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Bedlam

"I am the Dream of the Dreamer...."

0 · 567 views · located in THe True Earth

a character in “The Demon Hunt”, as played by Raidose

Description

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Race: Demon-Kind

Age: Antediluvian

ImageMortal Guise: It is a difficult thing to pin any single suit of flesh and skin onto Bedlam's form. Even his body of mortal meat is as malleable and often as amorphous as his apparitions. More often than not, he simply manifests solely in the minds of those who would view him, appearing to all passer-by as any other bipedal monkey. True, tho, that he does and can manifest into a solid, chewy state, yet still even that mound of quivering flesh and crunchy bone bends to his needs. An illusionist and a shape shifter in it's truest form, often having more in common with a phantom then these.... lesser beings. Still, must he choose, his preferred fleshy lie is that of a tall, well dressed Rockefeller from a later era. Often in the attire best fit for a ball or higher status social gathering, including an ornate cane and top hat. Other times, he appears a bit more like that of a Ringmaster from some form of monochromatic carnival. As always there is one general rule, just as he may alter the perception of those who view the waking world, so too may he twist and bend the perception of himself. Often, one form will bleed into the other...

True Form: Ah, the Gibbering Eternity itself! One's true skin in all it's malignant splendor! Bedlam's face is that of the incomprehensible, beyond the realm of sanity. It is not a truly physical thing, but rather a sentient nightmare. A body of pure, infinite black. It spans either the whole of the sky, devouring stars and moon, or leeks in through the shadows of the darkest corners. Solid and liquid, gaseous yet not, there is no way to describe the ever changing. He is known best for his Eye, a single, terrible Eye in the shape of a twirling star. Today it would be called a pentagram, having several misrepresentations, but in the oldest of times, this Star was the symbol of Dreams. And what precious, delectable dreams they were! Best devoured with a smile, twisting and heinous, which may span the endlessness of his form. However, just as his other shape, this one too is subject to change.



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Infernal Powers:
  • The Mad Infinity- Bedlam is, of course, a Demon of Madness. In fact, he is the oldest surviving one to date. As such, his abilities all center around aspects of the mind. To him, the waking world is but only a grand curtain, meant to be pushed aside for his magnificent shows. He infects dreams and pollutes them into nightmares, twists passions into obsessions, corrupts desire into deviancy, and warps rational thought into utter lunacy. Those who exist in his presence will find their perception of reality.... victim to change. Walls bleed, skies fall, stars burn the heavens, and the world comes crashing down around them. Of course, this is only in their minds. But if you hear it, taste it, smell it, feel, see, and believe it.... How can it not be your reality? His powers of madness may even infect demons, but only those of lesser rank than he.

  • Your Heart's Desire- No thought or want escapes his notice when it comes to the mortal mind. Bedlam need not see into your subconscious, for he breeds there. It is here that your gift of creation dwells, and it was he who granted you this gift. Suffice to say, Bedlam can easily gaze into your thoughts, memories, desires, and intentions. Even those you don't realize are yours...

  • The Psychosphere- Perhaps the greatest of his accomplishments is his unrestricted access to the Psychosphere, the ever-twisting subconsciousness of all humanity. The Collective Madness of Mankind, if you will. It is a realm of Dreams and Nightmares, where every joy, sorrow, hatred, desire, fear, and obsession dwell in eternal chaos. Lesser demons may tap into this hellspace, such as the Incubi & Succubi, but none may delve nor dwell here. None, except for Bedlam. As a eater of dreams, he too once only dipped into the great Dreamscape, but through desperation to survive, he long ago tore his way fully into this wondrous dimension of madness. Now, this place is his to roam, as a bird does the sky or a fish takes to the sea. Here, every human alive casts a Shadow of themselves, the recently dead still linger as Ghosts, and powerful, terrible moments in history still leave bloody Echoes to forever stain the heart and mind. It is through these shadows that he enters the mind, now. Possession is possible, but far too simple, too boring for his tastes. No, Bedlam prefers subtlety. Giggling to himself ceaselessly as to how he touches the minds and dreams of thousands of humans every day, driving them to madness. And while it is true that his Kindred do not leave such shadows within the Psychosphere for him to find, the Demon Hunters are as little more than any other monkey...

  • Mischief By Proxy- Bedlam plays the game of the survivor, and the best way to survive is to not be present at all. Thus comes one of the greatest of his tools; the Proxy. Through the Shadows of the Psychosphere, the Star-Eyed Demon slithers down into the minds of others and bridges the gap between the dream world and reality. Through this, he may act as though physically present, even manifesting his true power, so long as the Proxy remains within the nearby proximity. This is not possession, per se, as he has no actual direct control of the body who's mind in which he lingers. In fact, the Proxy often has no idea it's being used as such, though there are signs. Whispers, voices, a gruesome, meaty popping sound resonating from deep within one's head, as if something is burrowing deeper inside.... These are all minor, tho. More extreme reactions usually involve copious amounts of blood escaping from various facial orifices. Eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. It is not a flawless system, however. Should the Proxy be killed, Bedlams connection to reality unravels, his power vanishing as if it never were. Tho as the name suggests, this is rather harmless to the Demon itself. Proxies share no more connection with Bedlam than a pawn, to be used when convenient and discarded just the same.

  • True Illusions- Bedlam does not have the power to actually alter reality, but rather hide the truth behind a lie. As such, he is one of the greatest liars. Bedlam can project Illusions, usually via Proxy, so real, they fully seem to interact with our world. Should he wish, they even appear to have demonic auras, making it nigh impossible to tell the real from the false. And although he can not truly hide his aura, he can prevent the minds of others, even demons, from acknowledging it's existence for short periods. As briefly mentioned, Bedlam survives through elusiveness and trickery. He's managed to remain unnoticed by his own kind for eons. When it comes to hiding from the eyes of demons, there truly is none better suited.

  • Parasite of the Mind- Prey is hunted best at its food source. Any hunter or predator knows this. If prey truly wants to remain undetected by those higher on the food chain, it must adapt and find succor wherever it can. Bedlam has done just so. Strikingly similar to how the Demon Spirits of the Hunters survives by feeding from a single soul, Bedlam need not consume the mortal souls of others. His connection to the Psychosphere instead allows him to feed from the souls and minds of hundreds at once, unnoticed. Sipping, never gulping, just as the bound weaklings of the hunters do, but from many, many glasses. In truth, it is far from victim-less. As one might expect, the results of his feedings are.... unhealthy for one's mental state. Thousands of people are committed every single day across the Earth, and Bedlam is the cause for most of it. Not all, heavens no. You meat-monkeys are more than capable of driving each other batty without need of crediting him. Bedlam simply greases the wheels and watches the show...

  • Waiting, Slumbering, Dreaming, Festering...- There is one, and only one, way to call one's self a true survivor. Cheat death. The prolonging of life and the avoidance of destruction at any cost. Doing whatever you must to persist against your enemies, and prevent your own extinction. So Cometh Thy Host. Hosts are not Proxies. Hosts are different. Hosts are special. Only one may be chosen at any point, and Bedlam is very particular about whom so he chooses. He reaches into their minds directly, delving deep into the dark crevice between thought and memory, and their he leaves his mark. His infernal touch corrupts, pollutes, and rots away a nice little home for him, a safe haven should the worst happen. It is a deep link between the mortal meat and he, ensuring an all-but unbreakable connection. Their mind may bear this hellish taint for some time before it starts to falter, falling into a deep psychosis. This bond weakens Bedlam dearly as the Host degrades, and should one never be used, he must discard it before too long and seek another. The reward is safety. Should Bedlam's demon-form be destroyed, his demonic essence will refuse to dissipate. Instead retreating to that dark place he made within the Host to be reformed, rebirthed anew, and eager to crawl out and back into the Psychosphere for protection. There is a terrible cost to this, however. As said, the connection slowly weakens Bedlam, and forcefully severing it is crippling to both parties. And should he be slain without a Host, or were the Host to be slain while he slumbers within, well.... There is only so much one can do against the inevitable. It should be noted, however, that Hosts are rarely willing.

  • Demonic Trickery- As practically all of his kind, Bedlam possesses the staples of infernal power. Minor telekinesis, vocal mimicry, clairvoyant visions of the near future, pyrokinetic abilities, the ability to project an aura of fear and dread, able to speak any language that has ever existed forwards or backwards, etc etc.




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Fell Gifts:
The King In Yellow- But what could this be? To mortal minds still shackled by the bindings of the rational, it is but only a bundle of aged, yellow rags, swaddling nothing in the slightest. Perhaps someday you will let your eyes be opened....

Thine True Name:
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Feeding Habits: As mentioned above, Bedlam does not consume souls entirely. Rather, he corrupts the mind and feeds from the soul's torment as his succor. Sociopaths, psychopaths, the demented, the paranoid, the majority of most lunatics are simply fine dining to him. Like his namesake, Asylums and Sanitariums make for excellent feeding grounds.

Dreams, Desires, & Depravity: There is a Great Game at play, children. A marvelous, magical game for the souls of you all. It is a game that's been played since time began, since the Earth first cracked into a sea of Fire and Brimstone at the banishment of the Luminant One, the Enlightened. It is a game that must end. But what is it that Bedlam, sweet Bedlam, wants from the game? Only to ask a single question. Why must it end? This world, so chaotic and colorful, is full of wonders and endless entertainment. The plight of mankind in the face of ceaseless temptation, to bear witness as they all buckle under the weight of their own Sin. A delight to behold for endless eons, to be sure! Why, then, must it end? The humans, forever enjoyable to watch scurry, fight against their masters, these Demons that shackle their lives. They want so dearly to be free of them, but they never will. Humans can not succeed, it is in their nature to fall.

So the Bonny Brothers & Sisters of Bedlam are destined to win this game, then? It seems inevitable. But what would the world become then? If greed, lust, wrath, pride, gluttony, envy, and sloth were to hold unquestioning dominance in their lives? If avarice and chaos befell them completely? The world would descend into madness, surely. Beautiful, wonderful, delightful madness! But... would it be beautiful? Truly? Does not beauty shine best in bitter contrast of it's opposite? In a world of Madness, would not the Mad be the Sane? Would Chaos not become the new Order? Humans would be bound by their sins, doomed to fall to the same kinds over and over again. No will to fight them, no pressure to break free. The same, eternal, never ending cycle to repeat ad infinitum until the sun dies. The world would be so very.... boring. What reason, truly then, would someone the likes of Bedlam ever want such a world to emerge?

No. The Game Must Continue. And it is time that Bedlam, too, played his hand in it.

Marvelous pieces have been made by the humans. Dark-souled orphans filled with broken angels, to fight his Infernal Divine kindred. Yes, magnificent pieces, indeed. Not enough on their own, no... Not at all. They are few in number, and still are made but from humble, chewy, stretchy flesh. In time, they will die, whilst the Demons are forever. But if the proper moves were made, the right words said... A foothold. A pause in the ever-marching Machinations of Fate to halt the inevitable... The prolonging of the Great Game. Yes. These pieces will do nicely. And so it stands that Bedlam goes against his darling daemon kind. In odds to make an untrusting and bittersweet "alliance" with the man-made monsters to spill the blood of his Brothers & Sisters. Like all demons, he has his own devices at work, but all his plans, all his games, are hinged crucially on the success and manipulation of these.... Demon Hunters....

The Fun And Games Must Continue.




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Ancient Knowledge: Nowhere, in even the most Ancient of Tomes and Manuscripts is it written of a Demon bearing the name of Bedlam. However, there is scant references to a similar being from times as ancient as Babylon. A Great Dream-Eater, Harbinger of Madness and Deceit, Ghul'Naziel plagued the lands for hundreds of years, eventually spreading to the Kingdoms of Israel. As it is written, he was one of the Seventy-Two Great and Terrible Evils to be bound and destroyed by The Key of Solomon, but history is often mistaken. In truth, the Demon Ghul'Naziel had foreseen such a fate. Desperate to escape such shackles, he turned to the only realm he knew to be beyond any man or demon's reach. The realm through which he fed, now his only salvation. Countless days and nights did he assault the barrier between worlds, bleeding his soul as one would their knuckles against a wall, till finally the barrier gave way.

Nearly all Great Demons failed to escape the Key, but Ghul'Naziel succeeded. The price for this was.... dire. His power was shattered, his being in ruins. He drifted softly through the dream as only a fragmented memory, seemingly destined to be forgotten. Slowly did he regain his taste for dreams, and through strange eons learned to culture such hunger into a sophisticated form. Through our thoughts and dreams he watched the world, seeing those of his kind powerful enough to resist the Key brought down and crippled for their defiance. They escaped the bindings, only to succumb to the Natural Selection of Demon-Kind. Ghul'Naziel now knew his destined fate should ever he be found, and so stayed in the dream world. Slowly, much too slowly, his power and memories returned to him. He sees the world today, and how the Game has evolved. He sees what is to come, and wants none of it.

He has maintained touch with our world, through our dreams and those without sanity. He attributes himself to inspiring all great artists and works of creation, for such things can be born only from mad thoughts. Indeed, he never truly left this world, but this is his first true emergence in little under three-thousand years. Ghul'Naziel, Bedlam, is a powerful demon, to be sure. However his slothful grazing has left him vastly outclassed by many of his kind. His skills in mischief and knowledge of his Kindred's plans make him indispensable and dangerous to their Grand Designs, but his own schemes would fall terribly short were he to rely solely on himself. And so come the half-soul Demon Spawn of Eisenhorn. Yes, such perfect pieces... Now, how to proceed with introductions?


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So begins...

Bedlam's Story

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Character Portrait: Bedlam
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#, as written by Raidose
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You have to understand.... It all looks so different here. Things are... so solid. So symmetrical. Inanimate. It produces this odd longing, a queasiness within. Motion sick? No. It was the lack of motion, the lack of... life. The sky, the buildings, so sharp and clear it causes actual pain to comprehend them. Delicious, stabbing pain. This.... this was reality, then? It had been so long.... A distant, sleepy memory. Now here it stands, no shapes or shadows to blur and distort it, no fading thoughts or faulty perception to contaminate it. No memories, no emotions, no dreams, no screams.... How terribly boring. This world needs me....

"It's so good... To breath again..."


The alley ran rank with decay, both figurative and literal. Garbage stacked high, quivering gently as the vermin infested within. Pestilence hovered thick in the air as the door opened, a thick, meaty hand tossing out another black bag of plastic rot. Mana from Heaven to the rats. How lesser creatures depended dearly on Greater Beings... This man, this King of Trash... Oh, how wonderful this man was. So dutiful. His job was simple, get rid of all useless filth. Oh, but he did so much more. Above and beyond, indeed. Much more so than the doctors asked of him. This man, this magnificent man extended his janitorial duties to the lowly, lifeless, useless human wastes which huddled for warmth in the alleys outside. Such disgusting creatures.... Surely, they too were garbage of the worst kind. They too deserved new homes in plastic bags, food for the rats. When the spirits ran high but failed to silence the voices, this man gave them such new homes....

Truly, the most admirable and proactive of janitors. The door closed with the clank of locks and the jingle of keys. Heavy footsteps trod the halls as the white coats heeded their orders from the voices in the ceiling. A room, and a number. Two-nineteen. The door opens to a sickly hag, choking for breath as the plastic snake crawls down her throat. It gives her life. She depends solely on it to survive. How.... useless. The voices agree, don't they? No... not yet. Soon, but not now. Empty the bins, lock up the room, and remember to take the medicine you were given. Do as the white coats tell you... The medicine poisons him. He knows this. He stopped taking their poison some time ago. He stopped trusting the doctors, the voices tell him so... He leaves the room, but something... lingers. Some weight has slipped from his mind. It is in the room now. Lock the room. Never come back....

Beeping monitors, hissing respirators. This is the sound most people hear as they die. This is the sound Bedlam heard as he was born anew. The sterile florescent light flickered sickly. A black ichor slowly leaking from the ceiling. Drip, drop, drip, drop. The blackness on the floor quivers.

"Is this how the world feels now? Cold... Greasy... Filth-ridden... Ich liebe es."

The woman's eyes strained in horror. The blackness rose from the floor, a body of primeval ooze. It grinned at her.... The beeping began to race at alarming speeds, her skin paled a deathly shade as a black hand reached over her. The blackness shushed her. The beeping stopped.

"Only dreams now, my dear... Your father is waiting."

Shouting followed frantic footfalls outside the door as it soon burst open. Doctors and nurses practiced their foul technological witchery in attempt to defy death. These little creatures had no right to rebel against such things... It left a mirthful smile upon his lips. A weary-eyed nurse gawked momentarily, her sleep-deprived brain telling her that shadows were moving about the room. Such things were ridiculous. Of course. The shadows could not move! They had already left. Such a big, bright world to see, and so many marvelous things to do. No time to waste here, none at all.

And Now The Fun Can Begin....

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lance Hellsbrook Character Portrait: Zero Aidan Peters Character Portrait: Daisy Defoe Character Portrait: Danny Powell Character Portrait: Rue Heslin Character Portrait: Bedlam
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#, as written by Raidose
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It did not take long for the walls between Dreams and Reality to lose meaning. Was he truly immersed in this world, now? Had he ever fully left the other? No... he could never leave his home, his cradle. Even now, as false skin stretched tightly over crawling darkness, shielding him from the vindictive glare of the ever-judging Flaming Eye which dwelt above, his hands reached out over the twisting nether of Dreams. Ever so lightly did his touch brush against the teaming masses, causing their endless cacophony of wants and desires to flood his sense. A screaming tide of ceaseless whispers. As always, he loved every single thought which barraged him. Spectral, spindly fingers traced out, looking for..... Ah.... Them.... Young minds, and young thoughts. All with the briefest whiff of.... corruption. The squirming, wriggling plight of his bound Brothers & Sisters within their tiny chests. Had some of these pets grown use to their cages? How.... fascinating. He was not unfamiliar with these tiny beings. In truth, he had tasted their dreams for years. Yes, he had known them for their whole lives.... Ever since their souls were hollowed out as vessels. He adored their creation.

So youthful...
So prideful...
So Fragile...

So....
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Oh, how he longed to meet them. At long last, see them with his own senses. Watch them fight. Watch them kill. Watch them bleed.... What adorable little monsters Man did make. Yes yes... Introductions needed to be made. But how best to greet them? To show thine self to these gleeful murderers? Mmmmm..... Balloons. Yes, Balloons.... Only one was late to the party. Well, one that mattered anyway. Not all were perfect. No, not for what was needed. Wanted. Desired. The Children; The Hunters, were not oblivious to the subtle shuddering of their surroundings. No, how could they be? Such keen senses... The air slightly blurred. Sound muffled. Time slowed. All so slightly, it could hardly be noticed even by them. But noticed it was.... Outside their viewing glass, in the plainest of sight, there was a gathering of children where once there was not. They crowded and smiled, with merry, mirthful faces around a very small push-cart, with a very tall man, haloed with a very big cloud of balloons. So colorful and bright, they all did float! Yes yes indeed, they all float. They float, and bounce, and dance, and bob.

The man wore a long, twin tailed coat, and a black & white striped shirt underneath his suspenders. A quaint little bow around his neck, and a tall, funny hat upon his head. His eyes looked tired, yet were wide and alive. He grinned at the hunters with a big, off-yellow smile, and cheerily waved them over. Quite a scene, yes, quite a scene this would be! Yet not a single adult's notice did he draw. How strange and bizarre this would be, but the people walked right past him without a care. Oh, but the children were so happy! Won't you come and join? Bedlam, good Bedlam, was true a demon, sure as can be. But no fool would ever live as long as he... He knew full well that these special children, these Hunters could see the world through their Demon's Eyes. The little caged birds, wingless, flightless things, would tweet and chirp their warnings were they allowed to see. So Bedlam pulled the cloth over their cages. Hush now, sweet birds. No surprises should you spoil! Show not me for what I am, or else your bones I shall boil.... So now, without their knowing, the little birds saw the world their human hosts were showing. A tall man, eerie and bizarre, but no more than a man thus far.



What a joyous day! Come out and play! Oh please, won't you come and join?

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lance Hellsbrook Character Portrait: Zero Aidan Peters Character Portrait: Daisy Defoe Character Portrait: Danny Powell Character Portrait: Rue Heslin Character Portrait: Bedlam
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#, as written by Zalgo
Daisy

It was sometimes tough being a telepath. As she followed along she couldn't help but overhear some of their thoughts, a number of which were fairly private business. First Zero and then Danny were both thinking about their parents, that much she could discern. Thankfully her telepathy wasn't all too effective, only really giving her glimpses of what they see when they imagine or remember something vividly enough to appear prominently in the conscious mind. It made it hard to think sometimes when she was in a crowd. It was like trying to hear herself talk at a packed train station.

Then there was Rue, someone who worried her at the best of times. It was as if everything she said had a sinister undertone given the strong emotional impression of blood lust she picked up from her. If a fight with a demon were to ever break out in a busy area she'd have to try and end it fast before Rue could get out of hand. Easier said than done though given Rue's ability to teleport. Daisy felt she was easily the slowest member of this group of demon hunters given how her speed was not superhuman like most and her only other form of alternative travel moved slower than she did by foot. Not that being able to fly wasn't handy. As far as she knew she was one of the two people in current company who could fly, the other being Lance.

She couldn't help but respect Lance and even admire him a slight bit. Being an elder demon hunter he represented a certain age and maturity she aspired to. Too eager she was to leave behind her childhood and become an adult so she could better combat the demonic forces that threaten humanity. He seemed to be handling himself quite well despite being ridden by Rue all the way into the fast food restaurant. Unlike the others his thoughts were fairly upbeat and calm. She couldn't help but wonder how he does it. He was kinda cool.


When they entered the joint Rue insisted on sitting at the edge of the table, just across from Lance. Daisy seated herself right beside Lance because the last place she wanted to be was right between Zero and Danny. Those two competed over everything and having them trying to best each other back and forth through her was a larger nuisance than she was feeling up to taking on. She wasn't particularly jumping at the thought of sitting right by Rue either. As it was the girl was likely thinking of something mean to spite her with, there was little need to provoke her any more than was necessary.

As for Zero's demon sitting by her wasn't too bad. She was occasionally mischievous but overall a fairly steady person for a demon. With her thoughts on demons she wondered where Connor had been this whole time. A number of the other demon hunter's demons were visible even if not all of them could manifest physically but Connor was nowhere to be seen. The truth was that he was lurking inside Daisy, refusing to come out and hang around the others.

Hey Connor, I haven't seen you out this whole time. Don't you want to spend some time with your buddies? She attempted to rouse him from his hiding, bugging him like she usually does.

"No." He answered curtly, not particularly amused by her light-hearted chiding.

Aw, but you should really take the time to learn more about your fellow monsters. You need to work together with them ya' know?

"I know them well enough."

Oh really? Tell me something interesting about them then.

"Like... ?"

Something about Anna? Name something she likes.

"She likes... Hm..." She could hear Connor straining to come up with something. It wasn't as though any of this could be heard though as it was all mental.

"... Being physical?"

Daisy could only barely contain her laughter, covering her mouth so she didn't erupt into guffaws out of seemingly nowhere as far as anyone could see. She didn't want the others to think she was actually crazy even though the way she was acting even then was rather strange looking.

THAT'S the best you could come up with? Wow. You really haven't gotten to know these demons at all.

Connor remained in silent protest to his host's suggestion.

Fine. I won't force you to come out right now. Just know that you're a real stick in the mud.


After her internal banter with Connor it was time for them to order their food. Everyone else's selections sounded so tempting however she had been keeping herself on a diet, making sure to count her calories so she'd remain fit for fighting demons.

Lemon chicken burger sounds sooo appetizing. Ooooh, a vanilla milkshake! I could just die for one of those. She languished her decision but her will prevailed. "I'll just have a diet cola." She weakly ordered. She did just have breakfast not too long ago. She knew if she filled herself up on junk food she wouldn't have room for lunch later and it'd throw her nutritional balance off scale. She had always been regulated as far as training and diet was concerned, she was determined to maintain her routines for the sake of battling her natural inclination towards apathy. She knew if she started making exceptions here there would be no bottom to how far she'd slip.


She had brought her laptop out and was playing a quick game of Agar.io while she sipped her drink, halfway paying attention to what was happening on screen while she listened to what her fellow hunters were talking about and just generally trying to be part of the conversation.

When Danny had his thoughts on his parents she noticed his turning invisible. She did on occasion worry that Danny and Zero would some day do something that would draw public attention to them all. It was something she made sure to remind them of from time to time. "You do know people other than us can see you disappear like that." She stated in a matter of fact kind of sense more than anything else.


She glanced over through one of the restaurant's windows overlooking the street next to the basketball court not too far down and was witness to a strange sight indeed. A man who she swore she would of seen approach given his appearance but never did. The eccentrically dressed fellow next to the cart of balloons surrounded by kids seemed to be... Beckoning them?

Then it struck her. The children that surrounded the man out there didn't have thoughts. Out of the slurry of telepathic feedback she could discern from outside none of it originated from any of the kids that gathered. It was unnatural to say the least. Weirdly however the man did not have a demonic aura, at least not one visible to her. Why then... What's going on?

Closing her laptop she put it away in her backpack and picked up her soda, walking over to the window looking out to the street where the man was trying to call them out. She looked out, taking a long sip of her soda while looking hard for what was out of place.

"Something's wrong here."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Barnabas Character Portrait: Lance Hellsbrook Character Portrait: Zero Aidan Peters Character Portrait: Dorothy Blue Character Portrait: Daisy Defoe
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"Blue!"

Dorothy would have heard that voice from a mile away. She remained motionless with her gaze still glued to the ground, but her hidden smile grew wider the further he approached her.

"Bassy," both she and Siem said at once, Dorothy sounding pleasantly surprised and Siem sounding like this was the last person he wanted to see. Barnabas marched right up to her and began to scold her as per usual, which she took happily with a grain of salt and a nod. Tilting her head up, she felt her chest become lighter upon simply seeing him. She saw past his confident smirk to the one who lay beneath and offered a little grin, "Unwin. Good morning."

Dorothy liked Bassy and was one of the very few who did. In missions they would often pair off together, not only because Dorothy's power of seeing someone's most traumatic memory and Bassy's power of creating illusions were a match made in Vanguard heaven, but also because they both didn't believe they needed the others. With her being too nervous around people because of her powers and him generally being an ass, it was only natural that they'd fool themselves into believing that. Dorothy placed her trust in Bassy the same way anyone would put their trust in the grass being green.

"... My, your demon must be turning into a big old softie.”

Dorothy's smile dropped immediately and she looked guiltily away, knowing that one of the reasons Siem didn't like Bassy was because he constantly bit away chunks of the old demon's pride. However, she also believed that he didn't like him because they were too alike, something they both would never admit to. Siem sighed and Dorothy could picture him exasperatedly flipping his hair the way he always did.

"This child," he muttered, "I don't understand the connection. He has a terrible influence on you."

"... You don't understand a lot of things, Siem..." she whispered, frowning slightly at the demon calling Bassy a bad influence, when obviously he was the worst. She gasped as Bassy suddenly pulled her in towards him, not expecting the gesture, but nothing happened. Her face flared up and she buried in in her sleeve, still uncomfortable with being so close, but reassuring herself that it was fine. Trying to distract herself from her headache, she glanced down and nodded excitedly at the prospect of being told a story. Bassy told his stories so passionately she could almost see it happening around her, or maybe that was just his illusions. Maybe he could bring the book she attempted earlier to life? Bassy guided her through the crowds and she tried her best to avoid touching anyone else. He was doing a good job at making other people steer clear with all the pushing and shoving and whatnot. This behavior wasn't exactly unlike him, Dorothy didn't like to admit, but it wouldn't happen without reason. She then noticed the limp.

He's hurt, she pointed out to Siem by thought.

"Your ability to state the obvious never ceases to bore me, doll."

... Um... am I being used as a walking stick?

Siem inhaled deeply and began in a drawl, "It seems that his own needs come before his consideration of your reluctance to touch others, which is not out of character for the proud little snot. Use this empty head of yours for something and think. Has he ever asked you for anything?"

Dorothy unfortunately didn't have to think for long on that one, but she didn't want to think badly of Bassy. He must have just forgotten. That's right. She scolded her demon and removed Bassy's arm from her with a barely audible, "No thank you." As soon as the source of her nervousness was gone, she could already breath easier. As they approached Chickburgerz, something caught her eye to the right. She stopped walking and looked over at a man. He was a strange looking man surrounded by children sporting balloons. This man seemed to be beckoning over at the window of the fast food joint and nobody else on the street appeared to be paying him any attention. One of the children spotted her and waved, gesturing her over to him. She glanced at Bassy limping away just a little ahead of her to find he hadn't noticed that she had stopped yet, being the girl of little presence she was. She took a few sidesteps right.

"Don't do it, doll. That's a bad idea."

Dorothy froze. Her desire for a balloon dissipated and while she gave the strange scene one last lingering look, she realised something that disturbed her. She couldn't feel their emotions. Feeling under pressure, she ran up to Bassy and was about to tug on his sleeve when he swung around to her.

”Remember, be careful and stick close to me, ok? Bassy knows best.”

"Like hell if he does!"

"I know," she replied distractedly, ignoring Siem. At that moment, a figure sprang from a window out of nowhere and sprinted past them at such a speed it left Dorothy's hair in disarray. She stared after the girl as she teleported out of sight. "Was that... Rue?" Rue was soon followed by a blue haired boy that burst out of the entrance to Chickburgerz and dashed past them with not even an acknowledgement. "Danny...?" A familiar beeping sounded from Bassy's pocket and she winced, knowing full well what that tone meant. "... I wanted... I wanted to have a happy day..."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Barnabas Character Portrait: Lance Hellsbrook Character Portrait: Zero Aidan Peters Character Portrait: Dorothy Blue Character Portrait: Daisy Defoe Character Portrait: Danny Powell
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#, as written by Zalgo
Daisy

As she watched the strange man outside time suddenly slowed down dramatically. The thoughts around her were low hums. Tones and noises all stretched out to great lengths. At that very same moment everyone's phones rang. Zero had used his time manipulation to slow down time to a near crawl while they answered the call from HQ. She personally had pulled out her own phone and listened in to the instructions, looking back over at the projection from Zero's phone.

After the briefing she hung up the phone and put it back in her pocket. Thirteen Floors...

"It has to be. A nightmare tower... How appropriate for a nightmare demon."


And like that they were all off. She ran after the rest of them though she knew that she'd probably be close to last in arriving. Just as she exited the restaurant however she ran into two other demon hunters, Dorothy and Bassy. From what she could read Bassy felt just as cocksure as usual but Dorothy felt what closest resembled disappointment. Daisy often worried for Dorothy as she was the youngest demon hunter in the city and she had a demon who was, put simply enough, a jerk.

Though she was younger than her and less experienced Daisy didn't look down on her talents as Dorothy was a far better mind reader than her, easily putting her telepathy to shame. She knew that such potency was a double edged sword however, leaving Dorothy exposed to far stronger stimuli. Such magic could be dangerous in the wrong circumstances, hence why she often made sure to help out whenever she was around.


"Hey Dorothy, Hey Bassy." She greeted them both before coming up to Dorothy. |Is something wrong?| She telepathically spoke directly to her mind in an attempt at being mindful of her company. She didn't want to make Dorothy feel like she was being put on the spot in front of her peer. As much as she'd of liked to stay and hear Dorothy out however duty pressed her mind harder with every passing second. "Let's talk on the way. Don't want to keep the others waiting, especially Rue." She motioned for them to follow and started back on her way towards the tower.

She went fast to compensate for the fact that she was one of the slower ones in the group but she also made sure she wasn't too far from Dorothy. Even running most of the other hunters could outpace her easily but she always trained so she could keep up. That way if her powers ever failed her she'd have something to fall back to in such emergency. As for Dorothy she could easily get well ahead of her if she used her ribbons to pull her ahead however in a public street with people around she hoped she would use her weapon with discretion.


Eventually she arrived at Sky Tower, the building which housed Razakar. She stopped short of the door, looking around to see who else was here. Given her pace it was quite likely most of them were already here waiting for her to show. She didn't see Danny at the destination but that wasn't unusual given he was one of the few others who could go invisible. She was about to step in when she spotted the teleportation runes marked around the entrance. "Watch out for the runes on the door. We want to make sure we get through more or less at the same time." She warned others that might of been going for the entrance.

"Anyone see Danny here?" She asked in general, wondering if the others knew where he went. She hoped he didn't get stuck in there already.