Careers of Evil - IC

"...and if I don't, i'm completely and utterly screwed," Aofei flopped back on the ground. There was no sound for a few moments after she had finished her emotional rant. No sound, but the hungry munching of the creature that laid beside her as it snarfed down the remaining meat. Miss McQuight rolled over, lying her head on her folded arms.

"You don't have these problems. You don't need a job. And if you need food, you just come to me," she retorted, a smile forming on her pale lips as she stroked the top of the fox's head. Then, she remembered her schedule. "Shit! I have class, don't I?" she gasped, pushing herself up from the soft emerald turf. The delicate figure scooped her messenger bag onto her shoulder, blew a kiss to her rare, orange friend, and made her way back down the sylvan hill.

There was a light blue Honda Civic parked directly outside of her apartment complex when Aofei reached the parking lot, the keys to her car dangling from her hand. She tilted her head to the left, walking around to the drivers side. A slightly plump, blonde, with multiple shades of pink streaks in her hair was sitting in the front. Aofei chuckled, then rapped on the car window, making it's occupant (who was immersed in a conversation she was having via text message) jump in her seat.
"Skye, what are you doing here?" Aofei asked, holding back laughter as the window was rolled down. Skye didn't attempt to stifle her high, nervous giggles.
"You scared me, Fae!" she squealed, fanning herself with her hand, "I came to pick you up! You know... for class!"
The crimson-curled girl shook her head. Her classmate never gave her a ride to campus unless there was to be some wild party later. Being a college-town, with a large population, there were several sought-after bars and dance clubs, that Aofei McQuight simply wasn't interested in - and Skye Jensen was obsessed with. Other than desiring her 'bestie' to become a socialite, such as she considered herself to be, Skye also needed someone sober to drive her home after these events. Key word being: sober.

"I have my own car. I even refilled the tank yesterday," Aofei sighed, knowing already that her opposition was a lost cause. The blonde puffed out her lower lip and looked up with wide, pathetic eyes, which made Aofei roll her own.
Minutes later, they were cruising down the main road.
 
Zack had a hard time holding his laughter in. The demon he had been playing with, his laughter was slightly contagious. Bringing a hand to cover his mouth, so that Ace wouldn't see the smirk that had graced his lips, he struggled to force it down. Once it was gone, all traces of it disappeared from his face, he let his hand return to his side, stepping forwards to join the crowd of demons and appear normal.

He was silent as he watched the various others exchange words, slightly enjoying the turmoil that everything had caused. He would enjoy killing hunters as well as any other demon, watch their minds unravel in front of him as he got inside them and showed them illusions that would break them into nothing. The next part would be easy, a simple cut to their necks and the grounds would run red with blood. Feeling a smile creeping onto his face as he thought about it, he mentally slapped himself, making the grin disappear. There would be time for that later...
 
Kraven nodded to responses he was getting.

"Very good. Don't worry, I'm sure there will enough killing to satisfy all of you in the end. Now enough whispers. We need to get into action. We need strategy. You-" he said, pointing at the six-armed female who spoke up. "Tell me where this place is, then you may go. You hold no use to me. However... Ace... you DO hold use to me. Come forward." Ace shuffled closer, small hope written in his eyes. "Ace, what do your abilities consist of?"

Ace nodded. "I can grow new tissues almost instantaneously, and enhance the use of currently existing tissues." Kraven gave a hollow smile.

"Yes, you will be very useful..." Kraven suddenly reached forward, gripping Ace's neck with his massive claw. A black substance spread from his grip, spreading up and into Ace's mouth. It pushed it's way into his throat and began to expand. Ace began to shudder and twitch as he was slowly strangled to death from the inside AND out. "Very useful indeed, as my thrall." Ace shuddered one final time, then was still. His body crumpled to the ground and Kraven's ghoul walked up to him. Kraven looked at him. "You are no longer needed. Begone." At this, the groul shriveled into a mummified child-sized corspe, that then evaporated into the air. Looking back to the fresh corpse, a strand of Kraven's shadow lurched forward and burrowed itself into the flesh. The body shuddered, then Ace picked himself back up, though he was distinctly more blue in the face than before.

Kraven looked him over, nodded, then faced the masses once more.

"Anyone else care to tag along with a Necromancer? Be warned. I'm far more strict than anything else you ever experienced." Seeing the stunned faces he shook his head. "No, not as a thrall. Just living will do. And I prefer someone with abilities at least close to mine, if you would."
 
Needless to say, there was much raucous chatter around the club, as the demons first gossiped about their encounters with the hunters, no doubt embellishing their supposedly countless successes. This didn't last for too long though, as the demons were just slightly more wary of Kraven than they were vain. So, as the clearly superior demon called for silence, he was greeted with it almost instantaneously. Of course many of them hated the man, and coveted his position, but the few who were fool enough to express these desires had died long ago. It appeared the same fate had met one young Ace, truly an example of everything that was wrong with demonkind. Ambition was all well and good, but it was nothing wihtout a certain amount of sly deviousness.

Now, the woman spoke, feeling that the meeting was finally getting somewhere. "Nigeria. I can't say exactly where. I was there a while ago, when I arrived there was an abnormal number of hunters." Note that she spoke in the past tense. She had done what any good demon would do, slaying the bastards the moment she had laid a suitably elaborate trap to serve her own inextricable vanity. It had taken her several weeks to do, hence the sunburn, but the screams and the wonderful sprays of blood across her face - well, that was just worth every strip of peeling skin.

When Kraven spoke again, Kamari looked up, having been studying the dirt at his feet for a while. He had not enjoyed the cruelty, although he accepted that it was a necessary part of their culture. Sometimes, for those with ambitions, it was necessary. He was just glad he was such a slacker, sometimes laziness was good for ones health. Moving swiftly on, the idiot demon proved that laziness was not all you needed to stay alive. You also needed to keep your mouth shut, something that this one was no good at. "If you need a sexy accomplice, I'[m your man." He wasn't good at thinking about consequences, unfortunately.
 
Zack had watched the spectacle with a mildly interested but over all blank gaze, until Kraven spoke again after dealing with Ace. It wouldn't what he'd have done (he would have destroyed Ace's mind slowly, from the inside out), but it got the job done. He hadn't really intended on volunteering with the other one who had spoken up, but the words came out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"Count me in," he stated, stepping forwards, pushing past demons until he was at the edge of the slight clearing they had made for Kraven. He wouldn't get closer, since he was a necromancer, and this was as close as he would get. Looking at the demon, a hint of defiance in his gaze, he forced his mouth into an uninterested line, reaching up to brush the hair from his eyes.
 
Kraven looked them over. "You do understand that by following me, you agree to follow any order I give. If I say attack, you slaughter. If I say get down, you eat the fucking dirt. If I say hold still while I kill someone behind you by literally piercing through your body to get to them, you will close your eyes and LET ME DO IT. Understand?"

These others had to realize that he took no prisoners, like any respectful demon. Not mention that he was the 2nd most decorated Necromancer there was. Over 50 thousand confirmed kills, only a thousand or so of them were innocent civilians. Collateral kills were only positive. He noticed a demon wearing those God-awful headphones the younger ones so enjoyed. What he noticed more though, was that whenever he tapped his foot, his shadow snapped it's fingers. Kraven strode up to the young man and nudged him in the leg with his staff.

"Vladamir, was it? Nice shadow..." Kraven muttered with a grin.
 
[DASH=green]Vlad was still listening to his music while the necromancer did his spiel, only half paying attention. Until he killed Ace. He was interested and repulsed by the sight. Necromancers really were powerful and all that. Vlad tried to avoid meeting them when he could, mainly for this reason. Then again, he was hardly a threat to a necromancer, so he felt safe. Then Kraven started approaching him. Ominously. With a dangerous looking grin on his face. Shit, what does he want? Did I do something wrong? Is it my headphones? Am I gonna die because of my headphones? Vlad tried to avert his gaze in hopes of avoiding Kraven's wrath. Of course, it was in vain. He felt a tap on his leg and looked up to see the necromancer looming over him.

"Huh? M-my shadow?" What a relief. He wasn't in trouble after all. He looked at the ground beneath his feet to see what this older demon was talking about. His shadow seemed to be enjoying the music its own way. "Oh. Yeah. It seems to have a mind of its own sometimes. My ability isn't just that I can do one awesome dance move while my shadow does another, though," he said, feeling much more confident than before. He directed his attention to the shadow below him. "Alright, that's enough fooling around. Get up!"

With that, his shadow jumped up from the ground. In a moment, it formed itself into a near-perfect, if somewhat hazy, replica of Vladimir. He directed his shadow to bow to Kraven, and it followed obediently. "Pretty neat, right? Of course, it's a lot better at fooling hunters than other demons. And humans, pssh, they never notice anything. Well, that's my ability, I guess..." He was starting to feel anxious again. What did Kraven want with him? Maybe Kraven wouldn't want anything to do with him after seeing his ability. That'd be fine with him. He could just go back to laying low and partying hard.
[/DASH]
 
Anya sighed. Something was bugging her. She fumbled for the keys in her pocket, holding the grocery bag in the other. It had been gnawing at her, bugging her the entire day, and even during this nightly trip to the market. It was that feeling of recognizing someone yet not knowing if you actually knew them or not. Random people would stand out, catching her eye for a split second, and at a second glance they blended right back into the crowd. She dropped the bag, reaching into her other pocket to grab the keys. This was not quite uncommon though, these persons of interest would be noticed two or three times a week. This had happened since she were a child so she had grown used to it to the degree that it became a mere fact of life. Today was unusual though. What had been two to three a week, had turned into a dozens these past few days. Her gut screamed at her what the reason was, yet it felt like her brain couldn't grind the gears fast enough. She unlocked the door and took one last look out the hall window. The sun had already set, the sky now covered in clouds. She opened the door. "Back with the stuff you wanted Bertie." Anya called out, setting the bags on the counter. "Dear, mind fetching me some more biscuits?" a voice replied from the next room over. "I'll get you a couple. Father didn't drop by today?" Anya replied walking into the kitchen, grabbing a few biscuits from the tin and dropping them on a plate. "He's probably busy making him and the place look all pretty. He is hosting that Hunter meeting after all. Plus, several high ranking people are staying there, so all the more reason to impress them. Ah, thanks dear." the white haired Bertie replied, turning away from the television to take the plate. "If you want, you can grab some tea from the kitchen, I just made a pot." Anya nodded and walked backed to the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of tea. The feeling still preyed at her mind. The answer was on the tip of her tongue, at the precipice of her mind, yet it was still so far. Sour. She poured some cream and sugar into the tea and took a look out the window, watching the people hustle down the busy street. Turning her gaze towards the general direction of the mansion, She couldn't help but wonder what was happening at the meeting. More than likely boring talks about the state of the Hunter society and meaningless small talk. The women were probably blathering on about curing demon wounds. Even as a Demon herself, knowing some of the things a Demon could inflict could make her shudder. She took a look down at the street at the people crowded in it hurrying to and fro. The worst part was that it was very hard to pick them apart from the crowd, as there were only small differences in appearance that even demon herself had trouble spotting. The pieces began fit together, the gears in her head whirring. The answer to that feeling was plain as day, something she was suprised to have never figured out before. Demons. She couldn't help but chuckle at herself, taking a sip. Still sour. A bad feeling loomed over her. Stuffing her wraps into her pocket, she called out "Bertie, I'm going out for a while. I need to warn Father."
 
It was really curiosity that kept Kamari here. He knew that this necromancer, the wonderfully brutal Kraven, really meant business here. Normally the idea of work, or of killing others would have sent him running for the hills, but he just felt it was important to know what was going to happen here. He could feel that the tides were changing, and a storm was probably brewing too. If nothing else, Kamari liked to be the centre of attention, and so he remained, if only to be able to say that he had been there when the shit really hit the fan.

He briefly wondered about maybe using his brain for once, but quickly brushed that thought aside. Madness. "So, O great and powerful Kraven, when do we leave for Oz?" Obviously taking the piss, but this demon reckoned that he'd be safe for the time being. Killing someone as pointless as Kamari now would just be too easy, he reckoned any attempt on his life would be saved for later. But anyway, he merrily watched the display from his new best friend. Impressive, kudos to the fella.

**********

Time had moved on at the hunters meeting. Mena had been reprimanded for her little pizza escapade, not that she had taken all that much notice. She never did, much to the embarrassment of her parents. But now that was all forgotten, thanks to the serious issues now being debated. A formal dinner had been served, and now, everyone still in their eveningwear was listening to an African Alpha speaking of an unusually dense concentration of demons in Nigeria.

Mena sat at the back, much like an unruly highschooler who had no interest in the issues at hand. Unlike said highschooler, she wore what could only be described as a little black dress, slitted at the sides - purely for practical reasons, of course. She never liked to be in a garment that restricted her movement, and so the homemade adjustments to this dress had been necessary. In addition to the freedom of her limbs, Mena armed herself with a small gun and a serrated blade strapped discreetly to each of her legs. Better safe than sorry.

"I believe they are guarding something. If you see here," A diagram of the locations of the various demons showed up, "They are clearly forming a ring around this central point. I move that an extra contingent of militia are sent to this area. We must infiltrate this group and discover exactly what they are hiding."

This motion was carried, and volunteers selected. All the while, Mena sat there, sulking like a child. Well, until she began to feel extremely uneasy. Call it a womans intuition, but she was well aware that something was wrong here. She exited the room without a word, feeling like a bigger gun might help settle her. The young woman headed to her lodgings, ignoring the grossly annoyed whispers that followed behind her.
 
Kraven nodded, a grin on his face still. Gesturing with his hand, his own shadow stood from the ground. He nudged it, and it bowed as well.

"Shadow magic is not very common Vladamir. Shadow users need constant vigilance and training to hone their craft. I had it, and it seems you might as well if all you can do is illusions with it." Kraven stated. He pointed with his claw at Vlad's shadow. "Convince him to join me in my group, and I can promise you will be stronger." Then Kraven turned to the other two. "Kamari, I know you. I know what you do. If you pull anything stupid with me around, I promise you. You will regret it. And YOU-" He turned abruptly towards Zack, startling a few demons. "I... don't know you. Who are you, lad? No offenses meant, but I have not heard anything about you. Where do you hail from and how did you come to be?"

All demons had an origin of "birth". Kraven had been molded from the sands of Hell's Desert. He had no mother, no father, and had come to be appearing old already. He had never been youthful. So to see a young lad that he had never heard of... confused him.
 
Suddenly on the spotlight, Zack resisted the urge to back away like many of the others were doing. After a moment, he stated, "I am," he automatically had to shut his mouth to prevent himself from saying Rammstein, "Zack Boleman. I was birthed in Dresden, Germany." His words were mostly true, but he kept his gaze steady, his face stoic, having a vague idea of what would happen to him if he was called out on his slight fudging of the truth. He had to bite his cheek though; no way would being called 'lad' all the time work out.

Not being able to resist himself, he felt the corner of his mouth twitch almost fanatically as he said, "Should I call you 'Old Man,' then?" Realizing what he had said and the possible repercussions of it, he struggled to keep his face blank again, feeling a slight pang of fear run through him.
 
[DASH=green]Vlad was shocked at the Necromancer's offer. Join him, huh? Vlad sensed a little emotion emanating off Kraven... Was it.. pride? It was very hard to tell with demons, especially ones like Kraven. But it made him feel a little better about himself anyway. Before he could respond, though, Kraven was already talking to the others that had volunteered. Vlad turned to his shadow, who was starting to poke at his own iPod. "So whaddya think? Wanna join him like he said?" His shadow ignored him and continued messing with his iPod. "We could get way more powerful than we are nooow~" Vlad was starting to get tired of being ignored. Damn, is this what people think of me? "Damn it, give me that!" Vlad snatched the shadow iPod and headphones from his shadow, who got a dejected look. "Aw, don't give me that look. I'll give them back after you listen to me. Kraven's a really powerful Necromancer. He could take us somewhere, yannow? We could make a name for ourselves." He shadow seemed to be thinking it over, then he shrugged uninterestedly. "Oh don't give me that." Vlad stamped his foot and his shadow sank back into the ground and reattached to his body. "And you can't have these back, either."[/DASH]

Alistaire had been wandering the great manor for what seemed like ages before he heard the announcement that the meeting proper was to begin in an hour. He asked one of the staff to take him to his chambers, which were as over-stuffed and cushy as the rest of the house. There he changed into evening wear and continued on to the dining room, where the meeting was to be held. The hors d'oeuvres had been cleared away and the main course was being brought out, but not many hunters were in the room. I suppose I'll be waiting around here for a while. Honestly, hunters are so irresponsible. They never get anywhere on time. And that means supper will be late, and the meeting will be even later. I'll not be getting any sleep tonight. He snatched a puff pastry from a passing tray and started munching with irritation.

* * * * *

About 45 minutes later, (that's 20 minutes later than the scheduled time) the last straggling hunters finally wandered in. God, does no one consider this important? At least I got here on time.Alistaire took a seat next to Francis, who pointedly directed his conversation to the hunter on his other side. "And that's why I think that we should reorganize the wards into smaller, more locally managed branches." 'Not to mention the fact that our family would likely be the head of a ward.' That's what you're really thinking, isn't it?It was all about ambition with the hunters. Ambition and power struggles. And politics. The entire hunter community was plagued by politics and bureaucracy. Finally, everyone was seated and the meal was revealed. Apparently, the host was serving in the French style, so the table was practically overflowing with dishes. There were meats, fish, salads, soups, pastries, sorbets, too many dishes to count. Alistaire was just getting his plate when a young woman, certainly not a lady, barged in and announced the hunters' salvation. With that, giant pizzas flew onto the table, nearly crushing his plate, not to mention the immaculately arranged table settings. "Damn it, what is the matter with you?!" Did the nobles these days have no respect or dignity? Alistaire picked up the greasy mess these insolents called food and looked back at his own plate. He wasn't really hungry (he'd had too many snacks) but he idly picked at his plate until the meeting began.

* * * * *

The meeting itself was fairly dull, though Alistaire refused to openly show his boredom, unlike the rude woman from before. He sat stiff-backed at attention, waiting for anything interesting to happen. Nigerian demons didn't concern him, though whatever they were guarding was probably of some importance. It was difficult to concentrate through the political drivel and military jargon, though. An 'extra contingent of militia' was to be sent to Nigeria, hunters trained in espionage were selected to glean the demons' secrets. Alistaire, of course, wasn't going to be participating in any of those activities. He would be staying home, relegated to the woman's role of healing and medicine. The meeting eventually broke up and the announcement of liquor and coffee to be served in the various drawing rooms was made. Alistaire wasn't particularly fond of socializing with arrogant nobles, but it would be improper not to partake in this sacred ritual.
"Lord Clemont, correct? I don't believe we've ever met. You do resemble your father and brother, though."
Alistaire turned around to an older gentleman with a young wife (well, he assumed she was his wife. Her arms were wrapped around his.) "Yes, honored to meet your acquaintence," he responded, not entirely sure who he was talking to.
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry. I haven't properly inroduced myself. I am Earl Dartmouth, this is my wife, Marigold. We just got in today from the country, lovely grand old house, isn't it?"
"Oh, most certainly." Damn, I've been roped in to a stupid conversation. "I find the style of this lounge in particular to be most agreeable."
"Yes." Marigold spoke for the first time. Her voice was soft and had a hint of nervousness to it. "I quite enjoy the gardens myself. The gardener here is quite skilled."
How much longer am I expected to put up with nobles?
 
There was a fundamental lack of communication in the demonic world, and it was this that would lead to the hunters collapse. Sometimes, being open and honest about ones plans did not work in anyones favour, and this was a prime example of that. A rogue illusionist had taken it upon himself to infiltrate the hunting fraternity, by way of becoming a maid. By changing his gender and almost everything about his physical self, the ambitious demon had managed to slip under the radar for the duration of the meeting so far. He was well aware that was time was short, and for this reason he put his somewhat foolhardy plan into action. All he intended to do was send a message to his comrades - but without his crafty infiltration, he reckoned they never would have had the balls to attack.

Ditching the laundry he had been folding, the demon shimmered almost out of existence, focusing on appearing at the meeting of his brethren. Neither image was solid, but the second was almost there. It was close to teleportation as this one could get, but it was thankfully enough for his purposes. The maids body had disappeared by now as his efforts to travel had resulted in the fooling aura to be lost, revealing a scaled creature which was only just capable of speech. He made guttural sounds that took a few moments of processing to really become properly discernible.

"The hunters. They know all. Strike now. Fish in a barrel." And the vision faded as quickly as it had come. Back at the country manor, the demon solidified once more, replacing his maids costume without delay. The hunters present did feel a pang of panic, but it soon faded as the form was convincingly hidden. Even so, the scaled one made a swift exit after this. He had completed his own task, and would not jeopardise the potential accomplishment by lingering where he was bound to be found out sooner or later.
 
Kraven turned as he noticed the apparition come into existence. "They are meeting... all of them... Perfect!" Kraven muttered. Turning to the 3 demons before him that had been chosen, he struck his staff upon the ground. Kraven's shadow spread along the floor, surrounding the 4 of them.

"Ace, get over here. We'll need you there." At this demand Ace's corpse walked briskly to them, taking a spot on the darkened floor. Turning to the collection of demons in the bar, Kraven raised his volume to address them. "All of you! Get to Nigeria! Let nothing stop you! Find the key, and DEFEND IT!" Pointing to a small group of Elementals, Kraven singled them out. "You, you, and you. You're coming with me."

"W-where are we going?" One asked fearfully, joining his friends in the circle. Kraven leered creepily.

"To make a preemptive strike against our foes. We're going to cause HELL for the hunters!" He turned once more to his chosen group. "Kamari, Vladamir, and Ramm- ZACK... This may feel weird at first. Just ride it through, and you'll do fine." Striking his staff upon the ground once more, Kraven's shadow reached up and enveloped them all, and pulled them trough the floor. Kraven was taking them straight to where the Illusionist had broadcasted. Straight to the washcloset in the manor. Where their foes stood, unsuspecting...








((OOC: Will edit if this is not allowed!!!))
 
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Lavinia was separate different from the other hunters if you will. Her upbringing similar to that of what today's mundane human society would refer to as 'wild' or 'Amazonian.' She was separate in attitude, morals, laws, and even attire. Her apparel could be considered medieval, the clothes that did covered her extremities were closer to that of a knights armour. Leather corseted garments tightly tugged in her body, allowing her an even more superiority to her already-enhanced agility skills. Her shoulders and vitals were covered with a heavy metal, only comparable to titanium. It wasn't embarrassing for her as most of her days were spend out in the outhouse she considered home. It was far away on the outskirts of the city, in a wreckage of old ruins and crumbling ancient walls. She survived from her own plantations, vegetables and live stock. Her lifestyle took her back to the days of the first century. The only technology she had, was her over-extensive lab which contained a very updated style forgery for her weapons. Her code name for those who didn't want to be known for meddling in business with her was 'blacksmith.' Everyday people came to her for their weapons, hunters after mallet's, rapier's, arrows, maces, and long swords stained with cronosite. Beneath her very outdated apparel were her hunters marks, tattoos from the old days of when Hunters believed marking their bodies with runes were the best ways of protection, and healing. She believed it for a long time too. Being kept back from such a world meant she was really ignorant, vulnerable and naive to most of the days technology.

However, her lab was proof that she didn't entirely have a totally cut off life from the rest of the world. It had become quite the recent attraction lately as hunters from the farthest parts of Nigeria were coming to her to include theirselves in her work. Claiming an upcoming conflict was approaching which entailed far more than mere diplomatic speak, they needed the arms.. She would be the ones to prepare them for them. Many frowned upon her for being a woman and proceeding forth with such a lifestyle but she shook off the comments like dust from old picture frames. When out of the battle grounds, her attire was an everyday drape of rags wrapped with a stylish felt belt around her waist. She was unique, to say the least. Being such a masculine personality it wasn't at all parallel with her figure and appearance. True, she held the muscle expected of a warrior and blacksmith like herself. However, her body was voluptuous and feminine in its every display.

She stroked her fine red locks of hair down her back and walked out to her cows this one morning. The sun gracing its way across her face as she attended to their udders for milking. She went with the cliché name of 'Daisy' for her dairy cow, whom was kind enough to provide her with the purest of milk for her everyday needs. It was the ripe season too - the time for mating, fresh crops, and healthy corn fields to sprout their fortunes for Lavinia's taste buds. She walked out into the fields bare footed - scars of black tattoos coursing their way around her pale skin, all up her body under the poncho appearing dress - and down her arms in a spiral of many tails and twists. Later on in the day she pressed on to her work, with the money it brought her most would have expected her abode to be a little more extravagant - but this wasn't the case, not for today. From this hill she could see one of the finest English homes set just a little closer to town - but still a way away to be still attached to title of a 'country' home. One of her clients had informed her of the meeting they were holding their today...

She knew it wasn't her place to intrude on it, somebody would surely inform her of the outcome some othertime. The politics of her people never really concerned her, and it was depressing to think that this is what her people had become. She'd remember the tales her grandparents told her of how the Hunters had always settled matters - never sitting around a table like a weekly AA meeting group informing each other of the outcomes of their lives and decisions to be made.. They were all as bad as one another, their egos sky higher than that of a Necromancer's.. Up themselves. She thought to herself.. Still, she had no place to talk. She took no pride in including herself in the modern society of her people - so she shouldn't have the rashness to insult it so. Not to mention she knew nobody would've wanted her there anyway, she was what they referred to as a 'commoner' another term not familiar to the old-ones.. She was only young but the stories and histories she knew, the knowledge that she held... She had a library full of journals and even what some seers refer to as 'spell books' in her home, which the other Hunters didn't even know about. They weren't her forte, and nor did she have any interest in them... But if those people weren't so quick to judge, and actually gave her a chance they might see her as useful.. But no, to them... she was merely a 'hermit.'

Even if she had taken out more demons than they'd eaten hot dinners... No matter, corn chowder for dinner. Must get on with that..
 
Aofie made her way down the long, perfectly paved sidewalk. Her appearance was slightly frazzled, and her head ached from the nonsensical chatter she had endured for the duration of the trip to campus. Her driver scuttled after her, barely able to keep up with the pace set by her long-legged friend, despite the bright, magenta stilettos (Aofei had described as "atrocious") that adorned her feet.
"Wait up, Fae! God, can't you give a fat girl a break?" the Skye whined.
"You aren't fat, and we're late," Aofei replied in a partially sing-songy voice that ending on a low note, a bit of annoyance edging into her tone. However, it went unnoticed by the oblivious personage that waddled behind her; she had pulled out her cellphone and was now rapidly texting a... close male friend
"Don't worry 'bout it, you have Mr. Glownic and he's an amazing..." there was a hesitant pause as the pink-haired girl cleared her throat and replaced her mobile device. "He's nice."
Aofei raised an eyebrow, "A teacher?"
"I just said he was nice!"
"That's simply gross."
"It was one time!"
McQuight snorted in reply, not sure whether to be appalled or amused by the newfound information of her collegemate sleeping with her psychology professor, for she certainly wasn't surprised.
"What happened to that other guy, anyway? Lucus or something..." The door to the building swung open under the pressure of her hand. The enclosure was quiet except for a few conversationalists who tended to flock to each other on sight, and the clicking of Skye's shoes against the granite floors.
"Oh! Lukie! Hmm, I think he went to jail or... rehab maybe," long purple nails ran through her light blond roots as she set her thoughts on her past and most recent sexual partner. "Yeah, like... I don't really know what happened to him. He sort of disappeared. It's too bad, I liked his thighs."
Aofei blinked a few times, hoping to remove the mental image she had just received. She never enjoyed conversing about her exotic friend's affairs; most of the men (and occasionally woman) she dated were the ones she had met while highly intoxicated, at some late night, basement orgy. However, Aofei was pleased to find that said 'Lukie' was no longer in the her acquaintance's life. He made the redhead uncomfortable beyond belief and she loathed everyone moment that she spent with the couple, playing wingman. Just the thought of him forced her to her to fiddle with the necklace that hung around her neck, then promptly stick it between her lips. A motion that she had done repetitively, and now, automatically.
Her hazy and clearly distracted thoughts were interrupted by the murmurs of a full lecture room, and she realized that her companion was holding the door open for her.
 
Clyde sat upon a tall monument. His feet swinging aimlessly below and his eyes focusing on the sun across the horizon. It was a beautiful day out, but the Demon decided to spend it up here. On top of the world.

A cluster of sand blew his already disheveled hair as he peered over his knees toward the cement sidewalk below. What a long fall - if he was to jump, surely a few limbs would be bent into odd angles and strange shapes. Which was why he leaned back and made sure he was correctly fitted against the edge of the building. Clyde was an outgoing fellow with a flirtatious attitude and a knack for sticking to the rules. He stuck to be loyal and justified, with a whole lot of rebellion mixed in. Sometimes he got in trouble, but most of the time he stopped trouble. The young man was like the law around these parts - although - nobody ever called him that or acknowledged that it was him who had taken out countless criminals and thieves.At times he felt saddened to not be noticed for his good deeds, but another part of him reminded him that he didn't do this for the people. He hurt others for his own enjoyment.

Leaning back a little further until his back was pushed up against the monument, Clyde's mouth twisted into a cheeky grin. A fluffy cloud passed over his vision and he pointed out several shapes that it could have been morphed into or been apart of. The young man had nothing to do today, so when he had nothing to do he usually came up here and watched the world continue to rotate. His fingers reaching out to the smaller things that passed by unnoticed. His mind seeing the larger things that moved on.

Suddenly, he bolted upright - his dull silver eyes catching something out of their peripheral vision. As his hands had pushed himself onto his feet and his eyes were able to catch the object, Clyde let out a scoff. It was a crow that had landed on the monument. With closer examination though, Clyde could see that the strange winged creature had gotten caught up on the edge of the monument, but it made no cry for help. The man's eyebrows scrunched together as he moved closer and his mind began to whirl with questions - he was half expecting the bird to fly off and half expecting it to begin to call it's friends for help. But neither of those things happened, the crow just sat there. It began to thrash about viciously trying to get it's wing uncaught from wherever it was - once it's beady little eyes came to gaze over Clyde's form before focusing again on it's wing. And once it's eyes met the young man's he smiled widely.

One beady eye was black, while the other was a milky white. It was definitely a peculiar sight for Clyde to encounter. Never in all his years had he seen something so remarkable.

The chocolate haired male was finally close enough to the crow to be able to examine it's caught wing and after a few seconds he had managed to figure out the problem. The bird's wing was caught under a tile a top the roof. Clyde was sure that, with a little wiggling, he could remove the bird's wing without anything becoming broken or popped out of place.

His fingers grabbed the bird's wing gently and then began to maneuver it out from under the tile. Ever so slowly the wing was freed from it's trap and the crow was able to test out it's wings and fly away. It only looked back at it's savior once, before hurrying along and disappearing into the sunset. The young male scratched the back of his neck and simply smiled at - not just his own bravery - but the birds as well. With a chuckle he turned and made his descent down a few loose bricks on the side of the monument until he was safely upon the cement sidewalk once more.

He headed towards one of the most well know demonic clubs in town. Brixton Club. He had heard of a meeting taking place there so he decided, "Why the hell not?"
 
Well, this was unexpected. Kamari felt just a little bit sick - well - extremely nauzeous. He was not accustomed to this sort of unearthly travel, and when it was suddenly thrust upon him by Kraven, he did not do very well at all. The first thing he did upon arrival was vomit into some beautifully embroidered towels. Of course, this didn't do much for his demon street cred, although it was fair to say that he commanded very little respect anyway. He really needed to get killing if he wanted to experience the wonders of subordinates quaking before him. How very sad.

Now, Kamari was well aware that in this environment he would be expected to kill, and he also knew that those hunters who weren't blindsided by this sudden and extremely bold attack would most definitely not hesitate to kill him. So, what to do? There was only one answer. The usually flippant young demon steeled himself - once he'd wiped his face clean, of course - and decided to do what any other good demon would. It was time to kill their asses. Well, only if they attacked him first. Self defence was excusable, right?

Meanwhile, the rest of the demons that had been left behind were converging on the manor like a tsunami bound for shore. They made record time, champing at the bit to get themselves waist deep in hunter blood. They would never have a chance like this again, and they intended to seize it with both hands. Screw order and restraint, it was time for a bloodbath.

As all this was happening, Mena was still acting on a hunch. She was in her appointed room, gathering up the weapons she had hidden, instead placing them on her body. The whole formal look went out of the window with the addition of a double holster and that old battered leather jacket - the pockets of which were stuffed with bullets. What couldn't be strapped down somewhere, she placed in a little holdall that had served her well. Although it wasn't healthy to want to gather up weapons when feeling worried, it did at least turn out to be the correct thing to do this time.

It was only moments after zipping up the bag that she was knocked sideways by the sudden onslaught of demonic energy. For a moment Mena was blinded by it all, and she spared a thought for the rest of them, who were no doubt feeling similar effects. Hopefully no one would panic. It was important to keep ones head in an ambush, especially when they were caught in such a vulnerable position as this. Mena managed it, although it was safe to say that adrenaline was driving her more than anything. The young woman slung the bag across her shoulder, drawing her faithful glock as she exited the room, jogging down the hallway in search of something to destroy.
 
It was late. The black sky was covered with clouds and only lights from street lamps were lightning the city. The city that was usually filled with demons, but not right now.
Caleb was walking aroound the streets, with his hands deep in the pockets of his grey sweatshirt that was zipped high to his chest. He was walking around the streets usually at this time, searching for demons that he can kill. Yes he was a demon hunter. And he still is, but not officialy. His mettods of killing demons were... different. All of the hunters will called it weird, disgustinmg and all other words that sound violating. The way he kills demons is normal for him and loves it every time he does it. Sleeping with them and killing them, sometimes while they are having sex cuz the demons are distacted and their guard is down while they are having sex, and its very easy to kill them without even fighting with them, but just having pleassure .

Burt this night was different. Usually this city is filled with demons, but not now, he cant sense even one, there are only humans . He had walked almost over the entire city but nothing. He was dressed in norma cheap clothes, a blus shirt that is under the grey sweatshirt, blue jeans and boots, his face looking so young and naive, that every demon liked having an inocent untouched human to have fun with... But earlier when he was at his motel room, he sensed a big power, he didnt knew if it was from one demon, but probably not, his teory was that lots of demons have gattered together, cuz the power was so strong that he could feel it from so far, where there was not even a demon in and around the building.

But that power just dissapeard, without any trace, without any warnning, it was so weird... Something is just not right, not right at all and that is worrying him a lot, cuz today the demon hunters have their meeting, and that has him to conclute that its not a coincidense.
 
Hearing the sounds of Kamari throwing up sent Zack's body into a retching fit, and he had to steady himself against the wall to keep from falling over. Though he didn't heave up his lunch like the other demon had, his usually light complexion had turned slightly green. He hadn't nearly thrown up because of Kamari, at least, not entirely. The mixture of the travel and the sound of it had turned his stomach like nothing else could. Wincing slightly, he bit the inside of his cheek, reaching into his coat and feeling the familiar metal of the knife in his hands.

The blade glinted in the light, though he kept it close to him, ready to attack upon command. Though he wasn't one to kill anything and everything, he was still a demon, and liked it as much as the next one. Tonight would be fun; that is, if all went well. Which it should, given the advantages the demons had over the unsuspecting hunters. The barest graces of a smile appearing on his face, he said, "Ready when you are."
 
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