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RPG The Rising...(Good and Violent)


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[color=crimson]
The hour is upon us, the prophecy has been fufilled.
The Three have taken human form and now walk freely upon the Earth. Diablo, Mephisto and Baal, are free to wreak terror on the world they desire to destroy.
There are countless unchecked monsters that crawl from the cracks of hell and into our world, to do the bidding of their summoners. All across the country buildings are falling into ruin, beasts of untold origin feast upon the cadavers that now litter the streets. There are now corpses that aren't simply fed on, but they feed on the living.
The world has been thrust into turmoil by the Rising.

Heaven has now moved into action against the Prime Evils, but are outnumbered twenty-to-one by summoned deamons alone. The only hope they had was to turn to the remaining humans and take powers that had been reserved for their time above, and bewstow them now. Humans now have the power to fight the Rising.

The Three must be stopped before the living drown in the blood of the fallen.

The Rising has begun...[/color]

[color=blue] The boy walked the desolate streets alone, his footfalls not making a sound on the dusty pavement. Anyone watching this child would have first noticed how clean he was. The area in which he walked was covered in ash, with blood painting the shells of buildings that had fallen into ruin. His white hair blew as a small wind picked up.
A man walked out of one of the buildings, armed with a shotgun. He wore a bone necklace strung around his neck. The boy was familiar with those bones. They littered the ground almost as often as the human bones. But these bones were not of this world.
[I]"Kid, it's not safe to be out!"[/I]
The man called to the child. As if the boy didn't know that. The wind picked up again, sending paper gliding over the once crowded sidewalk.
[I]"Look, we've got some food inside if you're hungry. And you'll be well protected. Did they get your folks?"[/I]
Inquired the stranger. The child nodded, then slowly began to walk towards the man, picking up speed gradually, then breaking into a run. The two entered the building, the door closing behind them. The child looked around in the dank light.
Outside was a clear sky, but in here, most of the lights were broken and the windows were covered with wood, dust, blood or ash. He looked around and saw a small fire glowing the corner. Someone was cooking something. The boy took some water from one of the men, the curled up in a corner and tried to get some sleep to the sound of water dripping through the ceiling...

...About four hours later, the boy was woken up by the sounds of suprise and terror. The boy rubbed his eyes, sitting up and listened as the sounds of terror turned to awe. A bright white light filtered through the boys small hands and hurt his eyes. Standing up the boy noticed they were now in the prescence of an angel. Clenching his hands he walked closer to the group.
The angel was casting spells on the humans, and light from the angel transferred to the humans. The walls of the room seemed to glow. The boy stood there smiling, waiting for the spell that was meant for him. But when the angel turned to the boy, a look of fear, suprise and reverance came across the angel's face. Many of the group turned to look at the child as well.
[I]"Ah, Tyrael, I thought I'd soon see some of you down here."
"It is a cruel game you are playing."[/I]The angel accused the small boy.
Smiling the boy simply said,
[I]"You have no idea."[/I]
Every second human in the room exploded in a shower of blood. The boy's hair was now stained with red, but he smiled even more. A green light rivaled the white one as the boy too exploded, but not in blood. Smoke billowed from a crater where a tall man now stood. The man held a staff, intricately carved, and bladed at each end.
"I'm sorry, looks like your spells will have to be a bit stronger then that if you expect them to stand a chance.[/I]
A human standing next to the man fired off a shot. Baal put one of the blades through the man's face. Then the remaning humans attacked him. Three seconds later the room was silent again. Baal stood shirtless. Tatoos ran across his chest, back and arms. Patterns and the like was all. No pictures adorned Baal's skin.
[I]"Now Tyrael, you've done nothing to stop me from this. You are free to attack aren't you? It doesn't worry me.[/I]
Angelic screams filled the air as Baal took the bones from beneath his skin.
[I]"They wear bones of my kin, so I shall wear bones of yours."[/I]
Baal left the scene, as new blades glowed on the ends of his staff. He walked off into the night, with the same glow pulsing from his new-found necklace.[/color]
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[i]Ratu awoken in the back pew of a delapidated catholic church. though no more priests live there he could still fell the safety of God in the ground and walls of the building. He stretched and yawned slightly pulling his leather jacket tighter about his body to try to hold out london's brisk morning breeze. Silently the young man consumed what litle food he had on him and got ready to go. As he walked out the door he stopped at the cross and said a short prayer.[/i]

Ratu: Lord, As I leave your house once more I search for a light. A single path of hope left behind for me. For my kind. I pray to you ever vigilant lead me to revelation and help me bring salvation back to the Earth. Amen.

[i]He dipped his middle finger into the holy water and dabbed a drop on his forhead and chest in the traditional catholic cross pattern before stepping back and taking a deep breath. He looked at the chipped and nearly broken doors before he stepped out into the streets looking both left and right before continuing into the early day light.[/i]
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The flesh parted so easily before his will, tendons stretched and slipped as his claw dipped deeper into the body. Where would he leave this piece he wondered to himself, somewhere they would find it, or there was no point, but perhaps this time less obvious, perhaps this time the piece should find the rest of its? former party.

Tiring quickly with this slowly cooling corpse, Diablo wrenched the barely attached arm from the flayed body. Slowly with an almost reverent care his fingers carved at the soft flesh in the palm of the hand, with the prescribed symbols etched into the flesh Diablo turned his claw to himself. He opened a small rift in the leathery hide that contained him, sickeningly tinted balefire immediately spilling out and lapping greedily at the air it had been exposed to. The smell of ozone permeating the area. Clasping a wisp of balefire in his ghoulish hand Diablo brought the flame close to the dismembered arm, the flame flickering more and more hungrily by the moment, the flitting into the arm via the gateway carved in it?s palm.

The fingers twitched spasmodically, grasping again, leaving gouges in the dirt. With a quick explanation from the Lord of Terror the arm took action and slithered off into the night, searching for the party to which it?s owner belonged.

?This should indeed make for a enticing show of fear?? He thought to himself, rising up again with the clattering sound of falling masonry, ?but I tire of these man things, perhaps once this ploy has seen its course out I shall claim the rest of them.?

With that the beast shambled off into the darkness, to again stalk his chosen toys.
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[font=gothic][color=indigo][i]A tall, thin man, almost emaciated, leant smiling against the wall, un-noticed by the couple in the room.

The room itself was unremarkable. A small apartment, with all the signs of a happy family living within. The lack of mess spoke of a lack of children and pets. The office desk, with it's cluttered desk, spoke of a hectic work load, perhaps some stress. But the open, light emitting windows with their thin, almost transparant covers, revealed the positive atmosphere that normally inhabited this home, showed the people as those who would gladly make do with what they could, simple, good folk.

Not that, at the moment, any such thing could be seen.

Mephisto, in his unobstrusive human guise that went un-noticed, watched as the argument intensified. Under his dextrous manipulation, imagined slights, insignificant fears, old grievances came to the fore, in spit and hiss, and were thrown like daggers across the room. The table that separated them quivered, nervously anticipated the further strife that was to come.

At last, the admittance of some small flirtation came to the fore. The table was suddenly not a barrier.

One ran, strangely afraid of the other's wrath. Unfortunately, the small fire place, ornamental only, but still possessing a fire poker, beckoned. Blood fountained with the swift stab...

Suddenly, she fell to her knees, beside the man she had loved for years, and wondered what possessed her to do such a thing, what had sparked such an argument.

From his vantage point, in full view, but un-noticed, due to some arcane measures, Mephisto smiled, and walked away.

Always, it was more fitting to let others do his work for him.

The weeping, keening, that emanated from the apartment now behind him reinforced that many fold.[/font][/color][/i]
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[color=royalblue][i]Kellnine of Christ, Chi-Rho was waiting high above the physical earth and its troubles. Instead of laying her head at her Maker's feet, she was out in the stratasphere, waiting for another angel to join her. One that was not merely an angel, but a Seraphic creature, covered in eyes, with six wings, and the face of a lion. She wrapped herself up in her wings, dress no longer visible through the thick sweeing feathers and membranes.

Finally, she approached, tall, enshrouded in a trail of dust and mist from the skies above, and smiling to boot. Her eyes, thousands of them, opened and closed without ceasing. Kellnine bowed low and turned to unfurl her wings and close them underneath her feet.[/i]

"Hail Tai Alujah."

"Hail Kellnine Chi-Rho, daughter of Gabriel."

"Why did you call me out to be here tonight?"

"The evils are at large, as you know. And I want you to track the one we know as Mephisto.....as you're the most suited for the job, should any..."

"Complications?"

"Arise. Yes. Will you do this?"

"How could I refuse?"

[i]She smiled sweetly at the Guardian of the Throne and opened her wings with a distinctive snap of sinew and tendon. Tai Alujah laughed cooly at the girl's willingness to serve, regardless of the dangers. Seeing as how her age was no longer relevant...and she had passed many tests....but still. Why He had put her up to this, she would never know. Too late. She had already dissapeared.[/i][/color]
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[i] A chaotic day, with chaos brewing upon every street corner within every block within every town within every province within every state within country within the world. Daemons of all sizes and shapes, an endless flux of summoned creatures from permanent portals set in vaious locations by the three Primevils. Diablo, Mephisto, Baal. Ages past he remembered them, powerful as they were now, cruel and sadistic as they were now. But now they were wiser, honed by the millenias of divine and diabolic war raged by both sides, and that made all the difference in the world, in this and the others.

Metatron, in his child form, strolled through the bloodied streets filled with ashes as well as human remains. Any adult in the area would have cried out to see the eyes of such an innocent looking being corrupted by such visions. His eyes wandered from the empty, crumbling doorways to the diabolic inscriptions written in sprawled hand-writing all over the buildings in the street. Clearly, these inscriptions were not done by the three. The summons which they indicated were not of the highest caliber.

A growl, a grotesque crack, and a human limb came flying out of a doorway, narrowly missing Metatron's face, as it hit the opposite wall. Metatron's smile thinned a bit, as he scanned the dark doorway from where the disgusting object was thrown. A demon, obviously of a lower class, came stumbling out, drunk with the chaos and gore. It laid its blood-shot eyes on Metatron, then emitted an unearthly cry and came charging at him, its cleaver high above its head. Metatron merely smiled, and waved his hands over at the demon. The demon suddenly crumbled, its remains melting back into the earth from whence it came as the cleaver hit the ground with a dull thud.

"Summons are still a spell..." murmured Metatron as he continued his stroll.

Further up ahead, his divine eyes spied a multitude of demons, apparently feasting over a recent massacre of the human population. Shaking his head, he walked towards the unnatural feast, his feet leaving no prints in the ashened streets. [/i]
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[size=1][color=ff66cc][i]Kilani Tarot Shi'iandra, protector to the Covenant of the Ark, daughter of Michael, friend of the Triads, advisor to the Holy One. She is the one who punishes evil, helps the poor and weak, looks after the widowed and children of God. She is the Divine Celestial Angel that fights for the Right and knows evil deep within.

Kilani stood at in front of the Celestial Gates, awaiting the trial of the fallen one. She stood waiting for the one who knows all, but not nearly as much as the Lord of all Creations.

Coming her way were three angels, granted to meet with her. One of the many Seraphs, closest to the Throne of God, with the head of a lion and with six wings had come to meet her. As well as, a Cherub, an angel wielding a flamed sword, who is the Guardian of the Terrestial Paradise, the Warrior Angel who guard Eden. The last angel to meet with her was the a Virtue, the real angels who perform miracles on Earth.[/i]

"Galader, Avanol, Makaiel. I am glad that you agreed to meet with me."
"Likewise, Kilani."
"Tell me about what is happening right now, Makaiel."
"Evil has risen on the Earth."
"Help us, Kilani."
"You and other various angels are gathering to help us."
"Hmm. Do I get to punish evil?"
"Indeed."
"Evil has no way of escaping your wrath."
"We shall soon see."

[i]Kilani left the three and walked to her place in front of the Lord. She was granted her weapons and as soon she was given it, she left her Maker. Floating to the Judgement Gates, down to the Stratosphere, seeking others.[/i][/size][/color]
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I waited in the line for quite a long amount of time, sifting through my thoughts as an hourglass sifts through beads of gleanous, pebbled grains.

During my lifetime, I had not been a good man; I knew this well enough, and knew it sure. I had killed and thirsted the salivating covens of greatest lustous biles. I had taken advantage of those lower than me, and higher than me, building and eating away, emulsifying myself in only my needous desires and credence. My hands were tainted in hags even whores had not imbibed, tasted, beaten, or ordained; even worse was I than that of them, for I had given my body to more than stranger's fancies, but to the bitter dregs of injustice and heavenly wrong.

I was a sure and hung man. Even during my life I had not worshipped dearest and most anointed Jesus Christ hisself; rather, I had hated and mangled his very name, hating his very hands and very life as much as I hated all those that stood in my way.

In that line I did not feel right. I felt like a drunkard would feel away from his bottle and stock; I felt unbelonging, unneeded, chastised. Timorous. I felt it most certain that I would, upon immediate examination, be sent to the burning, burnt whore's lips which we call Hell, and be forced to kiss her as a man whom is lovestruck by Cupid's wry, twisted, arrow. Condemned as a traitor is how I felt there, knowing my wrongs above all rights.

Standing all in tandems those pagans?which most in the line appeared to be?stood, awaiting their absolution and validation as angels in the hierarchy of heavenous anomaly, and I, getting ever-closer, could not bear the wait. And when, in long timing, I came to the foreboding gate, and its hexing shoulder stood in my eyes, I was almost brought to angry tears at what was there; for I hated heaven, and God, and all things divine upon stepping on the cloudground next to heaven's breast. I hated them without reason, and hated them for just being there, like an absent-minded little child whose parents had lead and steered and wrought, yet was only left to find he was lost in a tangled haze of phantasmagoric shambles as the real truth reared its head.

When I had died, I had imagined there would be nothing, nor would I be anything; I had thought, in my dying gasps, of all I had lived and retributed, hoping that my useless, haggled existence would cease to mean anything, and I would float off in solemn waters of nothing, an ended life and an ended soul. Yet here I was, the gate hitting my eyes, the angel shaking my hand, welcoming me, telling me of heaven's place, smiling thinly as his wings flapped like a crackling and broken promise which is only answered in an onomatopoeia of most empty, dead sound.

I put on the best smile to my face as the angel accosted me, and I stood tall and virile, a guised skeleton guised in his emaciated ruins, holding everything in his hands and in his ribs. I felt I should surely be sent into Hell, surely that I was to be immediately denied, immediately inclined to do my time in bitter dregs and gallows of chains.

"And you are Jice Gernad Alban, are you not," said the angel to me, placing his hands on my shoulder. I nodded, my mouth agape at the angel's beauty?of Heaven's very beauty. "Indeed, you are, fair sir," said he, calm as ever. "Tell me how you have sinned, and mayhap absolution be yours, may it not," he said, taking his hands off my shoulders, and looking at me as if a jockey may look at his gallant horse.

"Indeed, I am Jice Gernad Alban, and indeed, I have sinned, mayhap many a time; even, say I, more than many. Alas, I cannot overwrite these wrongs, can I not? Yet I only ask for this absolution as many afore me have;" said I, pausing, then going on, "I am a good man at heart?I may be?and I may ask?as many afore, and many to come?to have what is the place where all's claimed and all's lived in. This is all I ask, and if I am denied, be it so."

Being tricky, guileish, I was able to dance over my wrongs in an atrocious claim; the angel, as I spoke, took every inch and ell of my words to his heart and head, reasoning them both, it seemed to me, out to each other.

My name?my real name?is actually not that of Jice Gernad Alban, but rather, it is in actuality Thomeas Wist Mayfore. It certainly is an odd lend of luck to have been wrongly so named, and so, I had done what I had done with it my entire life; I had taken it and used it to my advantage.

In my whole, at the time, as the angel stood, quiet, and I quiet, as he reasoned out, I felt utter contempt at this accursed place called Heaven. And I vowed to myself, upon entering, I should uprise a mutiny of sorts, if its chance came, and be gone with God, putting him oft where he deserved and needed. Off to condemnation his very self.

"Upon your slate there lies many a sin, but as you have said, it is of your deservance to be absolved into this place; so be it so, and so I will." The angel, with a grab into a dormant cloud, took from it a ring of dull and unlusterous glamor; and, taking it to his hands, and looked upon it, he famished into it a gold glow. He then handed it to me. "Here is your halo, and may it be upon your heart and in your soul as a heavy stone."

I placed the ring of gold upon my head, and as I did, it began its first seconds of floating freely upon my head. I tried glancing up at it, trying my hardest to move my eyes in their sockets without moving or tilting my head. I was only able to get a grace at the tip of the halo by doing this.

Looking at me in happiness, the angel took his hands to the clouds again, and, clustering the essence of them together, he formed feathers, and from these he yarned to sets of feathers, and from these he crafted the most eloquent wings ever I had seen. They glimmered in the beatificous light of Heaven, and they showered out to me far more beautiful than an Eagle's elegance.

After crafting two sets of wings in this matter, he came upon my back, and ripped the white gown which I wore as all there did. After doing so, he took his nails, slashing my back into two open, parallel slits which bled openly in the air. He then rooted the wings in these slits, placing them and grafting them to my spinal cord, connecting them to the network of my body.

"Welcome to Heaven," he said, opening the gate, letting me in.
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Tao stood atop the dillapidated (sp?), crumbling high-rise. Wind whipped his Duster around his body. His face was calm, eyes closed, his bangs forming a shadow not unlike the claws of a demon, reaching down towards his neck.
He was locked in deep meditation, preparing to head down to the bottom level and clear the building of the horrific monstrosities, like he had done in many other places.
But no matter how many times he killed the beasts, they kept coming. All he could do was fight until death. He knew it, and he didn't care.
Death was all he knew any more.
The twisted Demon creapt slowly up behind him, blood-stained claws ready to slash through his gut and rip out the steaming entrails for a nice snack.
But Tao was ready.
Just as the Demon leapt at him, Tao turned and drew his sword. The finely honed blade cut smoothly through the putrid flesh, dark ichor flying through the moonlit night. The unholy creature writhed on the ground, until it stopped moving at last. Tao cleaned his blade in the [i]shiburi[/i] motion, flicking off the demon's 'blood'.
He turned to the door, from where the demon had come. Standing there was what appeared to be a zombie.
'Poor fool,' thought the assassin.
Tao sent off a shockwave from his blade, the wave cutting clean through the monsters skull. The top of its head flipped through the night, the rotting remnants of its brain visible in under the moons sickly glow.
The creature stood stunned for a moment, before Tao slashed through it again, and it writhed like the demon, until it too stopped. Tao said a silent prayer for its soul, and moved through the shadowy gateway, into yet another Hell-on-Earth.
It would be a long night.
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[i]It was well into the afternoon before he saw any form of activity. A few forms moving around in the distance to far to tell if they were civilized or undead. But he knew for a fact they were definetely not demonic. He could close his eyes and practically sense a demon from a football fields length as long as they aren't hidden. As he got closer his expression grew quite grimmer. He noticed that his morbid suspicions were true. He could tell by the way they moved that the bodies of men were no longer living. The shambling cadavers smelled Ratu's living flesh and turned in his direction groaning as they shuffled limply towards him.[/i]

Ratu: Poor souls. I just pray that their souls have found piece before their bodies were defiled.

[i]He pulled out his handguns and started picking them off one by one. Bullet after bullet they dropped but they were too many and he was slowly running out of bullets. He started moving back when suddenly he heard a sound he dreaded quite possibly more than a horde of eternally flesh hungry zombies. The sound of two empty handguns clicking while being surrounded by eternally flesh hungry zombies. He put his guns away and drew the sword as he started to cut into the walking corpses. then the first swipe landed on him, gouging flesh from his arm, blood slowly oozing down his forearm. He yelled in pain and jumped back calling out to god in desperation instead of prayer for the first time. he was actually faced with death and he was afraid.[/i]

Ratu: Lord! If you hear my cry come to my aid! Nothing have i ever asked for myself but this one thing I beg. Assist me so that I may continue to serve you on this earth!

[i]He cried out the words in a desperate prayer begging for something to answer...... And it did. A brilliant light descending from the sky. Wings outspread as the holy miasma descended upon the hoards causing them to scatter lest they burst into flames of purification. many not escaping the light as the angelic being landed. She turned to face the young man as he held his sword his eyes shut his cry simply reduced to a fevered whisper as he prayed for help over and over. Even that though eventually faded as he basked in the holy light of the angel still not quite realizing that he's no longer alone... until his eyes open. The angel takes a step forward and smiles at him as the words form at her lips. Words that existed as much more than just simple sounds. Words that were as beautiful as an orchard of the finest flowers and smelling just as sweet. Words that he felt wash over his body soothing him to his very soul. Words that were as much meaning as emotion, and idea. He took a deep breath as he simply let himself fall to his knees.[/i]

Kellnine: You should be more careful where you walk.
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[COLOR=royalblue][i]The angel folded her wings and bent down at the waist, bringing her face very close to his. He had colored slightly and dropped the blade and guns by his side. She smiled and put both her hands on his cheeks. He looked up, fearing to gaze into the pearls that were her eyes. Too late. She kept the connection between them for a very long time. He closed his eyes once more, simply basking in the holy warmth from her body. Her eyes were half shut, long thick lashes curling around her delicate looking face. The comb in her hair glistened against her dew soaked tresses, contrasting with the sharp metallic armor she was clad in.

Ratu was very quiet, simply waiting for her to speak once more. But instead, she kissed him gently on the lips. His eyes opened partway, then closed again. She tasted like sunflowers, grass, and rain.

Kellnine was searching him, through their physical connection. Searching him for flaws. And if she found any, they were weighed out by his grace. Of which there was a good deal. He desired to do the right thing, to save humans from death at the ands of the evils. And that was more than enough to justify her saving his life. And perhaps even joining her for a short while. Before she processed the last thought, she registered him kissing her back. The angelic side of her put up no resistance, and the sidhe side was fairly feverish with desire. Instead, she drew away slowly, straightening her back, and taking her hands from his face.

She took his hands in hers and drew him up to his feet, pressing his sword back into his hand.[/i]

"Keep this close."

"....who are you?"

[i]Her smile was sweet, and he found that he was actually looking down at her. Despite her angelic light, she was shorter than him. And her dress was long, elegant, covered with metal plating, both feminine and masculine. But definetly more feminine. And her voice, was healing to him.[/i]

"Kellnine of Christ, Chi-Rho. You spoke at the right time."[/COLOR]
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Tao raced through the crumbling hallway, slashing at the demonic entities as they came. He leapt over a few, landing in their midst. He spun wide, cutting a wide circle, killing the surrounding creatures.
He held up one hand, two fingers raised, and a small flame appeared. He pointed his fingers at a zombie, and the flare shot at it.
The undead monster shrieked in unearthly fury as its paper-like skin quickly burned, reducing it's body to a simple charred skeleton. The flames moved to other creatures, the inferno growing in size and heat as it spread.
As the flames kept some at bay, Tao continued to cut through the other demons. Soon he was surrounded by a barrier of flaming flesh and smouldering bones. Still, he fought the demons as they crawled through the sickening fuel, coming at him only to fall at his sword. The thouroughly blood-stained blade flashed in the fire-light that cast horrific shadows through the hall.
As Tao plunged his sword into the gut of a particularly fat demon and slashed downward, he thought, 'this grows dull.'
Tao stopped his assault, and the demons stopped as well, stunned by their prey's 'surrender'.
Tao's eyes flashed in the unholy light as they opened.
"SHIISA!" he roared, the energy exploding outward.
The walls around him cracked and buckled under the force, and the demons surrounding him fell back from the force. The closest died from the sudden pressure, while the ones at the edge of the explosion fell to the ground, stunned.
Tao rushed along again, cutting through the fallen demons. As he rounded the corner, he heard the ceiling collapse behind him. A new group of demons met him at the next bend.
It was the top floor, with 5 more to go.
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[size=1]Elli climbed, desperation making her gasp and wheeze, making her fingers sweat and bleed and slip. She'd learnt to climb some of the older buildings -- they had bigger indents, the kind you could hook your fingers into. She had no clue where she was going, but, the way her panicked brain figured, it was better up than down. Down meant watching more dying, meant trying to fight with a bloody arm and two knives. She hadn't tried the pepper spray, yet, but she'd decided that it wouldn't work on demons.

[i]Demons[/i]. Who would have thought there was such a thing? Not her, certainly, but when the attacks came, they had to believe it. And, too, they had to believe there was a god, otherwise there was nothing to hope for. To live for.

[i]Hail Mary,[/i] she prayed, [i]full of grace. The Lord is with you. Blessed are you amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour--[/i]

There was a small pop and a demon appeared, hovering beside her. Perhaps up hadn't been such a good idea. Up meant no where to go. Elli screamed and kicked out, hoping her bad arm would support her weight. It did. Barely. The demon looked shocked, but not hurt.

She was crying in frustration, in pain, and in desperation. There was no way out. She was going to die. She was going to -- she sobbed. Acceptance of her fate would not come. Her body would be desecrated by the demons. Perhaps her soul...

[i]Now and at the hour...at the hour of our death.[/i]

There was another popping sound, and her shoulder dislocated, searing pain down her arm. She could do this. She had to do this. She couldn't let the demons...couldn't let them.

She kicked out again, forcing her fingers to keep the death-hold on the stone. She'd lost her edge. The demon didn't move.

[i]Now and at the hour...[/i]

Shutting her eyes, Elli used her other leg to launch herself towards the demon, letting go of the wall. With all her support gone, she was relying on the demon to stay floating. Elli slipped her knife into the demon's ribs. It stood shocked, then started freefalling, taking Elli with it.

"Of our death."[/size]
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As Tao rushed through the building, he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked over and saw a girl plumeting down.
"Great," he muttered.
He lunged to the side, crashing through the window, glass glinting in the moon around him. It barely cut him, and he didn't notice the cuts they made.
He hit the edge with the side of his foot, pushing off to line up with the girl.
'Kami help me,' he thought.
He gripped his duster and pulled it tight around him, speeding up. He realised this wouldn't work, and drifted over to the side of the building. He ran along the face of the building, building up speed.
As he passed the girl, who appeared lost in her own thoughts, and leapt out, sheathing his sword. He gripped the girl, and the two landed relatively safely.
"It was my time to die," the girl muttered quietly.
"Appearently is wasn't, as I was fated to save you. You are not destined to die yet, so don't try," he said, walking towards the double doors of the building, leaving the girl behind to think.
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[size=1]Elli stood silently, aware of the carnage, and instictively paying attention for any threats, but nevertheless dazed and possibly going into shock. But perhaps that was bloodloss.

She was alive. She'd just thrown herself onto a demon -- and killed it -- then free fallen, knowing she was going to die and...she was alive. It was impossible. No, it wasn't. Nothing was impossible.

That guy, he'd done something. She didn't know what, but he wasn't natural. Demon? No, not a demon. A demon would have let her fall. Unless, of course, they wanted her alive for something. It wasn't the first time she'd been manipulated. But no, a little far fetched. Perhaps he was an angel, then. She'd always imagined angels to be more...impressive, somehow, with wings and armour and halos and swords and -- well, he did have a sword.

So, an angel? Perhaps God was smiling down at them. Frowning, probably, at all the carnage, but not indifferent to their pleas. But she didn't think he was a proper angel. She shrugged and left her thoughts at that.

Smiling slightly, renewed with hope, Elli once again moved out to fight. This time, though, she had courage, rather than desperation. And she wanted to find the angel-man, and asked him how in hell...no, heaven, that she'd survived her fall.[/size]
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Sorry I'm late

[size=1]Saethi rummaged in his memory, dabbling in the pools of his past.

He remembered when it all happened, up to the very point when the world was turned on its head. The music was heavy, deafening. Die-hard ravers were pulling moves to the hypnotic beat while shady characters sold pills that could show the world in an inverted technicolour.

One person stood out from the rest, wearing a hooded shirt, with a yellow Nike logo emblazoned across the back. He was making a break for the exit, palming aside the doped up slow movers in a mad rush for the exit.

Saethi was close behind him.

The fellow was a dealer who had set up shop and refused to take the Mafiya?s pills. Saethi had been ordered to take him out. He didn?t really care. All of those he was sent to take out usually survived and moved to America under assumed names. Unless they decided to make a stand.

He hated it when they did that.

The dealer was almost at the door out into the alleyway. Saethi would normally pursue him, fire off a few blanks from his Glock, just enough to make the guy think that death was certain if he stayed, and then Saethi would wander off into the shadows, never to be seen again.

The door burst off its hinges and the dealer stumbled back in shock. Thanks to the loud music, only Saethi and the dealer were the ones who noticed. Well, the only ones that weren?t high as kites.

Something was standing there, haloed by the red light from the alley?that?s what Saethi hoped it was haloed by.

Whatever it was, it wasn?t right. Arms and legs were bent at odd angles, making it look simian?but with more teeth and claws that were deemed necessary. It seemed confused by the music that was assaulting its eardrums; its claws patted the sides of its head in a primitive confusion.

The dealer screamed, which got the attention of ravers behind him. A chain reaction followed and the music cut.

?Dude?the pillsh ?r preppin? earlier than ushual?I don?t get no demonenses until free A.M.? A doped up raver muttered after nudging a friend.

The demon?or whatever it was?blinked at the absence of the bass beat, and roared. A deep heat rolled off it, a sickening depressive aura flowed, Saethi felt his muscles constrict and the bad memories in his life come flooding back.

Unconsciously, his hands changed the clips in his Glock. Blanks to hollow point 9mm?s.

The crowd of Raver?s was confused. Now they had three things to be afraid of. The Glock being drawn, the?thing? screaming on the steps, and the voices scratching in their heads.

At least the sky kites were pleased. To them the amphetamines were just doing their job better than usual. Their unfocused eyes decided to pay attention to the purple Barney dinosaur that was flipping them off.

The creature advanced down the steps towards the dealer, who started scrambling backwards, and tripped to fall on his backside.

The tension went up a notch as the claws went out. The stunned DJ stopped halfway through dialling up the police to watch the macabre scene unfold.

Saethi raised the pistol and pulled back the hammer, squaring it on the demon?s head. For the crowd, it was all too much. The stunned silence was filled quickly with pandemonium, the scramble of feet, hands, and the screaming.

Very casually, Saethi pulled the trigger. Three times.

All three bullets ripped through the air and bit into the side of the demon?s head. One into the side of the eye, one in the?ear? and the last at the back of its head. The hollow points did their job well, biting into the fetid flesh before causing a gaseous explosion that simultaneously caused the other side of its head to explode, and redecorate the concrete walls with grey matter.

The beast stumbled and fell, its arms and legs flailed hopelessly around it in a confused and almost humorous dance.

Saethi stepped forward and lowered the pistol, levelling it on what he assumed were vital spots. The hair trigger on the ceramic pistol was pulled until the clip was empty. The demon gave one final, piercing cry, and melted into the floor, leaving a foul stench upon the air.

Saethi reloaded his pistol and slipped it into his back harness. His stomach, feeling it was the appropriate thing to do, emptied itself onto the floor.

~~~

Outside there was an explosion and Saethi was vaguely aware of a tingling sensation in his limbs. He checked the boarded window, it was dark out, not that it mattered. The streetlights were on.

That was the craziest thing of all. The world was falling to pieces, and yet the streetlights blinked on every night, just like they always did. The demons were obviously too keen on killing everything to bother with crippling their power supply.

That was a half-truth. The main power station, the big nuclear-coal one in the country, had shut down automatically with no one to run it. An unwanted by-product of a demonic rampage.
The streetlights, recently installed solar ones, blinked on every time dusk fell. So the carnage could be viewed during the day [I]and[/I] the night.
[/size]
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[font=gothic][color=indigo][i]Mephisto watched in disgust as the demon, not one of his certainly, probably Baal's, was summarily executed. And with a simpleton's handheld, modern day high powered weapon. Of course, if it had been the demon's way, the man would have come at him with a sword or an axe, and the results would have been quite different.

If Mephisto had had his way, which he was rather annoyed about not having, neither demon nor man would have been present, and his far more subtle game would have had the same effect, on a larger scale.

It suddenly occured to Mephisto that if this all settled down at some point, he should...invest....in a few rap artists...Everybody expected hatred from them, it shouldn't take much to bring them around to his way of view.

Mephisto's latest in a string of ideas based around letting humans destroy themselves from the inside was interrupted by a further influx of demons, and, more pointedly, a rather large demon roaring in front of him, a hideous claw descending.

Mephisto sighed and let it hit him. Nothing happened. Indifferently, he shot out suddenly taloned fingers. The four fingers themselves struck horizontally into the side of the creature's neck, his thumb penetrated under the collarbone. From there, he simply closed over the bone, and rotated his hand...Inverting foresaid bone, with apparently fatal consequences. It certainly fell over anyway. Another one of Baal's most likely. He'd really have to talk with him about that.

A skeletal wyvern alighted beside him and inclined its head. At least his minions had some idea about hierachy. Still, when Mephisto's voice came out, it was tired, bored, and fully human.[/i]

Mephisto: Yes?

[i]By stark contrast, the harsh noises the wyvern returned, made from a series of magically animated bones low in its throat that were visible through the ribs, were demonic in the extreme, and seemed to reminisce of tormented nails being drawn over stone....Izual suddenly leapt to mind, for some reason. The insolent wretch had deserved it...There weren't many monks of hatred...Communal life like that was after all difficult. Mephisto disinterestedly refocused on the wyvern's remarks.[/i]

"Several humans have escaped, including the one that slew Baal's fiend."

Mephisto: Baal will twist another to replace it, no doubt, and the loss, from what I saw, was not major. Avoidable, certainly, but not major.

[i]The wyvern inclined its head and slunk away. By now, the humans were either screaming, so doped up they had no idea what was happening and thus were killed on the spot, or fled. And as of yet, no angelic retribution had come....And that was really something that Mephisto, Lord Of Hatred and one of the Prime Evils, absolute rulers of the Hells and soon the Earth, was worried about...The thread of sarcasm laced through his own mind surprised him a second...He merely assumed he was getting to himself.

He silently stood up and walked out, not bothering to reassume his demonic form. Then, of course, he couldn't be bothered with walking, so he abruptly decided that being somewhere else would be preferable. He wasn't particularly concerned with where.[/font][/color][/i]
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[size=1]Elli snapped out of her thoughts as a demon nearby felled a man in one swoop, without pausing in his stride. This was ridiculous. It was insane. She wouldn't survive with just pepper spray and knives. It meant she got too close before she could hurt them. She needed guns. Failing that, she needed some where safe. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere...

[i]The safehouse[/i]. Her father, he had mentioned something about safehouses, about his business. He was a diplomat, apparently, but diplomats generally didn't have connections to the Mafia, to the 'other side' of London.

What had he said? There was a safehouse -- yes, she knew that much -- but what about the safehouse? Where was it? It had to be somewhere in London. Near a club...what club?

[i]The[/i] club. The one with the drunks and the idiots who had decided to waste their brain cells with pot. Elli didn't know the name, but she knew where it was. If she could get to the club, surely her memory would kick in and help her out. If not, well, she was going to meet her Maker.


[center]__________[/center]

The street lights illuminated all the carnage, all the death. She couldn't remember where the safehouse was, and in this grim flurescent lighting, she knew that she was in trouble. The shadows were so...concealing. They could be anywhere.

Elli sighed and looked around. She was beyond lost. She was alone. And that meant trouble, of every kind.[/size]
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[color=darkgreen][font=gothic]This rpg has no room for me... Oh well, I don't take up too much space.

[i]Tsukeume sipped her coffee and took in the semi-entertaining veiw of east london. Better than it was yesterday, because not only was there less to see, there was a bigger hole to see it out of. The whole back of her apartment block had fallen away, and taken the better half of her kitchen with it. Tobias, her fat, black tom cat, was very displeased. The food cupboard was full - but now it was seven stories too far away. Tsuke was fine with it because it meant less washing up (no sink) and the coffee machine was in tact, she now kept it in the laundry. A knocking at the door.

Tsuke smiled as she unlocked the door and opened it - her apartment was open to the world and she still locked her front door. On the other side of it was her friend Sarah, a short blond who never had enough time for anything but complaining about being busy and rushed. Sarah appeared to have been shot in the thigh.[/i]

Tsuke: Come in, Sarah. I'll dress that for you.

[i]Sarah gasped and collapsed on the floor - Tsuke didn't know how she got up the stairs, and it wasn't very practical to use a lift in an unstable building. Then she remembered that the electricity was down, as half the wiring was gone, but as it didn't apply to her, she had forgotten.
Calmly kneeling next to her friend, Tsuke felt her pulse and felt it die. Sighing, she went to the task of going through Sarah's stuff - there must be a reason why she climbed seven flights of stairs with a gaping wound. The reason was not found in her handbag, but standing in the doorway. A woman dressed in Givenchy holding a snooty little dog stood there. Tobias eyed the dog hungrily.[/i]

Woman: Get up, you pathetic whore. Don't stand in my way, I don't have time.

Tsuke: (standing) And who might you be?

Woman: Hareil. Angel of the Third order. Make me a coffee.

[i]Tsuke turned red and went to make a coffee for the Angel who Didn't have Time for Coffee. A confession that only the lord knew - Tsukeume hated the Higher Order. After being an underdog of the heavens for six thousand years, she was sick and tired of making coffee for angels a third her age and experience, just because they kissed the right cheeks.

Tsuke was a spy for heaven - she had been placed on earth for an indefinate amount of time to live a human life, writing reports every month and sending them back to base. Ever since the written word was invented, she'd not seen or heard from another haloed soul. Until today. [/i]

Hareil: So I've been sent here to tell you what's going on. I've got a lot to do today so I'll be brief.

[i]Not brief enough to stop Tsuke realising the temper - being sent out to talk to the lowest of the low was a severe insult. Third order wasn't that high, but it was high enough to get snooty about.[/i]

Ok, basically, Mephisto, Diablo, and Baal are out - and killing everything. As you can see, they're doing a good job of it, so angels - any angels - have order to trigger man's second essence to help fight the battle. Angels are very outnumbered, you see, and -

Tsuke: Second essence?

Hareil: Yes, basically you envoke their back up strengths. You've been around a while, you should know what I'm talking about.

Tsuke: I know what you're talking about, but I'm just surprised. Wouldn't we save that for the apocalypse?

Hareil: This is the apocalypse, my dear.

Tsuke: Oh...

[i]Looking out the gaping hole in her home, the veiw suddenly looked a little brighter.[/i]

Hareil: So, you know what to do? Any questions?

Tsuke: Why?

Hareil: Why what? Why help? Why not? You're an angel, aren't you?

Tsuke: I don't really want to be, but I've never been asked before.

Hareil: ...right. Well, I don't really care what you [i]feel like[/i], you've been given orders, so you have work to do. I've got to go, you're number 34 in 987 that I need to see today.

[i]Hareil stands to leave and calls for her dog, which has wandered off. Tobias is no where to be seen, and Tsuke smiles to herself. A paralell in nature is to be found today...[/i]

Hareil: Pookie, where are you?

Tsuke: You know what I hate?

Hareil: Excuse me? Go look for my dog.

Tsuke: I hate people who think that their better than me because they have a better title. I hate you.

Hareil: Why are you saying this?

[i]Tsuke walks forward calmly, staring this angel in the eye. She knows god is watching, and she doesn't care. God watches, but never sees. And after millenia of not being seen, she is beginning to take advantage.

Moments later, Tobias emerges from the bedroom, looking fat and dragging something in it's mouth. The hind leg of a dog.
He looks up to see his keeper with something in her mouth, the face of a woman, who jerks suddenly and then goes still. His master's face, coated in blood, looks satisfied. She has copied him in his evil ways, and for someone as holy as her, this satisfies him greatly.

Hareil's rich, magnificent aura seeps out through her mouth and into Tsukeume through the eyes, as the woman's body goes limp and crumbles into damp ashes. On the downside, 987 angels will have to find out the hard way about what's happening to this world. On the upside, Tsukeume is hundreds of times more powerful, and finally ready to use it.

On her way to the bathroom to wash her face, Tsuke kisses Tobias goodbye. The magnificent feast he has slain for himself is now no comfort as he sees his love walk out of the new door and drop, black wings spreading and waving him goodbye. A quick look in the bedroom reveals that she didn't forget her trenchcoat... the knowledge of the last glimpse of her drives him to such depression a cat has not known before.[/i][/color][/font]
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Tao walked through the halls, pushing the girl out of his mind to focus on the task ahead.
Oddly enough, though, the entryway was empty, devoid of any life, natural or unnatural, aside from Tao himself.
'What the Hell is going on,' thought Tao, unnerved by the lack of opposition.
He pushed open the double doors at the end of the entryway and saw a horrible site.
Human corpses littered the ground as a multitude of demons feasted upon the putrid flesh. The monsters completely ignored Tao, focused entirely on the macabre buffete.
'The inferno tactic should work again,' he thought, forming another small fire above two fingers.
He flung the fireball into the midst of some zombies, and the one hit instantly burst into flames. The fires quickly spread to the other undead, as well as the still-dead. The room was swept into a great inferno as the flaming beasts crashed into one-another.
Suddenly, a massive roar was heard, eachoing in the lobby of the office building.
"WHO DARESSSS TO SSSSLAY MY MINIONSSSS!" it bellowed.
Tao whiped around, his sword slicing through the head of a demon. A massive demon stepped through the flames. It was at least 10ft. tall and clad in rusty, warped armor. It held a massive sword in its scabby, taloned hands.
"CHOO HAFF DARED TO ENTER MY LAIR, CHOO FOOLISH HOOMAN?" is snarled, in its odd accent.
"Who are you?" said Tao, backing up a bit. "Are you one of the Primevals?" he asked. 'I'm not ready for this,' he though.
"I AM NOT VUN OF ZE GREAT PRIMEVALSS! I AM MERELY A LOWLY CHENERAL TO ZER GREAT POWER!" it said. "FOR CHOUR CRIMESSS, CHOO SHALL PAY VIT CHOUR LIFFE!"
It slashed out with the massive sword, but Tao easily dodged the slow swing. The blade crashed into the wall, causing plaster to fall from the rotting ceiling. The flames burned around them, some of it creeping up the remains of the paint on the walls.
Then Tao remembered. The demons hadn't gone through the entryway. If he could reach the door...
Suddenly, a flaming beam fell in between Tao and the demon. He took the chance and rushed for the doors, the demon snapping out of its stunned state.
"SSTOP HIM!" it snarled.
Demons rushed at him, but Tao cut them down. He jumped, lunging for the doors, and crashed through them.
The demons crashed into the door, and some burst into flames as they hit it. The major demon slashed at the door, but the sword was repelled by a strange force field.
As Tao looked at the door more carefully, he noted that the decorative beams running across the glass formed a cross. He looked up at the heavens, amused.
'Nice one, Big Guy.'
He would enter the place another day. For now, it was back to his base.
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[size=1]Saethi glanced out the window and focused down the street. There was someone down there, they weren?t demonic, that was for sure. Demons were less disconcerted?and they certainly didn?t stumble around like that?or live very long with dislocated arms.

?Aw damn. She?s heading here.?

Saethi scrambled up and snatched some protection, in the form of a Tactical 12 Gauge. He scrambled down the stairs, unlocking various steel doors as he went. The Mafiya was paranoid, not to mention he was as well. He could hold out from the police in here for years. If there was any organised police left.

There was a feeble ?thump? on the other side of the door. Saethi opened it and caught her, narrowly missing having his eyes stabbed out.

?Feisty little one aren?t you? If I didn?t care about the demons your bloody body would attract, I?d leave you outside.? Saethi didn?t bother to mask his heavy Ukraine accent, there wasn?t much point anymore. He grunted and pulled her inside, prising the knives from her hands. ?Of all the evenings to be a Good Samaritan.?

He kicked the door closed and sealed it tight. With the assault shotgun hanging behind him, Saethi lifted the semi-comatose girl up to each landing before carefully sealing each of the doors. Finally he reached the top and dropped her on a bed in one of the rooms. Then, as a final touch, he locked the wood-panelled steel door.

Another Mafiya touch. A prison-like holding cell for extortion cases.

With a sigh, Saethi dropped the shotgun and locked the gun safe before closing the metal shutters on the windows.

The safe house melded in with the other run-down buildings in the street, and Saethi drifted off to sleep, thankful for a little paranoia.
[/size]
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[i] Metatron paused in his foot steps, and cast his weary eyes toward the infinte red sky. Only a while ago, it was blue. Now, the sky was ashen, burned, and violated. He knew that high above past that grim sky was the celestial gates of heaven, but will that last....? He sensed that his brethren were coming down hastily, alerted by the presence of the three.... no... many of them were already down, working against the three, some subtly, some openly. Will they be able to match the three's hellish strengths and spells? Will they be able to calm the demons? Metatron turned his stare forward towards the distant horde, and murmured.

"Even if they can't, I can...."

He trudged onward. The demons in the distance grew clearer with every passing step, and he soon came to realize that there were not only lower class demons, but a type of an overseer, probably the one who performed the summon in the first place. Metatron smiled. Perhaps.

He walked straight in to the lion's den. He was so quiet, his scent so insignificant, his body so small, that none of the demons took note of him until he was right up in front of the overseer himself, which was busy consuming a cadaver. Metatron grinned, which sent a sudden chill through the horde. Eyes turned, fixing upon the lone childish figure. The Overseer was a hulking beast, with four over-large grotesque arms, and a large glaring eye. The Overseer stared down at the minute figure in front of him, and laughed a blubbering laugh. It pointed its grotesque fingers at Metatron, and on cue, the entire horde came rushing towards him. Metatron smiled jovially, and a sudden flash of light burst out from him, soaking the area. The Overseer cowered back, but found himself unharmed. Cackling madly, it again pointed its fingers at Metatron. But nothing. Looking around him, he saw that all his minions, or rather former-minions were staring at him hungrily. His eyes fixed upon the child before him with horror, and a moment later, was drowned by the sea of demons leaping for him, clawing him, chewing him, tearing his flesh off. Metatron turned around and walked away, and after a few steps, turned to make sure the overseer was dead, over-killed, and gone, then snapped his fingers. The demons evaporated, melting down into the ground. Metatron stretched his arms, content with himself, then yawned and walked off, to places unknown. [/i]
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[size=1]Elli groaned as the pain in her body became so much more intense -- like it had just found the right nerves. He eyes flicked open and she took in the room. It had a single door -- apparently wooden, but most likely not. Enforced, probably.

Her arm was still dislocated and bleeding, she noticed. Someone must have taken her in -- this had to be the safehouse -- but they hadn't bothered with helping her. She shouldn't have expected them to; after all, she hadn't expected anyone here, not really. It had been a hopeful dream.

A thought occured to her, and she checked herself. [i]She didn't have her knives.[/i] Where in the hell were they? The little shithead had taken them, hadn't he? Elli growled and launched herself off the bed, ignoring the stabbing pain in her arm.

'Hey,' she yelled through the door. 'Let me out. Now. I need my knives, and I need you to help me with my arm!' No answer. Elli sighed and walked back towards the bed. She did need his help with her arm, in all honesty.

To undislocate it, it needed to be held then popped back into place -- something that woud be most painful for her, in all probability. But nonetheless, if she wanted to be able to use that arm, she needed to put up with it.

Elli sighed. The stupid bum was probably sleeping. In her half conscious state, she hadn't seen anyone else, so it was altogether possible that he'd left the place unguarded.

Damn him.[/size]
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OOC: Sorry it's gonna be short cause i gotta work in the morning.

[i]Ratu looked up at the angel as he sheathed his sword and placed his weapons back into their holsters and nodded slightly biting his lip. As he searched for the words to say he smiled slightly and opened his mouth. The words formed in english but with a slight french tone to it.[/i]

Ratu: Father Thomas always said I had impeccable timing.

Kellnine: He sounds like a wise man. So where were you headed?

Ratu: (with a firm nod) That tower. I heard there was a portal there and i was looking for a way to close it.

Kellnine: Well I may be able to help. Lead the way.

[i]He nods and headed toward the obsidian spiral.[/i]
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[COLOR=royalblue][i]They stopped just before what looked to be like a huge steele. She raised her hackles, wings feathering out slightly. He gave her a look, slightly akin to terror. Ratu pittied the demon that crossed her path. He pointed up and she picked him up, in her strong arms. Arms that were smooth and firm, but not soft in the least. With swift strokes, she cleaved the sky and went to the very top. They stopped on the the balconey, and she took warry steps forwards, until they came to the portal...obviously not active at the moment, but all that was about to change. It glowed red in the presence of the angel, and she screamed in response.

He truend and looked at her, only to see her fully glorify before his shocked eyes.[/i]

"Power of the Great I AM come to me now!"

[i]Her eyes snapped from a clear honey gold into a sharp deadly silver, her sword flew into her palm. Her wings feathered out once more, growing huge, spreading to fill the space, pressing Ratu into the wall gently. Instead of dimming, her body glowed white and silver, flashing with the colors of the rainbow. And with the bloodsword, she impaled the portal. It glared black, then red, then black again. A dull moan filled the air, like a man slowly dying, and then silence. The portal vanished in a puff of red smoke and yellow sulfer. And it was still.

Very still. Her chest was heaving with the effort, and her teeth were bared. Far from representing the Mild, Meek, Still soft voice, she was wild eyed, sweating, halfway insane. The Conquerer.[/i]

"Lie in ruin...."[/COLOR]
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