NationStates Jolt Archive

The sun beat down on the dusty, dirt ridden town. Not a god damn thing to do here, she thought to herself. She had been traveling for quite some time now. She had walked through the sun eroded desert and came across this small town. All of its inhabitants must have been inside. She knew people lived there because of the large amounts of buckets of water stored outside the grocery store. She wiped her forehead. Her hand held droplets of salty water. She wiped it on her white dress, which a fine layer of dirt and dust had collected on. She sat down infront of the local bar and stretched. Back to the people. When she had arrived at the town suffieciently called One Horse Town, she saw a small boy, dressed in brown shorts, run into a small shack. She ran to get his attention, but none was granted. She knew small town folks did not take well to strangers, especially strangers that were woman, alone, and with wings. She had expected this, but she thought at least she could get into the bar. She would wait until nightfall, when more people would come out. Now, she sat and twiddled her thumbs, not thinking about her thirst, and increasing delusions she was having.

A picture of my character is as follows....

http://www.atpicture.com/display.php?g=angel&img=angels020.jpg

Tag! :D

Tag.

I might join in later, if I have the time. :)

she's a very shapely error message, lol.

OOC: Is the town for anyone to own or is it in your country?

#tagged for future post...

tag (post following if I have time and the server is good)

OOC: Sorry about the picture it used to work. I will just have to describe her with IC descriptions later on. The town can be owned by anyone. She is not in my nation. If that helps at all.

Double post

The dust had settled. Cool breezes played on her skin. She walked the lonely road, shifting up dirt. She noticed some of the buildings, small, and falling apart, showed light shining through the faded curtains and dirt caked windows. People were here, but why did they hide. She laughed to herself, they think they are safe in those buildings. She shivered. She was not cold, something lurked in this town. She was drawn to it. It had called to her, but why? She noticed a small shop, Your EveryDay Store, with a red sign, with white painted letters that read, we are open. She walked up to the door and saw a man frantically change the sign to we are closed, sorry come back later. She glared at the man and he backed into the shadow and returned with a shotgun. Rashel rolled her eyes, humans would never realize. She backed away from the store and continued on her way. She turned around and looked at the shop and the sign was changed back to the original. Humans were strange speicies. Damn she needed water. She saw a bar sign at the end of the road. The building looked just like the others, not any better or worse. They all looked the same.

She walked through the swinging doors and into the room. It was filled with locals and they all got quiet when they saw her. She met their gaze and they turned back to their drinks or games or friends. She walked up to the bar counter and said, "Water, just plain water." A frosted mug slid to her. She gussled it. "Another."

The bartender grumbled and got her another. He walked away muttering "Freak."

Rashel got up and walked out the door and stared at the sky. These places were all the same. People just were so god damn ignorant and she was so bored.

Boredom leads people to do crazy things.....

When Rashel walked out of the bar, he could see a little boy being bullied by a gang of several older boys.

The leader of the bullies, a eighteen-year old boy, named Peter Torna, stepped forth and pushed the little boy to the ground. The little boy whimpered as he tried to stood up, but kept down by a foot that stepped on his chest by the bully.

Crying, the little boy said, "What do you want? I'll give you everything..."

The bullies laughed when the little boy spoke. Peter Torna moved his head close to the little boy, "We're here to have a little fun... A little fun with you..."

Hackenslash wiped his brow, drank his drink, gave up and poured his drink over his brow, "This heat is too much. I can't stay here three hours let alone three weeks." He was a tall man but thin and scrawny, he'd been a soldier for three years now but it still didn't show. He always intorduced himself as Hackenslash, Poltok had noticed now, he always said it was because he had been destined to become a warrior. Poltok knew that hackensalsh translated directly to "Rosebud" in Hackenslash's home dialect. The two soldiers sat and dehydrated slowly in the oven-heat of the bar.

"Who's that girl then?" Hackenslash shifted in his seat, leaning forwards in an attempt draw Poltok into a conversation. "The one with the wings that was in here a minute ago, does that happen often around here do you think?"

"I wouldn't think so, she didn't look beaten up enough to be from here."

"She looked pretty beaten up to me."

"No, she looked bedraggled and exhausted but she lacked the worn-down-over-time air of the geniunly beaten up."

"Do you have to contradict everything I say?"

"I wouldn't say that."

"You did it again."

"Look, if you're so upset then why don't you go ask her where she's from."

"What? We changed the topic of the conversation, you can't backtrack like that."

"I can if I want to."

"Jeez!" Hackenslash threw up his arms and leaned back again, defeated. "Get us another round will you?"

The usual sound of a small town was quite, silent. Not in the sence that it didnt make any sounds, but on the other hand. It didnt make any huge sounds.
And so, there was something making a huge sound far away in the distance, comming closer to the small, silent town.
The sound was made out of some 3 Millitary trucks along with 1 MP car and 2 Hummers. All in black.

On the radios in the small town there came a broadcast:

"People of this little town, we are here on goverment orders to clean out any elves. And to find out if there are elves nearby. We will arrive shortly, we would advice all people to get home and stay home. If you are not a member of this small community, not living in the town. We require identification papers and why you are staying in the town.
This shouldnt take more than a few days. Long live our beloved Dictator Daniel"

Rashel noticed a small group of teenage boys encircling a small school-aged boy. They were rough-housing with the child, as her elders would have said. She would call it bullying. She glared at the group. Before making her way to the crowd she sized them up. End choice was they were insignificant and easily dismissed in her eyes. She walked up to the boys and cleared her throat.

She could only imagine what they saw. An woman in her early 20s, with wings. She could have been what people from other nations called a Victoria's Secret Angel, but she was real. Her dress was merely something she wore for the respect of other nations, she would rather not have anything on. So, she picked one of thin material and didn't cover much. It was a white silky guaze that flowed to jsut an inch above the ground, but in the front was cut to mid-thigh. Her neckline was short and revealed much of what she and other women were blessed with. From her neckline down to her hips the material was taut against her skin, as if another layer. She loved the feel of leather against her skin so she decided to wear it. Her boots, knee high were connected the corset, which was connected to a necklace. The corset attached her gloves to her sleeves. On her forehead she had a crown of the same black leather. Her hair was golden brown, more of a caramel and it fell gracefully down to her gluteal region, the waves in her hair appeared to be a river flowing with the wind. In her right hand and attached to her arm she held a katana. The attachment was a crystal rosary. Her wings whiter than fresh fallen snow, beat rythmatically with her respirations. She had an aura of golden light around her.

"Well, now boys, why can't I have any fun?" Her voice beckoned for the boys to come and have "fun" with her. She raised her right hand and pointed to the young boy and he came and hide behind her. Her voice soft and calm said, "It will be okay. I am here. We are always here." The last part more than one voice could be heard and it sang.

She returned her attention to the teenage boys. "Come one. Have fun with me."

Zemeth rested in a dark alley, watching that intriguing woman with wings dealing with the gang from across the street. He was sharpening a scythe-like blade on a grindstone, but had lost interest in his task at hand.

"Damn kids will always get into trouble," he muttered under his breath. He stood up. He stepped out from the alley, and looked on at the scene.

"You know," he said in a dark and sardonic manner, "kids will quarrel. The runt should be able to defend himself should the need be."

He fingered the tip of the blade, and ran it smoothly over his fingertips, leaving a light and dancing ringing sound from the vibrations of the blade hanging in the air. His eyes were alight with rage. He snapped it down sharply on his palm, and closed his hand on the serrated and wicked looking edges.

"I never was fond of our type of people, girl, be they closer to me or you. What business do you have here?" he said, throwing off a cloak he wore, revealing two unfolding blood red wings, tattered and horned at the tips and joints.

About a mile outside of town, a figure wearing a billowing pancho that obscured his body and a sombreo that covered its face walked through the dust and the sand. Sighting the town, the figure made a change of direction for it. As it turned the blowing wind whipped the pancho around, giving a careful observer a glance at what appeared to be a gleaming white armor that it wore. It saw the angels ahead of it in the streets, and decided to investigate. After all, it was unusual to see an angel in these parts, let alone two.

Rashel's eyes remained the same, although, she was in shock. "Abomination." Her eyes narrowed. She drew her katana. "Creature of the dark. You have no business here. Be gone. I will take care of matters here. Plus, you should not assume that I will not teach this young child the techniques of survival. I was just cleaning up a few distractions," frowning, "but it seems I have more now. She glanced quickly at the group of boys, they seemed to be glued to the ground because did not leave. If they had any common sense they would. "Before you do leave here." A statement with a warning. "How did your wings become this way." Her hand fluidly pointed in the direction of his rouge colour wings. She stood her ground and made sure the young child was still behind her. She had little time to assess this new possible threat.

"I'm sure you've heard of me, from ancient tales! Surely! Or has my reputation crashed thus far?" Zemeth declared with mock woe. "Zemeth is my name. I've been around for aeons, before time and human life crawled out onto this earth, and I was a leader of insurrections for years against your kind.

"My wings? Trivial concern, I'm sure, but from all the battles I have fought against the likes of you, Rashel," he spat her name, "my wings have been scarred and stained with the blood of the fallen divine. I watched you in your conception, and knew one day you and I would come here and fight. I'm glad you've arrived. Everyone who I call to does in the end."

He twirled the blade in his claw-like hands, and chuckled briefly. He snapped it out of a spin, and held it out at arm's length, offering for a cross of blades before what appeared to be emerging into a duel.

"I'm sure you know the custom..." he snorted briefly.

Rashel tried to keep her composure. "My conception? You saw it? Tell me of it." She could not believe she was trying to get information from his kind. But she had longed for this information since her rebirth. "I regret to tell you that I have since been reborned and all of my memories seem to be long gone with the wind. Do so tell me what you know." She raised her katana up and meet his sword. She was not afraid of this Zemeth.

"Simply put, Rashel, I knew your mother. A very elegant woman by the name of Ariel," He said, swinging his blade away from hers, and brandishing it in a defensive manner. "I knew her well, and she was very kind to me, for all that I knew. But during the years of insurrection, when the angels fought the people like myself," he said, taking a sidestep, starting to circle Rashel, "she, of course, took the logical conclusion to fight with the angels. At this point, she was pregnant with you, my dear child. Your father was known to me as Rishkiel, a rather prestigeous one.

"During my insurrection, those under my command invaded the heavens, and slaughtered many who had no time to prepare for the onslaught. We found your father and mother alone. I had my minions stand down while I fought your father. He was my greatest challenge... he did what you see to my wings. But for all his strength, he fell before my blade. As for your mother, she pleaded that I spare you. I felt a stroke of mercy for Ariel, and so, as I had her killed, I cut you out of her womb, and had you nourished by servants. Then, the unthinkable happened to you: you died, and were ressurected. And so, my responsibility to protect you has ended. Now I can liberate myself from that shameful secret which I had hid: harboring the enemy."

Zemeth swung low at Rashel's knees, expecting her to jump. He reached to his side for a second arched blade, raising it above his head.

"Very good story. But some of it is false and you know that. When I did come back there were some stories of me as I grew to this age. You can not spare me from those stories. Also, why are you so vague about how I died? Tell me more. I know you are hiding it. I feel it." As he sliced his sword at her knees she did not jump, nor did she move back. His raised hand with his other sword was caught by her katana. She struck it with a force that vibrated along both sides. "So, dear, Protector," her voice dripping with sacrasm, "do tell me more. At least let me know my story."

"I've witnessed the rise and fall of thousands of human, angelic, and demonic leaders, my dear girl," he said, as he twirled out of the locked blades. "I happened to be one of them. Two of my servants found out of you. They shunned me for it, and used the secret against me to work towards their will. When I was of no use to them anymore, they exposed me for harboring you. In a rage of my once loyal armies, they stormed my citadel, and tore you to shreds, enacting a bitter scene similar to a feeding frenzy. As for me, I was banished from the Hells. Neither side would take me, and I wandered as a bastard to my creator.

"For most of your youth, though, I presume you would care to know. You were risen on both sides. During your rebirth, you joined the Heavens again, and left the side I had become. They re-educated you from everything you had learned in the Hells, considering you remembered none of it. You wouldn't accept that you had learned any of it, and this gravely disappointed me. I knew you would become something of a shadow of your mother. There were times when I didn't doubt, that, indeed, you were the reincarnation of your mother.

"As for myself, I've wandered an accursed beast to both sides merely because I protected you, and now I have the opportunity to satisfy the craving for blood that has plagued my dreams for so long."

Zemeth crouched, and then sprung from the ground, shooting up maybe 40 or so feet into the air, and came back down with frightening speed near Rashel's side, blades brandished, ready to strike.

Rashel allowed him to speak, soaking in ever word that he said. Could this be true. Her heart told her yes. Why would he lie? Maybe he did have something to gain from her. She remembered faintly her elders telling her she was special, more so than the others. Then she remembered blackness. She shook her head just to see Zemeth land next to her. SHe reached out and grabbed his sword with her hand. Blood trailed down his sword. A vibraint red flowing against his steel. She paid no heed to the pain. She looked him in the eye and leaned her head forward. Her face was inches away from his and she drew in closer. He must be surprised at her grip, did she not see a flicker of light in his eye as she still held it. She did not bring her katana away from his other sword, nor did she attack him. She continued to move closer to him. Now, her lips were barely away from his. She felt his hot breath on her face. She smiled.

"You know," he said softly, his pale and icy blue eyes gleaming with hatred amidst a mop of greasy black hair and white flesh, "you really do look like your mother."

His head was up against hers now, and they were staring each other in the eyes. He was calculating the perfect moment to strike.

"I'm sure you'd understand," he said softly, "that I have nothing to gain from killing you besides satisfaction."

He shoved the blade that she held in her hand sharply inwards, towards her abdomen, and grinned darkly as he threw his entire body weight behind it. A sickening screech was emitted as the steel rubbed against the bones in her hand.

A man stood in the shadows of a building, watching the angelic/demonic pair speak, going unnoticed until this point.

He stepped out slowly, boots crunching on the dry ground. He wore black. Not just some black, all black. A seeming death wish in this heat, but he didn't even break a sweat. He obviously didn't arive here to long ago, his skin was pale and his eyes covered with dark glasses. The most noticable thing was the sawed off shotgun in a holster at his side.(OOC: Think Mississippi's gun in El Dorado, but a more modern one barrel)

He smiled an emotionless smile. "How very interesting. Seems everyone has wings these days. Of course, hanging around the Shentavo's will give you a skewed view of the world. What was her name again... Azrael, I think it was..." he says, not speaking to anyone present. Not even himself. He was just saying what he thought.

(OOC: Pic (http://home.earthlink.net/~alpha_zero_usm/sitebuildercontent/sitebuilderpictures/drake.jpg))

The shattering of her bones in her hand mixed with the scream of her voice. But her voice was not alone, it was intertwined with all the voices, tortued and horrific, of the ones he had killed. The sword pierced her skin, but barely made it through her epidermis. She resisted and shifted, with the hand still encased around the sword and pushed outward. "Then satisfy you I shall not allow that." The smile returned and now she moved swiftly closer to him, she meant to stun. Her mouth, soft and moist, touched his cold lips. Her eyes remained opened and wide. Their breath mixed together and then she back her face away from his, leaving cold air to his warmed up lips. She ripped out her hand with a slight yelp and with her tore up hand grabbed his and flicked his wrist back and the sword was at his throat. "The satisfaction is mine." She narrowed his eyes at him and advanced the sword a bit and punctured his skin. Her blood on the sword now coagulated with his. Her movement did not move forward, nor did it retreat. She smiled.

ooc: I can't figure out how to get my picture in it. It is from Angel Sanctuary. It is Alexial.

OOC: Sorry, don't have a pic. Anyways...

"Heh, silly girl," he said, as the blade barely touched the end of his neck, scratching at the top layer of skin as his breathing became labored. "Don't you know anything?" He started to step back as the blade went away from his neck.

"Firstly, you'll need to try a lot deeper to hit anything extroardinarily vital," he said coldly, rasping between breaths. She had made a slight puncture in the windpipe, and Zemeth was feeling it. He tore off part of a black shrit he wore, and tied it around to keep the blode from flowing out and the breaths he took from escaping.

"There," he said, snapping his head back up. "You shouldn't fight me like a human, dear girl. People such as you and I take a lot more to die than just a slit to the jugglar... I thought they would have taught you..."

His breathing was heavy and labored now, but he still worked with a ballerina's grace. he charged forward, ducking low to avoid the kitana, and brought the inside of one of his blades at her left flank at her hip, swinging the other simultaneously at her right thigh. If all else failed, she would probably be tackled.

The man approached the two as if they were just having a friendly chat and not in the middle of a fight. He walks once around them, studying them. "Yes, very interesting indeed." He taps his foot twice, as if impatient with them. "You know you both have an added ability. It seems a waste to fight it out here on the ground when you have a sky as a battlefield."

The unmitigated gall of this darkly clad man is suprising. If one watched, they would see a momentary clould a frost each time he spoke. His mere presence lowered the temperature several degrees.

OOC: G'night!

She did not like how he treated her as a child. She was ions old. She looked to be in her 20s, but so did he.

ooc: I can change it. I just did not know the total appearance of your character.

She saw him advance at her thighs. She would let him expect what he wanted. She fell before he had the chance to slice her legs off. She allowed him to crash down on her. "I was not going for the jugular, besides that is at the sides of the throat. You think me to be silly don't you? I know it takes a lot more to kill us. Did you think me to be so naive?" She buckled her legs and threw him up. She then bent her legs and bounced up in the air along with him. She extended both arms and pushed him backwards. She twisted her body around, so, she could land on her feet.

The impact of her feet and the ground made her knees shake. She never did lose her balance. She never liked to be the hunted, so, she would be the hunter. She wiped her katana around so fast that it could not be seen. All that was seen is her dress flow backwards and her hair follow it. She stepped foward with ease and smacked him in the chin and sent him flying backward and landing with his back flat on the ground.

She swiftly caught up to him, so he wouldn't have a chance to get up. With one foot secured to the ground, the other was ontop of his abdomen, just above his pelvic area. With one quick movement she could crush his pelvic bones. She bent over and said, "We have company."

OOC: She is meaning Crimmond's character.

"Do you enjoy the entertainment?" She called out to the stranger. An grin on her face. She quickly flexed her fingers and stuck them into the sides of his throat. "Now, with certain pressure and well a length of time cutting the flow of blood will cause death. You see I have pressure on your carotid arteries, which supply blood to your brain. Now, you can go some time without it, 3-5 minutes, but after that well, it shuts down. Then necrosis happens and well lets just make it simple you die." She pushed harder down, feeling the pulse palpate aginst her fingers. She released her hold on him, reaching behind him grabbing a small steel, silver knife and placed above his heart. She bent down closer. "I am not you though. As much as you want me to be like you. I am not. I have more will power to fight off the temptation. I guess you couldn't." She bent down closer again and kissed his lips.

OOC: Sure, a character profile: shoulder length black hair, light blue eyes, white skin (we're talkin' ghostly white), the wings mentioned earlier, maybe about late 20's look, about 6'2" and 138 lbs., wears black (like the other guy! Wow!) and a thick trenchcoat to top it off.

IC: "You're a beautiful girl," he said softly, looking up at her, "but not the brightest." He gave her a brief wink, and it drew a confusing look from her.

In a lightning quick motion, he grabbed one of his swords not to far away, and sent it slashing at her ankle, where it lodged itself. She lost her balance, and fell over into the dirt on her side.

Zemeth stood up, and looked her over.

"It seems you're more fit to fight than I would have imagined. I'd think our 'guest' is enjoying the entertainment, no?" He said, pacing around her, just out of her reach.

"I'll give you awhile to recuperate, as for myself as well. I never expected you to be so efficeint. I presume I will be seeing you again."

He leaned down, kissed her, and said softly in her ear,"veritas", Latin meaning 'truth".

Zemeth turned and started to walk back towards the alley. The kids had left by now, and the streets were empty except for the demon, angel, and enigmatic man who appeared at random. Zemeth snorted as he left, and then jumped up onto the roof tops and ran out of sight.

OOC: And I needa go to bed. Ciao.

The stranger looked at the woman, then at where the other vanished. He smiled faintly. "Well. I guess I'll have to stick around for the whole show, eh?"

He turns and walks back towards the shadows, stopping and hurling a snowball, which landed a foot away, melting rapidly. "The name's Drake." He vanishes into the alleyways.

Again she was alone. She would always be alone. She grabbed his sword and yanked on it. It did not slide out as easily as it went it. She had to twist it a bit. She bit her lip to silence the pain. She tasted salt and rust in her mouth. Great. Just great. Here she is alone in a run down town, not really much of a town, and she is bleeding all over the place. Wonderful. She did not want to tear her dress, so, she limped over to the dumpster and grabbed a dirt caked blanket and placed it around her shoulders. She slowly made her way over to that small shop and walked in with no problem now. She concealed her katana and his sword under the blanket also.

She found some gauze and bandage and paid for it. The shopkeeper not trying to make eye contact with her.

Outside the building she stumbled into an alley. She also had gotten some warm water and salt. She would make her own saline solution. She cleansed her wrist and ankle. The she wrapped the gauze around each, next, securing it with the tape. There, it should heal much faster this way. The pain was now a dull throb and she could deal with that. She got up and stretched. Visions played before her eyes and she reached out for the wall of the nearby building.

Don't let me faint. She closed her eyes and regained her balance. Light and dark. Good and evil. They were both a part of her. She exited the alley and walked the lonely streets. Boredom crept in and the dark called. She shook her head. No. She looked down at Zemeth's sword and grinned. She remembered what it felt like to have his mouth touch hers. She remembered what he said and with some adding anger she slammed his sword into the hard dirt ground. And what of this new man all in black also. This Drake. It sent shivers up her back and neck.

She pulled, with ease, Zemeth's sword out of the ground. She would chase away the boredom. She would hunt these two men. She would find them, or allow them to find her. They can't be far. So, she started to walk off in the desert. Who knows what she would find.

OOC: Tag, here's my post...
IC:
Tokram strode into the small dusty town, his light blue eyes scanning the scene. His eyes fell upon a dark stained patch of ground. He walked forth, instantly recognizing that the stain was blood. Crouching down, he slid his finger across the dirt-ridden blood, and brought it to his lips. He became slightly surprised, it was blood of an unknown species, one he had not encountered before.

Tokram was a Draman, a Dragon-Man. His body resembled humans for the most part, but there were features that strongly suggested a different species.

Looking around at the ground around the blood, he noticed the footprints of two individuals obviously having sparred quite recently. One set led to a small store not too far away, the other simply disappeared after a few steps away from the scene.

This might be worth looking into. he thought to himself, drawing Flameblade. (OOC: Here's a pic of the sword, ignore the fact that the site says that it is a dagger :wink: : http://www.pjsoutlet.com/bl12.html ).

Suddenly a metallic clang came from a nearby alley, of metal crashing upon the earth. Tokram narrowed his eyes as he walked cautiously over there. His head peeked around the corner, and he instantly located an angelic figure standing there, an angry look in her eyes, yet her face was calm. She held a sword that just didn't seem to fit her. Tokram's nose picked up the scent of blood once again. It was obvious that she was the source. He stepped into the shadows of the alley and spoke to the female figure:

"Greetings. You are hurt, I see the bandages on you, yet your blood lingers strongly in the air around you. Before you ask, I am Tokram, and I come to you in peace. Is there anything I can do for your wounds?"

Tokram's cape fluttered slightly in the wind, revealing part of his scaled skin. His eyes searched her face, as she studied this newcomer.

http://www.wizards.com/dnd/images/draco_gallery/75653.jpg

OOC: Okay, I had Rashel leaving the town, but I will just have people ignore that and she still is in the alleyway. She is about ready to leave and runs into Tokram.

IC: She had sensed him before she heard him. A half-breed. Interesting. She turned and faced him. "Ah...as you can see I have dressed my wounds already. Thank you for your offer." Her voice was tight, but polite. She looked the man up and down, not bothering to hide that fact that she did so.

"Tokram, my name is Rashel, I am an Angel. Stating the obvious is silly, but you would be surprised." She stopped there. She would not give up any more information to this man. Her trust all shattered centuries ago. She would not allow herself to open just be be tore to pieces.

"I am on my way out of this town. There is not much to do here. If you like that then stay, but I warn you the locals do not like differences. You may accompany me, but the company may not be better." She smiled slightly and became to make her way out of town and into the desert.

Tokram nodded and replied:

"You are probably right about this town. I was only passing through anyway, but seeing as how I have nowhere of importance to be, I shall accompany you."

She didn't reply but turned and led the way out to the harsh desert night, the wind howling its nightly cry.

"So what brought you here to this town, if I may ask? What would an Angel want to do with this forsaken world?"

Rashel did not glance back at Tokram. "I merely go where I need to. Maybe I was lead astray, or not. Forsaken this land is not." She did not miss a step, but she did slow down. She turned around abruptly and faced him, "You do not know forsaken." Her head bent low, but continued to keep and meet his gaze, "I am it." She turned back in the direction she previously was. Her pace quickened, but stabled out. "I was awoken from my sleep. Enough about me. Why do you choose to follow? What are your motives?"

Drake walked into the bar and looked around. A Hell hole in a Hell hole... who woulda thought? He steps up to the bar and looks at the man behind it. "I doubt you have it, but Elaran Ale."

"We don't serve that fancy crap out here. We serve real drinks." the man answered.

"Elaran ale has the equivilent value to alcohal of about 200 proof. That's some strong... crap." He grins at the look on the mans face. "Whiskey."

That they had though it was hot. At least it was. When he picked the glass up, it frosted immediatly, the liquid chilling.

"Freak." The man muttered. "Must be nice in this weather... but still."

Tag again...

I'll join in soon enough :wink:

OOC: Picture this as my character (folded wings, no trenchie on).

http://pubpages.unh.edu/~mpalos/JPEG/jthm.jpg
Hey, it's NNY! :p

IC: Zemeth rested on a rooftop, thinking about what had just transpired. His heart told him just to finish the job now, to turn around and destroy his prey, but his mind screamed at him to rest.

He sat and started to remove the bandage that was on his neck while overlooking the desert that stretched for such a far distance. Behind him, hundreds of people shuffled by, giving queer looks at the enigma positioned above their heads.

His mind trailed off to when he was kissed by Rashel. He felt it almost as a threatening gesture, something that signified her willingness to destroy him, but the thought of it being something else worried him even moreso. He expected only to fight, not to deal with a pining little girl.

Zemeth quickly snapped out of thought, and jumped down into the dusty street, bringing up a little cloud of dirt as he landed. Some people stared, and Zemeth seized the nearest one out of frustration, slamming him by the neck into a wall. He grasped tightly, and the sounds of vertebrea snapping sounded out. The man was trying to scream until at last the pressure caused his eyes to shoot out of their sockets. Zemeth relaxed, satisfied.

Miraculously, the man was still alive. Zemeth sat down next to him in the dirt. "You know," he said coldly, "you don't know how bad today has been for me." He played with his last remaining sword, and then forced it into the man's chest. Zemeth pulled it out quickly, leaving the ringing of a blade in the air, intermixed with a sigh that escaped his throat.

Rashel's heart beated a bit faster, tachycardia with a bit of tachypnea. Her breathing was sharp and went with her heart that was racing. A scream spilled out of her soul and dripped along the rest of her body and escaped as a sigh.

Zemeth.

She needed to know where he was and she needed to know now.

Her anger clouded her thoughts and all she could see was his face. She screamed internally his name loud. ZEMETH YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THE LAST OF ME.

"I chose to follow for no real reason. I am a wandering traveler, a nomadic one so-to-speak. I hold no motives, save to look for adventure. The world is full of activity, and there are always those in need. I merely come in and assist them, then fade into the dust as I continue my travels. You seem to be of a similar nature, and yet I wonder about you claiming yourself as forsaken. What is it that makes you think this way?"

Tokram adjusted his cape and the scabbard for his sword, Fireblade. He looked out across the vast expanse of the desert, watching the wind pick up the sands of the desert and dance them across the land. It was a peaceful scene, complete with the moon hanging low over the horizon.

Suddenly, Rashel stopped abruptly, her face somewhat oddly contortioned, but the only sound that Tokram heard was a sigh, barely audible over the howling winds. Tokram remained respectable of her, and kept quiet, as he intently watched her face, trying to decipher the meaning of the activity.

Something was wrong. That much he knew.

Drake stepped outside and pushed his way through the crowd easier than he would have, his presence lower the temperture enough to make people notice he was coming through.

He steps up to Zemeth, though stil several feet away, drawing stares from people for the, in thier eyes, bravery. Reality was he had nothing really to fear from this creature. "Now why'd you go and do that? Attacking the other winged... angel or whatever was one thing. This guy was just walkin' by."

Oh, she had heard a voice nearby, it was Tokram. She focused her concentration on his voice and regained control of her emotions. Anger was one she was not fond off. She smiled at him. "To explain would only confuse you. I am what I am. I am damned and ironic." Her wings shrugged with her shoulders.

"You want to accompany those who are in need of help. Well, I do not need any. I am the one who provides it. But if you must, you may be alongside me. I apologize in advance if I am quiet. My mind is preoccupied by other means." With that she advanced her pace three steps above his. She looked at the moon. She felt the same way it did. She felt at home with it.

OOC: Nice story. I may join in later.

Zemeth sent a look at Drake that would make any human's blood run cold and them collapse in fear. Drake just kind of... stood there.

"I need to unwind," he said, nodding to the dying man besides him on the sidewalk. "And as for her... consider it that there are many things left unresolved between her and I. She does not remember but my memories are clear, and my focus is there."

He stood up and walked over to Drake, practically breathing in his face, his breath showing up in frosty clouds. "And who are you? What business do you have here?"

Drake smiles. "I am Drake Tavo, Imperial Assasian Grade One, Crimmond Black Staff. I'm actually here on vacation, although I must be out of my mind to chose this place." His breath was cold, forming a frost on Zemeth's face.

He smiles. "You enjoy fear, don't you? But I'm not afraid of you. I'm not afraid of her and I'm not afraid of this." He pats the gun in it's holster. "Or that." He points to the sword. "So... what do you do with a person that fears nothing about you?"

"Drake Tavo... uh-huh, and I'm Zemeth... What do you do with a person who has no fear?" Zemeth smirked as he thought about it. "Kill them before they get a chance to do the same to you. Those without fear are often the strongest killers.

"Yes, I enjoy fear. It keeps me alive, even though I'm far beyond it myself. So a vacation, huh? And why would you come to some place as barren as this?"

"Kill them before they do the same to you..." Drake repeats. "Well, you'd have a hard time doing that. My old partner killed me nearly six months ago." He smiles. "She's also the one who made me part of the undead."

"I came here to get as far away from the industrial plants of my homeland. Here... here one can breath air that's clean, if a little dusty..." He steps back and looks at the man in the midst of death. "I hate to see another go through that, having been there myself."

He sighs and bends down, gripping the mans head and concentrates. A moment later frost forms over his entire head and the man stops moving, never to move on his own again. Drake explains after a second, "Froze his brain solid. Better a quick death than what you gave him."

"I understood being an assassin was a treacherous job. I figure it's part of the description," he said, chuckling softly. "So you're undead, eh? A rather interesting predicament.

"I'd be interested: what is death like? I've given much out, but have never experienced. And please, spare no detail."

The panchoed figure walked down past the town. Things had gotten too violent for him, and if there was no apparent gain involved he wouldn't be a part of it. As of now he was more interested in the gold mines that he heard were on the opposite side of town, which was precisley where he was headed. He reflected that the crime he was about to commit was the sincerest form of capitalism, but he expected that was only natural given where he came from and what he was taught. Yes, the Resi Corporation did these things to all forms of life, and only if he gathered the world's best technologies could he stand a chance against his oppressors. As Damion Kradii, who he held as a father figure, told him, his sole purpose was to bring about change, because he was change by definition. His very creation and survival denoted change, and getting the gold from the mines was just one part of all that change.

((OOC: This guy will just go about his business unless anyone chooses to interact with him, like if they get knocked out of town by a powerful attack or if they try and escape, or some such thing))

Drake smiles. "Yes. Killed by my partner. She was also undead. She messed with the Shentavo's though and got her head lopped off. No one gets up from that."

He sighs. "It's hard to explain death to someone who hasn't experienced it. In my case it was a blade that killed me. First there was shock at the feeling of metal peircing my internal organs, then pain, pain beyond anything I could imagine. She had the blade coated with something. I don't know what. It hurt more than anything I know of. I died staring at her, wiping my blood off her long dagger's blade, one she stole from another she killed.

"Then... I woke up like this. I don't know what she did, but here I am. I know my ice elemental powers are increased a lot. Even here, in this extreme heat, my power is still enough to be deadly to anyone here, with exception to you and her."

"How wonderful, I have immunity.

"I've never heard of the Shentavos... I take it an assassin school or something of the like?"

Poltok and Hackenslash turned into a random alleyway in search of shade. The two soldiers had spent the whole day drinking in the bar and now were looking for a little relaxation after the effort. So it was to their great suprise that they found two oddly-dressed men standing over a corpse.

Hackenslash dropped his bottle of whisky and began fumbling with his pistol in an attempt to get it out of it's holster. Poltok raised a hand and began walking slowly forwards, "Um.. you there.. um.. freeze! Yeah! Freeze suckers.. hehehe! You, you felons!" Unfortunately all the effort caused him to lose his balance and almost fall over. Hackenslash finally got his pistol free and waved it in Drake's general direction.

"I believe... there isn't time for questions from here on out," Zemeth muttered coldly, his eyes seemingly darkening.

"Welcome, gentlemen! I'm glad you're here for our jolly little soiree!" Zemeth pulled his blade from it's sheath on his waist. "It would be in your best interest to drop the weapons," he said, bracing for a charge at the soldier.

Drake grins. "Freeze? Yes sir..." His eyes glowed blue and a frosty mist billowed around him in seconds, freezing the ground under his feet. "Whatever you say, sir." He concentrates on the man fumbling with the gun, freezing the air inside it's barrel, chilling the rest of it noticably.

OOC: Ah, Slutbum Wallah, the king of disfunctonal... everything. :lol:

For one glorious moment, Poltok stood magestically before the pair, one hand on his holstered pistol, the other cast in derision towards Zemeth, then, he fell. Two words containing much action. His feet flew out in front of him, his arms flailed wildly as he toppled. Hackenslash tossed his gun aside with a yelp, as if it had suddenly become red hot. He stared at his hand in confusion till Poltok's careening elbow cracked him on the jaw. He probably would have kept his balance all the same. Sadly the ground didn't seem as friendly as it used to be. He collapsed beside Poltok, confused, drunk and defeated.

Drake just stared at the two, then looked at Zemeth. "I pity this nation if this is who protects them..."

"I understand beer is rather popular among humans today. Most likely for its idiotic and intoxicating effect on the weak-willed who drown their sorrows in a mug... the days before alcohol were grand, but you were never around for them, I'm sure. Whatever the case, come, let me buy you a drink," he said, snickering.

"You two are invited as well," he said, pulling up the fallen drunks. "I don't think the bartender would care to... screw around with the likes of me over a bottle of booze for a few 'comrades', would he?"

Drake shakes his head. "No. I only know of a handful that were. I don't drink much, it doesn't process through my body easily, but I suppose a drink can't kill me." He smiles.

"I'd imagine so," he said, stepping up vividly, grabbing the two drunken soldiers off of the ground. "You're lucky I'm not angry right now."

He started towards the nearby pub, right on the corner of the street. He headed up and opened the door, the scent of hard liquor and cigarettes hitting his nostrils.

"Your species just doesn't seem to get that what they enjoy most will kill them," he said as he pushed his way through the crowd and up to a table, dragging the drunks along.

Hackenslash shook his head, trying to clear it. "Thanks mate, I could use a drink. Did you see where those other two bastards went?"

Drake sits. "Yeah. You two scared them off. They didn't want to mess with the likes of you." He chuckles, ordering a scotch, which he chilled just by touching it once it was served.

Tokram thought for a few minutes, allowing the angelic figure to outpace her. Something was bothering her, and it troubled him.

"What can I do to help you? I sense that you are troubled." he asked cautiously.

Rashel looked back at him and stopped. "You don't seem to get it, I am the trouble. It seems to follow me around as if it were my shadow." She paused, as to be comtemplating something,"I think maybe I am just the trouble." She laughed as to divert his attention away from what was bothering her.

"All I want is to just deal with what is annoying me and all will be the same again." But will it ever be the same. Rashel stared off at the town, smaller now from their walk, but it felt so close. She narrowed her eyes. Maybe she should go back. Or should she just forget about him. Zemeth, the name stung when she thought about him. She looked up at the sky, can't you just give me a sign?

Zemeth suddenly felt like he should be doing something. He grabbed the bartender by the throat as he came by again.

"Listen, mate, I have something I should do. You give everyone free drinks for the day or I'll kill you, understand?"

The man nodded, shaking.

"Good. Sorry, gentlemen, I must go, and everyone, free drinks courtesy of me!"

Zemeth stepped outside. It was hotter outside than he expected. He started walking through the streets, looking down. As he did so, the ground seemed to darken. He looked up in the sky, and a cloud cover was rapidly forming. In a few minutes, rain started pouring out of nowhere.

"That ought to drag her around the town. Let's hope she can find me, eh?" He said to particularly no one in the area.

A drop of liquid fell on her check and ran down her chin. Another dropped on her bossom. Then came more and she started to laugh. Almost hysterically. You have got to be kidding. A flash of lightening across the sky brightened the way and seemed to point to the town. Nope, I guess not.

"Sorry, Tokram, I need to go back. Maybe I will tell you why later. Till then, bye."

She took flight, her massive wings getting to work finally. She covered more land this way, three times as fast then on her feet. She reached town and landed softly on the ground that itself from softening from the rain. She was soaked, but didn't care. Her dress clung even more to her skin and well didn't a thing now. That was the downfall to white I guess. Her hair was slicked to her head and she pulled it out of her eyes. There he stood. Zemeth.

The one she hated, the one she .... She couldn't say it, but it felt right. She shook her head as if an illusion, as if he was playing tricks on her. Hallucinations that was what it was.

She walked up to him. She was about a foot away. "You and I are not done by any means."

"Hello, love," he said sarcastically. "You know, I never thought my presence would cause disturbances like this."

He stepped forward a bit, towards her.

"I figure you've found it accomodating out here in the desert, looking for answers, truth. And yes, we are not finished. We won't be. You ought to have learned by now: you can't die. Every time I've seen you die before my eyes, you come back. But me... another story. My only option is to survive."

He drew his sword, and hovered slightly off the wet earth, flapping his thick wings. He broke into a dive at Rashel, slashing his blade at her side.

"Ya have to be so fiesty, don't you?" A restrained scream leaked out as a sigh. She glanced down at her side. A bloodly mess of torn muscles and flesh. "I just dry-cleaned this." She laughed and slide the sword out of her body and with a push and an upward thrust she sent him backwards.

"Why do you always have to be on top? I want to be on top. Share the control."

She attacked with speed and preciseness. Her katana conviently sliced three ugly red lines, not deep, but superficial, in his chest.

"Don't ever let me hear you call me love." She would rip his throat out if he said it that way again. She caught herself. I mean if he said it period.

She poked her katana into his abdomen and asked, "How many times did I die, and how each time? "

The rain had come out of nowhere, in the desert when it had at one moment been sunny and hot as hell, without a cloud in sight. And now, Tokram was starting to get soaked in the rain. Rashel, the angel, had taken off into the dark clouds, her wings gracefully carrying her quickly toward the town.

He scowled. He didn't like the situation, nor the fact that the rain had instantly come. Something was amiss, and still he couldn't put his finger on it. One thing was for sure, it wasn't Rashel, no matter what she claimed.

Seeing as how he hand nothing better to do, he sat down, as the rain began to pelt his skin. However, because of his skin's unique characteristics, he didn't feel it, and watched for a few minutes as it slid off of him. It was like water on a feathers, it just flowed right off, without penetrating the epidermical scales. He straightened his head, glanced around momentarily and closed his eyes, his hands resting on his knees, as he began to sort his life's events.

The young child, entombed in fire-like crystals, awakened by a gigantic quake in the earth. Suddenly, the shards of crystals shattered, as the body slumped to the ground, a human like child, with draconian features.

The memories continued, this time several years in the future. The young child gazing upon the ancient book of Draconian lineage, his eyes widening upon the discovery of his own name etched into the pages, the last of his bloodline. The child's hands turned several more pages aside, and stopped when a picture depicting the six relics necessary for Draconians to morph into fully fledged dragons, full of strength and raw power. The child looks up, and looks around the cave, his eyes resting on an oddly colored patch of the wall, only visible to the truly observant. Walking over to it, he begins to tear at the hard packed dirt and stone. Finally his fingers scrape a mysterious stone case, and he slowly begins to extract it. Setting the case down, his fingers trace the dragon symbol on the cover, before slowly opening the case. Inside lies a beautifully crafted sword, a sword with a Dragon to cover the hilt, flames emitting from the mouth, forming the beautiful blade.

He stands, holding the sword carefully in his hand, as a design on the wall illuminates with the magic of the lineage. A voice whispers from the wall, its melodic tone soothing Tokram's tension: "Tokram...you are the last...you must continue the line...seek the relics...seek your destiny."

Time passes yet again. A man now, he battles the great guardians of the first relic, and defeats them, earning the right to possess the relic. His first step was completed. Now, to find the second relic...

Time continues to pass, as his mind floats through the difficult challenges that lay before his feet, and slowly but surely, he prevails.

Opening his eyes, he thinks of his next relic in his quest...the fourth relic.

"Why has fate lead me here? What purpose does this town serve?"

"Many times," Zemeth said, feeling her sharp kitana pressed close against his stomach.

"The first," he said calmly, hitting the sword down and away from his stomach, "was from my minions in their insurrection."

"Second," he said, slashing at her arm, leaving a thin red scratch, maybe a foot long, "you were killed by humans after they shot you, oh, I don't know, 20 times? I believe they raped you before you died as well. I watched that, and laughed the whole time."

"Third," he said, setting another light scratch across her thigh, "was when you were in a car accident. You subsided into a coma for a few weeks, and passed on."

"And the last time," he said, putting the blade up against the side of her neck, "is this time. My blade, my vengeance, my will."

The cold steel against her throat did not hurt as much as his words. She had never shown surprise before and now her eyes openly shown it. "You you laughed at my being raped." Anger swelled up inside her. It burned more and more. Then it dawned on her, he was after her for hatred, why not she just show him her love and compassion she had been taught from the light. She let the blade enter her epidermis. The prostangladins made her aware of the pain. She did not think of it and it subdued.

She looked him in the eyes and light shown from her. "Well, then do it. If I have been killed before and come back. I can always do it again. Besides this time it is my choice. My willing. And I will come back and you will regret it."

As the blade was scratching the top of the flesh around her neck, and he prepared to shove it in, the words she said sunk in. He removed the sword away from her neck, and dropped it in the dirt.

Maybe I've been wrong thus far. She would kill me if she had the chance, if she were my enemy... Perhaps I've chased the wrong people. It's all so confusing.

"I... don't know anymore."

He turned, almost dazed, maybe with the realization new in his head, burning like a hot iron. The world seemed significantly different. Zemeth could have sworn he had been given a concussion in the middle of the previous fight.

Around the two, the air becomes noticably cooler, the rain turning into a light sleet. As was already suspected, Drake stepped forward out of a shadow, twirling the sawed off shotgun on two fingers, smiling. "Well. That's a suprise. You had her in your grip and you let her live." He speaks to Zemeth, ignoring everyone else. "Mercy is not a good quality in a demonic being, or a trained killer."

OOC: I'm wrapping Drake up here, I need him for another RP as a suprise twist.

Zemeth turned around, looking at Drake.

"It was not out of mercy, but rather out of a realization. A fine difference," he snapped back at Drake. "Watch your tongue before I sever it from your head."

He stops twirling the gun and levels it at Zemeth, ignoring his threat. "Now... I could end this here, I doubt even an Ancient, which I doubt either of you are, could suvive a pound of buckshot to the head... but I'm feeling in a good mood right now. Besides, I have a date with a real angel. This was merely..." Drake smiles and holsters the gun, "A stopover on my vacation." He then answers the threat. "I prefer the ever powerful 'Silence yourself before I rip out your vocal chords and feed them to you.' but your version works well, I guess."

"Different cultural backgrounds," he snorted. "Get out of here before I put a round of buckshot through [i]your[/i[ head."

Zemeth was struggling for a retort. He was still battling incessant confusion.

Drake shakes his head, walking off. He walks into the bar, takes off the gunbelt and tosses it to the drunk soldier that lost his gun. "Here. It's loaded with two rounds of buckshot, so anyone messes with you won't soon forget ya."

He then walks out and into the desert, knowing where he's going, a gun would be more of a liability than protection. "Rave, your time on Earth is up..." he mutters to himself.

Rashel waited in the backround. Her whole body covered in darkness, being ironic because she was of light. She did not want to be in the middle of these two. She still was hesitant of Zemeth and she didn't trust Drake at all. Too bad he was leaving. Hopefully they shall meet again.

She walked out into the light, not getting too close to him. Her guards were up and she was ready to make any move.

"So, why did you stop? Why not kill me? You had the chance, I gave it to you. Why not finish me off? You could have brought my downfall and you stopped." She paused. Her eyebrows furrowed and she asked once more, "Why?"

Tokram hadn't moved from his position on the rain drenched Earth. His mind was deep in thought, as he argued with himself his purpose in this place in the world.

Suddenly, his eyes caught hold of a shape growing steadily larger toward him. Blinking his eyes to make sure he wasn't seeing an illusion, he waited. It was definitely someone coming his way.

Rashel? No...someone else...

Sniffing the air, he caught the scent of the stranger wafting on the cool wind.

A man...

Pale blue eyes continued to intently watch the approaching figure, the heat of the Earth making it seem like a mirage.

Hackenslash studied the gun, "That was bloody nice of him, don't you think? I mean, helping us up then buying us drinks and giving me a new gun."

"Is today Friday?"

"I think so."

"He's probably one of them cultists then isn't he? One of them Join Me guys. Every Friday they have to do a good deed for someone."

"But that was three good deeds."

"Maybe he's making up for lost time then. C'mon, looks to me like there ain't no space for us in this thread anymore anyway."

"Lemme finish my drink first."

The man drew closer, every movement carefully watched by the Draman.

He considered calling out to him, but decided against it. He wanted to see if the man would approach him, or run away in fear of his appearance.

I wonder who he is, and why he is traveling the desert without so much as a canteen of water...