Cyriel

[B]Name:[/B] Mykail [B]Gender:[/B] Male [B]Personality:[/B] Quite solemn, sometimes Mykail seems to be melancholy. Never having been very good at socializing, he keeps to himself, and is pretty serious most of the time. Thus, the majority of people are dispelled because of his quiet, unassuming nature. He's a pretty gentle being, kind to everyone he meets, but distant, keeping to himself. [B]Character Type:[/B] Vasen [B]Appearance:[/B] see attachment [B]Element:[/B] Nature/Air [B]Powers:[/B] The ability to control the element of air is powerful and dangerous. He must keep it under his reign, or it will break free and rampage. It is one of the easier elements to wake, although once woken, it is harder to dispel. Wind and air has a will of its own, although it allows him to direct its path. Mykail is keenly in tune with all of nature, and anything out of sync he can immediately sense. Although he has control of no other elements, he can constantly sense them, and whether they are at harmony. The elements of nature seem to speak to him, conversing with his feelings and instincts. As is such, he can almost never be surprised, and always can tell when something is wrong. Even when other Vasen are using their elements, Mykail can sense and kind of "see" it, as he is perfectly harmonized with everything around him. OOC: Anything else?

As soon as the gun shots had erupted, Michi had already pulled the curtains around the Tai-Pan, hiding his person from view. The next second she had pushed the Tai-Pan into a safe corner of the alcove, shielding him with her slender body, blade drawn an inch, and ready to dispatch any who dared enter. Her eyes were narrow, and she was looking her most peaceful...and most deadly. As the third bullet left the barrel of the assassin's rifle, Michi was quietly and smoothly looking out the entrance of the small alcove into the hallway they had come from. It was chaos - and she ducked back inside without notice. The Tai-Pan was brushing off his still immaculately clean suit, and Michi proceeded to peek through the drawn curtains. Domo Faction guards were swarming everywhere, and the exits were already blocked in the levels below them. They had to hurry, if they were going to depart unnoticed. And that was the preferable way. "Tai-Pan, we must proceed quickly -" He held up a hand, silencing her immediately more with his slight smile. "Now now Michi, no need to overreact. You'll find that our way will be quite empty. Come along now, dear." He started out first, not even drawing his gun. She flushed, her instincts telling her to jump ahead and draw blade, but she merely followed her employer. No other choice, in this situation. But if something did get in the way, she was ready. Her hand unconsciously ran down the sheath of her katana for the hundredth time that day. It was [I]not[/I] a situation she enjoyed. The Tai-Pan led them down the hallway, quite unnoticed by others because of their own infatuations with their own safety. Assorted bodyguards were throwing glowering looks at each other, roaring in gruff voices as their masters either panicked or waited. Servants were running everywhere, and somehow some of the normal citizens had managed to find their way to the upper levels. Suddenly, Michi was ready to erupt in a dance of blades, but the Tai-Pan again stopped her. He turned to the being in front of him, "And you are?" The figure was garbed in a thick cloak, and no part of her skin was visible. She raised her head, and Michi analyzed the violet eyes and pale skin. [I]Is she an albino?[/I] But Michi erased the thought - it didn't matter at the moment. Her muscles were tensed, ready to rip the stranger into unoffending bits and pieces. The strange spoke. "You are...the Tai-Pan?" He said nothing, only a smile coming to his lips in answer. "I am...someone seeking you." Michi stepped forward, "The Tai-Pan requires a name. Nothing less will do." "Fine then. I am called Ashi." The Tai-Pan motioned Michi aside, "Yes, Ashi, I've been expecting you." He turned back, "Michi dear, I will be escorting this guest home. Don't worry now, it's safe. Shall you join, or find your own way home?" "Return safely, Tai-Pan," she answered. Michi didn't exactly like to be involved in his little meetings, and he knew it. He left, and she turned, ready to go to the lower levels to see the damage. Glancing out various windows, she watched the Tai-Pan and Ashi get into the car, disappearing quickly into the crowded chaos. Running down the stairs, Michi could faintly hear orders being given, and the chaos was slowly dying down. There wasn't enough time to find an observation point - the Domo Faction was moving too quickly. A misjudgement on her part - she had expected them to take longer in a situation like this. But no choice now - it was much too late to go back. She kept moving, trying to blend in as people returned to their seats. She froze - Domo guards had started in her direction. Her grip on her katana tightened.

Walking the streets. Such as every evening, he enjoyed following the ghostly paths of strangers, often changing his prey several times during the chase. So as to keep his victims safe. Safe, and not dead. For ultimately, if he followed one person too long, they would end up dead. Gone. Disappeared. Murdered. Tortured. Mutilated. Raped. The possibilities were endless, but life was not. The laws of Earth were not particularly kind to criminals of his nature - the laws of the Underworld were even more ruthless. He was no longer welcome there, but no bother. It was safer up top anyway. [I]More of the helpless to play with...[/I] Cayn thought, brushing his fingers along the warm bricks of a building. He could almost taste the scent of the last person who had been there. Three humans, trying their hand at illegal substances. The smoke still clung to the sidewalk, and Cayn apathetically waved his hand, wafting the remainders away. A mere memory, but enough for him to pick up the trail. Faint lines ran through his world, leading him to the numberless, infinite chances in life. Chances to enjoy. Chances to savor and taste with every fiber of his being. The cell phone rang, interrupting his narrow reverie. He snapped it out, irritated, but his supervisors required him to carry one, since he refused a tracker. [I]The lesser of two evils[/I], he thought dryly. "Yes?" "[I]Chacal[/I] dearest?" The smug, sensuous, female voice was quite familiar. Much too familiar. His "supervisor" at Tact Bio, she kept him informed of his tasks. She went by the name of Lillian. Cayn could only smile, his teeth showing in aggression. "Yes," he answered. He detested her. And she loved knowing that, and in return, called him [I]Chacal.[/I] Jackal. Grudgingly, he knew that it suited him. "Darling little scavenger, [I][B]he's[/B][/I] asking for you. Better hurry home now." Lillian giggled savagely, and then promptly hung up. He lowered the cell phone from his ear, closing it carefully. Looking at it for a few moments, Cayn suddenly threw it against the ground, smashing it quite successfully. His sixth phone in three months. It was getting worse. Lillian would not be happy. He smiled at that. And then, obeying her command, for it [I]was[/I] a command, he turned, returning to Tact Bio. He might not be fond of Lillian, but the founder of Tact Bio was quite a different matter entirely.

[B]Name:[/B] Terina Farsiris [B]Age:[/B] 16 [B]Race:[/B] Human [B]Class:[/B] Thunder [B]Kingdom:[/B] Siten [B]Inherit off:[/B] Male [B]Appearance:[/B] see attachment [B]Personality:[/B] Not quite as warm as her older sister Dalila, Terina is a quieter, darker, paler version of her sister. She's not really peaceful, instead being quietly worried. She usually has a more depressed expression, kind of sorrowful, and it's quite rare for her to smile. Usually only Dalila is able to make Terina smile. Extremely shy and introverted in her nature, Terina will not come out of her shell easily, except with Dalila. Indeed, she's quite dependent on Dalila for protection and affection, and is otherwise timid and uncomfortable. Without her sister by her side, she's always nervous, and at times can frighten easily. The only other being that Terina feels comfortable around is Tarcen, the High Mage that has served them since their birth. [B]Bio:[/B] As in all things, Terina has followed her sister into training with hand-to-hand combat and the bow. Surprisingly, Terina is quite skilled with close combat, which is odd because you would expect her to shy away from anything within a close proximity. She can ably defend herself, and her entire demeanor seems to change when she is forced to fight. As for the bow, however, Delila is much more skilled, as Terina really can't aim very well with the bow. Tarcen has also let Terina dabble in a little bit of magic, but not much. Only magic tricks really, like small explosions or puffs of smoke, but still, they can sometimes surprise the enemy.

I've read the first two books of the manga, and I must say that the storyline and plot is pretty interesting. Also, all the different, skewed relationships between characters are fun to follow, although at times I get a bit annoyed. As for the artwork...well, I like some of it, but at times I dislike the variations. What I mean is that I don't feel that the same quality is kept throughout; it differs sometimes, and is quite irritating. But overall, I find it an interesting series to read, and when the art is good, it's absolutely excellent.

Michi sat in uncomfortable silence, her hand resting upon the sheath of her blade. Two songs had passed, and the Tai-Pan had not said another word. She shifted in her seat, knowing that he would notice her discomfort. She hated not knowing things. Finally, he smiled again, patting her hand, which she quickly pulled away. She was not one for physical contact - not even the Tai-Pan's - unless transferred through the blade of her katana. "Michi dear, don't worry your head. This is merely an event where we will observe our adversaries. I know you don't like killing when I can see you." She nodded briefly, and then looked out the window. [I]...not long now...[/I] ___________________________________________________________ The Tai-Pan climbed the steps quickly, his shoes spotless and shining. Michi followed, concentrating on movements around him. But they were not apprehended. The Tai-Pan had obviously prepared arrangements beforehand, to get rid of any complications that might arise with his presence. Money spoke well in this arena. The people of Prentice would provide no threat. Their escort led them to a curtained, secluded alcove, which overlooked the gathering assembly. Special units of the Domo Faction lined every inch of space that could possibly be a vulnerability. Getting to this spot had been expensive, even in the Tai-Pan's case, Michi was sure. She immediately went over the alcove, scanning her surroundings before nodding to the Tai-Pan. He smiled, walking out with her, the curtains shading him from the suns that were already beating down. For the moment, the crowds were still small - it would not be so in a few hours. The appearance of Commander Talon was highly anticipated by many, and not for all the same reasons...

[B]Name:[/B] Cayn Destrante [B]Gender:[/B] Male [B]Race:[/B] Demon and Dark Elf [B]Age:[/B] Appears to be in mid-twenties. [B]Alliance:[/B] Tact Bio [B]Skills:[/B] Skilled in most forms of combat, and is also one of the most skilled mages that Tact Bio employs. Magic is a tool he easily uses, and it molds naturally because of his mixed blood. Only working with dark magics, he has built up a small immunity to other magics over the years, and from various experimentations. However, he doesn't take to easily with technologies, and although he will tolerate them, they make him uneasy, unless in the presence of Jon Tact. [B]Tools:[/B] Various instruments of torture hidden away in his jacket. Also various blades that slip easily into his hands. [B]Description:[/B] see attachment [B]Biography:[/B] Born in the Underworld, in the early years of life Cayn was raised by the Elven side of his family. His strong ability with magic was easily apparent, and training began to sharpen his skills. Soon enough, he was aware of Earth and humans, and he was then recruited by the Phoenix Collective. A talented agent of the PC, he was one of their top operators for a number of years. However, life seemed to take a downside, and his work seemed to take a mental toll on his health. Cayn seemed to become a bit more depressed, but his magic ability became stronger. The PC, sensing the change, sent him back to the Underworld to recuperate. It was then that he was approached by those of Tact Bio. And he, confused and shaken by his changing abilities, agreed to join them. Thus, his life continued, and his magic changed continually until it was molded to his odd, mutant form of dark magic. Also one of Jon Tact's special experimental subjects, various tests have made him slightly immune to other magics and beings. It has also made his wild magic more magnified, but at the same time rocks his mental stability. He's becoming increasingly unstable, and sometimes loses control altogether. However, he is still completely loyal to Jon Tact and Tact Bio, and is very valued.

The bright essence of Anastius's new form was seen through a haze of pain. The white wings of angels seemed to surround Ann. It frightened her, more so than the pain, for her body, though human, was getting accustomed to the regular staccato beat of it, pulsing through her blood as it ran fire. All she had to do...was hold it back. Azrael had fought off Raphael - this Ann knew by the disappearance of his aura. A death of blazing fire. She had turned away - the death of an angel was...heart-breaking to watch. And she had a desire to save Raphael. So she had turned away...so that her hand would not rise to help her would-be murderer. The selfishness of life ruled, as Ann pushed back the fire in her blood, the constant, pounding pain. Yet, she felt like she was committing the ultimate betrayal. Always she had helped people, strangers whom she had randomly passed in the streets. Wandering, pained spirits had clung to her, smiling in their sweet release from the ties of the mortal world. Once, she had been able to free pain. But now... [I]Now it consumes me.[/I] Her punishment? Ann turned, watching Azrael, his wings cutting a swift design in the air. [I]He's an angel...but he didn't kill me. Instead... Why does he do this? Who is he? An angel is not supposed to be like him...[/I] But she looked at the others surrounding them, their faces grim and set, their eyes clear, beautiful mirrors that only showed death. Her heart ached, a dull thud against the fiery pain running through her blood. [I]..But..angels are not supposed to be like them, either. Who are they? And who...is this God?[/I] Turning, her wings lifted as she started to crawl. [I]And who..[/I] Anastasius came into sight, and then Ann gasped as blue fire blazed, blocked only by the beautiful demon. And then...Anastasius changed. Light erupted, glowing in its seemingly purest, clearest form. It was sweet, and yet shadowed, a brilliant glow that was defined by darkness. Azrael watched, as did Ann. He whispered, almost enraptured, "...Lady of Dark Light..." A name came to Ann's lips, unbidden, instinctive, "..Melanira." Against her will, Ann shrank away, barely. But she couldn't help it - death rode on the wings of this shadow and light, this love and this darkness. Ann's hand raised, but froze, poised in silent fear. And still in awe, Ariel and the white lion waited, frozen by the lady's presence. Looking at her hand, still in the air, Ann could only see how...fragile it seemed. She could envision her bones breaking so easily, cutting through her pale skin, severing the blue veins that lay underneath her flesh. She looked over at Melanira, who was still, watching and waiting for Ariel to make the first move. Azrael and Kiros also watched, and Azrael's wings stirred in growing anticipation. The hissing sound came to her ears - the same when Raphael had died. At Azrael's hand. [I]He...should not have died...should he?[/I] Shadow hid Ann's face as she looked down. She bit her lip, and blood ran down in a crimson stain, like a red smudge from a child's crayon. Her voice was barely audible, "...does God...hate me so much?" [I]Does he detest my life that He will sacrifice Raphael for my death? Who else...?[/I] And she staggered up, fists clenched. Her brown eyes were wide, but the color quickly bled away to a bright green. Silver tears fell, but for anger instead of sadness. This time, her voice was clear, full of intensity as she broke the deafening silence, "Does God hate me so much??" The same question, always. Her blood pounded, swift as it lit her on fire. And entirely out of instinct, out of rage, out of her sense of hopelessness, Ann hurdled forward, sped by bloody wings, straight towards the awaiting Angel and white lion. Ariel's blade immediately rose, blazing blue fire.

Michi conceded to follow the Tai-Pan out of the now-silent bar, walking slightly behind and to the left of her employer, "...I believe that was unnecessary." He merely shrugged, a smile touching the corner of his lips, "Didn't enjoy that, did you? Well, you females never like the sight of blood, but I'm surprised at you. After all, your blade isn't cleaned yet, is it? You should get that taken care of - it'll rust like that, and that was an expensive little sword." His fingers played over his gun, which had been returned carefully to its previous place. Michi was silent, and didn't move to unsheath her katana. The Tai-Pan stopped, clicking his tongue, "Tsk tsk, now, don't be stubborn. Take out that toy of yours and clean it properly." He waited, watching her, and knowing she would obey. Much to her chagrine, Michi slowly slid the katana out of its plain sheath, taking the clean handkerchief the Tai-Pan handed her. She carefully wiped the black blade, studying the intricate coils twisting in the design. It was a beautiful weapon, and one that she cherished. Handing back the now bloody handkerchief, she slid the katana back into its sheath without a sound, looking at the Tai-Pan through narrowed eyes. "Satisfied, Tai-Pan?" He smiled at her, his eyes studying the slender figure in the clean suit. Winking, he replied, "Not nearly enough." Turning, he laughed as he walked on, knowing that Michi would be fuming inside at this point. Sexual humor was her weakness, and he exploited it at every chance. He had to get his kicks somewhere. Michi, on the other hand, concentrated on keeping her expression a fixed mask, fighting the angry blush that started to rise immediately.

Warmth was fading...quickly. Surrounded by the encompassing darkness of approaching death, Ann was oblivious to the chaos erupting around her. Anastasius's roars fell on deaf ears; Ann was past the point where she could hear them, or anything else for that matter. Life was a slow dark thing, slowly slinking away in an effort to escape Ann's grasp. She reached for it, calling it back with a silent voice, unable to command it any longer. An impenetrable feeling of dread slowly came over her, as she watched her life struggle away from her desperate fingers, her stiffening body. But she stopped trying to hold it, when her eyes rested again on something in the distance. Her life was crawling towards it, trying to reach the figure. Ann willed herself with it, trying to see clearly... A flash, filled with fire, darkness, blood. Ann reeled back, and in Heaven her body fluttered, wings attempting to save her. But she fell back, darkness consuming her once more. But this time, she was not silent, screaming in a raw voice that no one could hear. No one...except that figure... The name ran like blood on her lips, and she tried to wipe it from her mind. But with every beat of her slowing heart, the name reverberated, echoing until it filled her mind... [I]...Mordecry...Mordecry....MORDECRY![/I] Fire accompanied it, savage and vicious, licking at her life until Ann could only cry from pain and exhaustion. Until she could only wish for the sweet release that death seemed to offer at that point... But she fought. As Anastasius and Azrael fought in Heaven, so Ann fought in the quiet desert of her mind. Her soul. And she fought with another name... [I][B]Azrael[/B][/I], she thought, and in it summoned every quiet strength that remained to her. Her palms were burning, but with a sweeter fire, a brighter light that fought off the dark, shadowy flames of the dank figure. It fought away the smell and scent of blood that shrouded him, the stench of death that was infused with his presence. And he slowly...drifted away. Disappeared. Tears of relief replaced the ones of pain on Ann's cheeks, and again, her breathing quieted...slowed... And behind the combined force of Anastasius and Azrael, an angel crept, green eyes lucid as they studied the broken human body, the bloodied wings. Raphael stared, still thinking of the brief contact he had had with Ann, but his eyes rose to meet another's - Michael's. And the Arc Angel nodded, a grim determination that followed the will of God. Only God. Raphael bowed his head in quiet consent; he knew that he could not disobey [I]this[/I] command. Slowly, a sword of light came to his hand. His quiet flight led him towards Ann; he could already feel her approaching death - all he had to do was guarantee it.

[B]Name:[/B] Irie Miwa (Eerie or Tengu) [B]Age:[/B] 22 [B]Side:[/B] Blood Brood [B]Gender:[/B] Female [B]Species:[/B] Vampire [B]Race:[/B] Asian - Japanese/Korean [B]Description:[/B] see attachment. From her appearance, it's kind of hard to tell that she's 22. Most people think she's 18 or 19. Irie will usually wear normal, everyday clothes, and almost always carries the little messenger bag that she holds. Pants are always clean cut and slim, fitting her figure, and they're light and easy to move in. Around her waist, hooked to her belt loops, she wears small, slender silver chains, 5 or 6 at a time. These have all sorts of little things attached - one with tiny bells, one with charms. And the most deadly of these has small, thin triangular silver pieces attached loosely. When she's not wearing the chains in public, they're kept in her messenger bag. [B]Personality:[/B] At first glance, just another typical person. However, one rarely feels comfortable taking eyes off of her, or turning their back. Her presence has a somewhat...uncomfortable feel, as if subtly dangerous. People, follow your instincts, because Irie [I]is[/I] dangerous. Seemingly cheerful and charming, her outward appearance skillfully hides the highly unbalanced individual that she really is. If free on her own, she has temporal mood swings, which can escalate quickly into a wild, psychotic side of her being. As said before, Irie is highly unstable, kept under control only by certain individuals. In this case, it would be Nicoleta. With these constant swings between euphoria and depression, in humans it would be called a bi-polar disorder. However, in a vampire, it is much more serious...and much more fatal if you encounter it at a bad time. Irie can be horrifyingly brutal, and two seconds later bittersweet and achingly gentle. Under control and the proper authority, Irie does not go into these swings, and stays in a cool, apathetic, laid-back mood that is safe to be around. [B]Weapons:[/B] If you're fighting against Irie, anything is up for grabs. Seriously, your own finger could be used to pull your own eyes out. As said before, anything goes when Irie's on her own. However, her primary weapons are the silver chains that hang from her waist. These she will use with skill and deadly finesse, and they will quickly squeeze or cut the life from you. The most dangerous of her chains, with the small triangular pieces of metal, will dig into your skin when swung, and then rip it out when pulled back. Little by little, it skins you alive, excrucciatingly painful. Just to Irie's liking. Irie also has a small fascination with needles, and big ones at that. A couple are kept around her person, and they're about four inches in length. [B]Place of Birth:[/B] N. Korea [B]Biography:[/B] Both parents are vampires who work with the RGSD. They're actually quite ancient, mostly in their thousands, and had children very late in life. Irie also has an older half-brother. Born on the border between North Korea and the DMZ, Irie was the second child of Neji and Min-ji Miwa. An ancient line of vampires, in the females directly descended from the family line, the blood disorder lies, which makes the carrier highly unstable. Usually, though, the carriers are able to be controlled, or killed. However, Neji, a direct descendant, and Min-ji, a disant relative, were not aware that the disease had been passed down to their daughter. What they didn't realize, though, was that Irie was doubly cursed by the disorder because Neji and Min-ji were distantly related, doubling her diseased blood. It made Irie, by far, the most contaminated daughter in the whole Miwa family line. The disorder was not apparent until later years, where she reached her teens. After her birth, the Miwas had escaped to Europe, where Irie's older half-brother, Akira, resided already. He was the age of 207, but took the appearance of his early twenties. There Irie grew, and her parents were employed by the RGSD, as was Akira. It was only taken for granted that Irie would also work for the RGSD, and she grew up quite familiar and comfortable to their presence. However, around the age of 18 or 19, Irie began showing the signs of her unstable mind, breaking out in brief rages or flashes of euphoria, tempered by lows of depressive moods. Neji began to suspect of his daughter's tainted blood and mind, and warned the RGSD. What follows in Irie's life is unrecorded and unknown. The only information is that her father, Neji, was paralyzed for life from the waist down. Her mother, Min-ji, was horrifyingly disfigured, and now wore a veil to cover her distorted features. Akira, surprisingly, was unharmed. Irie was no where to be found. A year later, the Blood Brood picked her up, Nicoleta inviting the strange individual to become a part of her den. As it is, Akira, Irie's half-brother, is currently hunting Irie with resources provided by the RGSD. Irie is now a valued member of the Blood Brood, and one of their most skilled combatants, even at her young age. She's especially young for a vampire. Soon enough, the other vamps in the pack realized that she was not to be taken lightly, and respected her presence, as well as kept their distance. Her only loyalty is to Nicoleta, who calls Irie "Tengu," after the folk-demon of the mountains in Asia. Nicoleta is also the only being who can keep Irie under control and calm. She's become known to the RGSD as "Eerie," as in the definition of fearfully strange.

OOC: ...wow, talk about chaotic. It was mindblowing reading all that. IC: Black blood stained the midnight blue robes. The dark blade could barely be seen by the naked eye; it was moving too quickly - or it was buried in some creature's flesh. Cries and screams carried around her, and Furie concentrated only on the Shadowkind. She lost sight of the Crimson Pack leader, but didn't let it trouble her. [I]We'll meet...in good time.[/I] Her katana was held in her left hand; her right hand was still injured from her punishment from Shade. No need to mention that her back was aching, and it clearly affected her fighting. She was a bit more...wary, even though she was surrounded by Shadowkind. However, Furie had not forgotten Shade's words. Indeed, she moved from group to group between the Walkers, always checking on their situation and progress. She was forced to - she was too injured to go solo again. [I]So...Shade is victorious once again... And he forced me to be their keepers.[/I] It was a cold, calculated guess, but it was the right one. But no matter - as long as they lived, and these fell creatures did not, she would accept whatever judgement Shade passed on her, and whatever punishment he laid on her. It was the only way she knew how to survive. The Walkers were a deadly force, and they cut a wide swathe in the enemy's lines. That is...until they saw the huge beast falling from the sky, which ripped a gaping hole in the forces of the Shadowkind. That's when they faltered, but Furie called back their attentions, nearly missing getting her head swiped off by a goblin. But he hadn't reached far enough, and so just her hair went, sliced neatly off by the sickle until it was chin-length. She turned, shoving her katana in a quick fixation, and the goblin fell. "Walkers! Hunt!" They obeyed, their faces set in grim lines as they turned back to the battle before them. Furie then turned to the massive beast that was being set upon by all creatures. She had never seen something of this magnitude, this...horrific magnificence. [I]Another Shadowkind... Time to bring down its head as well.[/I] She leapt off the ground, quickly covering the distance that separated the two. Her blade was ready to attack - SSHHIIINNNNGGG!! Looking up, Furie found her katana blocked by a blade of white bone. Immediately she stopped. "No, Furie," Shade said, looking at the monstrous beast. They sank back to the battle, fighting back to back. Their blades were a quick dance, a swirl of dark and light as they laid death everywhere they touched. "Shade, that thing is Shadowkind." "As are some of our allies. And that thing [I]is[/I] our ally...for now." That told Furie more than enough, and she was satisfied. It would fall...in time, and join Darius's head in the fires. She spoke again, "Who is it?" Shade's reply surprised her slightly, "Draco Maxwell." She had known that he was Shadowkind...but she hadn't expected his true form to be this. Again, she nodded. Suddenly, Shade cocked his head, and there was a pause in the movement of his blade, "...I hear something calling you. A wolf's howl, perhaps?" A cold smile lit his lips. "I suppose...that it's Darius's successor, no? How ironic - both heirs are to the battle, just as Darius and I once were. You shouldn't keep him waiting." Furie was stunned. [I]Heir?[/I] Heir to what? She understood that Mothias was Darius's heir...but she... But as she too heard a faint howl over the clash of battle, she wiped it from her mind. Leaping up, she cut her way swiftly through, leaving Shade's side and the other Walkers. She knew that this time he would not protest. Her injured right hand traveled to her pocket, touching the gleaming fang that lay there. Then she met Mothias's eyes once again, and he snarled. She smiled faintly, and whipped out her blade, the blood falling from it in smooth glimmers. And prepared herself to attack... OOC: Let's go ReFlux. :devil:

As Furie sheathed her blade, she ran back into the shadow of the wall, running quickly to join the other three. As they ran, they passed the mutilated body of the dead Walker. Furie brushed her hand against the veil, and in moments the body was going up in flames, the smoke aiding in their retreat. The wolves did not follow. Neither did the stranger that had fought the goblins. She stopped, "A watcher." The others looked to her for direction, scanning the buildings and rooftops. Furie shook her head, and then gestured for them to go ahead. They left, and Furie stood alone. [I]Whoever it is...it's the same person as before...[/I] But once again, she couldn't find the mysterious persona. For once, it irritated her. [I]Have my skills become so lax that I cannot even find a simple spy?[/I] She shook her head, and ran on, the darkness obscuring her presence. Morning was coming. By the time she entered the stone courtyard, the sun was barely peaking over the glass tops of the buildings. Once she was in Shade's room, however, the screen doors nullified any light that the sun had started to give to the day. It was dim, and still smelled faintly of elven blood; the incense had not totally eradicated the scent. Shade sat, silent, and Furie bowed. He gave no sign to her, so she sat in that position for some time. After fifteen minutes, his voice spoke, "Stay to the shadows, but do not be consumed. We walk them only; we are never a part of them." He breathed, slowly, before his next words, "Does this mean [I]nothing[/I] to you?" He was [I]angry.[/I] Furie felt a small flicker of unrest, but quickly quelled it. If he was angry, there was no need to fuel it more; he was already dangerous as it was. He stood, and she stood with him, eyes to the floor as he approached in silence. He stood inches from her, his breath stirring her hair, "You left a Walker to die." "He was already dead." The words were barely out of her mouth before he struck her. "You left a Walker to die," Shade restated calmly. Furie said nothing, waiting. "Every night, I have said to you, repeated to you, what makes us different from the Shadowkind - what keeps us from turning into fell beasts such as they." He circled around her. He stopped behind her, gently taking a lock of her hair in his hand. His breath whispered on her skin. Grabbing hold of the rest of her dark hair, he pulled tight, dragging her backwards. He threw her against the wall. Furie sank down, her breathing a little broken, but she quickly stood again, impassive. It was the best way to ride out the storm. [I]Show no emotion.[/I] Suddenly she froze. Shade stood, his blade drawn, the bone gleaming in the dark. He smiled, seeing that she had seen, and then continued to slowly pace...a hunter stalking his prey. "I am...disappointed. Perhaps I expected too much? I expected you to know what the Walkers are, what they have been, what they [I]should[/I] be. But I was disappointed, wasn't I? Did I send you out on too many tasks, in which you could work alone?" He stopped. "You left...a Walker...to [I]die[/I]. By not working with them, by not fighting with one intent, you broke his life even before his blade left the sheath." The blade gleamed white as it went up, and Furie found her blood freezing, her fingertips cold. And Shade hurdled towards her, faster than the eye could follow. Before she could stop herself, Furie had drawn her own katana, it's dark coloring the antithesis of Shade's white blade. The sharp hiss of contact was all she heard in her shock, before the bones in her wrist were crushed, and she was forced to let go of her katana. And she knew she had made a fatal error - [I]no one[/I] drew their blade in Shade's presence. And she knew she was going to pay dearly. Her only defense would be impassivity. Show him nothing, and he would be content in taking nothing. But reveal your emotion, and Shade would rip everything away without mercy. Mercy was not in him. His voice rose as he threw her against he wall again, "You do not...[I]ever[/I]...draw against another Walker. Ever. Even if they show their blade first, draw, and you are nothing better than the beasts we hunt. Have I not taught you this?" She didn't answer, and found herself slammed against the wall, his voice hissing at her throat, "...have...I...not...taught you this?" Furie nodded imperceptibly, but Shade's eyes narrowed, and he roared, "Answer me!" "Yes," she whispered quickly. He set her down. Turned his back. "Stand," he said. She followed without hesitation. "Turn." She obeyed. "Disrobe." The midnight blue robes slid to the floor, revealing pale skin, unblemished, youthful. Shade turned behind her, and she heard no sound before his blade cut into her back. But she [I]felt[/I] it. Another arc, another swift cut, another silky blow. Each drew blood, but they were shallow wounds, not deep. But each dip into her skin burned with pain and anger - Shade was a master with the blade. His voice came smooth as the blood ran warm down her back, and there was no interruption in his katana, "We walk them only; we are never a part of them." Each word was emphasized with another fall of his blade, another crimson line on her white back. The blood trickled to the floor. Shade stopped, and she heard him wipe his katana, then return it to the sheath. Walking to her, he picked up her clothing from the floor, and gently draped them over her. The blood soaked into the dark cloth, but hid the web of scarlet lines on her back. She was absolutely still. In turn, he quietly handed her her fallen katana, "Do not forget again. It would be most shameful." He also handed her a black envelope. Inside was a copy of a list received that morning. It was Furie's leave to go. She bowed stiffly, her back on fire, before she slid open the doors and left.

OOC: So soon? Well, if you say so. :) But my involvement in this short battle may be limited. IC: She stood farther away than the others. The four in midnight blue had followed her without a word, and Furie had not deemed to ask them questions. If they wanted to follow...then it was their own choice. True, they were all Walkers involved in one task, but that did not make her any more beholden to them. It was their own choice - if the rumors about her missions weren't enough warning, then it was their own stupidity getting them in dire situations. She had stopped at the first sign of wolves. The other four continued forward, pulling up their veils to cover their faces. As they drew their blades, the three wolves turned, expressions cold and dangerous. Feral. Goblin blood assualted her nose. [I]My my, they didn't hold back, did they? And they seem quite...confident. Arrogant, at most.[/I] Furie waited, her blade still sheathed as she watched from the deeper shadows. No veil hid the features of her face; she never wore one. She'd rather that her enemies could see her before they departed from life. In beautiful, flowing arcs, the four Walkers leaped at the wolves, their blades swinging in a deadly dance. None hit a target - the wolves were already moving, and one was transforming, fur rippling across his face and body. Furie watched calmly; it was expected that first blood would be a long time coming - a kill would take even longer. Wolves were no joke, even to the Shadow Walkers. A fully transformed one was even more deadly. [I]Time to join the fray?[/I] she wondered to herself, but held still a little longer. Just until one of the wolves ran by her, close enough to touch. Instantly Furie pulled her katana, dark metal gleaming with crimson highlights. Mothias cried a warning just in time when he saw the fifth Shadow Walker erupt from the darkness, "Luther!" Luther immediately shifted in midair, gliding just beneath the deadly, hidden blade. Still, his skin was raw where the blade had nicked his skin. Luther snarled, and twisted as he landed, ready to face the newly-emerged Walker. The other four were occupied with Mothias and Gavin. Furie breathed, landing without a sound. She turned, blade ready, "...Luther, was it?" He said nothing, only watching, ready to sweep in for a fatal blow. A smile flickered on Furie's lips, and she whispered. "Well then, we are well met, Luther." A light dancing step, and she was up in the air, flipping easily over Luther's head. He in turn shot away from her blade, and it glanced inches away from his neck, sparking along the brick wall of the alley. There was no pause in her attack - already Furie was spinning as she lightly pushed herself off the wall with deadly speed. [I]He's strong...and fast. Faster than most.[/I] She smiled again, affording him a bit of compliment. [I]But...I wonder if it will be enough to save him. We'll see.[/I] Furie's blade danced a quick, lightning path to Luther's skin - she was rewarded with a streak of crimson. But it was small, barely there. However, it gave Luther the warning that he had danced too close to the edge of death. He drew back, eyes narrowed, judging more cautiously his movements. [I]Well...they learn fast enough.[/I] She flew forward, her blade in an arcing path, and then she rolled to the side as Luther hurdled at her. Twisting, Furie saw with a smile the small opening that the wolf had left. Too small for it to be noticed...by any except her - [I]any[/I] opening was enough for Furie's blade. Her katana took a swift downward leap, directly between Luther's shoulder blades. OOC: Well Reflux, your compatriot is in need of aid. Oh, and I'd rather that you didn't kill off more than one of the other Walkers - they're not that easy to kill. I mean, they're not even close to Furie's skill, but they aren't that awful. If they were, then they wouldn't have survived when Darius ruled. But you can kill off the most inexperienced one. Oh, and I hope you don't mind that I gave Luther a scratch... Oopsy, heheh. ^_^;;

OOC: Umm..I'm not really sure what time it is...but what the heck, I'm going to post this up anyway. IC: The red envelopes were piled neatly on the small table. Every single one had been returned; if not, an execution would have accompanied the ceremony. The Shadow Walkers were not forgiving of failure, but the unfortunate event rarely occurred. So now they waited, filling the private courtyard, all on folded knees, cold stone beneath their feet. Even the novices had been gathered, pale in their white kimonos. The numerous others, including Furie, were garbed in midnight blue - a reminder that they only [I]walked[/I] the shadows. Shade sat in black; a stiff white collar was the only delineation between he and the night. The large fire sat in a stone basin before him. Slowly, one by one, he fed each red envelope to the flames, which consumed the delicate paper and blood. Numerous red envelopes...and one white one. The last one. This, he held up dramatically, his silken hair falling gracefully as he stood, "We have accomplished what was sought after, have we not?" The Walkers murmured the proper assent, eyes on their pale, dark leader. He continued, "And now the troublesome elves have been silenced once more - for the time being." He started to circle around the bright fire. "We shall, in time, have to suppress them once again, sometime in the future. It is a neverending cycle, to pursue the Shadowkind, and in turn, those who walk in shadow must follow the same path." A silent gesture towards her; Furie stood quickly, coming forward to take the white envelope. She stood beside Shade, patiently waiting as he continued. Shade circled again, his shadow twisting in the snapping flames. His hand disappeared into his robes, and when they reappeared, one held a skull. Much larger than any normal human's, the skull was slender and elongated, with a much wider area. Pearly, dagger-like fangs protruded from the skull's massive jaws. Some of the Walkers' hands went to their katanas. He held up the skull, luminescent in the night, "I suspect that some of you will remember this." An understatement; whoever had been there that night would never forget any part of it - the dead were never forgotten, a part of the Walker's bloody history, and in turn, legacy. He smiled, "For those of you who were not with us then, I will tell you. It's a reminder, a trophy if you will, of our last...meeting with the Crimson Pack." His voice dropped to a whisper. "...It is the remainder of Darius's head." Darius...a legend among Shadowkind. And those among the Crimson Pack were the most despised of all the werewolf brood. The most feared. The most hated. And thus, the easiest to kill. Some enjoyed it, among the Shadow Walkers. Shade unsheathed his katana, revealing a blade of white, deadly bone. The same that had separated the skull he held from the body. "it's time, then. The dogs have been getting a bit rowdy, energetic, excited. They are tame no longer. Time to fix the rest of them, shall we?" With that, his blade came down, cleaving the skull into two parts, which fell into the fire. Furie tossed in the white envelope after them. And in the echo of the firelight, Shade's quiet voice spoke, "...Hunt well tonight, Walkers." The mass of midnight blue exited, novices following their betters' wake. Furie emptied a bowl of water on the flames, and they sank down into the stone basin with a hiss, leaving only wet, sooty ash. Shade came beside her, reaching down to search through the fine gray powder. Two gleaming pieces of white surfaced in his hands - Darius's jagged fangs, still whole, still deadly. He handed one to Furie, who took it silently. He smiled, and breathed. "They say that wolves will not fight against their leader. And how to prove they can lead, than with their fangs? It may have some small effect. If not, it can always be used to cut their own throats. After all, you were always one for irony." Furie said nothing, remaining still. After a time, Shade drew close, laying cold lips upon her forehead. He whispered in her ear, "Stay to the shadows, but do not be consumed. We walk them only; we are never a part of them." Furie bowed, and departed, this time with a pearl of the dead in her pocket instead of an envelope. _________________________________________ In a rich office somewhere in the highlights of the city, a phone rang. A female voice picked up, "Hello?" And after a few moments, "Mr. Maxwell, a call." Draco Maxwell took the phone, putting his gun onto the glass table. "Hello?" Shade's voice whispered from the other end, "Good evening... The Dragon, if I am correct?"

OOC: ...hope I'm not posting too much...I'll tone it down I guess. IC: Minutes passed, and Alexandria could immediately see the calming effect that Raphael had over Ann. The girl's breathing was already growing slower, not so ragged. Her own breath was not the same, and she had to struggle not to cough. This pure air...was getting to be a problem. Suddenly, Raphael stiffened, and sweat broke his clear complexion. Eyes squeezed tightly, he seemed to be murmuring to Ann, and it did not seem to be going well. Alexandria braced herself, ready to rip the two apart if needs be. There was no way that she would allow anyone to hurt the girl. But she didn't need to break their contact; Raphael ripped his hands away by himself, and Ann reeled backwards, crying in pain as new convulsions took her body. Alexandria was already in motion, her hand at the Arc Angel's neck before he could take another step, "What happened? What did you do??" Raphael pushed her hand away, staggering backwards as he gasped. His eyes looked haunted, and he shook his head, "I...tried to convince her to..." He didn't finish the sentence; Alexandria could see his handiwork for herself. Blood splashed on the sheets, fresh as new feathers broke out. Ann started to scream, and ripping sounds were heard; bones covered in pure white feathers forced themselves further out of her shoulders, blood flowing with it. Ann crawled off the soaked bed, crawling desperately away from Raphael, blood smearing in her path. She was still screaming, a high keening broken only by sobs, "No! Get away from me! Alexandria...don't leave - you promised! Nnaaaahh!!!" More flesh fell away in raw pieces, and bones pierced her skin. Alexandria rushed to her side, but was unable to get close; the girl was thrashing at everything, pain making her vision blind. Even the demon had to gasp at the sight. Ann clawed at the spotless walls, leaving the scarlet handprints everywhere. Suddenly, with a sick, ripping sound, wings erupted from the fleshy shoulders. They were...beautiful, white, flowing, even spotted as they were with blood, skin, and gore. They thrashed against the walls, spraying more blood everywhere. The ground was slick with it, and Ann was pale, her pupils widening until her eyes looked like deep pits. The demon hardly breathed as she watched, "...is...is she..?" Raphael glanced out the window, worried, and then shook his head, "No, she's not transformed. She's still human. But with wings. She'll die within the hour; too much blood is gone from her body." Alexandria's gaze narrowed; something was not right... "What do you mean, she'll die? Did I not make it clear?? Save her. [I]Now.[/I]" The Arc Angel looked at Ann again, who was still moaning on the floor, smeared in blood as it kept flowing from her broken body. The wings seemed...out of place. His voice came slowly, quietly, as if he didn't wish others to hear, "...I...can't save her. And she's no longer in control of her blood. She [I]will[/I] die, unless she gets blood." "I'll give her blood!" Alexandria cut her arm, but Raphael grasped her wrist with his own. His gaze was wild, scared, "No! Don't! You don't understand! The only blood that can save her is the blood that awakened her. She has blood on her hands. It marked her." He glanced out the window again. Alexandria's second clue; her eyes narrowed, and Raphael looked worriedly from her to Ann. Her voice was quiet, deadly, "...traitor. Don't come near us." She walked to Ann's side, quickly taking the now still girl in her arms. The blood was warm, the feathers clean, the body broken and silent. Raphael knelt, his voice breaking, "...stop. You can't save her. Don't you see? Her birth is forbidden! I cannot save her...because God has called for her death. Please, don't fight the will of Heaven..." She looked down at him, contempt covering her face, "Coward and traitor both. Don't come near us. I'll spare you, because you have told me how to save her. But let anyone else come in my way, and I will not hesitate. Understood?" Raphael didn't answer; instead, another voice rang out in the eerie stillness, "So, Alexandria, will you slay us for the sake of the half-breed?" It was Michael. Others stood with him, their gazes as cold and determined as his. "Surrender her to us, demon; there is no other way for you to pass out of the gates of Heaven alive."

The smell of blood, dust, and sweat greeted her nose as she made her way through the quiet tunnels. It was a feral scent, wild in the dark, the epitome of beasts of darkness. [I]Of shadow[/I], Furie thought. She stopped where she was; she didn't need to go further. The sounds echoed, giving her a clear hearing of what was going on. Voices rang though the stone underground, triumphant, wild, a staccato beat that made the ground shudder beneath her. She listened... "...we shall crush our foes!!!" The voice rang out, full and untamed, rich in discord and entropy. The roars that followed numbed her ears; there were many of them...too many for comfort's sake. Furie's hand tightened on her katana, but she stayed still, putting her hand against the wall of the tunnel, feeling the vibrations caused by each voice. The howls sent a shudder through her body, but she pushed the feeling away. This was no time for fear. Instead, she listened; she felt with her fingertips each vibration from vocal cords, each claw digging into the ground, each footstep in the dark tunnels. [I]...how many of them are there? Have their numbers really grown so large? We should have kept a more careful watch on them...[/I] Her eyes closed in concentration, they snapped open at a new sound. [I]Vampyre...[/I] Swiftly, Furie made her way along the darkness, leaving the tunnels from a different entrance, far from the echoing sounds of the Crimson Pack, and the vampyre. No need to meet them at the moment; the time would come soon enough. But it was back to Shade, back to the dimly lit room, where incense was slowly rising. Furie's voice came quiet, "Shade." "Yes, Furie? What did you see of the little puppies gathering in the streets?" She bowed her head, "Puppies no longer. A full-fledged wolf pack is on our hands, and calling for blood." "Blood..?" Furie nodded silently, "Yes...they have called the hunt...on [I]our[/I] blood. Retribution for the fact that their past leader's head is now on our wall." Shade laughed at that. "Ah, very well then. I suppose it's time... Time to put them on the proper leashes, isn't it?" She said nothing in return, only putting the crisp white envelope on the floor, a black mark running across in her swift signature. The task had been completed. "Shade, it seems that...there are other Shadowkind gathering. I know not why...but other creatures seem to be getting more numerous as well...." "Yes, I expected that. Don't worry your head about it; we'll meet them when the time comes. For now, call the other Walkers. Time to put the muzzle on those foul dogs that run about the dumps." Furie bowed in acknowledgement, and then departed the room.

[B]Name:[/B] Michi Hyobanshi ("Banshee") [B]Sex:[/B] Female [B]Age:[/B] 19 [B]Race:[/B] Human (Asian) [B]Hair:[/B] Long, straight black, with some dark brown [B]Eyes:[/B] Dark brown [B]Skin:[/B] Light, pale, delicate [B]Build:[/B] Light [B]Clothing:[/B] Often simple kimonos of very fine, very expensive silks and materials. They're usually made of neutral colors, such as gray, black, white, navy-blue... However, when she goes out she'll sometimes change into a sleek, smart business suit, tailored to fit her slender body. With the kimono her hair is up and graced by a delicate pin or two; with the suit it's down in full length, sleek and straight, or tied back in a ponytail. [B]*[/B] If you still can't think of her, it's a mix between O-ren Ishii (Lucy Liu) and boA (Korean singer). [B]Weapon of Choice:[/B] A katana with a black blade, it has a twisting design of silver on its blade that disrupts electrical currents on contact, which is excellent in destroying things of mechanical nature (including robots). If the blade stays in a human or mutant long enough, it has the possibility of giving them a heart attack. It is charged by xanathite, naturally. She also carries black needles with the same design, and they have the same ability. These, she will throw, and they are quite long - about 4 inches in length, the width being about 3mm. Usually not deadly weapons, unless they're aimed at extremely vital parts of the body, they can cause extreme pain or paralyzation. It's like...acupuncture gone evil. :devil: [B]Vehicle:[/B] A sleek black motorcycle. Speed (Excellent), Maneuverability (Excellent), and Armor (Poor). [B]Vehicular Weaponry:[/B] The standard light blaster, and a holder for her katana. There is also a small cloaking device. [B]Bio:[/B] Her parentage is unknown, and Michi's earliest memories are only of life in the keeping of the Tai-Pan. Chosen as a small child for her delicate beauty, servitors were supposed to raise her, along with others, as women and geishas for the Tai-Pan's pleasure. However, in an incident at the young age of 10, Michi was threatened by some of the other girls, as rivalries were paramount in the household, and Michi ended up killing one of them. This incident immediately brought the Tai-Pan's close attention, and upon meeting the child, he was immediately impressed by Michi's fearless, wild nature. Separating her from the others, he called for special training, and she was then raised learning types of combat and weaponry. By the age of 16 she was an accomplished assassin, and now resides in the Tai-Pan's household as one of his personal bodyguards. [B]Only[/B] as a personal bodyguard. :flaming: Very calm and calculating, most don't notice Michi unless for her beauty, or unless they've made a bad judgement call and are about to be killed. :devil: She is valued for her skill and finesse, along with her quick mind and flawless grace. Even at her age, she is already almost unprecedented in skill with the blade, and is almost equally talented in all other forms of combat. As for the Tai-Pan's women...she ignores them, as they annoy her. She cannot stand empty praise, and if you try to fool or deceive her, you'll probably be dead in the next millisecond. The same goes for those that attempt to turn her against the Tai-Pan. Michi also chooses to protect the Tai-Pan against his glaring weakness for beautiful, exotic women... They, in turn, despise her. :smirk: For those who don't know her real identity, they have named Michi the "Banshee," because she customarily hums odd little ditties during combat. So they hear a lullaby before they die. Haha that rhymed! :laugh: [B]Political Alignment/Reputation:[/B] Her only loyalty is to the Tai-Pan, so her alignments fall wherever he chooses. However, not many organizations are really aware of her, as she hasn't been revealed all too much. Hope this is all ok... Hi Inari!!! :wigout:

OOC: Heehee, Redwall! I've read them all...they're so fun! So cute...and lots of little rodents that talk and sing and eat. That's the life for me! :p IC: She shook her head as she dusted herself off, exasperated. "Remind me, if I'm ever in desperate need of help, not to ask you." Patrick only smiled winningly, "Don't worry, you won't need to ask me. I'll already be in the process of rescue." Briseis glared at him, "Right. Let's hope you fail before you get me killed, mauled, tortured, or impaled." Before he could answer, she started walking quickly down one of the paths, leaves crackling underfoot. "Hey wait up!" Patrick ran to catch up with her. "Hey, you mad or something?" Briseis shook her head coolly, refusing to meet his gaze. Which also annoyed her; [I]he's fifteen, and he's taller than me. This is so stupid - why can't girls ever grow more?[/I] He looked her for a moment as they continued to walk, and then a sly, knowing smile crept onto his face, "..ah, I see. You weren't, perhaps for a moment there, [I]scared[/I] were you?" She looked sharply at him, eyes flaring, "No! I was [I]not[/I] scared!" [I]D****t! This is so stupid! Why aren't all guys as dense as everyone says they are??[/I] Patrick nodded, still smiling as he rolled his eyes, "Uh huh. Yeah, sure. Personally, I think you sounded a little anxious for a second there." Briseis bit her lip in annoyance, but couldn't restrain herself any longer. Her hand snaked out, flicking him sharply on the forehead. Her tone took a condescending nature, "Silence, peasant. I didn't ask for your opinion." She walked quickly past, and he followed, holding his forehead, where a small welt was forming; at the same time, he was struggling not to laugh. Briseis had to give him credit for that one - at least he had a sense of humor and decency, even if it was a little wry. She shook her head, hiding her own laugh, not [I]quite[/I] as annoyed any longer...

Furie slipped into the room, sliding the door shut silently behind her. Katana in hand, she crossed the shadowed room, light flickering from small oil lamps. Shade waited, seated on a silk cushion, a teacup and ricecakes laid on a small table beside him. The steam from the hot tea curled upwards, and scented the room lightly. Furie knelt, sliding her legs beneath her, and then held out the red envelope in both hands. Shade took it silently, laying it on the table beside him. It was the first one, as it usually was. He didn't check the contents - the smell of blood emanating from it was obvious, and elf blood was the easiest to identify. "Well done tonight, Furie." She bowed her head in respectful gratitude, but it was merely decoration. "I...was watched this evening." "By whom?" "I wasn't able to identify the being. They were quite skilled in...being unnoticed." She waited silently, expecting punishment. Soft laughter surprised her, and she almost looked up, but at the last second stayed still. Shade continued to laugh, sipping from his delicate teacup, "...so, Department 7 has finally acquired someone with skill. It took them long enough." "Department 7? How -" "They're the only ones with enough money to recruit anyone of that nature. Yes, perhaps others wandering this city are more powerful, more deadly, but certainly not as...quiet, neutral, unnoticed. Everyone else needs to show their strength. Well, except perhaps the Coiled Serpent." Furie nodded; the Serpent...sometimes called the Dragon when his wrath descended upon the city, but usually known to the public as Maxwell Draco, unofficial tyrant. Shade's voice interrupted her thoughts, "So, did this watcher from the Department cause any problems?" She shook her head, "No, whoever it was, they left soon after the target expired. They did not follow me here." He nodded, dark silken hair whispering as he stood suddenly. Furie struggled to get up as well, surprised at his sudden movement. Reaching into his kimono, he handed her another envelope, but this time a plain, creamy white. She took it, slightly surprised, but attempting to hide the expression from her face. However, it did not go entirely unnoticed; Shade was a master at detecting emotion. He smiled, "Yes, it's two in one night. The first time for you, yes? But it's time, and it will perhaps be more interesting than exterminating petty targets." The white envelope seemed to glare at her, and slowly she opened the crisp flap, "...an observation task?" "Yes, on a few dogs." The characters written on the paper made Furie's eyes widen, and she turned back to Shade, "Werewolves are hardly dogs." He shrugged, "Well, most are pathetic and weak, quite like their canine kin. However, you may be right about this one. We'll see." Furie looked at the name again, "The Crimson Pack?" "It's what they choose to call themselves, what they've made themselves known as. They call us the 'Eastern Gang' for lack of better knowledge. But no matter; they've been getting a bit...on the rowdy side, a bit more troublesome lately. So you're just going to take a little stroll and see for yourself...and judge if they need a little training." Even without seeing his face, Furie could hear the cold smile in Shade's voice. She merely nodded, putting the envelope in her pocket, and walking out with her katana. Another evening stroll... Hopefully this one would provide more interest than the last one.

As night fell on the city, dusk deepening into a tone more rich and velvet, the city came to life, lights starting to flare and blaze with color. The streets were crowded that night, and cars rushed by, horns screaming as their tires squealed in a jilting harmony. It was all familiar music to Furie's ears; she had heard it every night for the past seventeen years of her life. [I]Street music[/I], she thought to herself. [I]Literally.[/I] It always started with this, this familiar accompaniment to her life. Every mission, every assignment, every night started with the flickering lights, the noise of people, the cacophany of the street. All a jumbled, mixed up variety of diversity and chaos; a parallel to her life. But at the same time, entirely opposite. Colored lights shone on her hair, and she avoided getting bumped into. Her shadow wavered here and there, quickly changing as it was constantly being distorted by everything else. All familiar. Except one thing. Furie stopped. Again. Looking around carefully, her eyes peering around the skyscraper buildings, the people running past in crowds of laughter, music blaring from stopped cars. In the distance, the ever-present sirens of police. And a watcher. A smile flickered on her face; someone was following her, had been doing so for some time. Furie had walked longer tonight, trying to lose herself gently into the mundane jumble, but whoever was watching her was skilled. It slightly annoyed her, knowing that they actually were talented enough to keep an eye on her, but at the same time she had to admit a grudging respect. Furie had to give them some credit; besides, she hadn't been able to pinpoint who exactly was watching her, and that meant that they were quite talented. Whoever it was. But no matter; Furie could not wait any longer. The red envelope lay in her pocket, the two slips of paper enclosed inside. A name written, red on black, her assignment. [I]Poor flower child[/I], she thought to herself, smiling ruefully as she started to walk again. [I]Ah well, at least the elves will remember this one.[/I] And it would be less of the Shadowkind that she had to worry about. Broadway came into view, and Furie took a moment, watching the lights flow and battle with each other, trying to gain more attention. Her target loved this part of town; the glitz and glamour appealed to him, and though he was dedicated to his cause, he loved the sparkle of life as well. An avid watcher of musicales...as well as an accomplished fighter. Shade had been kind to her this eve; he had given her a somewhat exciting target. Furie smiled, and took a seat by one of the stone fountains. The water played with some of the sparkling lights, and as she dipped her hand in, the temperature was pleasantly warm. So she sat, as the night grew later, and wilder, waiting. She could still feel silent eyes, but chose to ignore them, aware that any search would leave her empty-handed of this skilled watcher. She wasn't going to waste time and attention on trying to find something that refused to be found. So she waited. [I]Broadway musicals... What kind of elf of the Black Flower Revolution watches Broadway musicals? What a nut...[/I] She smiled again, leaning back against the stone as people in glittering evening gowns walked past. The musical was beginning; it would still be a while until it was over. So she waited, sitting silently, absorbed into the background, her hand laying in the water of the fountain. Thinking of the white paper that waited in the red envelope, ready to be stained as a receipt of death. [I]Well, whatever he's watching, I hope he enjoys it...as he'll never be able to watch another one.[/I]

The clean purity of the air did not comfort Ann, nor did the bright, gentle warmth that radiated everywhere. Only Alexandria's arms kept Ann from screaming again, but she held on tightly, her fingers locked around Alexandria's form. She passed out briefly during the flight, coming to only as they passed through the glowing gates. Ann's eyes opened slowly, hazy from pain, and she locked eyes briefly with one of the forms that stood there, surrounded by a stunning aura. Alexandria spoke to him, "Michael, open the gates to only Azrael, to the true Azrael." Taking wing after Raphael, she didn't notice Michael's wide eyes as he locked gazes with Ann. Closing her eyes again, Ann clenched her teeth as she tried to suppress the pain. It seared in her blood, making her head throb with each beat of her heart, each pulse of her blood. Human blood. And it was falling...much too quickly. Other Angels gathered, drawn by the cadence of pain that reverberated around the two bloodied beings. Drawn by the familiar bittersweet taste of a new Angel taking wing, but their faces contorted into shock when they saw the blood. The blood, the girl, the demon. All following Raphael, Arc Angel of Healing. The place they entered was nondescript, seemingly not even there. As all things were in Heaven, it was in perfect harmony; it was there to knowledge, but at the same time misty, flowing in and out of the surroundings. Raphael held out his arms, but Alexandria drew back, tightening her grip on her precious burden. Her eyes flashed in warning. Raphael bit his lip, and then nodded, "As you will. But please, if I am to help her, I must be able to see her." Alexandria's hands loosened, and then gently laid out Ann on the waiting bed, white flowing sheets already spattered with the human blood that fell. Ann clung, desperately keeping Alexandria's hand locked firmly in her own. Alexandria brushed her hand over the girl's hair, gently shushing her, "Ann, darling, it's alright... Everything will be fine, but don't fight it, don't make it worse." Tears ran anew from both of them, but Ann's left crimson streaks on her pale face. She whispered desperately, her eyes wide open in fear, "Don't - leave. Don't...leave..me.. N-not..h..ere!" "Shush, I'm not leaving... We're going to help you, alright darling? Don't cry...I'm right here, and I won't leave. Don't worry, please..." Alexandria crooned softly, wiping away the bloody tears that stained Ann's face. They frightened her, and the reminder of death was not welcome. Raphael knelt next to Ann's curled form, and his hands hovered over her ripped shoulders, the skin shredded by the wingtips that had protruded. Blood flowed fresh, soaking the white sheets, as well as old blood that blackened and thickened on the ragged feathers. His breath hissed, let out slowly as he took in the damage done. Alexandria's eyes lingered on his face, and she saw the look in his green eyes. Her expression darkened, "Don't say it. She will live. She [I]will[/I] live, or Heaven will not be stained by only her blood." Raphael met her eyes, and then closed his eyes briefly. "I...cannot heal her. I'm sure that Azrael explained that to you. But...I can try to coax her to...accept the transformation more willingly. However, at this point, it may not save her...and only she, in the end, can make the choice -" "Do it." Alexandria's voice was flat, drawn taut; a warning. He nodded, "I will. But to do so, you cannot be touching her." "I'm not leaving." "You do not have to. But you cannot be touching her." His green eyes gazed solemnly at her, peacefully as she struggled with the choice. But in the end, there was not a choice to make - she wanted the girl to live. Gently, Alexandria tried to pry herself from Ann's grasp. Ann's breathing became harsher, as she struggled to keep her hold on the demon's hand, "...d.on't..leave!" "Shush, I'm not leaving darling, I'll be right here...but you have to let go of me. I promise, I'm not leaving." Finally, the girl's hands fell away, and Alexandria quickly stood so that she could not be in reach again. Ann's tears of blood started to fall again, and she blatantly reached for Alexandria, her hands clawing out to find comfort. But Raphael gently knelt in front of her, hiding Alexandria from Ann's view, taking the girl's hands in his own. He closed his eyes; Ann froze, and then, as if drowzy, her eyes closed of their own accord. Alexandria watched.

Curled in Alexandria's arms, Ann heard the exchange through deaf ears, holding only to Alexandria. The air was fresh, new to her lungs; she almost started to cry again from the beauty of such clarity. The fire still burned, her shoulders aching, but it was gentler now, only smoldering in her blood. The two wings that had begun to sprout still hung half-formed, ready to grow and leap out if given the chance. But she stiffened as Alexandria spoke to Azrael, who was still looking to the distance. "...carry her to Heaven? Or do we wait?" Ann stiffened immediately, and her voice came out, small and childlike, "Don't." Alexandria looked down, "Don't what, darling?" She cradled her closer. "...Don't take me to Heaven. I'm not dead. I don't want to go." Alexandria frowned, and then turned to Azrael, wondering if he had heard. But he was still turned, held by the strange presence that had entered the realm. She almost spoke again, but somethng about his posture closed her lips, silencing her voice. Suddenly, Ann convulsed in her arms again. She looked down, holding the girl tightly, slightly surprised, but then gasped. The girl was pale, her appearance unchanged...but something was wrong. Alexandria sensed it instinctively; something was [I]wrong.[/I] And then she realized...that she could feel Ann's pulse. "Azrael," she said quietly, not raising her voice. Her eyes were still locked on Ann, who was clutching Alexandria in a helpless, pained grip. If she had been human, her bones would be cracking under the pressure. Ann's gaze was wild, as she gasped, "Don't...don't - take me. Don't! Not - there - not - " "Ann, don't speak, just breathe," she said, eyes wide. She felt liquid on her arms, and looked to see a crimson stain. Blood. But...it was [I]human[/I] blood. Ann's shoulders were covered in it, staining the pinions that had stopped forming. Her broken skin looked horrible, dead white, and Alexandria could hear a heartbeat. Her breathing was raspy again, and Ann started to cough as she choked on her words, " - you - don't - take... Not - there -I'm - not -" Alexandria's voice snapped, fear riding it, "Azrael!" The Arc Angel turned, mildly annoyed from the disturbance, but his eyes widened when he saw Ann. The pinions that had begun to emerge were now covered in blood, that was flowing from the broken flesh on her shoulder blades. The feathers looked dead, no longer snowy white, but instead wasted and atrophied. [I]She's...suppressing herself. She's suppressing her Angel blood![/I] She was caught in the in-between, bringing herself back to life, even as her wings were already half-born. Blood dotted her lip as she coughed again, "Not - there!" Her eyes looked away, locking onto some point in the distance. Suddenly Ann's voice tore out of her, her throat raw as she closed her eyes. But the figure was still there, still a dark silhouette wreathed in shadow and flame, burning into her mind. The pain showered her in needles, digging into her flesh and skin as she twisted in an effort to run away. But knowledge consumed her, the knowledge that each pain was a life, a light violently torn from the world. [I]Tear me out! Tear me out too![/I] Her mind screamed silently, and she struggled in Alexandria's arms. More blood fell, trailing out from her ears as she heard...[I]him[/I].

"Furie! We've been waiting." The solemn tone stopped her in her tracks; she bowed low, staying for several seconds to show her apology. Said nothing - excuses were not tolerated. A silent nod, and she was up, walking quietly in stockinged feet to the low table, where she knelt. Her katana was set beside her, hand never leaving its sheath. The other Walkers glanced at her, but none deemed to acknowledge her with a smile; public exchange was not welcome in front of Shade. It was much too familiar, and much too dangerous. When Furie was sitting, Shade continued. A slender arm rose up, masculine in form, but full of a delicate grace. "It seems that the members of the Black Flower Revolution have been gathering again. Not just weekly meetings; these are a bit more...suspicious. Since all of their major leaders have already been identified, I have judged that it is time. No other warning will do." His eyes were invisible behind the small veil he wore, but Furie could sense the glitter of intelligence that lay hidden. Perfectly graceful, his head turned to each, and all bowed in consent. Furie was the last to do so, tipping her head in acknowledgement. [I]So...it's time to pick off the little flower rebels... Too bad - they were cute - while they lasted. Oh well...we're not killing off all of them.[/I] Furie watched in silence as the red envelopes were passed out, each containing a delicate slip of rice paper, and a name written in deep red ink. Red on black paper. Blood in the shadow. The white slip of paper would be used to wipe the blood off the blade when the deed was finished; [I]proof of purchase[/I]. A smile flickered on her face, but was quickly gone. Shade stood, his kimono falling in perfect, dark folds. They stood as well; each bowed in turn, slipping out the room as quietly as they had come. Dark katana in one hand, the red envelope in another, Furie bowed as well, and then walked forward when Shade nodded. She looked down in respect. His voice came out quiet, only for her ears, "Stay to the shadows, but do not be consumed. We walk them only; we are never a part of them." Furie bowed again, and he left. He had said that everytime she had left his presence, ever since he had first taken her in. Ever since he had freed her parents from the grips of Shadowkind with a quick sweep of a gleaming katana. She didn't remember it; the tale had been told to her by witnesses, other members of the Shadow Walkers. Gripping her own katana, she thought of the dark metal, tinged with scarlet in its deep hue. The hunt was on, and the prey waiting. She left the small room, and found herself again in modern metropolis life. She opened her "umbrella" to the soft rain, the pattering sound a quick cadence that matched her pace. Walking, she disappeared into the crowds that massed on the sidewalks, umbrellas matching hers. No one looked at her; she was just another person, another teenage girl wandering the streets of New York in the afternoon rain. Ordinary...except for a red envelope safe in her pocket...

OOC: Yep, know of Vanderdecken and all from reading Castaways of the Flying Dutchman by Brian Jacques. Quite good. :) Oh, and it's Evan Rachel Wood, not Drew Barrymore. :p IC: They left the library slowly, Brock rushing them out in agitation as he locked the fine oak door. Lacie was sulking, still in doubt, and upset that she had been reprimanded. Briseis took no notice of the other girl, watching only Patrick. [I]Where is it? Where's the journal?[/I] For some reason, she felt a deep want to read it, to find out what had been written on the ancient pages. She wanted to know more...about the twin Stars. Patrick, if he noticed her fierce gaze, chose to ignore it, walking silently down with the rest of them. Tyler Brock escorted them to the familiar hall which contained their rooms, "Don't [I]ever[/I] let me catch you near that library again. Understood?" His tone left no room for argument, although Briseis clearly wanted to intercede. However, this was not the time, and Patrick shot her a warning glance. She only nodded, barely, and went into her room. The others also returned, and she knew that her uncle was still out in the hall, waiting and watching to make sure that they stayed. [I]Wow...it's like being grounded, again. This is idiotic. There must be some other way out of this decrepit old house than a door. Not to mention, there's got to be another way out of my room, first of all.[/I] Walking to the window, she pushed the panes of glass open, and gasped as she looked down. It was a [I]far[/I] way down...she suppressed a whistle, which would probably alert her uncle. Looking out more, bricks jutted out here and there, and vines climbed around the window. About halfway down the way, a large oak tree sat beside the old house, its branches losing golden leaves. Swinging her leg over the sill, Briseis gripped the ledge with her hands as she tried to feel for footing. Once she found a brick to support her weight, she started to climb down, one step at a time, avoiding getting caught in the vines. Just as she was reaching the top branches of the oak tree, she reached out to grab one of the branches... A gust of wind blew past, dusty and hazy as it picked up the leaves and hurled them in agitation. The sea salt was clearly scented in the breeze, and Briseis found herself surprised - surprised, and caught off balance. Not a good thing when she was still thirty feet off the ground. She wavered, and then gasped as she lost her grasp on the brick wall. The salt air lingered. OOC: whee! ;)