((This is a revamp of a beloved roleplay from long ago. Please enjoy))

Greetings and Welcome! This is a supernatural/fantasy based roleplay that takes place in Modern Day New York City!

So, Humans live out their daily, non-chalant lives on the bleak planet of Earth, completely ignorant of the things that go bump in the night. But beneath their seemingly average existance, lives the supernatural realm. Creatures like Vampires, Werewolves, Demons, and all other sort of dark creatures living amongst them while mortals remain unaware. Their power is drawn from the mystical force known as the "Twilight", the source of all magical energies.
The reason for this peaceful co-existance is the supreme law known as the Balance, a sort of "golden rule" created to forbid the realm of these dark creatures, known as the "Dark World", to interefere with the "Mortal World". While they can interact with humans, they are never to reveal the Dark World to any mortal. They cannot harm or kill a mortal without severe consequences.
Those who break this law are brought to justice by those known as the "Shadow Keepers", creatures from every race within the Dark World who uphold the Balance and live by a strict code. They can only be born once their physical bodies die. So really, they never age. These Keepers answer only to the Council, the law and order of the Dark World. It was they who created the Balance several thousand years ago to keep peace between mortals and Dark Worlders from failing.

For a while, peace was maintained without any problem. Any trace of the Dark World that slipped into the open in the Mortal Realm was hidden and passed off in the elaborate, yet efficient method of "Tabloids". Yet recently there have been more and more violent incidents involving both Dark Worlders and Mortals. This sudden rise in activity has given the Council need for concern. Each Shadow Keeper was put on high alert. The Council knows more than they're sharing, yet what it is they won't reveal. Suddenly, Keepers from every corner of the Earth began mysteriously disappearing. Confusion and fear are left the wake of their absence. More chaos has begun erupting with no Keepers to uphold the law.

Rumor has it that an ancient darkness is awakening, a force so powerful it nearly consumed the world soon after its creation. It was defeated years ago by a mysterious force that banished it to Oblivion, a realm similar to Hell but devoid of light, sound, well, anything.....just a void of nothing.

The Council has decided to contact a former Shadow Keeper who had been exiled from their ranks several thousand years ago. To aid this individual, they have decided to put together an elite team to get to the bottom of this. Will you join the ex-Keeper or are you part of the sinister plot?


******
Here's a post to begin


Ashe stood outside the bar, "Crow's Nest",in the south-side of the Bronx, taking an occasional drag on her cigarette. She stood within the doorway as the storm raged throughout New York City, the rain falling an seemingly endless downpour. She long auburn hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, strands of her hair falling around her face. Her dark, emotionless eyes stared coldly out at the night. Her expression was a mix of boredom and irritation.
She wore a plain black tank, with some worn, faded jeans and leather boots. It was her usual night-shift at the Crow's Nest, a local bar for the Dark Worlders who liked to saunter about in the slums of New York City. These alleys were dangerous to roam by yourself, especially if you were human. Luckily, Ashe wasn't. Not anymore at least.
A witch, yes. But she hadn't been human in thousands of years. Born a human and lived like one for a while, still connected with nature and the spirits as her tribe had been. But her death at the hands of demons and revival as a Shadow Keeper kept her in this world, at the cost of some of her own sanity at least.
Since her departure from the ranks of the Shadow Keepers, she lived under this name to keep her past from catching up to her. The Legendary Pheonix died years ago. Ashe was nothing more than a shell of what she once was. But that was her choice. Why she chose to leave was never really explained to anyone. Only the Council knows. And she prefers it to stay that way.
"Hey, Ashe. Break's over!" she heard a voice say. She turned and her eyes turned the Manager, Grit. She doubted that was his real name. Truth and Illusion were mixed in the darkness of the underworld. He was a half-breed. Half-demon, half human. Which of his parents were human or demon, she never bothered to ask. In the Ancient Days, human and demon relationships were strictly forbidden. But since you really can't keep both worlds entirely separate forever, the Council eventually allowed them to be sanctioned. The main rule is to never kill or harm a mortal. Sex and kids are fine. So, it's almost like they can be humans....almost. But Dark Worlders are never given the privelage of such ignorant bliss. Much to Ashe's dismay.

She threw the bud of her cigarette down, and went back into the bar.
"Someone's askin' for you," Grit grunted as he started taking orders from the bar. He pointed to a booth at the far end of the room smoke-clouded, dimly-lit room. Demons and other Dark Worlders hung around, shooting pool, throwing darts, playing cards, and drinking heavily. Whatever suited their fancy.
Her eyes looked to where he pointed. She could see a cloaked figure sitting alone.
While her senses automatically went off, she hoped her gut feeling about who it could be was wrong for once. But damn her intuition, right when she approached, she knew at once who it was.
"Didn't expect to see one of you here," she said.
A Council Member.
"Please, sit....Phoenix," the figure said quietly and politely. He lowered the hood of his cloak to reveal a slightly aged yet handsome face. A Magus, the strongest sort of Warlock anyone could ever meet.
"Jarot Wrenrook," she said with a mock bow before sitting. "It's Ashe now."
"Right," he said with a smirk. "Fitting I suppose."
Wrenrook, while smug at times, was a pretty decent character. While she had a dislike for the Council, he was generally the only one she trusted.
"So, what brings you here? You can order your drinks at the bar, you know," Ashe said, leaning back.
"I doubt the glasses are really that clean," he laughed. Then his face sobered up.
"I suspect you heard of your brother's disappearance?"
Ashe froze for a moment then nodded quietly.
"I don't get the weekly newsletter or anything, but yeah. A few weeks back, when all this shit started," she said.
The Magus nodded.
"I suspected as much. Well, the situation is particularly worse than originally thought," he said. He was quiet for a moment, as if searching for the right words.
"The Council came to a tough decision, split mostly but by one vote. It is virtually understood by all that we need your help."
Ashe narrowed her eyes a little, confused and bemused.
"Really now? What? Your ranks growing that slim?" she smirked.
Wrenrook didn't reply immediately.
"It's no surprise that if you look back in our archives, you'll see that the Phoenix was one of the most powerful Shadow Keepers to uphold the Balance. You're resignation was a blow to our efforts, nearly a betrayel, yet could not be refused. You're fate remains unknown, even to our current ranks, as you requested. If anyone ever questioned it, we would simply say you disappeared. Only your brother knew of your decision."
He cleared his throat, then continued.
"Phoenix. We don't believe that Seraph was a victim. We believe he is behind this-"
"What?!" Ashe slammed her fist down as she snapped at him. "How the hell could you believe that?! You know Seraph. You were the one who turned us!"
The Magus raised his hands to hush her and to calm her.
"Calm yourself. We are not entirely certain, but there is evidence to support the claim,"he said. Before AShe could reply, he handed her a slip of paper with a symbol inscribed on it and a note.
'It Begins in the Ashes. Like a Snake in the Garden,' it said. It was signed with the symbol of a tribal serpant, the same symbol that Seraph had tattood on his arm. She touched her shoulder. It was like her's, in style.
She looked to him.
"I don't believe you," she said.
He shrugged.
"I didn't think you would. But you must help us, if you want to prove your brother's innocence," he stated.
He stood, looking to her for a moment before putting up his hood.
"We'll be back tomorrow night for your decision."
She looked to him, "I'll agree on one condition. I want ALL my powers reinstated. I know Seraph isn't behind this. Whoever is must be tough. I'll need all my strength."
He was quiet for a moment.
"I will discuss it with the Council. I'll let you know tomorrow night at 7, this booth. You will be receiving the assistance of others."
"I work faster alone," she said simply.
"Not this time you won't," he sighed.
With that said, he left quietly, disappearing into the storm.

Ashe sat there in the booth quietly, thinking about what he said.

((More details to be added as we go along!))
((An OOC Board will be added to help with references and basic facts about this type of roleplay like races, the Council, Shadow-Keepers, etc.))

War of Shadows (OOC)

A lone man ran through the alleys of the city. Sweet dripped from his brow and his neat suit was torn across the back. Blood and fear reeked from his clothes. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping him moving. His body guards were dead hanging from hooks in his apartment. The man stopped running for a moment and bent over to catch his breath. He wore what was ounce a grand suit but now was torn and covered in the blood of his men. His large stomach moved up and down as he struggled to catch his breath. The man flinched and gazed up when a piercing howl broke the rhythm of his breathing.
Lazik peered off the edge of a roof down at the man. His blue vision was distorted and focused in quickly on his target. His fur shifted in the wind as he scanned the alley for any witnesses. None.
The man turned suddenly to carry on running but a large splash of a puddle to the side of him stopped him. He saw the wolf stand up slowly in front of him. His teeth glinted in the subtle glow of a street light. His eyes glinted and the soft dripping of blood could be heard as it dripped off his paw.
Lazik walked towards the man and hoisted him up off the ground with an outstretched arm. “Your pathetic” He growled out “All the time you fought you could raise a gang without doing any hard work. Thought you could make it this far eh?”
“No I didn’t you’ve got the wrong guy there must have been a mistake I can pay you double just please do…” The man whimpered but was cut short when Lazik gave him a quick head but.
“Rhetorical question… I bet now you regret flunking those gym classes don’t you. You regret eating all that food and growing fat. But I know what you regret most of all and that is all the deals you done. Did you know every time you do a drugs deal or traffic immigrates into the country you are potentially harming someone. Yeah sure you made it far got kind of big hence why I am here to kill you but you got here by making money off the pain of others. I know Im going on here but it’s the demands of the employer. You destroyed there family because of your drug dealing and they want you to know it. To me this seems like a pointless reason to kill some one but we also had a number of other complaints. Shoot outs with local passers by. Pathetic and murder and rape. Its why Im not going to be quick.” Lazik spoke as clearly as he could but yet it was still rough and close to a growl.
“Hey hear me out man I can make you richer than you thought just…” He moaned before Nazer threw him at the alley wall and leaped on top of him. His claws slashed out at the man causing his flesh and muscle to tear like cloth. Blood sprayed into Nazur’s mouth and he let out a howl before he bit down into the man. He tore a chunk of flesh out of the mans neck and then spat it on the floor. He carried on ripping the body apart until what was left of the man was scattered across the alley way.
Lazik stood up and walked towards the alleyway exit “Pathetic mortals” He growled before he clambered up the building and started to make his way back to what he called home.

It had been awhile since he'd visited the Nest. Almost too long. Grit might have forgotten him. But it didn't matter. He'd have to re-appear eventually, just to keep his name flowing through the social circles. It amused him, these humans. They'd talk about anything and everything, given the chance. It was also one of the most annoying aspects of their kind. Their social behavior often puzzled the Demon but, as he was a being of very, very few words himself, it didn't surprise him. But Markai still wished for a little bit of silence every now and again, if only to listen to his own thoughts.

That's what home is for.

Markai grumbled to himself as he rumbled down the soaked alley, boots landing with a loud splash every time he planted them on the ground. The dark alley was deserted at this time of night, all it's usual denizens having fled from the rain. That also amused him, how they fled from something as simple as water. Still, he couldn't blame them; they couldn't will the water out of their clothes. He had it easy, Markai supposed.

Finally, he reached the Nest and stopped outside for a moment. Indeed...it had been awhile. The sign looked much more...antique than it had before. Of course, that was ten years ago, and the Nest had been less crowded. Nodding to himself, Markai took the water out of his clothes, fixed his hood, and stepped inside. Instantly, the smell of beer and cigars filled his nostrils. The cigars smelled good. The beer...not so much. He'd studied humans for a long, long time, and still couldn't figure out why the small beings liked alcohol so much. From what he'd heard, it only caused pain and suffering, not to mention splitting headaches and health problems. It just didn't seem logical.

Getting past the smells, the next things that hit Markai was the flooding of minds. It had been a long time since he'd had to block the mass consciousness of a large group of people. It took him a bit longer than a moment to set up his defenses. He was getting rusty. Shrugging off the telepathic blow, Markai moved slowly through the crowded bar, drawing more than a few odd looks and quizzical glances, and made his way to the bar. He almost sat down, then remembered the last time he'd tried to sit on a human stool. The result...not very pretty. So, standing at the bar, he motioned to one of the waitresses.

Blood… the scent wasn’t entirely unfamiliar, but it was the sensation of blood that had always taken James back. In a funny sort of way, blood had always been a part of everything related to the Shadow World for him. At times he had even thought himself some sort of pseudo vampiric man, of course this was all nonsense. This blood, however, wasn’t the scent of battle, or the sacrifice of life force for magic, this was the stink of murder.
The bodies themselves were in a fashion mutilated. Strewn up by hook and chain, ripped and torn viciously, and the crimson fluid stained the walls. The Watch was seeing into the situation, keeping the locals and FBI far from the crime scene till they could clean it up. Of course this wouldn’t keep the information from the tabloids, but then again, no one ever took them too seriously.
Various members of the Watch were doing their tasks, cleaning up the crime scene, mending and readjusting wounds on the bodies. Trying to make the whole ordeal an open and shut case of a homicidal attack. One gang trying for power by eliminating another.
Of course the head of this criminal syndicate was missing still, there were Watchman out looking for him. Shouldn’t be overly difficult to track, after all the being that did this obviously wasn’t human. James had already made note of unnatural claw marks upon the building, not to mention the tremendous strength used in killing these people, it simply couldn’t be another person.
From the back a Watchman appeared, he was bound by several medical bandages resembling the likes of a poorly made Halloween mummy then that of a man. Garnished with a long dark trench coat and a broad hat, the detective made his way closer to James, his voice a sort of hollowed tone. Like the man was in the next room and not standing next to the Marshal.
“The intel isn’t much. Drug traffickers typical New York archetype. The cleaning crew will handle the story, but the bigger question on your mind is who, am I right?”
James grinned beside himself.
“Did you figure that out all by yourself old friend? Yeah, from what the forensics could figure we’re looking at a big animal. They found hair samples that resembled fur, so were looking at Shape-Shifters of the fuzzy type.”
“I suspect that we have a vigilante. Of course once he is identified he will be taken in. One cannot kill a mortal, even the rotten ones.”
“Listen, I’m going to have to leave you this case in particular. There’s a big to do going on in the Council. They’re calling all the major reinforcements they can muster. I understand even the ’Keepers are in on this. They’ve already called in a lot of the sheriffs, they requested my personal hand. I’m playing body guard for the elites. My whole division is going to meat shield the special ops team they’re forming. Rumor has it they’re going to crack down on the big evil that’s been going around.”
The strange detective was silent for a few moments before answering.
“Well it’s not unusual. It takes a lot to kill a ’Keeper. The Council is afraid of anything that powerful, makes them feel mortal. So its reasonable really Warren.”
James gave a light hearted chuckle, before rising to his feet he had been crouched over a body to better examine it. His legs had started to cramp, besides the Watchmen already had this situation under control. He wasn’t going to help anything by finding details already known. A gloved hand ran through his short kept hair and was followed with a lofty sigh.
“Yeah well, I’m not looking to enjoy this one. Anything that can kill a ‘Keeper will make short work of my men.”

A man appeared before Ashe, seemingly crawling out of the shadows themselves. He appeared to be in his early forties, wearing a black cotton polo neck sweater and black slacks. His hands were folded behind his back and he stood in a very matter-of-fact fashion, glaring down at Ashe.

Markus Draklorne had arrived moments before, just as Jarot Wrenrook had left the premises. Like Ashe, Markus was suited to working alone, but he hadn't had a choice in this particular matter. He was being forced to work with her, but that didn't mean he had to like it. He looked down at her with an expression revealing the contempt he held for his new position.

"That blighter's right," Markus said darkly. He spoke with a heavy Southwest English accent. "You won't be working this one alone."

Markus didn't care much for introductions, but he decided that the woman with whom he would be associating should at least know what to call him. "The name's Markus Draklorne. As a Keeper you have probably heard of me." Markus' reputation was well known amongst the current ranks of the Shadow Keepers, but like the others, Ashe's absence of several thousand years remained a mystery to him.

With that, Markus turned and headed toward the bar. He sat down, hunched over, and tapped the oaken counter twice. The man behind it, Grit, made his way over and slung a dirty towel over his shoulder.

"What'll you have?"

"Scotch whiskey. On the rocks," said Markus, not looking up from the wooden countertop.

As Grit moved off to prepare the drink, the large, dark-skinned Markai sauntered up beside him. Markus rolled his eyes. Another one.

Still keeping his head down, Markus said to the demon, tiredly, "So, then. Have you also been assigned to the Council's clean-up crew?" The disdain was apparent in his voice.

A short glass, half-filled with the golden-yellow spirit, slid down the counter. Markus extended his fingers and curled them around the moist glass as he caught it. He rattled the cubes of ice for a few moments before taking a sip.

A waitress walked up slowly to Markai, fear evident in her eyes. She'd obviously never seen a Demon before. Not many people had, Demon's preferred to remain hidden. And they were good at it too, or most of them were. The few that weren't...well...they weren't among the living anymore. Markai had extra incentive to remain hidden. If you weren't part of the Hierarchy, you were an official enemy to every Vsy'Upi ("True One", the name for all Demons associated with the Hierarchy.).

Nodding slightly to the frightened waitress, Markai reached out with his mind, letting his consciousness touch the girl's. He let a flood of "Feel Good" emotions flow to her through their link. She seemed to relax, but not much. Huffing to himself, Markai spoke through the link. ~A water, please.~ The girl stiffened again, eyes wide. She shuffled off, Markai cutting off the link as she disappeared behind a corner. He then mentally turned towards a man clad in black sitting next to him. He couldn't see the man's face, and so instead tried a mental link. Slowly winding his way towards the man, Markai found his way blocked by a mental shield. So, he was a Keeper. Markai let his mental presence known, then retreated.

Shifting slightly, Markai only muttered three words, his deep voice resonating in his chest and throat. "Let me in."

Ashe was quiet after Jarot had departed, her lips in a frown and her eyes downcast in thought. Seraph couldn't possible by behind this! He would never dishonor his title or his duty, at least...he wouldn't the last time she had seen him. But people can change, mortal or not.

"That blighter's right," a voicesaid darkly sounded out of nowhere, shaking Ashe out of the depths of her thoughts.. "You won't be working this one alone."

She looked upon the figure who appeared so suddenly, her eyes darkened with the cloud of suspicion.

"The name's Markus Draklorne. As a Keeper you have probably heard of me," he announced, and Ashe got up from her seat at the booth, eyeing the Keeper as if she were studying him. Yes, she did recognize the name. Despite her lack of activity in Shadow Keeper affairs, she still managed to keep up with the happenings occuring in her former ranks. Markus Draklorne was a formidable Keeper, one whose reputation preceeded him.

When he went to counter, she followed him. Grit served him his drink before glaring at you.

"If you're done with your personal buisness," he spat, "get back to work! I don't pay you to sit on your ass!"

All Ashe replied with was a simple, cool glare. Grit knew nothing of her past. No one did. And she highly doubted he would ever dare talk down to her given her former reputation. But she let it slide. He was harmless, in terms of evil. And he was her boss...not that she was ever given a decent paycheck...but still, a job's a job.

Her attention returned to Markus, who had spoken to a demon seated next to him, not necessarily 'politely', but Shadow Keepers weren't exactly renown for their friendly demeanors.

"So, then. Have you also been assigned to the Council's clean-up crew?" Disdain tainted his voice.

Ashe looked at the demon carefully. Was he here for the same reasons? Tonight was going the be a long night. She looked back to Markus.

"So...Mr.Sunshine," she said with a cool smirk, "What...exactly did the Council say your assignment was?"

She was in no mood to play well with others, and she could tell by his expression he was not intent on it either.

Markus gave a sarcastic chuckle. "My mind is my own, demon. If you have something to say, then say it." Markus had felt the invasive mind probe coming from a distance and had blocked it from his thoughts. He was ill fond of such magic. Who knew what the demon would have uncovered had Markus let him inside?

Ashe came up to Markus then, and he turned his attention to her.

With an overly exaggerated groan, Markus sat up straight, stretching a little. He turned and looked at the woman who had supplied the rather ridiculous nickname. He grinned slyly. Oh, she was going to have to get used to his natural demeanor sooner or later.

"Well," he began, "they were about as vague as they usually are. Something about a man called Seraph and rising darkness and all that nonsense. I doubt I know any more than you do."

Markus gained nothing by hiding anything from his new partner. It was true that the Council had refrained from going into too much detail about the matter. Markus was of course aware of the recent happenings, and of the disappearance of Shadow Keepers around the world. There was something big happening, something beyond his own scope. Markus suspected the Council knew what was going on, but they gave him information on a strictly need-to-know basis. All he currently knew was that he was supposed to work with Ashe in an attempt to quell the rising dark force. He supposed that Jarot would explain the situation more fully when he returned to the Crow's Nest tomorrow evening. Markus had been instructed to attend as well.

"Unless there's something you can share," he added.

"Well," he began, "they were about as vague as they usually are. Something about a man called Seraph and rising darkness and all that nonsense. I doubt I know any more than you do."

Ashe was hardly surprised that the Council continued to refrain from revealing more information than absolutely necessary, especially when it could potentially compromise their objectives. And it seemed Markus was unaware that she and Seraph were siblings, a fact which also did not surprise her. When one joined the ranks of the Shadow Keepers, it was considered a necessity that he or she be free from all emotional links, including family, lovers, and friends. It was forbidden for Keepers to then form such relationships amongst each other while serving the ranks.

Ashe and Seraph were exceptions, only due to Wrenrook who changed them himself. He was powerful, even so long ago, and his orders were carried out. But it was kept secret, and thus only the Council was aware they were family.

"Unless there's something you can share," he added.

"No, that about sums it up," she gave a light, nonchalant shrug before sighing.

"I can see by your charming personality, you most likely did not volunteer for this particular assignment. Good to know the Council remains to be their ever-informative and understanding force of good in this world," she added sarcastically, pouring herself a shot of Jack Daniel's Whiskey before taking a shot. She didn't seem phased in the least, not even bothering to chase it. Not a surprise, for Keepers had a high tolerance of any sort of alcohol.

Markus took another sip of his own drink. "No, I certainly did not," he said.

If Markus had had his own way, he would have been out hunting down renegade Dark Worlders. But when the Council wanted something, they got it. But as a matter of fact, this particular instance troubled Markus. Normally, due his defiant and stubborn attitude the Council often bent their wishes, just ever so slightly. But not this time. They had been absolutely adamant. It wasn't the first occurrence of its kind, but it definitely was not an often one. That meant that whatever was happening was important to the future of both worlds as everyone knew them. Despite his bitterness, Markus could appreciate that. He, of all people, knew all too well what happened when such events went unchecked.

He took his third swig from the glass. The whiskey burned his throat, but in a pleasant way, as it went down. Its chilling temperature soothed him, as did its inebriating properties. "Well, what do you propose we do until Billy no-mates gets back tomorrow evening?" Markus said, forcing a trace of boredom into the question.

He downed the last of the whiskey. He slid the glass along the counter toward Ashe. "Oh, and fill that up, would you?" he said with a sardonic half-smile. "Scotch whiskey. None of that American piss," he added, referring to the Jack Daniel's next to the girl.

"Hurry up! They're gaining on us!" yelled a lesser demon thug as his pack made a hasty retreat towards a dark alley.

Sounds of paws and claws making contact with paved concrete echoed through the hollow corner as well as the occasional sound of metal trash cans being knocked over. It would seem that the pack was being chased by someone or something and by the terrified looks on their face, one could easily tell that it was something dangerous to their kind. The sound of a single gunshot echoed on the alley and one of the demons fell flat on his face, a bullet hole on the back of his head.

"That's as far as you vermin go..." uttered a fairly shrill yet obviously male voice from behind the demons.

A chain link fence stood in the way of the demon pack. As one of them attempted to climb over it, another gunshot resounded in the air, another demon adding to the death toll.

"What do you want from us?!" snarled one of the demons, confidence obviously not present in him by the way his voice sounded.

"Fairly simple..." replied the child as he finally came into the vision of the demons. "I want to end your pathetic existence..." he answered.

"We can take him! He's just a human child!" guffawed one of the demons to his pack.

"We can't! Don't you see what his companion did to Ursoc?!" insisted another.

Without a moment's hesitation, the demon who suggested to fight lunged towards Carl, claws and teeth hungry to spill some blood. But all of a sudden, something unbelievably fast whizzed past Carl and swiped the demon towards the wall, the sound of bones cracking as he kissed the brick barrier. The sounds of grinding metal and hissing steam came from the newcomer that had joined the fray.

"End them, Maria..." sighed Carl as he turned his back from the demons and walked out of the alley.

One violent minute later, all the demons in the pack were strewn about the alley, dead or close to it.

"Wh... Who are you?" gurgle one of the demon in his dying breath.

"Carl Quentin Travers... The boy who'll destroy every last of your kind..." replied Carl as he snapped his fingers, causing Maria to follow him.

Markai huffed loudly but, instead of probing further, he chose instead to listen to the human's conversation. His hood was still up, but he could mentally "see" them. He could feel their minds. They were...different than all the others here. Their minds were pulsating with energy, almost overflowing with power. All the other minds here were dark, blank, barely glowing. But theirs...their minds were bright, shining. It was beautiful. Well, to Markai it was.

Downing the rather large glass of water in one motion, he signaled for another and waited as the waitress from before came back. She looked less frightened this time. She seemed almost...calm. But she wasn't. Markai saw her mind racing, thoughts, doubts, fears flowing to and fro. He only had to probe the outer reaches of her mind to see it. She was still frightened, but had apparently taken control of her facial features. Impressive. Planting a fake smile on her face as she refilled his glass, Markai nodded as she slipped away back into the recesses of the kitchen.

Taking the glass in his massive hands, Markai continued to listen to the human's conversation. It was interesting, how they'd apparently been contacted as well. It didn't surprise the Demon, Wrenrook had a thing for secrecy. Turning slightly towards the two as the man finished speaking, he gulped the water and set the glass down. "We wait." And with that, Markai went back to looking into his water.

Ashe took another shot from the whiskey when he slid the glass along the counter towards her.

"Oh, and fill that up, would you?" he said with a sardonic half-smile. "Scotch whiskey. None of that American piss."

She had dealt with rude customers before, so she thought little of Markus's cold remarks. She chose not to reply with a witty retort, instead keeping a small smirk on her lips while she poured him a glass. Sliding it down to him, she contemplated his question. In all honesty, there was little they could do until further instruction.

"We wait," the demon said, answering the question himself.

Well, he had a point. There wasn't much other option besides that. Usually when the Council gave you an assignment, you're first task was to simply wait. Not something she was too thrilled about. She was impatient by nature, which sometimes led to wrecklessness. But then again, it had been some time since she was a Keeper.

"He's right," she added. wiping down the counters after a quick glare from Grit who wanted her to get back to work. After work she would head back to her apartment, which was located above an old antique bookstore. A good night's rest would be welcomed after the events of this evening.

"Oh, so you are a part of our merry little band," Markus said, turning back to Markai. Well, that was just great. As if having one partner wasn't enough of a hassle.

Markus had hoped for a better response from the two. Waiting was not a task he favored. If the Council deemed these events so important, why make them wait? Why not get underway immediately? But Markus had given up on trying to comprehend the Council's decisions. They knew what they were doing. That, or they were completely oblivious.

He took a long sip of his newly poured drink. The alcohol just wasn't doing it for him tonight. He stood and reached into his pocket. He retrieved a twenty dollar bill. Why Markus carried human money with him, he did not know. He folded the note in half and laid it on the counter to pay for his drinks.

"Then I guess we wait," Markus said, conceding to the others. He didn't really have anything to do in the mean time, anyway. He worked for the Council, after all, and this was his assignment. Performing other duties would be in violation of protocol.

Markus stepped outside, out of the stifling heat of the inside of the bar and into the cool night air. He stood under the overhang above the front entrance to the Crow's Nest, leaning against the wall. He had nowhere to go, no home to return to. He might as well wait here.

A distant, dull concussive blast floated down the street and arrived at Markus' ears. It was a strange sound, but one that Markus had heard before. He perked up as he noticed it. Then, a few seconds later, another one. Gunshots.

Markus scoffed. Mortals were so violent; a fact Markus couldn't understand. Why would creatures with such precious little life revel in the destruction of it? But Markus left the thoughts alone. Whatever was happening was not his concern. Let the humans murder each other.

Lazik launched himself across the roof tops. His claws scratched the tops of the buildings with each jump he made. A abandoned church came into view gradually. The lower windows were boarded up and green vines stretched up the grey walls. The church sat in one of the ghetto districts close to the city but far enough out of the way. Lazik paused for a moment to check the street was clear so he could cross the road safely and make a run for the church. A man with a bottle in his hand hobbled across the street before he fell over head first into a gutter. A ferocious grin spread across Laziks face as Nazer fought for control. Without thinking he leaped down into the street and landed atop the man. His teeth buried deep into his back. He tore at the flesh and ate what he needed before Lazik regained control. Lazik glanced around quickly to make sure no one saw anything but he couldn’t be certain. His arms reached down quickly and lifted the body over his shoulder and then head to the church.
Lazik came to a halt in front of the main door. He leaped up onto the roof knocking a block off and some tiles when he landed and struggled to get balance. A large hole at the far side of the roof was his entrance and he edged cautiously towards it and then dropped in. He had no need for lights thanks to his night vision. The rows of seats had been pushed to one side of the room and on the other side hung a long line of hooks hanging from the ceiling. Lazik carried the corpse over and hoisted it onto one of the hooks. The sound of flesh tearing could be heard as the hook caught onto the spine of the body. Quickly Lazik turned and headed for one of the churches back rooms.
The door hung on one hinge and the grey walls had cracks and mould growing on them. A nest of rags and carpet were bundled into a makeshift bed in one corner of the room. “Home ounce more” He growled quietly as he went and laid down on the rags. Lazik lay there watching the door and listening closely to the voice in his head that were telling him to feed. He shook his head roughly and placed one paw over his eye that was watching the door as if to try and drown out what he was being told. Darkness surrounded his mind as if drifted off to sleep.
A lone woman pressed herself against a wall on the corner of a street. Tears streamed down her face and her makeup ran. Her lip and her nose bled. She had watched as a creature fed on the man that had beaten her. The subtle glow of the street light was the only thing that kept her from screaming out when she saw the creature. She grew pale as shock kicked in and she just sat there breathing deeply as she tried to tell come to terms with what just happened in her mind.

"Oh, so you are a part of our merry little band," Markus said, turning back to Markai. Well, that was just great. As if having one partner wasn't enough of a hassle.

Ashe studied the demon as she had Markus, as if she were sizing him up in terms of skill. But she was wiser than to assume the limits of someone's abilities by such a unmerited factor such as race. She had met quite a few demons over the years, most rather disagreeable in terms of reasoning. But there were a few who aided the Council...she just never expected to find one here. It's not like Grit's Bar was a hospitipal setting for the likes of Shadow Keepers...especially considering most of the clientel were the sort who crossed the paths with the Keepers one too many times.

She saw Markus leave a twenty dollar bill on the counter for his drinks. Had she been in a better mood, she might have let him have a few on the house...especially since she was at odds with Grit and knew it would just piss him off. But tonight was just not a night where she felt too generous...especially for Council puppetts.

"Then I guess we wait," Markus said before leaving. Ashe was still unsure if she could trust him or not, but judging by the tone in his voice and the clear annoyance reflected in his eyes, she considered it to be a mutual feeling between them. One not to be mended with over such a brief conversation.

Her eyes turned back to the demon sitting so quietly and reserved at the counter. Ashe could sense he was not like other demons. Having been a Shadow Keeper for so many millenia, her senses were well-toned to damn near perfection. Then again, she had been living as a voluntary outcast for so long, certain aspects were a little rusty. But she still had little doubts of this particular demon.

"The name's Ashe," she introduced herself, but if Wrenrook had sent him, she knew he already knew that. "So, how long has the Council been pullin' your strings? Or is this charity work?"

She continued cleaning the bar. Technically this place didn't "close" until 3 a.m., but she wasn't scheduled to close and clean-up. Therefore, she was eager to get off her shift at 1:00, which was in about 15 minutes, allowing her some more time to contemplate Wrenrook's offer. But part of her knew she had accepted the moment her brother's name was dragged into it. She may not be human, not anymore...but she still felt human, at least partly.

Carl continued his hunt for demons in the already slowing streets of New York. There was an already marginal reduction in traffic and some roads have already lost it entirely except for the occasional taxi cab that passed by. As he turned around the corner of Levin, he smelled a familiar scent in the air. The smell of death and blood was close and it looked like this wasn't done by anything particularly human. No, this was the work of something else. Something that Carl was looking forward to shoot.

With that in mind, Carl made a turn from his usual patrolling ground and headed for where he smelled the scent of gore. As he walked down the street, he could already see the messy splatters of blood that had managed to fly off into the sidewalk. The blood was leading him towards a nearby ally. As he continued his thread towards the dimmed corner, a distraught, injured woman shambled out of the alley. Her nose and lips seems to have been broken and she was bruised in several places. Taking no second thoughts, he ran towards the woman with Maria following behind.

"Miss? Miss? Are you okay?" consoled Carl.

He looked to his left and saw the gory and violent cite of a fresh kill in the alley. Remnants of the victim, mangled beyond recognition, was strewn about in the dingy concrete floor. Carl could not tell the gender of the victim as there was little to work on in that department. Blood was sprayed everywhere and Carl could tell that the man had no time to struggle.

"Who did this?" asked Carl.

Before the woman could speak though, he already spotted the trail of blood leading out of the alley and into a nearby church.

"Please get to safety... Whatever did this could come back here anytime..." advised Carl as he reloaded his gun and motioned Maria to follow him.

Soon they have arrived at the steps of the small chapel where the trail of blood had led to. Carl tried opening the front doors but it seems that something large was blocking it. He looked up and saw the drippings of blood leading to the roof.

"Maria... Get us up there..." ordered Carl.

The robot maiden raised her long hands and shot ten grappling hooks towards the broad side of the chapel. Carl held on to Maria and the machine's mechanism started to hoist them up the wall.

Markai raised his head slightly, only enough to meet the eyes of Ashe. Then he lowered his head again, face disappearing behind his hood. There really wasn't an answer to her question. Sure, the Council had requested he come, but he'd talked to Wrenrook the night before about joining the "team". So, Markai chose an answer that suited the conditions. "Both." Bringing the glass to his lips again, Markai finished the water and set it down, but waited to call the waitress again. He'd give it some time.

Reaching out once more, Markai knew for a fact that Ashe's mind would be shielded. It was just the magnitude of her mental wall that he wanted to determine. So, he slowly entered her mind, making his presence known. No sooner had he entered the very outer layer than he ran into a great barrier. It was strong, very strong. She'd been strengthening her will, or maybe it was always strong. Either way, Markai retreated from her mind, grumbling softly as he returned to his own.

Signaling for another glass, Markai watched as the same waitress from before came slowly down the bar, holding a pitcher of water. Never taking her eyes off the demon, she poured the glass, stopping at the very top. That was impressive, at least to the Demon. She'd practiced it, he figured. Nodding once more, he watched her go off before returning his head to the general direction of Ashe. "She's scared of me." Markai took a sip of water, setting it down softly and sighing slightly.

There she was; a dazzling flower. No, this was not a rose that you pin to your lapel. She was long-stemmed and in full bloom, supple in every curve. Hungry fingers danced across her petal-soft skin faster than they could reach into their wallets. Her scent reached far beyond the intoxicating perfume of every flower in the desert.

Dew… Sweat. The fruit of anticipation and desire streamed between entangled branches and twisted bodies. The rose touched her forehead to his, closing her eyes of honey to the world around her and entering herself into a far more exotic garden.
Her breath and pounding heartbeat filled her ears as she felt the eager hands on her hips and the heavy breath across her face. His every sound reminded her of the power she spell she held over him. Like ivy, her tousled chocolate curls fell around the man’s face. Golden eyes opened to meet his in a sly, almost sinister gaze amidst the blurring surge of desperation.
The man returned her smirk, wrapping his fingers around the back of her neck, coaxing her lips toward his. The rose, Helen, felt her stomach churn with a quick jolt to her heart. She tossed her head back with a teasing and throaty chuckle to mask her sudden change in emotion.

“Come on, angel, just one,” came the gruff and slurred speech of the man lying beneath her. She smirked again and ran her fingers down his chest in hopes he may forget. But with a swift motion he clapped his hand over the back of her neck once more, jutting her downwards as he lifted himself to meet her kiss. Helen gave a quick yelp and threw herself to the side of him with the force of his pull.

The client’s blissful daze quickly turned to a heated need to have what he wanted. A growl rumbled in his throat as Helen stumbled off the bed.

“You know the rules, Mark.” She snapped in a strangely emotionless tone as she slipped the black silk robe over her shoulders before walking towards the door.

“Hey, what about my money?” Mark sat up as she touched the knob. Helen looked down at the wad of cash tucked between her skin and black lace. Trembling fingers snatched it and tossed it towards him as she left the room without another word.

Stilettos smacked down the hallway with a loud urgency. As Helen made her way to the bathroom, she reached to flick on the light switch. But, just as she anticipated, her hand withdrew and held her chest as her lungs began to burn and she could feel the warm thick blood rising in her throat as she coughed. The raspy fit lasted only for a moment before leaving her desperate for air. Finally, her shaking hands turned on the blinding fluorescent light and she found herself face to face with a rose of a more wilted nature. The sweat had smeared away some of her makeup, revealing the sallow hue of her skin, contrasted by the bruise-like darkness around her eyes. From her lips flowed a steady stream of blood as she reached of a cloth to wipe it away.

From the bathroom she emerged once more with a tad more clothing, being a short black dress in addition to the undergarments she was wearing earlier. Helen didn't bother waiting for him to escort her out. He was probably either simmering in his anger or passed out from alcohol. So, she opened the door into the cool night and stepped out onto the streets in order to go back to her dingy apartment, or find a more suitable client.

"Both," the Demon replied quietly after a while. He seemed to be the sort of few words, so Ashe didn't push for details. Not that it really mattered anyways. A person's reasonings were their own, nothing more.

She sensed a light tickle in her mind, a small touch on the barrier blocking her thoughts. Years of experience have taught her the ways of keeping intruders out of her own mind, but she could see the one attempting to probe her inner thoughts was the demon in front of her.

"You know," she said simply with a smile, "you could always ask."

He signaled for another glass of water, and Lynette, who had been his waitress all evening, returned to give him another.

"She's scared of me," he noted. Ashe gave a light shrug.

"She's new," she explained. "She's only been working here a week. Not quite used to our usual customers."