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Intoxicated Artist
Original poster
Invitation Status
Posting Speed
  1. Multiple posts per day
  2. 1-3 posts per day
  3. One post per day
  4. 1-3 posts per week
  5. One post per week
Writing Levels
  1. Adept
  2. Advanced
  3. Prestige
  4. Douche
  5. Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Female
  3. Primarily Prefer Female
SciFi, Fantasy, Romance, Modern, Magical, Horror, Action, Adventure

Note: I like a touch of darkness in most of my Roleplays
The Middle Dimension
@Altrex and @Munchkin

In our world, the dimensions of heaven and hell are constantly at war with one another. What we know and see every day of our lives is what is in between heaven and hell--the Middle Dimension. These three dimensions are very close to each other, pressed up against one another. The gates of heaven are safely closed. No one can go in or out without permission. However--the barrier between our realm and Hell are thin, and growing thinner. Sometimes there are weak places, and sometimes there are holes torn, and things can go in and out, unless the barrier is closed. There are times when the rifts are accidental, but most of the time, it's a purposeful act. The inhabitants of hell don't want to be there anymore than you or I would like to be there. They want to get out, and some will do anything they can in order to break free, even if for a short time.

There are servants of hell everywhere, visible and invisible, some hidden in plain sight, and some are wolves in sheep's clothing. They're hard to find, and even harder to kill. But what makes it even more difficult, is there is not only good and evil. Not all demons are bad, and not all angels are good, some are good, some are bad, and some are just apathetic to the entire thing, others are neutral, simply trying to keep the worlds at an equilibrium. It's hard to know who to trust, but no one can make it in this world on their own. Allies and enemies can be found anywhere and everywhere. It just depends on which side you're on, and where to look.​
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[fieldbox="Magdaline, olive, solid"]

The metallic flick of a cigarette lighter echoed through the dark and empty alleyway. The metal zippo gave off a few feeble flashes of light, enough to illuminate the slender young face of a girl in her mid-twenties. Her expression was hard and frustrated however, as her thumb repeatedly rolled across the flint wheel, a black cigarette between her lips. She let out a long, exasperated sigh, running a hand wearily through her short black hair. She looked down at the zippo in her palm. It had an elaborate cross etched into it. She tucked it away inside the pocket of her peacoat, fishing out a small matchbook, tearing out a match and striking it, and it caught fire. She cupped the flame, protecting it from the cold night breeze as she lit the end, her pale cheeks hollowing as she sucked in the first drag, sighing a cloud of smoke out through her nostrils. She dropped the used match into a puddle beside her, and it sizzled into darkness.

The woman took another hit, turning her head to look out of the alleyway. The city was bright and bustling, people walking back and forth through the ice and snow, getting their holiday shopping done, arms loaded down with different bags from the stores around them. Her brows furrowed together in deep contemplation as she watched the various people walk past. She looked up as a few snowflakes fluttered down between the buildings. A fresh layer was starting to form. It was twilight, and it was only going to get colder, and the snow only thicker from here on out.

She gazed forward at the brick side of the building in front of her, before she walked up to it, and knocked on the cold, hard surface three times. She knocked quietly, and the wall was pretty solid. But a few moments passed before one of the bricks receded backwards to reveal a little hole, and a pair of yellow eyes squinted out at her, "Waddya want, human?" barked a croaky voice.

"I just wanna drink, c'mon let me in," she said, pulling a piece of blank paper out of her pocket and showing it to the pair of eyes. As the beady pair of yellow eyes scrutinized the paper, black ink started to appear, as if beings soaked through from underneath.

The Chubby Cherub
Writ of Admission

There was a moment's hesitation, before the eyes disappeared and there was the sound of a deep scraping, and cracks appeared along the wall, in the shape of a door, and a black handle like a snake slithered out where a doorknob would be, curving down. She reached down, before pulling open the door, which was surprisingly light for being the side of a building. She walked in, and as the door closed behind her, she looked down, where the yellow eyes were. A short, angry looking imp, with a sagging belly and leathery brown skin with a head that came up to her mid-thigh was standing there, a footstool tucked under its arm, "Better put that smoke out," he croaked again, his voice box emitting an almost comically deep voice in comparison to his tiny frame, "The boss quit, and put a ban on smoking in the establishment." He placed the footstool down before climbing back on top of it, pulling out the brick that was used as a peep hole. He gestured at the opening, "Go on--out it goes," he grunted.

The woman looked down at the black cigarette for a moment, before flicking it out through the opening. It landed in the snow on the pavement, but didn't quite go out. The imp pushed the brick back into place, before scuttling off to a corner to await for another customer to come by. The woman tucked the admission paper back into her pocket, it was blank again. She walked down a narrow hallway, before coming to an elaborate oak door. As she pushed the door open she was greeted with a large, parlor-like room, with a large fireplace, a bar, and a stage where slow jazz was being played. All manner of creatures were here tonight. Goblins, warlocks, witches, wizards, half breeds, hags, even a vampire lurking the corner. No one noticed when she walked in, except for one of the servers, a tall girl with long, ash-blonde hair, and large, peircing blue eyes. She seemed to glide as she walked, "Oh, hey, Magda. You want your usual? I can find you wherever you end up sitting," the girl said, in a high silky smooth voice.

Magda gave a polite wave and smile to the fallen angel, "Yeah, that'll be fine, Angela, thanks," she said, as she made her way to a corner of the parlor, where there was a round table with a round booth curled around it, as well as some curtains for private conversations. She sat down, fingertips strumming on the tabletop. She was hoping to meet someone here that evening--someone who had information. She had gotten an encrypted message that they had a new case for her. Encrypted in a way where she knew this was someone who wasn't ignorant. Perhaps it was a trap, perhaps not. Either way, it was very unlikely that a full-on fight would happen in the Chubby Cherub. The owner of the establishment, an old half-demon by the name of Levi, had strict rules of peacekeeping in his house. She pulled out her pack of smokes and placed them on the table top looking down at them before scoffing. Why on earth would a half-demon quit smoking? [/fieldbox]
Crisp sounds of patent leather shoes reverberated off of the pavement, punctuated by the occasionally soft crunch of snow. People were still getting their Christmas shopping done even at this late hour, now ignorant of the true meaning of the holiday. But the man wasn't concerned with the habits of American shoppers tonight, rather he had an appointment to make. Fishing his phone from the inside pocket of his wool coat the blue light of a phone illuminated his face confirming the hour and minute.
Returning the devices a poof of white vapor escaped his mouth as the moisture froze on contact with the night air. Taking a moment to watch a falling snowflake reach the ground and nearly instantly melt upon contact with the damp concrete. But, finally he reached a solid brick wall, glancing up and down the street the man confirmed his location. Once he was confident a black gloved hand reached up and rapped against the wall.

"Waddya want, human?" barked a voice in a practiced manner. As if it was a phrase repeated often, probably meant to intimidate somehow. "I have an appointment," he held up a black white card and ink began to surface at first forming wispy words before the words became clear.

The Chubby Cherub
Writ of Admission

From his understanding the card was supposed to allow him access as a member of the Church. Of course this had yet to be personally tested. Still, the hole projecting the voice disappeared and a door began to trace itself across the wall. A face of repulsion covered the man's face briefly as the handle slithered out like a snake, regardless he reached down and turned the device opening the door revealing one of the most repulsive creatures he could imagine. A small imp with a sneering face and large belly. "Get a move on fresh-meat," the Imp waved the man through toward a carved oak door. Pushing the wood aside he strode into the establishment maintaining his air of confidence. The room was full of what could be kindly called undesirables, Goblin and half breeds, vampires and hags. A few people gave him a slight glance as he walked in, but none seemed to pay the well dressed man an attention.

Looking around he found the girl he had created a meeting with sitting at a round table in the corner of the room. She was strumming her fingers on the table, perhaps indicating that she had been waiting for a while, best not to keep her waiting then. Approaching the table a grin spread across the man's face and he reached a hand out to greet Magda, "Greetings Magda I believe. Alexander." The man was easily over six feet tall with slicked back red hair accented by his blue eyes. Taking a seat the man's coat tails draped over the back of the chair.

"I trust you know why you're here. There is a poltergeist haunting a warehouse I'd like to re-purpose. After some inquires I was pointed in your direction." Of course the message he had sent went into far more detail, but an in person dealing was standard for jobs of this type. Besides, he wanted to size up his prey. "Preferably I'd like this to be handled with minimal damage to the building." Really that didn't matter at all, but it might prevent her preparing anything too powerful except for an emergency. A long shot, but worth it all the same. "Do you have any questions?"
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[fieldbox="Magdaline, olive, solid"]

The Chubby Cherub
Magda shrugged out of her thick peacoat placing it beside her on the rounded leather booth. Underneath her thick coat she wore collared black shirt with a white lace collar, buttoned up all the way to her throat. Jet black jeans were clinging to her slender legs, and a pair of black leather doc martins rose up around her ankles. Around her neck, tucked underneath the collar, was a wooden rosary, a few of the polished beads glistening in the low candlelight. She wore no other jewelry, nail polish or makeup--no extra form of embellishment, save for the metal gauges in her lobes and two silver hoops in her upper cartilage. There was the hint of a tattoo coming out of her sleeve around her left wrist. She looked almost puritan-gone-goth. While her clothing was very conservative, her short hair, earrings and hint of tattoos displayed her innate desire of pushing boundaries.

Angela, the angelic seductress swept by Magda with a large, ceramic mug of a hot, foaming steaming drink. Magda exchanged it for a few golden coins, "When you get a chance to, Angela, tell Levi I have some more artifacts if he's still collecting."

A few moments later, Magda heard her name. She turned her head to look up at the tall, broad shouldered figure that had come up to her table. She rose to her feet, reaching out to take his leather-clad hand in a shake. It was firm--but not crushing. Her eyes scanned quickly over him, taking in as much information as she could, before they both sat back down together, "It's nice to meet you in person, Alexander," she said, returning a friendly smile. She reached into her coat pocket, and pulled out a paper copy of the decrypted message. She placed it in front of her, scanning over it again, her own penciled-in handwriting was overtop of it. She leaned back in her seat, crossing her legs and leaning her elbows on the table, "Yes. I assume the church declined your request for assistance... that's most of the cases I get, but of course, I'm always more than happy to help," her eyes slid down from his face to his neck, detecting a glint in the candle-light--a silver chain. Pure silver if her eyes weren't fooled. The best guess would be a cross--but it could always be something else, a family heirloom, or something like that.

"Yes--the warehouse you mentioned," she said, tapping her fingertip on the paper, "I did some background research. The background is pretty clean--it's not residing over any graves or burial grounds--at least not that anyone knows of," she said. Though, she was pretty damn sure, "But--you did mention the people who previously owned the warehouse--the McGreggors, who also reported to having similar issues that you're experiencing, which is partially why they sold it in the first place," she said, "It appears there may be a haunted object inside the warehouse. Though, I recommend taking every precaution before going in and attempting to remove it, which it seems you've already started to do by coming to me," she said with a bit of a sarcastic smile, "And, based on the message you sent, and the style of encryption, I assume you know enough not to fuck around with something like this," she said, before she heaved a sigh, "A poltergeist is a trapped and tortured human spirit. The first and highest priority is to ensure that the soul is safely guided into the afterlife," she said, running a hand through her hair, breaking for a moment from her cold-business tone to a softer, almost tender tone when speaking of the spirit, "But I will make sure the second priority is to make sure your facility is not damaged. This isn't the first time I've done this, but every case is unique. If we take the necessary precautions, everything should be fine."

She took a sip of the hot beverage and it burned it's way down her throat. It was a mixture of coffee and alcohol--calming her nerves while keeping her alert at the same time, "Scheduling is up to you," she said, placing her mug back down in it's saucer, "But I presume you'd like this done as soon as possible. I have what I need to perform a cleansing ritual in the wear-house tonight if that's convenient for you. And--if you've heard of me, you must also know that I do not ask for payment in the form of money. Typically I'd ask for something that I am in need of, say a bed, or food, but right now, I'm pleased to say I'm all set in all areas," she gave him a smile, "I don't believe I have any questions, except when to start."[/fieldbox]
Alexanders eyes quickly glanced over Magda's body taking in her alternative looks. Despite internally judging her looks, he maintained his smile and returned his eyes back to hers politely paying attention to the girl. When the waitress came by Alexander declined ordering a drink. As Magda pulled out a printed copy of his message he couldn't help but chuckle to himself.

"They did decline me, without stating a reason why." Magda's eyes flickered to his neck. Why did he have to wear his cross today? Of course she couldn't see what was attached to his necklace, but the chain was still pure silver which was a hit to his true occupation. Thankfully she seemed to pull the conversation forward without his prompting. As she described the warehouse he merely nodded along with the information, mostly it was confirming what he already knew. Fortunately hauntings didn't always have easily traced history.

Now was his time to play up being a business man, an attitude that wasn't difficult to slip into. "Forgive me, but if it's a spirit then their time on this Earth has past. One way or another they need to move on." Crossing his hands and placing them in his lap 'properly' Alexander leaned back slightly. "You can come by tomorrow night. I would prefer that this didn't take place during the day in case of any bystanders." Suddenly Alexander's throat began to scratch and he coughed quietly into a closed fist, "Apologies. Could you also tell me the payment you will be requiring then? Or will you instead be needed a request filled at a later date?" While this part would probably not matter, as Alexander wouldn't need to pay after the trap had been sprung she would get suspicious if he was too quick about giving her the job. After all, fooling your prey all came down to one thing, and one thing only. Appearances.

Though one little thing was beginning to nag at the back of Alexander's mind. Wasn't this girl supposed to be a danger to the church? Right now she seemed to be acting as the professional, without any of the recklessness that had been recorded over time. He'd even done his own digging and found a great deal of turmoil in the wake of this own person. Did she merely act the part but didn't actually know what she was doing? He'd have to go over his data again tonight.
[fieldbox="Magdaline, olive, solid"]

The Chubby Cherub
Magda noticed that he quickly shifted into a businessman-like attitude as well as stature. She couldn't help but feel her heart sink a little, but hoped for the best with this case. With any luck, perhaps they could get it all over and done with without any complications. Then again--things weren't very scientific in the spiritual realm. Whenever a business-oriented individual came for help, it was quite often that they would butt heads from time to time. Business people liked the facts, straight forward, yes or now, black or white. That definitely one thing thing that her job wasn't--and that was predictable. She did--however, show interest and nod as he spoke. "Tomorrow night sounds good," she said, pulling a phone from her pocket, and scheduling it in her calendar.

When he asked about payment, she raised her hand a bit, "No payment will be necessary," she said, "It's best if this entire case is kept off the books. I'd like to stay as hidden and behind the scenes as possible. Consider your silence of my werabouts as payment. If anyone ever comes to you with questions about me--simply tell them you've never met me, and for that matter, never even heard of me," she gave him a polite smile, "Other than that, I believe everything is in order, yes?"

As she spoke, her hands fiddled with themselves in her lap--not out of nervousness, simply out of habit. The middle finger and thumb of her right hand were lightly caressing the skin at the base of her ring finger on her left hand--as if to fiddle with a ring, but there was no jewelry there. Her fingers moved absentmindedly, as though it were a habit. She looked down at her hands in her lap, almost as if she realized what she was doing, before her fingers separated from each other. She started to slide her arms back into her peacoat, "If that's all then, Alexander, then I should be going. No case should be approached without a decent amount of rest and prayer," she said, pulling her coat around her petite frame, "Does 9 o'clock fit into your schedule?" [/fieldbox]
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