Careers of Evil - IC

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Psychedelic, Jan 25, 2013.

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    On with the roleplay!!!!

    The time for the meeting was close at hand. The pressure around the whole event was building like an infected blister, just aching to burst. Everyone in the house was tense, flinching at the slightest mention of that dread word. Politics.

    It was what it all inevitably came down to, even in the case of a dying, mutated human race. They all had to go about shaking hands, schmoozing with the higher ups, buying expensive, usually tasteless gifts. It was an exercise in futility, and pretty much everyone knew it, save for those at the highest end of the spectrum. Those people were too far gone to admit that all this brown nosing was just a waste of time when the enemies numbers grew day by day, while theirs inevitably diminished.

    One of the few who was outspoken about her unerring hatred of all the pandering was a young woman with a chip on her shoulder. She was renowned for her acid tongue, skill at arms and knees with an uncanny ability to find the crown jewels. Mena Blake. She was a real go getter.

    This young woman should have been highly sought after, but her attitude caused most bachelors and their parents to much prefer a slightly safer option, even if the match was less advantageous. Most anticipated Mena disgracing her family sooner rather than later, at which point she would become available to the more desperate commoner classes. Let them have her.

    Thankfully, this had not happened yet, and so the Alpha family boarded the chartered aeroplane that was bound for London, happily seating themselves to the front of the cabin. Others came after them, the others who attended the ward, though of course a select militia remained behind, charged with protecting the peace while the rest of the hunters were away. It was seen as an urchins job, but the skill of these men left behind had to be phenomenal, they just happened to be born to less illustrious families.

    Despite a large contingent of the party smuggling weapons into the cabin, the twelve hour flight was comfortingly uneventful, save for a nasty bit of turbulence somewhere in the middle of the journey. All in all, it was a relaxing place to be, although boredom was bound to set in. Flying wasn’t really a good thing for those used to being extremely active, and also on high alert, reacting to any tiny, seemingly meaningless noise.

    Again, the convoy of luxury business cars, along with the odd mini bus, was not disturbed by any unwarranted attention, be it from demon or curious passer by. The vehicles made it past the electronically controlled iron gates, proceeding up the gravel drive which was occasionally littered with a group of finely bred highland cattle. There were sheep too, of course, and somewhere far quieter, the red deer made their home on the estate.

    The grand house itself was what anyone would expect. A 19th century style grand entrance greeted the visitors, though inside the manor was an amalgamation of different periods and styles. As times changed, so had the building, evolving along with its masters, and also falling with them. The stable block had never been rebuilt after the war, and so all that remained of it was a few rogue bricks that made up the foundations.

    The young hunter, Mena, didn’t actually take much of this in. Yes, it was a great setting, but that didn’t change who she was. She headed up to her room - private, of course - and immediately proceeded to hide weapons around the place. A knife under the pillow, a gun tucked into the sash of the curtains. Another gun just inside the wardrobe, and several other little surprises in various other places.

    With the important bits of unpacking done, the ebony haired female headed downstairs, grey eyes constantly surveying others for any untoward signs. Mena was always business, and her business was slaughter - well, slaughter on the sly. She was vicious, but her official role was still as a medic. It was her destiny as a female, and for now she had to play ball, or else risk ruining her life, and that of her family. She was still dressed casually, jeans, her trusty leather jacket (a gun holstered there, of course), and a plain old t-shirt underneath that. Later on there would be a more formal gathering, but as over the next couple of days others were still arriving, that occasion would not occur for another three days.
  2. Some might say it was bad of him, but Kamari was driving drunk. But it was okay, because if anyone was going to die because of it, it was him. He wore no helmet, no protective gear. He simply wore faded jeans, workboots and a cheap shirt. Of course, being demon he was far tougher than most motorcyclists, but even so, he would feel it if he managed to crash. But that really didn’t matter to the still relatively young demon, he loved rriding at night, the wind through his hair, racing fast enough to make his hazel eyes water like there was no tomorrow. Maybe a bit pathetic and mundane for a creature of the supernatural, but what the hell. It is what it is.

    He was in Hackney, heading towards Shoreditch where there was reported to be a lot going on tonight. It had a thriving music and art scene, somewhere that Kamari loved to hang about. He didn’t intend to kill anyone tonight, he just intended to party like it was 1999. That was a good year. He had enjoyed the whole new year thing very much, particularly when most of the human population freaked out about the Y2K bug. It had been a truly excellent few weeks.

    Already buzzed from a few pre-flight drinks, Kamari entered a pub where an acoustic set was being played by some young upstart. He didn’t order any drinks immediately, instead choosing to ponder on demonic life. He wondered if he would be kicked out of the fraternity if the others knew he hadn’t killed for over a hundred years. In fact, he’d never actually killed anyone intentionally. That time with his brother, that had been posturing, it had just managed to get way out of hand.

    It was as he was pondering this point that a deep voice spoke up, startling the seemingly young man. “Kamari. Brixton club. Midnight.” The voice came from a nondescript male who seemed to just be passing by, but of course it was another demon, presumably one that needed an attitude adjustment. He didn’t even stop to say hello or goodbye, just carried on his merry way. What a lovely fellow.

    “Why does everything have to happen at midnight?” Kamari complained, heading back outside for a cigarette, continuing to grumble to himself. “And always in that bloody abandoned club. We’re demons, not tramps.” Still, that was the venue they tended to use, and so Kamari obediently headed out there.

    He scaled the chain link fence, opening the door that was settled rather loosely on its hinges. The club itself was nothing more than an empty self, the interior was a plain cavern with nothing but a few broken chairs left behind. Even the bar was gone, mores the pity. But at least someone had been around hanging torches from the rafters.

    “Huh, someones modernising…” Last time it had been candles all round. The place had looked like a cheaply decorated Halloween party. This was just bizarre, but at least they didn’t have to deal with the mockery of the Autumn holiday. A few had arrived, but the meeting wouldn’t commence for another hour yet.
  3. Zack had been wandering the city that night, toying with the idea of getting as lost as he could so that he could see parts of the city he had never been to. He was in the process of doing so, when he spotted others of his kind making their way towards a derelict club, and remembered what day it was. Slapping a palm to his forehead, he readjusted his clothes in his reflection in a store's window, buttoning his coat to cover up the stains on his shirt. He'd have to explain those otherwise, try not to let it out that he simply hadn't changed in a few days. Straightening his hair, he pulled his scarf tighter around him, frowning at himself before setting out for the warehouse.

    It didn't take long before he reached the doors, and entered, feeling both at home and alone in the group of demons. No one recognized him, which he was thankful for. At least then he wouldn't be avoided. It was still early, too. In his books, that was a good thing. He would have enough time to scope out everyone and find the exits if needed. He smiled to himself as he leaned against a nearby wall, quickly replacing it with a stoic line, tipping his chin up just slightly.
  4. The loud wooden door was thrown open throwing beams of light into the dim room, the lady who had opened it wore a small maid uniform complete with a french bonnet tied around her delicate blond hair. In the center of the unlit room was a large master bed with its ebony covers sprawled around into a whirl of mess, beneath the blanket laid Claude, his indigo colored hair just as messy as everything else.

    The maid sighed as she walked over and grabbed the brim of his blanket and jerked it, throwing it to the floor. She turned back to him and cringed as she realized that Claude was undressed under the covers. A squeal escaped her lips and Claude's awoke. When he had eye contact with his maid he gave a warm loud chuckle.

    " improper of you~" Claude laughed as he reached for his cigarette pack, still bare naked. He flicked on his lighter and put the first one too his lips and gave a long breath. As Tabitha hurried out he slipped lazily into his clothing, black slacks, a white long-sleeve shirt accompanied with a Victorian sash tucked into his collar.

    He exited his large bedroom and entered into a even bigger main room. He hurried down the slightly spiraling steps that were placed next to the magnificent chandelier that brightened the whole room. Awaiting at the bottom steps was Tabitha who held his long coat and katana. Claude let her put the coat on and concealed his blade within the coat as well.

    Claude thanked Tabitha and walked through the large wooden doors and into his black Ferrari. He unlocked his android and checked the time. He was about two hours and a half behind schedule.

    "Eh. I can make it."
  5. There was very little to do at the moment, seeing as the great demon lordykins who had called this meeting hadn't even bothered to supply the place with booze. What was the point of having a meeting if the attendants weren't all blind drunk by the end of it? Kamari sure didn't have the answer. All he knew was that he most definitely wasn't a fan of all this serious business. It was far too much effort, and he so often got a headache from the bloody pretentious twats always one upping eachother, or trying to. It was always about kills and wily ways, never something more interesting such as a wild ostrich race. Now that was something he'd like to hear about.

    Seeing as not too many people were about for the time being, Kamari took it upon himself to start playing a riveting game of noughts and crosses with himself. He drew it all out in the dirt and grime that had built up on the floor over a course of years, using a rogue splinter of chair leg to do the deed, not willing to put his bare skin on that stuff for fear he would sizzle and die. He played around half a dozen games before finally becoming so bored he thought it was possible his eyes might just fall out. So, he did what any good demon would do, and decided to change things up by offering the chance of personal gain.

    "Who thinks he can take me? Huh? Huh?!" He stood there, pattering as if he was some great travelling salesman offering the elixir of life. It was perhaps a little over the top, but at least it might amuse the slowly blooming crowd until the real business got underway. "Hey, you. Silent but deadly, wanna give it a try? You're crosses." He targeted someone who stood opposite him, casually leaning against a wall, looking as if he owned the place, that or he really couldn't be bothered with it. Whatever, he was a mark like any other.
  6. In the parlour, the women were discussing the typical subjects of their species. Shoes. Marriage. The best way to halt the progress of demonic gangreen. Y'know, the usual. Currently the chosen cure was removal of the limb - tough luck if that happened to be your head. Mena spent all of five minutes in there, leaning against an oak panelled wall, scowling at the inhabitants of the room as if they were cockroaches. She didn't understand how they could be content to be subjugated like this. Sure, it was fine when there was nothing to fight for, but why didn't they insist on aiding on the front lines? The hunters needed every able body they could get. Sure, women were valuable commodities, but the loss of a few in the war would ultimately speed up the anhilation of the demons.

    This was all academic, and of course the shrew knew it, but it still sickened her. So, soon after entering, Mena stalked off, not even bothering to stop by the mens study. No doubt it would be full of stuffy old men, cigar smoke and the scent of too expensive whisky. The young men in there would have aged by at least a decade by the time this meeting was over, and Mena had no intention of exposing herself to this stale atmosphere.

    There were plenty of places to go, the house was full of rooms with various functions. There was even a firing range in the basement, but of course, a woman spending so much time practicing weaponry would not go unnoticed. So, failing that joy, Mena headed outside. At least here she could be alone with her thoughts, and perhaps find a secluded place to practice. For a while she stuck to the paths of the estate, soon ending up walking parallel to the main driveway. Maybe she'd lay down on it, scare the living shit out of someone. It was more likely that she'd be shot for her trouble, but it was an idea.
  7. The day of the meeting. How bothersome. Alistaire woke up more sour than usual. He slid his feet into his slippers, donned his long blue satin robe, and headed downstairs. "Tea, Lynette. Black." The maid ran off to prepare his tea without a word. He wouldn't put up with any mistakes or sloppiness, especially today. Alistaire sat down in the high-backed chair at the head of the long mahogany dining table. A few moments later, Lynette returned with his tea. Bitter, of course. Nothing could possibly go right today, the day of the Hunters' meeting.

    Alistaire absently drank he tea, contemplating the futility that the meeting would ineveitably turn out to be. "How long are you going to just sit there? We have places to be, if you remember." Alistaire looked up, hiding the surprise he felt. He hadn't heard Francis enter the room. "Hurry up. Honestly, it's a disgrace to call you my brother." Francis sat down with a plate of toast and marmalade. A distinctly sloppy and sticky mess of a breakfast. Alistaire preferred eggs and sausage for his breakfast, which Lynette was already carrying in. If there was one good thing about today, it was that Alistaire got to enjoy the cook's excellent cooking before departing.

    * * * * *

    "Why do I have to go along to this pointless meetiing?" Alistaire had just heard news about the Hunters' meeting and of how he was supposed to accompany his older brother.
    "Because," Francis didn't look amused about it either. "The alpha of our ward wanted two of us, and you haven't been to a Hunters' meeting yet. It's about time you attended one."
    Alistaire knew that was only a small part of the reason. He wouldn't be going along at all if his father hadn't recently injured himself. Now he had to stay back at the ward and Alistaire was to take his place at the meeting. "Wouldn't you rather take along a more experienced fighter?" He asked, anger building up inside.
    "Look, I have to take you. You have to go. We have to go together. So stop arguing with me and start preparing yourself!" Francis stormed off to his chambers to pack for the meeting, leaving Alistaire in the sitting room to stew by himself.

    * * * * *

    The limo pulled up to the grand old estate where the meeting was held every 10 years. It had not been a fun car ride. The two brothers had simply glowered at one another for the majority of the trip, but they were finally here. The chauffer pulled around to the servants' entrance to carry their bags to the rooms they'd be staying in for the next three days and the brothers entered the manor. The mansion itself had a beautiful exterior, and all the rooms themselves were immaculate. But the total lack of a coherent theme in the house bothered Alistaire to no end. Still, there seemed to be a good amount of activity already, considering how early it was. "So where are we suppose--" Of course. Francis had already gone, leaving Alistaire to fend for himself. He peeked into a few of the rooms; A number of plush sitting rooms, a billiards room filled with smoky haze, the dining room, hor d'ourves were being served. He still had no idea what to do, and now not even a guide. As much as he hated to admit it, he was lost without Francis, so he couldn't do anything but wander until he found something worthwhile. Alistaire sighed. He'd probably be wandering for a while.
  8. Claude's ferrari drifted into the parking lot of the manor which everyone would meet in, it did bring alot of attention to him but he didn't really mind, he threw his almost-done cigarette elsewhere as he lit a new one and walked towards the manor casually. With his hands inside his coat pockets he walked through the large crowds of people quietly, he even accidentally bumped into one, she was a girl with long brown hair and Claude did admit to himself she was quite beautiful, but he just dismissed it with a simple sorry my bad and continued on his way..

    He found himself at the dining hall where trays of different exotic cuisine have been put out before hand on a long white table. Claude had been sleeping for the last twelve hours so of course his stomach began to grumble, he grabbed a plate and began to fill it with the different foods that were displayed, including these small crab cakes, garlic bread, this weird red soup.

    Claude sat by himself at a table beginning to eat, he wondered when the meeting would start, but he ought to enjoy himself a little before the boring part comes in.
  9. Shadow was enjoying herself, sitting amongst the mortals, thinking of choosing a victim. She needed blood after all, and a few of the humans seemed to have good enough quality. She then was pulled over to the corner by a demon that appeared human and told the location of the meeting and to be there. Shadow sighed to herself and headed on her way, disappointed not to have a meal. She arrived at the location, and slipped into the hidden room full of demons. Shadow observed the different types and species, trying to identify as many as she could, also noticing a few drunks... "Wow," She thought. "This won't be fun at all. I better get a good meal after this!"
    Maria walked to the house of fellow hunters, ignoring the rude glances from the males. "Really," She thought angrily. "They think they're better than me though I have a higher rank? Fools!" She was not in the best mood today, being dragged to meeting after meeting to discuss the SAME EXACT THING every time. "Why waste time when the demons grow stronger each day? These people..." Maria then walked around, listening in on regular conversations that she didn't care about. She wasn't excited to dress formally for the meeting tomorrow either.
  10. Quickly pinpointing the source of the voice that was calling out, Zack looked to him, the hints of a frown on his face. It didn't take long for him to figure out what he wanted, and he sighed softly before saying, "Yeah, sure." Walking over to him, he looked down at the makeshift game and asked, "What are the stakes?" More likely than not, he would have enough money for any pool the demon wanted. However, if he didn't, then there were always illusions. A good enough one could trick even demons, which would be ideal.

    Glancing around, he found that no one had recognized him yet, which he could be thankful for for the next few minutes. Looking down at the childish game, he remembered a time, long ago, when he had played this with his sister, winning nearly every time by distracting her and changing the board to his favor. "No cheating, yeah?"
  11. The hunters were arriving in droves, each with their own personal status symbol. Although there were most certainly bigger fish to fry, most of the men and women enjoyed their posturing, always trying to one up eachother, much like school children with too much time on their hands. Unfortunately it was such an ingrained ritual that very few thouught to question it. Those that did were almost invariably amongst the commoners, or else the recently fallen out of favour. The lower classes would always find fault with the upper, no matter how trivial, and so even the vital complaints were destined to be ignored.

    One of the few to buck the trend - as the observant of course, already know - was Mena Blake. She saw no reason to waste valuable time, energy and money on expensive gadgets or impressive water features. There was cronosite to synthesise, bullets to manufacture, weapons to cast, and most importantly - demons to slay. Screw politics and status, just spend every single penny on the slaughter. Wasn't that the logical choice? Apparently not. Mena snorted, derision clear in her expression, though it was unlikely too many would bother to notice it.

    The young woman continued to meander about the place, eventually deciding on a plan of action. Hellraising. If it was expected that her family would do something showy, as most others liked to, then Mena would play along. After a quick phonecall, the arrangements were made. As promised, it took only half an hour, despite the sizeable order.

    After travelling to the gate and back, Mena entered the large room in which stuffy conversation was being held, whilst sickening food was being served. "Ladies and gentleman, I bring you salvation." One of each pizza on the menu, mystery meat all round. Not a shred of healthy cooking, unless you counted the pineapple drizzled in lard. "Please, help yourselves." She all but threw the pizzas onto the table, squashing a carefully constructed pate.
  12. Now that he had a take, Kamari felt fairly certain this night would be at least a little better. He knew there would only be time for a game or two, but it was more than worth it. "Who fancies betting on the match of the century?" The cheeky chappie asked, surveying the room for any other likely suspects. No? No one fancied watching this most important of games? Their loss. Well, it might well have been their loss anyway, if things played out the way Kamari wanted them to.

    "Cheating? Never heard of the word. I prefer to think of it as creative interpretation of the rules." Kamari smiled, displaying fangs that weren't there. He was made for gambling, or loan sharking, something that involved preying on the weak, grabbing them by the ankles and shaking them until they posessed nothing but the clothes on their back. "Seeing as you have zero chance of succeeding, my amigo, you may move first." How gentlemanly of him.

    Meanwhile, only a short distance from the club, a particular demon was approaching. No one of any great importance, though he was thought to be. As was often the case, this puppet of the true powers that be was being manipulated from afar, speaking as the mouthpiece of a handful of necromancers. He conducted himself with a sneering grace that was both perturbing and alluring, something that many demons found was a talent of theirs.
  13. Kraven wandered the dark streets and alleyways, avoiding anyone who might be surprised by his appearance. He was making his way towards some shody little run-down pub of some kind for an "All Demon Meeting." Such an event usually did not interest him, but he felt something odd about this certain meeting. Something was brewing on this pathetic little dust-ball of a planet, and it was only a matter of time before it boiled over.

    He rounded the final corner and saw the establishment come into view. He was a good hour early, but he felt it was better to show that he meant business. He approached the front door and stood in front of it. Raising a hand and snapping his fingers, a ragged being dragged it's way in front of him, opening the door. As it stood aside to let him through, it bowed sloppily.

    "Hhhhmmmmm..." it grumbled as Kraven passed it. Kraven gave a curt nod and passed by. As he entered, the being followed behind and inside the light, it became known for what it was. A resurrected corpse. A small gaping hole, obvious in it's stomach, was crusted with dried blood, years old. Kraven drew back the hood of his traveling cloak and let himself be seen. As he stepped past the entryway, a multitude of eyes looked to see the newcomer. The room grew silent as a Necromancer walked his way through the crowd. He made his way to a chair and gave a small nod to all staring at him. Hushed voices ran throughout the room like wild fire.

    Looking around, Kraven noticed a recognizable few, and one certain lad he did not recognize. Said boy was playing a game of chance with another demon Kraven recognized... and hated. Kamari... Kraven always disliked that miserable little hellspawn. Lad was a little fucking cheater...
  14. Flashing lights, pulsing music, a thick haze hung in the air. This was the life. Vladimir stepped off the dance floor, not because he was tired, but because he was getting bored of dancing. He sat down at the bar and ordered a beer. A Real Ale, to be specific. That was the only drink for him. He was just starting to enjoy it when he got a tap on the shoulder. "What ya want?" Vlad turned around exasperatedly.
    "How rude. Did ya forget already? We got somewhere to be." Another demon. Not a friend, just an acquaintence.
    "Aw, damn. How'd ya find me?"
    "It wasn't easy. Where d'ya get off makin' me traipse all over the city lookin' for ya?"
    "Ugh... Fine, I'll go to the stupid meeting." Vlad hated the stupid "all demon" meetings. He avoided them when he could, usually escaping to some club. His shadow image would distract the bouncer, so he could get into any club he wanted. But he got caught this time. And now he was late. This wasn't gonna be fun. He finished his ale and zipped up his leather coat. (It matched his leather pants.) He hopped on this motorbike and rode into the night, dodging traffic. If a cop came after him, he'd just make another shadow image and escape. It was definitely useful for his partying.

    Vlad loved racing through the city. In fact, he considered taking the longest route he knew just to get a longer ride time. The wind in his hair, the thrill of breaking the law, of near misses and stunts. All too soon, he pulled into the old abandoned club the demons called their meeting hall. He readjusted his hair, unzipped his jacket, and opened the door. "Alright, I'm here! The party can start now!" Then he looked around at the dead silence in the building. The most activity looked like a noughts-and-crosses game in the dust. Damn, this party's really dead,he thought to himself. "C'mon, guys, how boring can ya get?" Sighing, he pulled out his iPod and earphones and lost himself in his music.
  15. Aofei sat in the grass, her fingers combing through its cool, green tendrils. She sighed heavily. Hoping to relieve herself of daily stress, the thin red-head walked up forested hill every morning. Now, the trees and their bending branches didn’t ease her. She rested her head on her knees, wondering if her friend would meet with her today. Normally, she could hear his or her (for she wasn’t quite sure) light paws padding through the woods. However, the air seemed eerily silent except for the oddly high number of vehicles that had passed, heading up the road to the massive property that was perched there. Aofei occasionally wondered who lived in such a mansion, but found herself unadventurous despite her lingering curiosity. In fact, she avoided going near the dark fence that marked the border between public and private property, simply out of a strange and disturbing feeling that she would not be wanted there. There was a soft rustle behind her, making the girl turn to see that a rust-orange fox had made an appearance.
    “You’re very late, I was considering leaving you behind,” Aofei stated, disdainfully. This, of course, was a lie. She had been so deep in thought, she hadn’t even heard the creature ambling through the undergrowth. The fox replied by digging it’s nose into the black, canvas bag that it’s companion routinely brought with her. She laughed, and pulled out a small container of raw chicken bits.

  16. Zack sighed at the demon's mannerisms, not quite finding him annoying, but definitely not liking him enough to be entirely friendly. Looking down at the makeshift game board, he looked at it carefully as if contemplating where to put his first marking, but in reality he was letting his mind wander. This happened sometimes. If he wasn't entirely engaged in something, he would get to thinking about other, arbitrary, things, and this time was no exception.

    Maybe I should go see how Kay's doing, he thought to himself idly. Then, his mind traveled to He probably thinks I'm still in Colorado... As he tried breaking his line of thought and get focused on the game, he gingerly took the piece of chair from the other man, drawing a cross in the center square. Giving him the shard back, he muttered, "Your turn," while he looked down at his cross, trying to determine possible strategies.
  17. "Rookie mistake." Kamari smirked as he took the top-right corner. He played just as if this was a top flight poker tournament, his confidence (or perhaps arrogance) emanating from every pore of his body. It was really quite sickening, but then again, that was part of the plan. If his opponents were too busy hating him, then perhaps their performance in the game would be compromised. These were undoubtedly lazy tactics, but time and time again, the facade worked. It was so easy to get under peoples skin, and watching them squirm was so much more enjoyable than simply murdering them. Humiliation was Kamari's bag every time.

    Unfortunately, the game was destined to go unfinished. The entire dank room was disturbed by a particularly ostentatious bolt of lightning. Standing in the singed spot that was now bathed with moonlight, stood a demon who bore himself with misplaced dignity. Pink eyes surveyed the room, occassionally settling on an individual, piercing until they looked away. It was a subtle display of dominance, one that even animals understood. He also walked in a straight line, refusing to deviate from the path that conducted him through a few bodies. Most stepped out of the way, and the unlucky soul who wasn't quick enough met with a sticky end. The as yet silent demon placed his hand over her mouth and nose, and when it came away, fresh skin had grown over the rather important orifices. Needless to say, she did not survive very long after that.

    The male simply continued on his way, soon reaching his destination and turning to face the rest of the demons. "I have come to you today as it is now time for us to organise. The hunters have attained information beyond their station, and so we must strike." The demon, who was going by the name of Ace, spoke this without feeling. In fact, his expression had not changed since being here. It was unlikely that it would.
  18. Kraven watched Ace's little show of dominance with barely retained disgust. He doubted Ace even knew he was there, the way he was acting. Ace was merely a voice for the Necro's. He held no major station, they simply used him. But Ace had decided to make "Voice of the Necromancers" an official title, which he believed allowed him to act pompous and self-important. Kraven scoffed loudly, catching the attention of a few.

    "And how do you expect to go about doing that... ACE?" Kraven stated loudly, standing. "You come with a message. Understandable. That is your duty. But giving orders? That is above you, and you have no place giving them. Stand down. I will address them." Kraven strode to Ace's place, shushing him aside with a hand. Turning to the crowd, he raised his claw. From the claw came a black substance that dripped and molded on the ground. It spread and shaped itself into a map of the world. Lifting his other hand, it raised off the ground and was then visible to all.

    "Demons... we have joined here, this night, because we must protect our way of life. The humans are our food, our pleasure, and our entertainment. We enjoy them, yes?" A couple of nods and murmured "yes's". "There has been information passed down through a few Illusionists that the Hunters have found the Keys. The Anchors to this plane of existance that keep us here. We believe that they aim to destroy them, therefore casting us out of this dimension. We have been called together to make sure that this does not happen. Now I must ask-" Kraven motioned to the crowd, then the map. "Do ANY of you have ANYTHING to contribute to finding these locations...?"

    Kraven stood, his dominance above the rest almost radiating off him. He could feel the hatred in Ace's eyes, but that could wait.
  19. Shadow suddenly remembered hearing some of the talk of the mortals during one of her hunts. They seemed slightly aware of her, as they were possibly hunters, but she kept distracting them by messing with their trains of thought. The hunters DID talk about some key, and a meeting as well... They must still be nearby! "Yes," Shadow said, speaking up slightly. "I have indeed heard talk about the key by a few Hunters in this area... They also spoke of a meeting, perhaps with the other hunters, sir? They MUST be discussing it there!"
  20. Ace, the usually pale and broody demon was suddenly bright red and quite obviously fuming. However, he said nothing. As deluded as he was, when faced with the might of a necromancer, there was little even he could do to persuade himself that he was in control. The sight was awesome. Kamari could barely contain himself, and after a few seconds of biting his lower lip, the somewhat immature demon burst out laughing. He doubled over, roaring with laughter that was severely misplaced. Meanwhile, the shamed Ace growled, gritting his teeth as he glared at the one who was causing all the commotion. Had he the guts to do so in front of Kraven, he might have ripped Kamari's throat out there and then, but unfortunately he lacked a backbone. What a shame.

    "I know of one. But surely the real priority should be obliterating those bastards? Who cares where these keys are, as long as those fucking hunters are dead." This was spoken by a female demon who happened to be rather sunburnt, as well as in control of six arms. She meant no disrespect by her comment, and was in fact quite awed by the presence of a necromancer. However, she was extremely enthusiastic when it came to killing hunters, as well as most humans - particularly the women. She just wanted carnage, as did many of the others. It was unfortunate that thinking didn't tend to be their strongpoint, if it ahd been, perhaps demons would have become dominant here long ago.