of all beings on earth. And for a week they had played. When the Hunter had made his move he had given him some room to play. A perfect trap had been created for him. One even he had not seen coming. And how painful it´s execution was. Somewhere in the process of slow dying, he had understood that his latest object of study had been not completely honest in it´s desires. There was something more to him. He smelled the Shedim. He had watched his tormentor perform his cruel tricks, nevertheless. To the painful final act.

Only then, when triumph was sweetest for his relentless murder, he showed him HIS true colours. It needed him a whole day to make the guy talk. He had to be reduced to something less than a hunter and less than a human, before he spit his secrets. Once the Hunter began, he couldn't stop. And Walther listened and learned that his Hunter knew nothing. Nothing except his follow-up job. Kathmandu. Guy on the airport. His voices had whispered it to him. Blabla. Blabla. Blablabla. The guy died with no strength left for screaming. Probably realizing for twelve long hours what a bloody amateur he was. Very bloody.

Then Walther ordered a ticket on his credit card and left town. A few hours later he had a hard time remembering the town this had happened. For the drums had returned. He knew he could hide and run, he would only silent them in [i][b]Kathmandu[/b][/i].
[hr]

He killed a servant who had ended her shift. Only for the relief of feeling her life fading. Then he made his way into the inner parts of the palace. Well trained security guards. He enjoyed toying with them. Avoiding their looks, stealthy moving around them.

[b]Avinash Ekagrah[/b] was the name of the King. Avinash. He wondered what he was about? In his deepest core? Could the King of a small country like Nepal be about power? Pleasure? Ego? In their final moments they always revealed themselves. If he was the one, the one making the drums invade his mind, he would soon find out. They always did in their final moment. When the ranting and self-apologies were done, when they had tried to avoid their end through violence and finally tried to flee . . . in their very end, they played out the only self that remained.

He almost sighed in anticipation. But he kept himself from making a noise. Instead he leaned to the door, not far away from the guards at the Kings chambers and listened. For a little longer he needed to keep himself from acting and find out what was played here. Why had the hunter been told to come here? Probably only to have him come here. They had known their pawn would fail. And had laid a track for him to follow. if so, the next question was who had set up this trap?

More important of course was . . . who made the drums drum.

[i][b]Dadamm. Dadamm. Dadamm. Tatamm. Tatamm. [/b] [/i]

[b]Tag: Ramza & Trimaj I assume[/b]

 

IC: Cid Bowe
Chicago Suburb

---

[i]*The demon was lined up in his sights, he was ready to squeeze off one perfect shot and end this whole thing right here and now, stop the conflict before it ever started and keep the body count as low as possible.

However, a ripple in reality overhead and flapping broke his focus and spoiled the shot. What could only have been called an angel descended from the sky to banter with the demon, which eventually sent him back to wherever he came from.
The angel identified himself as Michael, which registered as somehow being important, but at that moment it was lost on Cid.
At that moment, he was tired of being jerked around by seemingly everybody and everything on earth and in other places, tired of being "privileged, to question at this moment only, and above all tired of being pushed around like some pawn in a screwed up game of chess.

Although the police officer had beaten him to the punch and was frustrated with the monks' apparent subservient attitude towards the being, he was intent on delivering a series of verbal body blows of his own, fueled by his rising anger and frustration. leaving the door of the M6 open, he re-holstered his pistol and stomped towards Michael, speaking with enough volume so that the entire block could hear. Unlike the monk, he felt no intelligence or any thrall for the angel, staring it down with a rather sharp look on his face*[/i]

"No, screw that attitude monk, bird-boy has some explaining to do. The cop is right, Michael, just who do you think you are tasking us to do your dirty work? Give me one good reason why all but the most fanatical of us shouldn't just pack up and get on with our lives, really.

I don't know about most people here, but I for one have a helluva lot to loose in this endeavor, so I say go pleasure yourself with your own sense of morality and deal with the rest yourself, us puny humans have other things we have to do."

[b]Tag:[/b] Chicago Group, Michael (Ram)

 

Rufus Jameson
Palace, Nepal

He listened to her. Closely. Smoking and thinking. A lot easier when he did it the same time.

"The King is insane. Perhaps some infection, I never am quite sure where his tastes go..." She made a pause. Probably to make him evaluate the depth of her statement. His years in Vice had taught him guys like this had tastes that matched their crimes.
"We need to stick together. I'm only as confident as my defences go, Rufus..." He looked down into the garden. The urge to protect her raised. Games.
"Yeah, maybe you´re right." Or maybe you are trying to turn me to your side. He realized that when this woman was his only ally, he could probably be pretty lonely in this. He hadn´t expected a lot of support anyway.
"I'm out of my depth. The King has plans. Huge plans." Plans. Yeah, everybody with power also had plans. But he thought not this was one of the Kings plans. Not at all.
"Guess he is the guy for plans, is he?" Rufus flipped his cigarette into the flawless garden. Guys like that did not deserve beautiful gardens.
"I was never the world-conquering type." Lilith added then. What a strange choice of words. A woman in her early thirties obviously was not the world-conquering type. So who are you, hm?

Lilith looked back at Rufus, impeaching. "What are you doing here, Rufus? I don't even know what I'm doing here." He did not look back. Only recognizing her gaze from the corner of his eyes. He wondered how far he could go in this uneasy alliance she was about to forge. Like a clown on a wire. He thought. One moment of broken concentration and they´ll watch me fall.
"Answers." He replied then. No need to hide his intentions. She would figure them out sooner or later. "I ran out of stinking holes to look for answers years ago, so when someone calls me and tells me I´ll find them here, I pack my things and go. I am a simple man, Lilly. Like a mole. I am not very smart, but I can dig for what I search all day." He smiled. Resisting the urge to lighten a third cigarette in a row he sighed and lay his head back. She was here to play. Even she seemed young in her appearance he assumed she had played whatever game she played for a long time. Too long to quit. Just like you, hm? No, not like him. Absolutely not.

Okay, so he would try honesty.

"You know what this is? All of this? I´ve seen it before. Different level, same story. A guy with a plan who has no idea what is going on? A guy like me dropped into it? Someone like you, added to the mix?" Finally he returned her gaze.
"I once had a case. A bad one, back in my days with NYPD. The Cutter. Andrej Tsepec was his name. Big boy in prostitution in the big apple. He liked things personal. Subdued woman through violence. One of them had resisted. She had crushed a bottle and cut through his face. Some terrible scars remained but he had never saw her again. Witness protection, actually, but what did he know. We could never really nail him. He always got away. My partner had a plan to get him. We pulled word on the street that the Girl was out there. Hiding in a motel. Andrej did what my partner expected. He turned up. My partner said she was next door, Andrej went crazy and drew a knife. Jonah, my partner, shot him. Like a wild straying dog. Only when the uniformed arrived he revealed to me she was actually there. In the motel. Andrej wouldn´t have bought it, if he wouldn´t have been sure. He had used her as bait." He gave in and took a third cigarette into his hand. An automatic movement. But he did not light it. Turning his eyes away from her again he smiled. Unconsciously his smile turned out a lot more bitter than he had expected.
"The King isn´t Andrej. Perhaps we are my partner. But considering we know next to nothing, I doubt that. I guess he is the bait. We all are, probably. So who is using us and who is this trap for?" The cigarette lighted itself, his hand ro

 

IC: Father Benson
Location: Chicago Suburbs

And lo, for the good shepherd never leaves those of his flock in need, the Archangel, captain of the Heavenly Host descended upon the chaos and darkness in the Chicago suburb. The Priest felt a thousand pounds lift off of him and his soul jumped up, singing and dancing. The celestial being was so wonderful and so beautiful, its splendor washed over the priests soul. Years of faith and belief, at that moment, were vindicated beyond a doubt!

The Easterner, overcome by it all, threw himself down, prostrate upon the ground. He then immediately asked for mercy for the Egyptian that had fallen in this battle. Admirable, to be certain. This man's heart was truly in the right place.

But then there were others. Two men, one a police man, began to argue with the angel, criticizing him for his lateness and unhappy at his lack of action sooner. From the sounds of their voice, they seemed very serious.

This of course, made the priest quite sad. Truly a bittersweet moment this was! While Heaven poured down its blessings and glory, these men clung desperately to their wretched lives, putting themselves in a position above that of God! Arrogance and excessive pride, Satan's sin!

Yet these men fought evil as well.

How peculiar.

The priest was careful to stay away from the two detractors, genuflecting in front of the Archangel and averting his gaze from him as he spoke. This cross was held still in one hand, serving as a balance as he knelled. He could see the Easterner's prostrate form lying down next to him.

"Have mercy on me, Archangel, sinner that I am. I stand here, a servant of the Lord, willing to do what is asked of me."

TAG: GM

 

GM Notice: Okay, Spring Break is having rather the opposite effect on my schedule than I had anticipated, and I won't be able to get an update up today. I know this is the first Thursday I have missed, and for that I wholeheartedly apologize. However, I really want to make this a good update (There's a lot of plot stuff going on, and the questions being asked beg good answers), so I feel anything right now would be a bit rushed. As you may have noticed, I'm also taking a pseudi-sabbatical this week, as I got really burnt out. Again, I'm sorry.

That being said, there will, and I mean there will, be an update on Sunday. Until then, I believe a good course of action would be to begin introducing yourselves to each other, akin to what the London group is doing, especially since that will be a point made in the update.

Once again, my humblest apologies for not making my own deadlines. It won't happen again for a long time.

~Ramza