Esbell

The wolf?s jaws scrapped away at the metal shell of Vangelios? cone helmet. One of the blades managed to slide past the thin grill that protected his face and began to chip away at the camera that hid underneath. Vangelios? became panicked by the loss of his vision and the horrid noise of his own body breaking away, yet it was the tormenting sensation that filled his body that lead him to become maddened. Flailing his rod in a blinded fury he impacted the wolf and sent it spiraling into the metal walls where it became unbalanced and vulnerable. Vangelios? vision had been obscured by the damage that the wolf had done, and he had a difficult time making sense of the environment around him with this impairment. Only the blurred visage of the Alpha stood immediately recognizable, yet it?s form distorted in an ethereal manner. Echoing through the area, the voice of the Alpha sounded once more. It announced that it contained a heart which caught Vangelios? immediate contempt. Once again Vangelios? voice fluctuated, yet this time it was a far more violent tone. ?With that heart you kill without!? You?ve gained for nothing!? The discovery of pain and the mental unbalance of Vangelios during this period had taken it?s toll, and he began to quiver and quake inside the confines of his hole. A wolf had leapt onto Vangelios in his broken state and in retaliation he threw his limbs all over himself to try and grab the scrap, but his ailing systems made it impossible for him to even tell where it was. Though he could hear it?s cruel body raking against his.

((Hello my precious fellow roleplayers. This post is only to show you all I'm alive and well. I see this thread has been as active as my ability to come up with a clever analogy for this statement.)) Vangelios had secluded himself within the recesses of his mind for the longest while. His mind was cluttered with very violent yet rather comforting voice. When he had fallen through the hole his mind was straightened back to normal, and he was no longer intoxicated with the ideas of bringing the humans harm. He felt a heavy feeling within him, and it was extraordinarily unpleasant to him, and he felt that it was connected to his imagining hurting human beings. Now, he was wondering, if he would be capable of such a thing. When there was mention of a child Vangelios focused his immediate attention to the subject at hand. Noticing the boldness of Archie rising up once again, as he bolted through a corridor all by his lonesome. Vangelios was stuck amidst those who stood behind as the team ventured out. The humans wore nervous expressions on there faces, and the scraps where silent as death. ?If some unfortunate urchin where to be added to our ranks I?m sure he would love to see us in a pleasant light,? Vangelios uttered. He waved his rod to arc over the group and stated ?Julian you have been a real upstart throughout this ordeal, Maya has been sweet yet reasonable, Kilo you have something sacred to hold on to, Rose you are most adept for a doll, and Zlota your actions make a good replacement for words.? There was a pause, ?Let YOU? give the child the hope he deserves, and continue to be the glorious individual YOU? all are.? Vangelios froze, his voice had never given any emphasis on his words before. He delved back into thought as to what this meant. ?You?

Vangelios erected himself in shame with the help of Heat, and shook his right leg to untangle it from the fallen scrap. He proclaimed he was fine as his movements were not terribly hindered, however, unable to recognize the abundance of parts that were torn from his body this only speculation. Heat's words turned as he remarked on Vangelios? failure to uphold his word to protect Maya. This further complicated his sub conscious with feelings of doubt. After Heat?s persistent barking he wandered over the group, and Vangelios followed him like a dog on a leash, until he inexplicably fell to his knees, and heard an unsettling disturbance under his coat. He erected himself as swiftly as he could, and turned his gaze over the struggling wolf scrap that continued to bury itself. Turning swiftly to Grettle, Vangelios pondered aloud to her, ?Is Heat starting to sound human?? Grettle seemed perplexed by this line, but replied ?I haven?t spoken to them much.? Vangelios immediately directed his rod to the struggling wolf scrap ?It may be savage, but we now know scraps can be in a family.? He displayed an open hand to Grettle, ?Become my sister, and with the three of us helping each other we will aid the humans, but as their friends instead bound in obligation.? While he waited for Grettle, he uttered over to Heat and Maya, ?By my side Maya, I said you will not need to use your hands, and on Heat?s back you don?t need your legs.? He attempting to replicate laughter once again, but it once again distorted into an alien noise. ?Heat, would you like to be friends with Maya, and Maya would you like the same of Heat??

((Been a busy bee folks, so my efforts here have suffered as consequence. Only expect to hear from me once every couple days. If it looks like I‘ll be nailed down a bit I‘ll let out a warning)) In a ravenous flurry of strikes, the wolf-like scraps attempted to tear past Vangelios’ metal overcoat. To his fortune, however, the barrier of snow that nearly encapsulated him when the scraps first ambushed him had made the terrain around him difficult to maneuver past, so often their claws would simply slip past any vulnerabilities while they worked through the snow. With the weight of the scraps on top of him, Vangelios couldn’t exert enough force to right himself up. All Vangelios could do was watch the scene unfold, and he was filled with a great distain for what he saw. The entire group was scattered to individuals confronting the wolves that prevented them from reforming. It was nigh impossible to conceive these humans possibly dispatching a scrap of this sort without the aid of each other. Yet then he began to see everyone pull out miraculous feats of strength and cunning. Scraps fell before their might as if displaying a glimmering hope that this encounter would be in their favor. Vangelios would tempt his fate as his partners had, and he simply waited for the opportunity to achieve his glory. With much dedication the scraps and unearthed Vangelios from his tomb of snow and immediately their assault had become life threatening. One of the scraps bent and clawed at a fold of the metal cloak to pry it open, yet in a moments notice it’s partner plunged it’s whirling blades into Vangelios’ body, and sight of sparks and sheet metal erupting from his body filled his gaze. The amount of force that was exerted in this process actually caused Vangelios to unbind from the snow. Using the powerful motion of the scraps he was able to get enough force to roll himself over and catch the scraps unbalanced while he began to right himself. As he placed himself back up on his feet, Vangelios continuously swept the ground with his rod to keep the scraps off their feet. Unfortunately they quickly anticipated this motion after some careful movements, and poised for another attack. One of them charged directly to Vangelios, so in response he quickly made a parrying motion with his rod to topple the wolf. This caused him to lose sight of the second one, and Vangelios quickly felt an intense impact from his rear causing him to stumble into waiting jaws. As Vangelios skidded toward the scrap he quickly shoveled his rod underneath it, concealed in the snow, and with all the strength in his arm used the rod as a lever to force the scrap on it’s back. Projecting his foot outwards, Vangelios stomped on the scrap using it as a break to prevent his toppling over, and trampling the scrap under his weight in the process. The damaged scrap flailed horrifically afterwards, but the damage to it’s body began to make it’s gears collapse and it’s movements caused it to sink into the snow, burying itself into a frozen grave. Vangelios shambled back into a defensive position and gazed at the remaining scrap. As the horrid automaton moved to circle Vangleios, he could notice it was tracing a line of debris that they had torn off of his body, so it seemed as if the scrap was demonstrating the damage it was capable of. The metal coat of Vangelios’ was rather bent from being bludgeoned, and a great many mysterious parts continued to rain from his body. With a screech the scrap leapt high into the air, beyond what Vangelios could see, and far beyond his reach. Great precision during it’s decent allowed it to grab onto Vangelios’ coat, and it ground it’s saws against it, causing the faded yellow glimmer of it to deteriorate to a silver sheen. Vangelios couldn’t break his arms past his cloak with the scraps embrace pinning them together, so he simply fell face first into the ground with the scrap still on him. The wolf struggled under his body pressed against the ground. It was forced to let go and attempt to crawl out from under him, which it what Vangelios was waiting for. He used his arms to unfold his cloak and shroud it over the scraps body, and trapping it’s head against the two ridged edges of the fold so that he could operate his hands and still keep it pinned. Using his rod, he pierced through the neck of the scrap and began to grind it against his coat until the friction caused the gears to break.

[COLOR="DarkRed"]Vangelios lumbered over to Maya in very close proximity, and loomed over her in a dominating presence. “Do not indulge in pride if your suspicions are accurate, for you might as well wish misfortune on us,” he uttered to her. “If these monsters happened to be the scraps without essence then we are in the home of automatons that feed off destruction.” He remembered facing the heartless scraps in wartime, and how quickly he transformed roles between humanities valuable gem to their martyr protector. That was not something he wished to go through again, but he knew his other options where even more undesirable. Heat optimistically assured Maya that he would protect her given any unfortunate circumstance. At the mention of this, Vangelios clumsily lifted his working hand over Maya, and his grotesque fingers loomed over her as if they where about to grasp her. She seemed slightly intimidated by this motion until he reeled back his hand, and continued his words…[/COLOR] [COLOR="DarkRed"]“Miss Maya, fret not of any dangers here, for you alone have the wit to survive any encounter I’m certain.” A silent pause proceeded his words, and he even turned around facing away from her. “Heat and I won’t allow you to taint your hands with violence, so you don’t even have that to fear,” he looked around and noticed everyone starting to branch off into their own little groups. “I am here to quell your troubles,” with these last word Vangelios struck the ground below him with his rod without making a sound. His gaze switched to Grettle, and he noticed she was the only soul alone. Vangelios waddled beside the scrap, “Are you perhaps listening to the sounds that echo through your conscious?” He didn’t give her the time to answer, “I find myself lying to the humans often, for they do not comprehend the way I think, but you decide to be silent.” Vangelios, walked into her gaze and pointed his rod to her, “Your thoughts are worth nothing to the group if you keep them to yourself, and your hidden wisdom could only be of benefit.”[/COLOR]

((Everyone and anyone, don’t be shy to talk to me if anything was portrayed inaccurately, anytime at all… ever)) [COLOR="DarkRed"]Vangelios’ lens scanned everyone as they bellowed in laughter. It was not something Vangelios had seen very often, in his experience humans only really broke from their stoic nature when something precious was in danger, that’s how it was in the war. The sharp expletive Archie made in response to Duo’s offer caused quite an uproar, though it was most obviously a positive one. In efforts to elevate the humans state of elation, Vangelios attempted to mimic Archie’s humorous remark. “Oatmeal is quite undesirable,” Vangelios stated, however, his words were met with a nod rather than a chuckle. The party continued to converse as they dined on their meal, while Vangelios quietly brooded within himself, and reflected on his interactions with the team. It is on this journey has had the most experience around humans since he was first reactivated. As Vangelios tuned out the noise of the humans conversation, he could hear a static noise scraping in his mind, and beyond that it manifested itself into what sounded like an incomprehensible whisper. This small noise dwelled in Vangelios’ mind ever since he entered the shelter, but now he could focus on it clearly. He flicked his rod against the metal hull of the area repeatedly never striking the same place twice. The noise rang out in an erratic chorus. Almost as quickly as he began, Vangelios ceased his incessant actions, an turned to face the scavenger team. A few of the members looked back at him with puzzled expressions, so Vangelios decided to address the situation. “An omnipotent yet ineffable voice had surfaced into my consciousness,” he then marched as swiftly as his clumsy legs could carry him over to Archie. “Is there any sort of mysticism that inhabits this environment?” Vangelios inquired, only to view a bewildered expression on Archie as he shook his head. Maya eagerly butted in, “Mister Vangelios if you can’t comprehend it, then how do you know those are voices that you hear.” Vangelios quickly turned to face her “Your curiosity is quite prudent mademoiselle, however, I must assure you of it‘s nature.” Duo chuckled in response, “In my medical experience when you hear voices in your head and speak in riddles we call that being insane.” Vangelios ignored the comment, as he could not determine whether it was meant to be insulting, or perhaps it was another example of the weird comedy style he had seen earlier. With great anticipation, Vangelios waved his rod to point at each individual including the scraps. Everyone seemed rather unnerved by these sporadic movements, and Vangelios then realized that his acting up had no apparent benefits to discovering the origin of the situation. He then prodded the air and addressed in his always emotionless voice “Your all going to get me, stay away… that was for humor, did I portray it well?” He didn’t want them to be concerned anymore, hopefully his joke fit with the style enough to return everyone to their high spirits. "Oh, Maya I can hardly understand half the things you humans mean, so I'm positive it is a voice," Vangelios then barked an uncofertable sound which could be best seen as him trying to replicate laughter... very poorly.[/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkRed"]Vangelios stood motionless with Duo and heat locked in his gaze looking at them almost obsessively. Duo was shyly confessing fondness for another person, though Vangelios was still in too much of an upset state after what happened he couldn?t focus on whom they were speaking of. It was then that Vangelios remembered Heat expressing him liking humans as well, and watching these two mention their affections rouse a subconscious feeling of jealously that stirred in Vangelios? mind. He didn?t have any real comfortable connections with human, and was frustrated by his dependency on them. Though he knew that he could be a great asset in scavenging for the key, though he always found his role to be like a mobile sack to carry things, as long as he could do that he had a purpose. Another scrap intruded in on the scene, and Vangelios recognized it as Grettle. Vangelios never truly had prolonged interaction with her but he had seen her enough so that he could easily identify her. Apparently she was to accompany the scraps on the expedition. Vangleios looked upon the group and their high spirits even after the bitter scenario that preceded it. He waddled over to the group, ?We have flung ourselves in the web of fate, it will be a great struggle to untangle ourselves and move freely.? Vangelios caught the immediate attention of the group, though before they could respond Vangelios continued his sermon. ?The expressions that the humans displayed, are of doubt, selfishness, fear, and fighting for hope,? only his prolonged interactions with humans allowed him to make this guess. ?The ire that was expressed earlier dwarfed my attempts to inspire some optimism, and I ask of you all,? Vangelios paused, ?what has all of you in such high spirits.? He turned to Heat, ?You heard that they have considered disposing of you, and Duo this mission could be disastrous to yourself making that fellow you spoke of forever ignorant of your fondness.? Vangelios took himself back and dwelled on what he had just said. Perhaps this was not the right words for the moment. The group seemed to seep out of their elation once he addressed them.[/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkRed"]The garage echoed with a chorus of clanking and scraping metal as the scraps wearily dragged themselves along aimlessly just as an excuse to move their bodies. Vangelios stood erect among them posing like the steeple of a chapel, gazing upon his kin through a glazed lens, and delved into the recesses of his poorly fabricated mind. Though the scraps he watched over had no destination for their wondering, at least they were in motion, and are managing to get somewhere. Vangelios stood motionless, and waited for the word that would summon him to fulfill his duty to the sky cleaner. As undesirable as it was to him, it still allowed him to continue living, and it was still a purpose. He was quickly roused from his inner reflections as a scrap had unexpectedly tripped over the low rod that was fixed in Vangelios’ grasp. With great curiosity Vangelios peered down at the flailing scrap as it whined and struggled to right itself up. The poor scrap cried in a distorted voice that made any words it might have uttered completely lost in the wave of screeching noise. Vangelios prodded the scrap with the point of his rod attempting to assist the struggling scrap, but the pointed jabs only seemed to lead to further distress. Working his other arm past the folds of his metal cloak, Vangelios scooped the scrap up with his hand, and slowly and clumsily lifted the scrap back to its feet. The scrap focused it’s gaze upon Vangelios as he assisted it up with the harsh unreadable expression of a scrap. It’s sporadic voice barked at him, and then cooled to a calm whisper before the scrap attempted to limp away. Vangelios tipped his rod against the scrap and guided it a short distance with its support before allowing the scrap to continue his wandering on his own two legs. Vangelios lifted his rod to his vision and stared at it in deep thought. While this was a handy tool to make up for his damaged hand, it has been a bit of an obstacle for others to avoid, especially in the busy hallways. The garage abruptly echoed with the booming voice of Heat possibly in conversation with someone. With anticipation Vangelios waddled awkwardly supported by his rod in pursuit. While the minor errors in his sensory system lead him to make some odd turns to head in the right direction he eventually came close enough to hear the shared dialogue between Heat and a human. Heat let out a few optimistic and kind words toward his human masters as simple as they were. Vangelios always found Heat to be a pleasant scrap to be in the presence of. His seemingly blissful ignorance was quite alluring. A loud hiss pierced the air as Vangelios noticed a deep vermilion liquid beginning to trickle down the folds of his metal cloak. [/COLOR]

(Alright, let me know if anything needs to be changed or clarified) [COLOR="Purple"][B]Name[/B]: Vangelios [B]Age:[/B] 78 [B]Purpose:[/B] Originally designed to retain supposedly important information that was implanted into him, which he assumed was for the purpose of reciting to a certain group or individual, that could make use of it. Currently in the sky cleaner, he has been designated the task of assisting the scavenger teams in the waste. [B]Appearance:[/B] A large construct reaching a height of over eight feet tall, and weighing over a ton. Vangelios is a very sturdy and simple design, his body is overlapped by heavy metal plates made of a dense nickel alloy, which fall over his body like a metal cloak. The components that make up his head are encased in a heavy metal spire that juts from the neck of his protective plates, however, beyond the open vents of his “face” you can see the lens of a camera observing it’s environments. The heavy shell that surrounds Vangelios gives the impression that he was meant to have a knightly or even angelic appearance, yet Vangelios remains a cruel aberration of metal parts. Many of his parts have been refined with platinum metals such as iridium which has distorted some of his parts do to the complications in the use of these metals. Despite his great resistance the corrosion and harsh environments, his silvery sheen has quickly stained to a pale yellow with sanguine tinting. Poor refining and self-experimentation has left the structure under Vangelios’ plates an almost ineffable compilation of various metals stained a violent red color. Descriptions of this part of him are difficult due to Vangelios constant tampering with it, and has almost no consistency in build. The last feature of worthy notice are his arms, which are long enough that they could almost scrap the ground below, and fitted with rather articulate hands. Though his left hand has been rendered unusable through experimentation, so it has had it’s grip locked on a crude rod manufactured by Vangelios. [B]Personality:[/B] Vangelios acts in a very stoic fashion, and the only real way anyone can perceive any sort of emotion in his words are when he uses flares his dialogue with grandiose phrases and words. When he is at his most flamboyant he will brandish his rod almost like a knight with a sword. With the great amount of knowledge that has been imputed into Vangelios’ memory, he has developed both a sense of destiny and confusion, eager to relay the contents of his mind to those who can use it, but frustrated at his lack of comprehension of the material. He has turned to the texts of many religions in order to help perceive this knowledge, and has obtained a spiritual way of thinking and a grand sense of hope. Though his spiritual enlightenment has distorted the knowledge implanted into him and has rendered it rather incomprehensible to those other that Vangelios, and this leads him to believe that the time of his revelation is yet still in the future. Unfortunately this has also lead to a rather unsettling sense of paranoia, with subconscious fears of following a false destiny and feelings of inadequacy, yet his hopeful insight often overshadows this. He also possesses a morbid curiosity of his own body, which leads to a compulsive desire to experiment with it, along with questionable results. [B]Background:[/B] Vangelios was built in a facility near clay mine where a number of rare metals where uncovered and he was constructed to test the abilities of these elements. Vangelios was seen as a relative success and thus was uploaded with the knowledge of these metals as well as possible discoveries that might be ushered in from their use. Along with knowledge about societies workings, and an overwhelming amount of other things Vangelios was only able to memorize most of the content, but was unable to truly comprehend almost non of it. Once the war started, Vangelios became a participant, feeling dependant on humanity in order for him to have any sort meaningful existence, and he protected them with his life. In one particular instance he was damaged to a great extent and was forced to take shelter for repairs, and was deactivated until he woke up rather anew by the hands of the people living in the sky cleaner. When he relayed his information to the inhabitants of the sky cleaner they hardly managed to trace a word he said, so in order to make himself useful to then he had to take the undesirable job of scavenger so that he may simply live. (Oh, if it makes things easier you can call him Van.)[/COLOR]

((A thousand pardons for the horrid absence folks, but I’m returning to this comfortable little world of make-believe now)) Benoit woke to the soft touch of the woman beside his bed. He shifted his gaze to her, and tried to correlate her image through his clouded eyes. She was a very formal lass with deathly pale skin and hair like a kindling flame, so at a glance she seemed to share some qualities of Benoit himself. The lady spoke to him as he roused from his rest, and announcing that she was to be his servitor. Unfortunately the bulk of her words was faded by Benoit’s mental fatigue, however, acting on an impulse he rolled out of his bed and atop the lady’s feet. Pushing himself upright he stared into her eyes, removed the glove on his right hand and grabbed hers and shook in professionally. “Charmed to be acquainted to you my dear mademoiselle,” Benoit peppered some flaunt into his words to mask his weary state. As he became more in tuned to reality the words he spoke to him earlier suddenly came to light. “Heather, would you consider being my wife?” Before she could answer Benoit initiated a little monologue for her. “You are not a servant to me, but only to those dastardly daemons, and you are helping me help them. Considering the way you address them those daemons must have you absolutely tickled to work for them. Whatever prestigious act they did to win you over must have been a handsome one. I on the other hand bartered my soul to hell, and negotiations ultimately ended there.” Benoit paused, “I’m a cloud drifting through life… and I can't seem to find a constructive point to my babbling anymore.” As he finished his words he sat back down on the bed and wiped his brow.

((Sorry about the delay folks. Got myself a small pickle to deal with, so let?s not rule out the possibility of there being a few hiccups in my activity. Thank you for the patience and understanding? assuming you gave it to me.)) Judging by Night?s response, he was a straight shooter of a man, and would likely not dance along to Benoit?s charades. These Hunters were like the salt of the earth, yet neither of them made any motions to antagonize him. Despite the contempt before investigation questioning of course. Night?s stale words began to distort in Benoit?s mind as his physical fatigue caught up to him for the moment. His legs stiffened like the trunk of a tree, and the sudden paralysis knocked him over. The very next thing Benoit could correlate was a visage of Mortus looming over his debilitated body, and in a seemingly omnipotent voice, demanded of Benoit to reposition himself to the warehouse location. Benoit smiled almost stupidly by unexpected course of events, ?As hastily as my body will carry me commandant,? he reported back. Retrieving the discarded patta that lay beside him, and utilizing it to hoist himself upward, Benoit began to lumber over to his automobile, and fell into it?s driver seat. Adjusting himself properly into his seat, and giving life to his engine. He bolted his car on route a swift as possible? not even bothering to close his drivers door as he darted chaotically through the streets.

As the acolytes had fled, the music that filled the area faded to silence, and now all that the man could hear were the screams of the daemons and acolytes. A horrified howl of a young woman echoed from the crowd of acolytes. The man saw one by one the garbed figures erupted in clouds of their own blood, all of them slaughtered in a fashion almost festive, at least in the demented eyes of the man who witnessed it. Amidst the chaos the violent crusader was revealed: an almost decrepit man sporting a vibrant red overcoat, and wielded a massive claymore that was decorated with the acolyte’s blood. Night… The Hunter darted toward the man, brandishing his weapon in an aggressive advance, yet he was quick to alter his attention in favor for the half-daemon in distress. The man watched in intrigue as Night made quick work of the serpentine daemon that terrorized his ally. In a flickering flame the monster disappeared into nothingness almost as if it had never been there. This act had caused the other ape-like daemons to stumble back astonished while hollering in terror. Night neglected to even take account of the other daemons of the area because of this, but instead addressed the man questioning the acolytes schemes. The man broke out of his dazed expression, “It would make me a bit more comfortable if you would call me Benoit” he responded. Looking at back the strewn bodies of his comrades the man sighed, and began to limp over to the mess, continuing to speak as he advanced toward the bodies. “It was a night of wine, women, and song for me,” he chuckled lightly. In an instant the black ribbons lashed out and grabbed the upper half of an acolyte that was split in two. Benoit turned to face Night and propped the body near him and used his ribbons to manipulate it like a puppet. With it’s arm’s placed to its dead eye’s it was made to look like the body was weeping. “This poor thing was little Penelope,” Benoit stated with a mockingly sad expression while patting the back of the body. “She was a loving wife and mother of two,” after that statement he released the body and it fell violently on the pavement. To illustrate her demise Benoit traced a finger across his throat. "You see we arn't all out of our minds," he paused with a humorous expression on his face. "While everyone else does the fighting, we enjoy our music."

((Unfortunately this is more me demonstrating to you all that I?m still involved rather than a constructive post. Just there is only so much a mentally depraved drunk can do on his own.)) Several ribbon-like manifestations of dark energy danced around the man like charmed serpents. Swaying with grace despite their translucent and distorted image. In but a moment their moments relaxed and folded almost dormant in the air around him. The man?s eyes caught the glimpse of a ravenous creature that emerged from the shadows, almost choreographed to the sporadic beat of the music. It?s massive body propelling toward the half-daemon in an attempted ambush. This daemon weaved through the hulking bodies of the ape-like creatures that held the target in place. With a chuckle the man muttered aloud ?Mortus you ol? snake in the grass,? he seemed as if he was amused by his own ill attempted pun. Considering the odds against the half-daemon, the man no longer felt any concern of having to initiate combat himself, and that he wouldn?t be deemed responsible if the target met an unfortunate end. His back now faced the conflict, and the man stared down the wide road ahead, however, he then noticed the garbed figures of his acolytes spilling out of the buildings they were residing in. Their frantic movement indicated they were in a state of alarm. Perhaps they saw something that got their adrenaline running wild.

As the large daemons closed in and loomed over the man and the half-daemon, he noticed that she was poised to attack, but remained in a defensive stance as if waiting for someone to initiate the first strike. She seemed very level headed about the whole situation, and displayed only a sense of caution as opposed to fear. At this point it appeared that this Hunter was without her friends. The fact that she had also neglected to react to the mans greeting lead the man to believe she wouldn?t partake in dialogue. Naturally he was oblivious to the fact the words he spoke were alphabet soup. The man pulled himself up and he delved into thought. With the toxicity within him slightly diminished everything around him became just that much clearer. Unfortunately there was a job that had to be done, and the lass needed to stay away from the fort. Digging his hand into his coat, he fished out a walkie-talkie, and addressed the person on the other side of the line. ?Play us a song Maestro,? he announced surprisingly coherently. A moment after the call a build up of sound flooded the residence. A scratchy big band song echoed between the buildings and flowed outward to touch the ears of those outside. Within the area the loud music rattled the eardrums of those caught within it, but a sturdy person like her guest shouldn?t be to bothered by it. Hopefully this would call an audience to the show, and add a little spice to the situation. The man tried to drown out the music as best he could and he began to concentrate upon the magic inside him. Around him, prismatic distortions began to flicker, but gradually solidifying into a form.

The man continued to rapidly honk the horn of his vehicle until he eventually stumbled out the car and caught glance of the creature waiting for him. He stepped back a bit, reacting in surprise of how swiftly it reacted without him noticing, ?how long had it been there? he asked himself. It was a rather exquisite little half-daemon, coated in purple skin and displaying powerful wings, it caught the man in a moment of awe. Unfortunately this character seemed less than amused by his presence, and was poised to make a hasty offensive if needed. It was a shame as the man had dressed in his best burgundy suit to greet his opposition. He threw a whimsical smile on his face and tried to stand as formally as he could, yet leaning on his bladed in a breaking sweat made him less than presentable. ?Salut,? the man gestured toward his acquaintance. When he continued to introduce his name his heavy french accent and drunken slurs converted his words to gibberish. Still continuing his ramble, in an effort to appear less menacing, he tossed his patta support to the ground. To his dismay this made him feel rather top heavy and made him buckle to his knees, and empty the contents of his stomach. Staring down at the crimson fluid he expelled he could hear the echoing moans of demons approaching. From the corners of the intersecting streets, large ape like creatures amassed to the location. Their bulky arms carrying them more than their stumpy legs, and their boney jaws hung open as they howled to signal their gathering. A half a dozen of these creatures began to circle in on the two, but they seemed less than aggressive despite their fearsome appearance. The man perked his head up and stared into the half-daemons empty eyes as if entranced.