RPG Urban Arcana: appearances Decieve

[ColourDeaf]

There is a wall between realities. Some call this wall Shadow. Most of the time, Shadow keeps each reality from intruding on the others. But on occasion the wall weakens, the barrier between worlds frays, and things from one universe slide into another.
Welcome to a world of swords, sorcery and cell phones. Welcome to a world where you can dodge bullets and sling fireballs, where the impossible is possible and appearances decieve. Welcome to a world where your neighbour, your workmate, your spouse, can be a creature from your wildest dreams, or you worst nightmare. Welcome to the world of Urban Arcana.

*****

[b]Days Earlier[/b]
The sun beat down heavily on the head of the traveller, hot and merciless. Thumb raised, arm stiff, walking slowly backwards, he scanned the highway behind him, peering for the tell-tale shine of a distant car.
[I]Three hundred and six bloody five days of the year and I have to pck the slow traffic day. Well, this is what you get for taking the back roads.[/I]
He sighed and dropped his arm, shoving it into his pocket and fishing around for his elusive pack of cigarettes. Locating them, he flicked one out and lit it casually, taking a long, grateful drag. He let he smoke out slowly and scanned the road again, and caught the sight of a tiny flash, just the barest hint of light on the long, empty road. His arm shot out reflexively, and he gesticulated wildly as the truck came into focus, a huge, 18 wheeled deal, bright red and dust-worn. As it approached him it started to slow down and came to a gentle stop. The driver opened the door, and the traveller looked up at him, huge, black and attired in all his stereotypical glory.
"You heading to New York, boy?"
"Yep. You offering a ride?"
"Would I be stopping otherwise?"
The traveller chuckled slightly and climbed in, "Thanks."
He pulled the door closed behind him, and the truck sped off.
"So...what brings you to New York?" the trucker asked
"Just chasing a few of my daemons."
The trucker nodded wisely
"You got a name?"
"Richard. Richard Constantinople."
"That's a bit fancy."
"They told me that when I picked it." the traveller replied, smiling slightly and lounging back in his chair, letting his sunglasses slip down to the edge of his nose. He looked around the cab of the truck, all empty fast-fod cups and empty wrappers. But hanging from the rear view mirror was something that caught his eye. A small medallion of stone, carved with the simple design of an empty road and a moon crescent.
"Fharlangh?"
The trucker started, and looked at the traveller with one eyebrow raised slightly.
"How do you..."
Richard reached inside his shirt and drew out an almost identical medallion, and grinned widely.
"On my way to NY on a mission."
"You karma police?"
"Yeah, bunch of Shadowfolks been disappearing."
"Damn..."
"Yeah."
"So when you said you were chasing a few daemons..."
"Meant it literally...well, hopefully not. but you never know, these days."
"Too true..."

*****

[b]Today[/b]
Richard hopped out of the cab, saluting the trucker in mock respect. Bubba grinned and saluted back.
"'Be seeing you around, then. Dweller watch you, Richard. If you ever need help, I'll be in town for the next few days. Just ask around."
"And you, Bubba, I'll keep that in mind. Thanks."
The truck sped off, and bubba started to walk into the city proper. Now the mission was truly beginning...

[Cyriel]

"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...

[Guest Midnight Rush]

High in the glorious office of a CEO, Maxwell Draco paced angrily. The office itself was immaculate: mahogany furniture, gold studded frames that held actual work done by Italian masters, glorious black grey windows letting just the right amount of sun in... it was perfect. And yet, surrounded by all the wonders of a limitless pocket, Draco was ragiing.

He was raging because one of his pet projects was about to be destroyed... his spy had told him that much. There was nothing even he could do, and he was in a rare predicament. The most deadly of the hunters... they would come for him if he waxed too high... and though he would kill many of them, like all things he would eventually fall.

"Damn you Earth! Damn you for letting me survive.... damn you for unbelievable luck. I'm getting tired of all this. But I must have patience... for my final project, the HGP, will soon come to pass. The barrier between worlds.." He mused, containing is emotion neatly.

He walked over to his desk and hit the buzzer, "Ami!"

"Yes, sir?" His secretary replied.

"Call Mr. Asmodeus Wolfe, set an appointment for exactly three days from now. Tell him that the King Rat is losing his will to be King... he will know what I mean."

"Consider it done."

[Eclectic]

Imara strolled aimlessly through the Metropolitan, gazing at the paintings for a few seconds before moving on. Nothing really caught her eye, at least none of the art. She spotted one of her classmates across the room, head bent intently over something. She meandered over, gazing around his curtain of flaming red hair.
"Hey, Matt. What are you working on?"
He jumped, but flashed her a bright smile. "Oh, uh, just a little sketch. The inspiration just kind of hit me, ya know?"
She smirked and nodded, sliding onto the bench beside him. "I think it's wonderful. You should show it to me when it's done. I'd love to see the finished product."
"Oh, I wasn't planning on finishing it, but I guess if you want me too. You...you wanna do something later? I know of this great club and I heard you like clubbin' so..." He looked away, probably a bit embarassed.
"I would love to go. Meet me at my apartment around nine, okay?" She took his sketchbook and wrote down her address in her neat, flowing script. "Bye now." She left eh museum and headed for her apartment. She'd have to look good, even if it was just to feed.
Four hours later, she walked into Antoinette, a trendy little goth club near the edge of the city, with Matt by her side.. She'd play nice with him for a while and see if she could find anything more exciting.

[Xander Harris]

A peppy pop dance song set the mood as the humans danced and romanced in the Antoinette night club. The bar counter was transparent glass, with neon tubes strung through it, which pulsed in time with the music. One of the patrons of the bar has ordered nothing to drink but a cup of steaming coffee. He was a fairly tall and thin gentleman, with oily black hair. His fingers flew over the Apple laptop he has set on the counter.

[I]Field Agent Uila: Report #244 on Subject 79.[/I]

He looked up, and continued to watch a certain attractive young female, clad in a glittery, modern miniskirt. She was grinding sensuously with her date, who didn't seem to know quite what to make of the brown haired bombshell, but was enjoying himself immensely all the same. Uila hated following Imara, but the Department needed the monthly report on her turned in on time...

[I]Subject 79 has again engaged in a pre-feeding ritual. Her pattern of victim selection still remains consistent. Victim is white male, red hair, black eyes, about age 25... according to the database, his name is Matt Durning... student of the arts, as were the last twelve victims. Prediction: Subject 79's habitation is due to change again soon.[/I]

Uila gazed at the vampyre again, and felt his stomach twist in revulsion, and his eyes spark with recognition. Uila didn't much like vampyres. And this one was a very boring vampyre, to boot. Oh, well, business was business. Any cheerful fantasies about staking the bloodsucker had to take second place to the commands of Department 7. And they had other plans for her.

The bartender tapped him on the shoulder, "Quit starin' at that broad, man. She's already made her choice for tonight. In the five years she's been coming here, I never once seen her leave with a different guy than she come in with. Now, over there, them chicks would be happy to..."

"Thank you." Uila rose up, shut off his computer and plunked the money for the coffee down. His target was on the move. All he would have to do was witness her feeding, file a report on the victim, and follow her back to her apartment. Then he could move on to observing someone else... The Department would soon need a report on that dragon living in the Bronx sewers...
******

Two hours later, Uila was perched on a streetlamp, watching the Asian women known as Furie striding down the street, fingering her concealed weapon. Uila figured the dragon could wait a few days. After all, dragons didn't tend to change much in a short time span. And these Shadow walkers were loose cannons, they needed close observance. He had orders from the top.

She was so confident, merciless, and elegant. She hunted his kind, yet he found there was something fascinating about her. Furie was not a bad person. She fought against the forces of evil, against the sorts of things Uila saw in his dreams. The way she walked, the range of feelings he saw deep in her liquid-like eyes... there was no one else in the world Uila would rather observe than this attractive young warrior.

But, of course, he reminded himself, it was all strictly business. Had to keep track of the Shadow Walkers, after all....

[Anne]

[COLOR=Pink][SIZE=2][FONT=Comic Sans MS]Loki stood in an allayway with her head poked around the side of the building. "Now which will be my next victim." she was talking to herself. "Lets see a little old lady; they are pretty easy to scare, a hot dog vender; i could also get a meal, a police officer; to risky, than she saw a man with a red tartan scarf wrapped around his neck; bingo we have a winner. He looks like a bum, they are the easiest to trick. Now to come up with a great trick." She sat down to think for a few seconds, her green eyes never leaving the man. Once she had her eyes set on someone she never gave up that easily.

Her tail and ears popped out of from her school uniform, she felt she thought better with these. Tapping her finger on the side of her face she got it. I'll do a ghost and pop up and scare him. She giggled to herself.

She ran out from the allyway an started following the man. She wanted to wait until there wasn't so many people around. She heard someone gasp, [I]OOps, forgot.[/I] Making her tail and hers disapper again, she heard more gasps. She giggled to herself. [I]These people are always so amusing.[/I]

The man turned down the street with not so many people. [I]This is the perfect place.[/I] There was a puff of smoke and she turned herself into a ghost. She went under the ground and came in front of the man. "Boo!" She used one of her leaves to turn into a firecracker, to give the man a little more scare.[/FONT][/SIZE][/COLOR]

[shahi]

Charnique sat in the park surrounded by a couple of her friends who seem to be in deep conversation. She herself wasn't really interested in what ever they were talking about chances are it was about a boy or some fight in school. " Humans talk to much." She thought to herself as one of her friends turned to her. " What do you think about it?" She snapped out of her thoughts.

"About what?" She asked quickly " The new principal?" One girl said holding back a laugh because they were talking about it for 20 minutes. " Well, I don't know yet I kind of liked the old one he was nice. But I haven't met the new one." She said standing up to leave. "Hey, I have to get home so I'll see you guys later." She said and they exchanged good byes. She walked down the street ready to get home.

She got to her front gate and opened the mail box. She noticed one letter from the school. "Not worth my time" she muttered as she opened the door and put the mail on a near by table. She headed to a small bed room and slowly walked in. "teacher..." She said quietly. Her eyes glowing a purple color as soon as she entered the room. " I'm here." An old man sat quietly in the corner. His hair was a pearly white color and his eyes where white as well.

" So do you like it here now that you've been." The old man asks and turns to the girl with no emotion on his face. Charnique nods" I like it here...thank you for coming with me." She knew that he shouldn't have trained her or watched over her for that long. At the age of eight a child is left on their own. But, the old man watched over her for more than five years even after he stopped training her. He was like a father to her.

She sighed and sat down on the bed. " how long do you think I can keep passing as human?" The old man chuckled a little and cracked a small smile."In this strange city, as long as you want." She smiled back knowing that this would be one of the last days she had with her teacher. He would pass soon and she would be left alone.

[Revelation]

[size=1][color=#999999][i]A gust of wind breezed past Alandra as she stood in beside a stone fountain in the middle of a park. She puffed a breath of air and leaned her back against the rim and watched as the people walked. They had no idea what she was capable of, yet she knew there was nothing she could do for Department 7 had caught her once.[/i]

"I despise cops...including Dep. 7."

[i]Sighing, Alandra pushed herself off of the fountain and began to walk to the edge of the park. Footsteps were hurrying, yet no one was seen. Whoever was running, was using the shadows to cover themselves. With a smirk on her face, Alandra focused her eyes to the thick blackness of the shadows. She then scanned the area and had found a figure motioning to someone behind. With a scoff, Alandra closed her eyes and they had come to normal reaction. She walked through the trees and towards the city, pondering if there was something..interesting to do.[/size][/color][/i]

[ColourDeaf]

Richard flicked through the small black notebook he kept around with him, going through the names of his contacts in New York.
[I]Harry Yung, Tommy Deseralli, Candy....that's for later.... who the bloody hell's Alex? Ah, Dimitri, he normally has his finger on the pulse of this damn city[/I].
He took a final drag on his cigarette and flick the stub away distractedly. He didn't like big cities. He always felt that there was somebody watching him... His gaze flitted back for a second and saw a young girl, not much older than 15 watching him intently, green eyes fixed on him. He turned back and carried on, putting the little book back in his pocket.
[I]Antoher admirer...it's a curse being this handsome...[/I] he smiled to himself, chuckling slightly. [I]Now where's Dimitri hanging out these days?[/I]
His mind started to wander. Old memories, old faces and old haunts forming into a cocktail of nostalgia tinted with longing.
"BOO!"
The memories shattered like glass, and he fell back with a start, a small explosion sounding in front of him. His hand shot inside his jacket and he drew the battered Derringer he carried around with him and aimed it squarely at...
The chest of a 16 year old girl, decked out in a school uniform, fox ears and a tail. The gren eyes girl who was staring at him before.
[I]Smooth, Richard.[/I]
He ran a hand through his hair and shoved his gun back in his jacket.
"What the bloody hell did you do that for? Damn near gave me a heart attack, you did!"
[I]She's cute, though...[/I]
[I]Oh shut up, She just came out of the ground and you're thinking how cute she is?[/I]
[I]Just saying.[/I]

[Matarael]

It was getting late, and Destis was hungry. As he walked along the streets of NYC, he glanced at the passers by. Only a few payed any close attention to him, the paranoid ones. The ones that read up on the Shadow incidents. The ones that steer claer of him because his skin is too plae, or his teeth are too sharp. Destis sighed, he hated this part. Not that he liked the rest of the vampiric game he was forced to play, but he hated this bit in particular. He came up to an alleyway, cool and dark. As he watched, a dim glow lit the dark ever so slightly. As it died down, a thick wad of smoke poured out of an unseen source. This was his target. He walked into the alley.

The man looked up, lowering his cigarette. "You the snitch?"

"Not exactly."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Destis looked at him from over his sunglasses. "It means I'm not here to give out valuable information. I am here to take your money, though."

The man laughed bitterly. "You think you can take me, punk."

"Oh, and I want one other thing."

"Oh yeah? What?"

"Your blood."

Destis lunged, forcing the man into the wall behind him. The man grunted, but smirked, before attempting to force his fist into Destis' gut. Destis grabbed the arm, and twisted it behind the man. He screamed, but not for long, as Destis broke his neck with a sickening crunch. The man slumped to the ground. Destis sighed before kneeling down, and sinking his teeth into the mans neck.

[Zen]

[color=green][size=1]


A crowd gathered around two men, staring each other down with undaunting eyes. Both breathingly steadily and silent, they stared in silence, as the crowd did aswell. One man was dressed in a dark red shirt and white pants, the other looked more ragged and street grown. Neither carried weapon nor wore armor. Just the two warriors, ready for the truest battle. The red shirted man with white hair began to take off his shirt, as did the other. The white haired warrior's body revealed several battle scars and a well toned body, the opponent, on the other hand, was less fit, and had a clean skin. Both men began clenching their teeth and fists. The wind blew bitter on their bare abdomens as their bones began to crack and snap. Their bodies spasmed and twitched all over, but neither man's face moved as they stared down one another. Suddenly, both men began to growl as their eye's pupils grew large and shrunk back to reveal more wild eyes. They showed their teeth's like wild animals in battle, and they began to sharpen and grow long, into fangs. Their skin darkened and their muscles buldged as their bodies changed shape, to become more hunched over. Both men growled loudly as their noses and jaws shot out into snouts. Their ears growing pointes and their finger nails turning into think claws. Then from the base of their neck, hair sprout across their body. The white haired man covered in silver-shone white fur and the scruffier looking one growing dusty black fur. Excitment quickly shot threw the crowd surrouning them as they began to cheer and yell.

Both men had transformed into their true form... and both were ready for battle. The white furred fighter stood without a twinge as the dusty street fighter charged at him with ferocious eyes, claws held high, like a wolf jumping to maul its prey. The wolf jumped and came down on the white opponent, but was left with nothing but a silver flash, and an agonizing gash against its right side. Blood poured from the wound, as the fighter quickly turned around to see nothing, but another white flash. The dusty fighter quickly hit the ground as he felt the padded foot of his opponent on kick his back hard. Rolling quickly in an attempt for recovery, the fighter was met by a held down arm and a claw less than an inch away from the face. The white furred warrior was victorious. He slowly eazed off the paw and got up from the dismayed, dusty warrior. He fur slowly disappeared and his snout went back to its human form. His claws went back to finger nails and his eyes became normal. His ears went back and his skin turned its still dark color. The man with white haired stared down at his defeated opponent.

"Get better, before you challenge the pack leader, fool." the white haired man said with a sneer. Picking up his shirt, he covered his battle scared body and left the human ring, cracking his neck as he left. This was the average day of this werewolf. Always proving himself to be the rightful pack leader, many mangy wolfs have challenged him, and all failing, he stopped killing his opponents long ago, realizing his was depleating his own pack. Mothias was an enigma of a man. Most passing on the street would see him and think a young hipster, just another college kid. None realized that he was actually one of the most powerful werewolves in the city. Because of this, Mothias often times found himself smiling out of the blue. A reak picker upper.

He had been pack leader for 3 years now, in this human realm ever since his old mentor and pack leader,Darius, was killed by an anti-shadow realm group, nameless to date, but known to the wolves and others of the shadow realm as the Eastern Gang, the name deriving from the fact that all of the members were asian, mainly japanese and okinawan. They were a dangerous group of assassin's whos intentions seemed to only to rid Earth of all those hailing from the shadown realm. And since then, Mothias' only wish and goal was to topple that organization in anyway neccesary. But that goal would be impossible until he gained the respect of his pack in a whole, so that they would trust him, and thus follow him into battle. The sad thing was... Mothias was still proving himself to the pack that he had lead for 3 years now, successfully. Maybe soon, he hoped, they will see him as a rightful and just leader...[/color][/size]

[Guest Midnight Rush]

Maxwell Draco sat behind his huge desk smoking his cigarette intensely. " Mr. Asmodeus Wolfe.... it's a pleasure to meet you. I've heard that you and your team have...certain...talents that could be useful to the HGP?"

Mr. Asmodeus Wolfe could not be seen, for he sttod in the dense shadows of the corners, amplified by his own power. When he spoke it was a quiet, calm sort of voice... but it's edge was coated in acid. "You have heard correctly. So the King Rat is ready to call it quits, eh? Now I see why you are starting the HGP after so long."

"I would not advise you to ask too many questions. What talents can you provide my project?"

"I lead a team capable of target location and preparation."

"Fee?"

"20.5 Billion. US. Cash."

"11."

"13.5"

"6.5 delivered in cash tomorrow to your account in the Caymen islands. A further 14 after the job is done."

"Done."

"Three Weeks."

"No problem."

"If it is... don't bother coming back. You will already be dead."

[DuoMax]

Adam walked down the streets of New York, smiling inwardly as peple parted slightly to let the massive man through, and smiling even more when he noticed on the Shadowfolk. They would all be dead soon. He would see to that. See that these threats to the world were taken care of.

))C:sorry for short post, but I'm very busy right now ^^;

[Eclectic]

"What's wrong?" Matt looked a little worried, and with good reason. She had stopped dead on the sidewalk, glaring furiously at a spot that appeared to be nothing more than shadow. "Imara?"
"Oh, it's nothing. Maybe I should just go home now. I have a paper due in the morning." She turned and hailed a cab, determined to find her follower. Her eyes glittered a little, the preternatural emerald filtering out the flecks of grey.
"I would be faster if I just drove you home. I really don't mind..."
"No, it's better this way. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" A cab pulled up and before he could say more, she jumped in and growled directions back to her apartment. Not only had this onlooker ruined a perfectly good meal, he'd interrupted a date with someone she actually had a slight attachment to. She arrived home within the hour and comtemplated the events of the night. Everything led only to one group, Dept. 7. She raged at them for a few minutes, before calling Matt and setting up another meeting later that night at a quaint little café.
[i]At least the night's not a total waste,[/i] she thought.

[Veritas]

[font=Century Gothic][color=darkred]"Uhhh today was too long" Fayt sighed walking down the sidewalk. The gentle rain splashed on on Fayt's head and shoulders. Glancing up at the sky he focused on the glowing crescent moon dancing in and out of the clouds. [/color][/font]
[font=Century Gothic][color=darkred][/color][/font]
[font=Century Gothic][color=darkred]His attention was suddenly drawn to a cab driving past.[/color][/font]
[font=Century Gothic][color=darkred][/color][/font]
[font=Century Gothic][color=darkred]"What is this feeling maybe another ShadowKind, if I follow her maybe I could find something out." Fayt thought staring at the girl in the backseat.[/color][/font]
[font=Century Gothic][color=darkred][/color][/font]
[font=Century Gothic][color=darkred]"Its probably just my imagination" He thought continuing to walk.[/color][/font]
[font=Century Gothic][color=darkred][/color][/font]
[font=Century Gothic][color=darkred]The thought of finding another shadowkind wouldnt leave his train of thought an he found himself giving way to the chase.[/color][/font]
[font=Century Gothic][color=darkred][/color][/font]
[font=Century Gothic][color=darkred]"Damnit" Fayt thought as he cut into an alley and jumped from one wall to the other alternating till he got to the roof.[/color][/font]
[font=Century Gothic][color=darkred][/color][/font]
[font=Century Gothic][color=darkred]Starting to run he jumped from building to buliding chasing the cab. He was some distance behind and the cab was almost out of his sight when it stopped. A figure barely visable exited the cab and entered the building. He could still sense the being as he jumped on to the building. Making his way slowly to the fire escape he stopped. The feeling was gone and Fayt shocked by this walked to the edge of the roof and sat down.[/color][/font]
[font=Century Gothic][color=darkred][/color][/font]
[font=Century Gothic][color=darkred]"I guess it was just my imagination, shouldnt of chased her" He said with a sigh as his stomach growled.[/color][/font]
[font=Century Gothic][color=darkred][/color][/font]
[font=Century Gothic][color=darkred]"Im hungry too" He said checking below him for a clear jump.[/color][/font]
[font=Century Gothic][color=darkred][/color][/font]
[font=Century Gothic][color=darkred]Standing up he jumped down into the alley below him landing as if it was only 3 feet high. He turned and walked towards the sidewalk.[/color][/font]

[Cyriel]

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]

[Xander Harris]

Uila ran and jumped across the rooftops, occasionally summoning a burst of wind to get himself across a chasm. He had pried himself away from observing Furie after watching her slaughter that night's targets and filing a report on the killings. She was so engrossing to watch as she fought... too bad it was elves she was killing... Uila knew he should be more upset to see his own race killed, but the Black Flower Revolution was considered a threat by Department 7 as well. The Shadow walkers were doing their work for them.

His night's work was almost done. He would make one more sweep of his district, read the reports of his fellow agents in this region of town, then indulge in a few minutes of Elven-sleep before heading off to the bank. He almost fell down into the street, as the sudden pulsing in his eyes threw his balance off. One of the presences he had just sensed was familiar, the other was not. He felt no hostile intentions, though. Creeping to the edge of a roof, he leapt out onto a bird-like gargoyle, and surveyed the situation.

A preppily dressed Chinese fox popped out of the ground in front a rugged man wearing the symbol of Fharlangh about his neck. A Traveler. Generally harmless. The Traveler made a move like he would attack the fox, but then seemed to think better of it. Within a few seconds, the two were chatting amicably.

Uila quietly entered a few things into his computer, then returned it to it's pocket inside his trench coat. He then leapt off the statue, and landed directly behind the school girl, simply using his ultra-strong leg muscles to absorb the impact of his landing as opposed to wind. Not a smart idea to use upward currents around a female in a short skirt.

"Loki."

She turned around, trying to hide the fact that she had been startled.

"Oh, uh, hi sir. I was just talking to this new guy... He's real nice, so write nice things about him for the Department..." Her tail started to twitch rapidly, so she rubbed her leaf and the tail vanished.

"Mm hm. Just chatting. After leaping out of the ground to frighten him. As, if you'll remember," Uila withdrew a piece of paper from within his coat, "Is prohibited by Department orders. You can't draw that much attention to yourself!"

There was a hint of concern in Uila's voice. He had come to be quite fond of the little trickster, and would hate to have to be the one to bring her down.

"It's o.k., though! He's Shadowkind! And no one was watching! I mean," she looked at the elf, then at the ground, "no one but you."

"Alright. I'll let you off with a warning." Uila put his hand on her shoulder. "Just be more careful. Not everyone will refrain from shooting you like this gentleman here.
speaking of which..."

The servant of the Dweller On The Horizon had been watching the exchange with interest. Uila stepped around the fox, and walked up to the Traveller.

"Alright. I need your name, true race, and a look at your true form. Then you are free to leave."

"What if I don't want to tell you my name?" the Traveler asked cautiously. Behind Uila, Loki was making gestures at her new found friend, trying to get him to comply.

"Well, I need to learn your capabilities eventually. If you insist on resisting, now is as good a time as any" Uila said quietly, as his eyes shone a bright green and his hand grabbed the Traveler's arm. The Deacon of Fharlaghn tried to twist away, but Uila was far stronger and flipped the newcomer onto the pavement. As Traveler struggled to his feet he began to draw his pistol, but the elf summoned a gale force burst of wind that knocked his opponent clear across the alley and into a dumpster. The new guy didn't get up. The man of business walked quickly over to the Traveler, and removed a pen-like object from his coat. He pulled open the man's eyelids, and scanned his retinas, then consulted his computer.

"Aha. Here's the match. Richard Constantinople. Hmmm. Interesting history..."

He turned back to Loki, who was nervously biting her nails.

"Here." Uila handed her a five dollar bill and a business card, "When he comes to, take him out for a morning cup of coffee, and walk him to his residence. Welcome him to New York city on the behalf of Department 7. If he needs to talk to us, tell him he can call the number on the card, or simply do something stupid. Take care of yourself." Uila rubbed his hands through her hair, then with a flourish of his trench coat, leapt back up onto the rooftop and headed home.

[Anne]

[COLOR=Pink][SIZE=2][FONT=Comic Sans MS]Loki listen intently, she knew she was in trouble for making Uila worry. She nodded as he handed the money and card to her. As he rubbeed her hair she gave a small smile. As he leap the air blow her skirt up again revealing her white panties. [I] I really am going to have to bring that to his attention. He tells me not to attract to much attation to myself, but than he goes up blows my skirt up.[/I] She watch his figure go and waited a few minutes. She let out a sigh.

She took the card and sniffed it. The card still had his sent, she let out a blush. She really did like him but always figured that he only looked at her like a child. [I]Even though I am almost tripled your age.[/I] She thought to herself. She looked around at her surroundings and didn't notice anyone. She popped back out her ears and tail. She felt confreted in them.

She walked over to the guy and squited down. "So your name is Richard. I am sorry about before. I should have gone with the old lady." She grinned if Uila had heard her say that she would have been in trouble again. She looked at him again, "You know you don't make very good conversation when you are unconscious." She gave a giggle. She had the urge to draw on his face that why when he woke up... she smirked and than thought about it. [I]If i did that and Uila found out.[/I] She didn't want to think about it.

She squited and started to twitch her tail back and force while she thought. It had been awhile since she came here. Uila had been the one to find her. She had been scared at first and a little entertained at the same time. She had gotten into a mess and he had resuced her. She promised to behave herself, he didn't notice that her fingers were crossed, and she had for the most part. She came out from her thoughts when she heard a moan.

She looked at Richard and watched him stir. "I would take it slow getting up if i were you. You hit your head pretty hard." She put a hand on his arm as he blinked.[/FONT][/SIZE][/COLOR]

[Cyriel]

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.

[Guest Midnight Rush]

Maxwell Draco had just finished a conference in regard to the future of the telecommunications industry when his private phone went off. He answered, "Well?"

"We are down to Sixteen Candidates. The problem is two of our more promising candidates are Dep. 7 and Shadow Walker."

"As the elimination continues, keep me informed. There is no reason to come into contact with Shadow Walkers more than needed." With that he closed the phone. [i]DAMN! If we have to use a Shadow Walker the whole thing may collapse... then again there are many others that may be the one... The Human Gate Project must succeed! Then I can bring my kin into this world, and we shall rule it like we did Shadow! [/i]

The King Rat had for so many years been able to open small, temporary gates between the worlds.... But the King Rat was dying and he had no replacement. Draco's Shadowtechnologicists had discovered that certain humans possessed enough psyche to become a permanent gate if properly prepared. Draco had searched for over 200 years for the candidate... and now Wolfe was close to finding it for him.

"Naught I can do but wait... until then I must go deal with him."

"Ami!"

"Yes sir?"

"Bring me my Night Clothes... and the new SsG 570."

"SsG 570, sir?"

"The bad-assed gun I just bought, it's in storage depot 7... the 81st floor."

"Coming right up sir."

[Zen]

[color=green][size=1]

It was saturday night, 12:37 am t be exact. Mothias stolled down the street with his hands in his deep, trench coat pockets, breathing cold into the winter's frozen air. His white hair flailed in the bitter wind as he made his way to the old subway station, where his pack would be meeting at. He was late, as usual, and most had grown accustomed to that. The stairs going down to the old, decayed meeting place was graffitied badly, this served enough warning that this was no place for commoners. Mothias stepped down the broken stairs and towards the center area of the station, where a large number of russling werewolves huddled together, waiting and conversating. The room fell silent at Mothias' presence. Smirking, he continued walking and stepped onto a large ledge, clearing his throat. Mothias began to speak.

"Brothers... Sisters, and all members of the Crimson Pack!" Mothias called out in a powerful and deep voice, "I have gathered you all here today, to make my first true movement since becoming pack leader." Russling spread throught the room, some excited, others adgitated.

"What is this 'movement' that you speak of, Mothias?" a small voice came from the now silenced pack.

"I am glad you asked, brother." Mothias said with a smile. "As you all know... the sworn enemy of the Crimson Pack, Werewolves, and all those hailing from the shadow realm, is the 'Eastern Gang'." growling and howls spread threw out the room at that statement. "And we, of all packs, clans, and species, have a sworn vendetta to the Easterns, for their crimes commited against our pack. Murdering our former pack leader, killing off several of our own, those are just some of the hate crimes they have commited against us. And now I stand here to say, I beleive it is time for... RETALIATION!"

The pack fell silent. Wide eyed and in awe now. "It is time for us to strike back against the organization who so mercilessly hunts us down, as if by sport. Werewolves are creatures of pride and honor! And I swear by Darius' name that I will NOT allow some two-bit HUMAN GANG TO DISHONOR OUR PACK!" The room began to get excited at Mothias' bold and powerful words. "But, my brothers and sisters, what I truly need now, is you. If there was ever a time I needed your cooperation, if there ever was a time that I needed my pack to recognize me, and respect my will, it is now. I have proven myself pack leader time and time again, have I not?" The room fell silent again as several members of the pack thought over their past actions. Then, cheers came from the crowd, without force, the crowd began to cheer to Mothias' words. "That is what I thought! Brothers and Sisters of the Crimson Pack! It is time to regain our honor, and become the greatest force in all of this human city! It is time to make this the era of the Werewolf! And place the Crimson Pack at the top! We shall CRUSH OUR FOES!!!" Mothias called out, answered by a barrage of cheers and yells of pride. Mothias smiled with pride himself as spirit filled with excitment. Mothias was ready to fill out the vendetta he had held for so long...

[B]OOC:[/B] Yo, you guys tell me if I'm going to fast. And Cyriel, feel free to have your character listen in on this little speech.[/color][/size]

[Swordsaint]

"Desthir!" Raynor drew his Katana as he rushed a tall, heavily clothed figure stooped over a pale body, face frozen in an endless scream. The demons eyes burned bright red in recognition of the person charging him.

"Raynor!" The coat tore free of the demon as he spread his wings. the long fingers turned to claws, the smooth tanned skin turned brownish orange and turned scaley, it's reddish aura flared with hatered.

Raynor's face stayed a cold stoic mask as he closed with the demon. His black trench coat wipped about the desereted subway, his boots rang and echoed against the tile walls. He reached for the light within, focusing it into his blade. The demon howled with rage swiping viciously with his clawed hands. Raynor ducked under the claws, he could feel the demons hate for him in the claws. He slashed his blade neatly along the demons belly, black blood spilled to the floor. He turned on his heel bringing the glowing blade down on the demons back. The demon was knocked to the ground from the force of the blow, he pushed up on his arms to get up, but Raynors blade bit into his back pinning him to the floor.

"******* you and your order!" Raynor stepped to the demons head, drawing out a silver flask, engraved with a dragon, something he recieved on occasions such as this. The demon's eyes grew wide with horror as Raynor pulled the stopper loose.

"I'll come back you *******! I'll come back and slaughter you all!" the demon strugled to move, but his legs refused the frantic orders. Raynor poured the crystal clear contents onto demons face. The flesh burned and sizzled under the touch of holy water, the creature howled in anguish. Raynor re-placed the stopper and returned the flask to it's place in his coat. He grimaced from the sulpheric smell as he drew his sword from the shriveling body. Neatly he traced his mark in the demons blood, one the police would brush off or look over, but Dep.-7 and the other Knights would recognize.

[Matarael]

Destis was walking to his temporary job, when he felt a commotion of energy by the subway station. He smiled, Shadow walkers always made such nice meals. As he reached the subway, his grin wavered. These were not Shadow walkers, they were something else, and there was a lot of them. Still, it must be worth a look. He quietly descended the steps into the darkness that engulfed the station at night, taking of his sunglasses as he went. Now he could see perfectly. As he neared the bottom, a pair of shadows from the light ahead made their way towards him. Reacting almost on instinct alone, Destis transformed into a bat and perched himself on a nearby pipe to see the newcomers. Suddenly, his vision started to fade. Such was the pain of being a bat. He squeaked, cathcing the echoes just in time to see the two figures turn sharply in his direction.

[I] What the...[/I] he thought, [I]since when can humans hear ultrasound?[/I]

The figures walked towards him, so Destis was forced to act. Flapping in a somewhat disorderly manner, he fluttered out of his hiding place, towards the sky that stretched out above him. The two gave pursuit with shocking speed, and Destis was soon flying at full pelt.

[I]Hell, what's with these guys?[/I]

He was cut short, as one of the figures sprang, forcing him to the floor. He felt his bones breaking in the vice-like grip of one of the people.

"What is it?"

"A bat."

"Spying?"

"It's a bat, how can it spy?"

"Well, either way it's lunch."

The talking figure opened what Destis could see were jaws, which loomed closer to him. There was a flash of purple light, and Destis forced himself into human form.

"What the hell?"

"A vampire, I thought they died out."

Destis eyed the two attackers. They were quite muscular and tall, with what seemed like elongated teeth and nails. Probably just his imagination. One similar feature they had was snow-white hair.
"Hey, I ain't the eating type."

"Well then I suppose we'd just better kill you."

One of the figures lunged at him, whcih Destis easily dodged. He reached into his coat, pulling out a long silver knife which glittered in the moonlight. The figure lunged again. This time Destis grabbed him by the neck, forcing him into the wall to his side. He plunged the knife into the wall just by his head, and turned to the second figure.

"Unless you want your friend hurt, you'll answer some questions."

The figure scowled, and said nothing.

"What are you doing here."

"That's not for you to know."

"Suits me."

He sliced through the skull of his friend like paper. [I]Silver was a werewolf's worst enemy[/I], he thought. That was probably what they were anyway.

"You BAS****!"

The second figure jumped forward, roaring. As he ran, a faint glimmer of energy rippled off him. He was transforming. [I]Can't let him do that.[/I] Destis reached once more into his coat, pulling out a Luger pistol. Old but efficient. With a blast that shook the very walls, he planted a silver bullet in the figure's head.

"No problem" Destis said, twirling the pistol and smiling evilly to noone in particular. A commotion started up down the stairs.

[Cyriel]

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.

[Swordsaint]

Raynor had since taken to wandering the crowded streets of new york after killing the demon. His thoughts swirled through his mind, the demon had been weak, as far as demons went, they were hard to kill with out holy weapons, and most of the time then, they were only banished back to the hells whence they came. He looked down at his watch, sidestepping a troop of teens out for a night on the town, it was nearly midnight, the witching hour as it were in tales of old.

[I]those tales of old are real now aren't they Ranyor[/I] He wandered through the streets, still amazed that people couldn't see what he could see. The old woman couldn't see that the hot dog vendor was an ogre. He looked to his right, the cabbie was shouting at the woman in a red minivan full of kids was a goblin. He looked down an alley way, the bum slumped against the dumpster couldn't see that the schoolgirl had a fox's tail...wait. Raynor stopped himself as he passed the alleyway. He steeped back and looked down there again peering at the two closely. They both had shadow aura's, the bum could see her tail. Raynor studied the bum closer, around his neck was a medallion with a crescent moon, over an empty road. The bum was really a wandering Deacon Fharlaghn.

[I]Better see what's up, with a wanderer slumped against the dumpster he must've had arun in with someone[/I] Hand close to his sword he steped into the alleyway, making no attempt to hide his footsteps. The young girls...[I]ears[/I] perked up when she heard him coming.

"Excuse me miss...but what are you doing back here? The alleyways aren't safe for a woman such as yourself to be wandering in." The girl just stared at him, taking in the newcomer, her eyes widened when she saw the patch on the right arm of his coat. She muttered to herself.

"great...as if Uila giving me a warning weren't enough." The deacon was stiring, he looked dazzed, and the feel of magic was strong here, like it were recently used. Raynor tensed throwing back his coat to reveal his sword.

"Step away from him ma'am, and use not your powers." The deacon sat still, blinking as if gathereing his thoughts. The girl stood facing Raynor. Her face was indignant.

"Listen buddy, I didn't do anything to him. Back off, he wouldn't listen to a Dep.-7 agent." Her ears twictched slightlyas she spoke. Raynor's eyes narrowed, Followers of Fharlaghn usually listened to Dep.-7, even Knights of the Silver Dragon listened to them. Raynor relaxed a little, letting his coat drape over the sword.

"Let's see what he'll have to say." The fox-girl gave an exhasperated sigh, Raynor didn't care, he'd taken an oath to police the shadow kind, and to hunt down and slaughter those of evil.