NightWorld

[Tie of Hope]

Vampiric/Were/Demonic Activity involved. Any other magical sort will have to be requested. I'm not too sure of the plot line yet, but I'll figure it out soon. If you join with one of these, please no Vampire/Human crosses, Were/Vampire crosses. Vampire/Demon crosses will be allowed, though on an extremely limited basis. Now, lets explain. If you've ever read the Anne Rice series, you might compair these vampires to her's. Death by fire, decapitation, or severe trama to the heart. Silver stakes, useless. Stakes in general, useless, crosses/holy water/garlic, useless. Coffins are a necessity. Basically, they outmatch humans greatly. You'll be lucky if your a human to lay a finger on them. Demons are humanoid in appearance. They 'hide' their wings/horns/claws and such. Were-wolves turn on full moons only, and some can fight it, and few can turn by option. Make no mistake, this will be greatly twisted from normal rp to something of my fancy. Enjoy.
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For years now immortals were said to have been myth. Fantasy. Imaginary. Not quite. Modern day life has been plagued with many strange disappearances of humans. Some of the bodies were found, no traces of normal homicide visible. Some were not. But all in all, a few of the stranger humans around have began to take heed. In New Orleans, nothing was very safe anymore.

All magical concerned are balanced by a realm. The NightWorld, made from the darkness of Earth. More of a demonic black market, run by them. Except shaped into society. And from time to time, a few of the...'good' magicals are sent in to figure out what's going on. Why? For Slayers. Not that many of them have a choice, a few of them are as bad as they come, and worse, but the threat of the end of their immortality keeps them on their toes. Slayers run for one and all. Demons, Vampires, and Weres. They kill them all, little bastards in the front, big one's in back. But it's hard to get in and catch the facts if your human. You get someone to do the job for you...someone who can.

Someone like a Halfling...
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Name: Pandora Veryls
Age: Too Many Years to Count; Appears 20
Gender: Female
Race: Vampire/Fallen Angel Demon Halfling (One of a kind, Sorry! ^^)
Description: Tall, Slender, Graciously Curvy. Sneaky, Sly, Seductive, Stubborn, Hot headed. Black hair, waist length, naturally red streaked. Clear nails, pale skin, Black feathered withs (Hidden), Long, slender tail, Arrow head tip.
She works as a Spy/Lure for the Slayers, completely against her will, but at stake of her life. Over the years she's been getting much more Rebellious, so it's only so far she'll go before snapping and blowing on someone. Pandora works as a prostitute/stripper, and if you don't pay her, she'll kill you. Though she holds a vast amount of power, being of half Noble blood, she is greatly looked down upon, and barely finds acception. It is the simply fact of her being female that supports her life.

Seeking either her Employer (Human, Slayer, Male), or her Target (Demon/Were/Vampire, either one, Male). You may go crazy with his Status.

Post Comming Shortly...

 

[Tie of Hope]

Caution: Very Long Post

"I'm not some slave for you to pick at, so back off, alright?" Pandora snarled viciously, carrying about a flat slate covered with drinks she was to deliver as she walked more than confidentally around the bar section. Some idiot had been wise enough to go on and pinch the halflings ass, something she didn't very much like. But it seemed the drunks were overly joyful this night. Too many newbies for Pandora's choice. Though, after all, the Cafe de La Lune was ment for newcommers, ruffians, sneaks and murders. Nobles of NightWorld also went about, seeking company of others around the club half, and rarely the Bar of the Cafe. What reason was it to find something so rare as a halfling around La Lune? One could only wonder.

Oh, but it wasn't Pandora's choice to work here, in La Lune. In fact, she detested it with all of her heart. NightWorld was full of things worst than death, especially for a pretty young thing like her. But still, orders were orders. And if she wasn't careful, she might just be in the next thing worst than death. Hell. The halfling made her way behind the bar, resting gently against the counter, setting aside that dish she'd carried around for half the night. La Lune was a massive place, carefully hidden within the French Quarter of New Orleans, restricted to Magic type only. It was a Dance Club, Bar, Cafe, 'Safe' Haven for the Immortal, Strip/Tease Club, and Room Renting Tavern. Despite the musky, smoke filled room, La Lune was almost a nice place.

"By whatever ruler of the sky, I don't think I can last much longer in here..." Drawing a sigh from her lips, she leaned carefully on the counter. A uniform was required to those working there. The female's, at least. A small, skin tight black leather top, small black mini skirt, black leather boots, and a kitty collar with a little bell on it. The outfit itself was trashy, no doubt. Many of the girls working there certainly didn't look right in them. But Pandora? Well, she was an entirely different story all together.

The teen-like appearance the immortal held was stunningly beautiful, in a dark, gothic type sense. Her face was a pleasent sight, luminous feline-slitted fire hued eyes gracefully outlined in darker red shades of eye shadow. Her lips were full, a blood like, vibrant red, contrasting very noticebly against the girls pale face. Her hair, dark, long, straight silk strands cascaded to her waist. Her over all form was beautiful, as if chistled errorlessly from marble. Large, bountiful breasts were concealed by that small top, a strap around her neck holding them there. Not over doing it, a good size for her appearance. Her waist was thin, it was obvious she was very light, leading to marvelously curved hips and her sweet round ass just barely concealed by that mini skirt. Upon her back were two curved, black designs just around the inner shoulders, right between her spine. It seemed almost tattooed. A long, slender black tail snaked from beneath that skirt, the arrow head tip flickering, the one thing that set her aside from others. A vampiress with a demoness' tail, now here was something.

Those large breasts of hers were rested on the counter, her tail flickering upon the ground. It was well near eleven, and still very busy. NightWorld was underground...it was always busy. But she was growing impatient. She was waiting for someone, someone she had not known who. A great power of sorts she'd been ordered to 'get close to'. Oh, but that was so hard to do...Pandora tended to eat her friends. Not literally, but suck them almost dry, not leaving him enough to sustain life, and die later on. Either that, or be called up by her 'employer'. Quite a task, to be at the mercy of Slayers for your life, and risk being discovered by the small sketch of society you do fit into, for simply the glory of killing off 'powerful' demonic sources. It was more than apparent, Pandora hated Slayers with a passion. Any more trouble was on it's way...

Approaching her was a young demon, the same who'd pinched her ass earlier. She glared. Now what? Another depraved young tramp wishing for some fun? True, Pandora could use the extra cash, but still. The Halfling stared.

"Can I help you?"

"You certainly can..." She scowled at the more than ancient reply. He wasn't worth her time. As she turned to go, he grasped her hand harshly, exploiting a bit of strenght into it. She paused, prepared to knock him to his ancestors, but replacing that forming rage with amusement. He wanted to play. Alright. She'd play. Leaning over the counter, placing a hand on his cheek, those long, clear nails softly scanning over his flesh, she grinned.

"Follow me." Leading him off to the back rooms, she smiled back at him. Well, she hadn't fed in a while...she tried to limit herself to her vampiric needs. But still. As soon as she'd closed the door behind them, hearing the familiar 'click' of the lock, she turned on him, pinning him against the door. Slyly she brushed her lips over his cheek, allowing him the freeness of exploring her body with his hands, occasionally groping her rouchly, or pinching her ass. A pet peeve of her's. She didn't like it, but grinned none the less. Beginning to remove that tight shirt, halfway revealing smooth, tender flesh beneath, she halted.

"How much do you have on you?" No reply. Seizing the situation, the youth turned her around, pinning her now to the wall, pulling the shirt up far enough to have free access to her soft, delicious breasts. She was growing angry, muffling it in a smooth kiss. Absent mindedly she scanned his pockets. Empty. As he began to snake a clawed hand down her skirt, past that small bikini cut thong she wore, she pushed him away roughly.

"Only a show. I don't do more without the money." He sighed. Pulling a twenty out, he handed it to her. Without a chance to react, she was pinned once more roughly against the door, allowing him to lead the situation. Lips trailing from her's down to her hardened nipples, he ran a forked tongue over them deviously. And that was where the dark gift, inherited from her vampiric side kicked in. She halted. He was empty. That twenty was all he had. How did she know? Telepathy, Empathy. She growled, shoving him back onto the ground. Oh, he was going to go all the way, and not pay her after? She didn't think so. He stared, stunned.

"What are you doing?! I'm paying you, aren't I bitch?" She straddled him roughly, giving him a impression. A great impression. Drawing up a hand, she took those sharp, clear, almost unbreakable nails and raked them from his cheek to his chest, ripping clear through the cloathing and into his flesh. He snarled, his own set of fangs appearing. The halfling was too fast.

"Lying bastard, my name isn't 'Bitch'!" She sunk those fangs into her prey's neck, draining his blood, his fighting becomming weaker and weaker. Raking his own sharp claws drawn across her back. She halted now, blood dripping down her chin, the young demon still, but alive. She then slowly trailed down his form, grasping his member through his pants lightly before standing.

"It's Pandora. Give Lucifer my greetings, bastard." She stood, wiping that blood from her cheek, licking it from her delicate fingers. As the last of his blood was spilled onto the floor, it dried into nothing, and the demon slowly began to disappear until he was no longer among the immortal. The Halfling adjusted her top, licking her lips and fixing her skirt before exiting. Down the hallway, she could hear the music slow. Someone important was entering. Slowly she peered through the doorway. Either this was her newest Target, or a group employed by her Slayer to find her and bring her to him. The Halfling stepped out from behind the doorway, closing it and leaning back against it, watching and waiting. Tonight would be hectic.

 

[Tie of Hope]

((Bored half out of my mind. Anyone joining would be gladly appreciated. Don't worry, I'm not expecting something quite as long as that Beginning Post of mines, but not something too short. ))

 

[Kuldaboli]

An intro

OOC: If there's anything about this character that you don't like or doesn't fit into your idea for the thread, let me know and I'll change it right quick.

IC:
Real name: Jhacahrr Lehane. Very few know his real name.
Commonly known as: Nemo (Latin, means ‘no one’ or ‘nothing’).
Age: No one really knows; Appears 30.
Gender: Male.
Race: Demon.

Description: When in human form, Nemo looks like an average Joe of 30 years of age. He stands at about 6’6” tall and has the body of an Olympic swimmer. His dark brown, slightly wavy hair comes down to about his shoulders. His eyes are maybe the only things that give away his true nature. They look human, but are an extremely pale shade of ice blue.
When in demon form, he looks like a 9 foot tall crossbreed between a werewolf and a vampire. Fur, the same color as his hair in human form, covers his body and he has bat like wings that he can use to fly. His razor sharp claws can cleave a man’s scull with ease and his massive jaws and ferocious teeth can bite through an engine block of a Cadillac. His eyes always stay the same, whether in human or demon form.

Trivia: Nemo very rarely takes his true demon form. He chooses rather to remain in his human form. His eyes have the grapevine in the immortal community buzzing with rumors. By looking at them, you’d think Nemo was blind, and everybody who’s ever seen him is certain of this fact. But Nemo can, in fact, see perfectly. Better then that, actually. Nemo takes full advantage of everybody’s assumption of his blindness and has trained himself through the centuries to appear no different then a man who truly is blind, pulling it off expertly and with ease. He walks around with a cane that he ‘supposedly’ uses to get around. He is a solitary man, a quiet man, yet always on alert. He’s learned through the centuries that ‘you catch more flies with honey then vinegar’. He’s polite and respectful, especially to females. One thing you do not want to do is make him mad. When he lets loose his fury on somebody, there is rarely anything left of said person to fade away from the realm of immortality. He is usually talked about in hushed tones and for some; he is considered something of a boogey man. The reason for this is simple; he is one of the rare few who have mastered an extremely dangerous and taboo form of magic, known as ‘Blood Magic’. This form of magic is unlike any other. The caster uses his own blood, or preferably his opponent’s blood, to produce the desired effect. This form of magic is violent, very destructive and use of it has driven more immortals insane than anything else in the known realms.

Post to come soon.

 

[Kuldaboli]

Jhacahrr "Nemo" Lehane

As Nemo entered the establishment, his long coat squared perfectly on his shoulders and his large-brimmed hat casting a shadow over the upper part of his face, the music seemed to die down. Conversations ground to a halt and some people froze in place. He didn’t need his eyesight to know he was being stared at.

Tilting his head slightly, all his senses were on full alert. He quickly mapped out the huge room. Everything from the drunks at the bar to the prostitutes in the darkened corners of the farthest parts of the place. All of it, without looking around.

Leading with his cane, he made his way slowly to the bar. Some moved out of his way slowly, careful not to make any sudden moves, while others scurried out of his way like frightened roaches.

A suddenly sober drunk scurried out of his chair at the bar and offered it to him. “Here you go, sir. Please, take my seat.”
Shaking his head slightly, Nemo’s deep voice was polite. “No No No. Please, don’t get up on my account. There must be other seats available.”
The drunk protested, shaking his head vehemently. “No sir. It’s fine. I was just on my way out anyway. Please.” He indicated the vacant seat, then a look of embarrassement crossed his face as he remembered the man's obvious blindness.
Nemo could see the drunk was sweating profusely. Judging by the drunk’s scent, he was terrified of him. Tilting his head slightly, Nemo spoke again. “Well, if you insist, I thank you.”
As he made his way to the offered seat, the drunk scurried away and out the front door. The rest of the seats at the bar were quicly vacated, as the patrons took their drinks to other parts of the establishment.

The place slowly got back to normal, as the patrons seemed to come to terms with who had just walked through the door. The music started up again and people started chatting again.

Quietly, Nemo sat alone at the bar and waited patiently for someone to come and take his order.

 

[Tie of Hope]

Target? The halfling female was unsure, but none the less, she was already getting vibes from everyone in the room. Enought to make her quickly slip behind that door. Sometimes she detested that Dark Gift she was cursed with; Empathy. A flood of emotion, the same one, a growing terror seemed to echo through the group of people. It was horrible, all at once, almost making the young woman want to tell them all, right then, at that moment to stop feeling. She took a deep breath, not out of range of any of those flooding emotions. That was the bad side to that Empathy and Telepathic inheritence. It was like a flash like with low bateries, if kept flicking on and off, and she never knew when it'd do either. So she was stuck just wandering around aimlessly, wondering when she'd be swamped with emotions.

Again, she slipped her beautiful, pale form around that door, that long, smooth black tail flickering, the forked end twitching somewhat. No more vibes, but the bar was near enough empty. She hadn't gotten a good glance at the entrance, having fled from the simple wraft of emotions. But she had easily pin pointed the newly entered. Sitting at the bar, perhaps one of the very few left there was a man. Demon? Were? She couldn't tell. It was almost shocking. Pandora, for once, could only get an etch of power, horrible power from this man. It was enough to make her want to seek refuge back in the rooms once more. But none the less, if this was her Target, and she really found out she was biting off more than she could chew, she might as well tell her Slayer to take this task and shove it up his ass. He'd be sure enough to put her head on the bounty list no doubt, but she could care less. Better to die by Bounty Hunters then attempt the impossible. but she was going too far into conclusions before this even started. She'd better at least assure herself that this was her next assignment.

The barkeep was on break; either that or he was too frightened to want to come back. The music was raised back to it's horrendously high level, the wealthy crowding around strippers dancing or requesting drinks on the other side of the long, horse hoof shaped bar. The white lights off, leaving the flashing 'party scene' lights to echo around them, Pandora slowly entered the other side of the bar, leaning with a 'non chalant' attitude over the bar once more, those once blood streaked claws now back to their diamond sheen clear ness, rapping carelessly over the counter. The pretty halfling's long, silky, shiny sheet of black and red streaked hair fell over her gaze, all of it one length, and she gazed out over the crowds. 'Screw this Job, Slayer, even if I don't have a choice. You can take your targets and rot in hell with them...' She was already forming what she was going to say in her mind. It'd probably be returned by a 'No, YOU will...' but Pandora wasn't sure if she was ready to head to a place where a good number of the inhabitants were put there by her.

Almost as if she had justed noticed the man, she looked to him with a 'curious' air, keeping herself void of any emotions. With a small smile, trying to dig up the personality of 'friendly' from the trash can in her mind, she walked along the small space behind the bar, halting finally in front of the man at the bar. With a flick of her wrist, she brushed aside a few of those strands, leaning over the bar and tilting her head.

"What can I get for you, sir?" Oh, she'd realized of this man's 'blind' state. Or was he? Twice times the normal demonic eyesight, and she couldn't tell if he was blind or not? Those molten fire eyes echoed nothing as she watched him curiously, making it an object not to stare. She really should practice being nice later on, because she was much too used to telling everyone to piss off or go choke a chicken. This was the kind of things that made her life difficult. That odd power, something she wasn't familiar with became unknown as that Empathy and Telepathy flickered off, much to the halfling's releif. It made her feel at ease knowing that she didn't have to tap into the emotions or sources of others as if she was hacking a computer. She didn't want to know what everyone else was feeling, or what they could do, or their horrible power that could easily end her life. She was just fine knowing that they were demons and vampires and were-wolves, that was enough for her.

 

[Tie of Hope]

((Just to make sure the thread doesn't disappear...))

 

[Kuldaboli]

Jhacahrr "Nemo" Lehane

He sensed something. Something different. Something in contrast with itself. Something that reeked of sanctity gone sour. Something he hadn’t experienced since… He smothered a grin. A fallen! Interesting!

Drawing a subtle breath, he could smell it, now that he knew what he was looking for. Its scent was faint, as their scents always are. Like it was being disguised. It was perfectly normal for the fallen to disguise their scent. You wouldn’t want to walk around reeking of sanctity, even if it were stale. The demons would rip you to shreds before you could blink.

It was close, very close. But its scent wasn’t quite pure. Like it was laced with something else. Something demonic, perhaps? And blood, fresh blood. Vampire? A half-breed! This creature was very interesting indeed.

From his peripheral vision he saw a young woman walking around behind the horse hoof shaped bar. A strikingly beautiful woman! Her raven black hair streaked with blood red. Ample chest that seemed to defy gravity, a flat firm abdomen, a strong, straight back, and legs that any man, demon, vampire or werecreature would willingly give their very existence to get between. Firm, strong, yet so very feminine. He saw a black tail twitch behind her. With a forked end. Demon blood, interesting. It’s smooth, long length ended just at the base of her spine, just above her full, firm bottom, ‘an ass you could bounce a quarter off of’ as he had heard so many human’s say. The meaning of the phrase had always eluded him, until now.

She stepped in front of him like she’d just noticed he was there. Her lovely face came into his peripheral vision. A face so beautiful that a single glance of it could strike the world’s greatest poet mute for the rest of his human life. He caught her scent and recognized it from earlier. The half-breed! Things clicked in his head. This was the fallen! It had to be! No creature could ever look this enchanting without having celestial blood, true or stale, flowing through their veins! In a twisted way, he felt honored. No one had met a fallen for a millennia or more. And no one had ever knowingly met a descendant of one. To the best of anyone’s knowledge, they didn’t exist. He was a master of keeping his reactions hidden and his emotions in check. His abilities hadn’t failed him yet, and they didn’t now.

She spoke to him. "What can I get for you, sir?" Her voice sounded so very sweet. Sensual, sexy, almost divine. No other species could come close to that tone of voice. Not even the Succubae, and they really tried. It had been over a millennia and a half since Nemo had last met a fallen. But his memory of the creature's attributes was as clear as if it had only happened 15 minutes ago. This was definitely the fallen! There was no mistaking it.

He tilted his head slightly, as if noticing her presence for the first time. His deep voice was soft and polite as a small smile graced his handsome face. “My apologies miss.” He bowed his head, slowly reached his hand up and removed his hat, placing it gently on the bar beside him. He raised his head again, his small smile genuine and his pale seemingly blind eyes looking just past and below her beautiful face. “I didn’t realize there was a lady present.”

His tone, smile and gaze none changed he answered her question. “Thank you kindly. I find myself thirsting for something from the realm of man. A glass of your finest cognac, please. And perhaps, a cup of strong black coffee, if you would be so kind.” He had spent way too much time around humans. Their tastes were beginning to rub off on him. But he still had his standards. He would rather throw himself willingly into the black flames of everlasting torment then taste that vile filth the humans called ‘hamburgers’.

He found himself intrigued by the young woman in front of him. The fallen! She was captivating. Her blood was mixed. Several times it seemed. This was truly a remarkable creature. But there was something about her that just didn’t sit well with him.

 

[Tie of Hope]

Cognac and Coffee. It was a much nicer order than what the last few drunk demon's who'd been corraling and drinking until the sun rose, tormenting the barkeep and herself, and ordering things like 'A piece of ass..' or some other bizarre thing that tended to upset the halfling. That was alright, she always got even. None the less, the massive set of liquids behind her, reaching up in a decorative, neon glowing shelf rack, with everything from Dragons Blood wine to fresh Minted Bane liquor, and of course, a few humanoid drinks, such as Whiskey, Millers Light Beer and of course Cognac among them.

She scanned the shelves absentmindedly, that gothic design of wing print upon her back, visible due to that small top she was wearing, seeming to clarify that odd mixture of her background. Not many knew what Fallen were. Much less ways to identify them. But no doubt, wing print was the easiest way. Fallen had the ability to cause their wings to 'disappear', for however long they wish, and are able to recall them at will. But cuts often form from the delicate process, and despite the fact that she healed in moments, those claw marks she'd received from the demon in the back rooms having completely healed to nothing, whenever the cuts from her wings began to heal, a tattoo like marking was left to make it known she was winged; wing print. It was no surprise many regarded it as simple human tattoos, she rarely ever used those wings, due to the trouble they could cause. None the less, she concentrated hard back to her work.

Eyes scanning up the shelf, she finally spotted the Cognac at the very top rack. With a very annoyed expression, she reached for it. No luck. Standing on the tips of her toes, using her tail to balance herself she reached once more. Curse her rotten luck. And then, that familiar 'click' seemed to enter her mind. That Dark Gift was back on again. Had it not been for the flood of new emotions, she'd have went right to bussiness. But leaning back momentarily, raising a hand to her temple to clear out the emotions of others, she looked up to that bottle once more.

"Hm. Here we are. Cognac." Flexing a finger, her sights set on the bottle, she watched as it hovered from it's place, that carefully balanced telekinisis drawing it forward. Though no doubt, she was comfortable using it. This man couldn't see, and the drunks were too out of it to notice. Drawing up a glass with that same mental form of power, dropping a few ice cubes into a clear glass, pouring it she smiled back up to him, setting it out in front of him.

"Here you are. Your cognac, sir...er.." Almost cautiously she took one of his hands, guding it to the glass kindly, where many a person would have left the sight impaired to seek out the glass on their own. None the less, she pulled away, turning her head, that silky dark, red streaked sheet following her as she drew another glass up using that well trained mental ability. Taking the coffee pot, she poured the coffee carefully, glancing back up at him curiously before setting the coffee down.

"Your coffee is just right of your cognac." Assignments, Pandora. You need to focus, because your supposed to take this guy out... As if. Pandora saw no harm done in the man, if anything, he could be sued for being polite in demonic and vampiric presense. But her Slayer hadn't specified what she was supposed to do. She was only supposed to 'get close' to her target. Get close. The words were poised in her mind almost in annoyed fashion. Was that even possible with someone like Pandora? Sure, the young woman was sure she made many of the ordinary demonesses or pure blooded vampires look like ordinary passer-bys. But Pandora was well far from something agreeable, when she wasn't working or putting on a show. Kind seemed to be in her blood, for at one time, no doubt, that angelic being that had passed from one family member to another had been pure. And she was sure after the last few generations...and the last few months, in Pandora's sense, she'd made that tainted blood of the fallen sink even lower. If ever, she was as fallen as an angel could get.

She'd been getting something from him, an emotion of sorts. But right when she had dug into his emotions to try and find out what, that god forsaken Dark Gift flickered off. Nothing. She kept in that frustration to herself, giving a genuine smile of her own. Pandora didn't really realize just how intoxicating a smile was from her. The halflings beauty was oddly appealed to many. But her destructive, demonic nature also came along with it. Beautiful, but Balistic.

Concentrate, Pandora... She scolded herself mentally, leaning over on that counter lightly, crossing her arms before her breasts, that forked tail flickering behind her. Reaching for the cognac had brought her shirt up a bit, revealing a pale, beautiful stomach. But what did she care really, he couldn't see, so she had nothing to toil over.

"If you don't mind, sir, what brings you to La Lune on such a fine night?"

 

[Tie of Hope]

((Another effort to keep the thread from disappearing...))

 

[caela]

(( Keep it going it's a great read. If I could think of a character that would fit I'd ask of you were looking for more people but my imagination is failing me. lol...Don't let it die though am loving it! ))

 

[Kuldaboli]

Jhacahrr "Nemo" Lehane

His order seemed to come as somewhat of a surprise to her. Oh she hid it well enough, but this was a girl who was without a doubt more used to receiving orders for a different kind of beverage, along with probably more then a few filthy propositions.

As she struggled to reach the bottle on the top shelf, her ‘wings’ caught Nemo’s attention. The myths were true! A descendant of a fallen would retain the ancestor’s wings, no matter how far back the ancestry went. Interesting! She seemed to falter a bit, putting her hand to her temple as if she were fighting off a migraine. What happened next surprised him. With her gaze locked on the bottle and with a simple flex of her finger, the desired bottle ever so slowly took to the air, levitating gently down towards the girl. Telekinesis! Not everybody could hold that power and still retain their sanity. This creature intrigued him more and more.

It was all he could do not to snarl as she put ice in the glass before pouring the liquor. She was obviously not used to serving the fine beverage. He let it slide. He had tasted worse in his existence then iced cognac. Like that raw sewage the humans called ‘Root Beer’.

Her hand was soft and her grip gentle as she guided his hand towards the glass. Her action surprised him. Not everybody would have done that for a blind man. He took advantage of the physical contact and skimmed her emotions. Just a slight nibble. A tingle so tiny, you’d need to be concentrating solely on it to feel it, let alone recognize it for what it was. He sensed a conflict within her. Like she had choices that were being weighed in her mind. He also sensed a tinge of nervousness. It intrigued him.

His voice was gentle as he thanked her for her kindness. He did so again, as she verbally guided him to his coffee. What an amazing creature this was! He could feel power emanating from her, but knew it had to be only the tip of the iceberg that was this stunning woman. He knew that great power corrupts very easily and crushes any form of kind tendencies under its proverbial heel, yet this girl portrayed kindness the likes he’d never seen from a demon blood before. She seemed to prize it and keep it to herself, but these small acts of kindness she had shown a seemingly blind man showed that she was capable of so much more then she obviously gave herself credit for.

Taking a sip of the liquor, ignoring the watered down feel the ice gave it, he savored the taste. Ah! Excellent quality! He wondered how a ‘dive’ such as this got their hands on such a fine specimen. Setting his glass down, he reached for the coffee. Strong, rich taste that would have sent the craziest human caffeine junkie on a high of pure ecstasy that would last him a full week. Setting his coffee back on the counter, he noticed her leaning forward and give him her attention. Her top had been skimpy before, but after her attempts to reach the top shelf, it had ridden up higher, revealing more of her firm abdomen. He wasn’t about to complain.

"If you don't mind, sir, what brings you to La Lune on such a fine night?" There was that voice again. Smooth as the finest silk. Her full lips moving in such an erotic way that just a glance at their pure sensual movements would cause an entire high school football team to cum in their pants a dozen times over. A small smile graced his lips as he considered her question. Why had he come here, tonight of all nights. Finding the answer, he gave it, his voice soft and polite.

“I have spent a long time in the realm of man. Fickle and arrogant creatures, they are. Believe themselves to be the masters of all the realms.”
His lighthearted chuckle broadened his smile. He paused before sobering
“They fear what they don’t understand. And they hate what they fear.”
His face took on a look of slight disturbance.
“And all that they hate, they must see destroyed.”
He shook his head slightly in resignation.
“There are times when I wonder who the more civilized race is. The ‘unnaturals’; demons, weres, vampires… Or the humans, the righteous, the ensouled, the ones ‘God’ put in charge of the earth. The greatest creation in modern memory.”
After a slight pause he sobered again, the small smile returning to his face.
“I came here tonight because I find myself seeking… a different kind of company. Not your average demon, werecreature or vampire. They don’t seem to like me very much. And I have to say, the feeling is somewhat mutual.”
He chuckled again before sobering.
“No. I hunger for… something… outer worldly. Someone with whom I can share things. Learn from.”
He seemed to shake himself out of his revelry.
“Pay no mind to my ramblings, sweet lady. That’s all they are.”
He lowered his head.
“The mad ravings of a demented loner”

He raised his head in her general direction. “How much do I owe you for the drinks, miss?”

 

[Tie of Hope]

"No, not at all sir, save your money. It's on the house.." She said with a small smile. Brushing aside a few of those long strands, her gaze shifting for a moment off towards those vampiress, demoness and were-creature crowds, she seemed to run over his words lightly in his mind. Oh, but it'd be a lucky thing for him if he could find anything but vampires and demons in NightWorld. And then once more, there were always those few human slaves that had been brought to NightWorld. Though they never lasted, and only the wealthiest had a human slave, or if they were lucky, a set of them. Where as the lower level demons thought them churlish and filthy, they tended to long for the beings with souls. None the less, despite this oddly strange preferrence, she'd also come to notice that they'd adapted so willingly to human items and such that it was almost funny. Their clothing and terms of speech, customs and such, almost as if they wished to be human themselves. Pandora shook her head. Impossible.

Pandora knew well enough the hardships of both races. Her birth in their world was enough to make her see. Learning to cope with their sunlight and polluted air, lost on the streets and left to wander. There was so much unbalanced measurements in their world that she wouldn't pay to go back. She had no control over anything she did. That minor set back of vampiric needs in NightWorld was small, where as she was driven to kill humans on the streets, dozens at a time even, for that thin blood they held wasn't enough to sustain her life. She'd used her wings more than frequently, and if anything, that demonic nature of her's ran wild, causing her to bring the impossible to human realms. That was, after all, how the Slayers had caught on to her? She'd unknowingly drawn so much attention to herself that they spent weeks just planning her uses. She'd been caught like a fish on a hook.

"I wish you the best of luck in finding what you wish for in here, sir. Nothing but scoundrals and turncoats, demons and vampires and the like of everyday immortals..." It was partially true, in her case. She'd classified herself in her mind as one of those scoundrals or turncoats, completely out of her hands. She'd taken down more immortals then perhaps the most skilled slayers were able to, all at the cost of her own life if she decided to go against the 'good' word of slayers. But she wasn't, on the other hand, an everyday immortal. She was different...she was..special. And though she would have preferred to be born into a normal immortal family, rather than having a demon-vampire mother and a half fallen angel father. She'd have liked to think of herself as 'fitting in' with her world. But again, another thing to add on that impossible list of her's. Her odd background had taken that off of her list long ago.

Shaking her gaze from the crowds of vampires and demons, all dressed in the ever popular 'gothic' appearance they'd adapted to from the humans, she gave a polite, somewhat sheepish smile. She knew that those last few words would be enough any other time to offer her services in fixing his problem...but no, not this time. This time, she'd stand out as long as she could and request a presense with that block head slayer of her's and tell him that the handsome blind man sitting in front of her now, enjoying his drinks and speaking perhaps the first few words that either made sense, or were not sexually related, was as harmless as any normal every day demon. His only crime in her book was being kind. Shaking herself from that 'day dreaming' thought like state, she gave him her full attention once more.

"Sorry, a little spacing out on my part. It tends to happen." The halfling's soft, silk vocals drew the curious, lusting gazes from even demons on the other side of the bar, peeping slyly around the corner to catch a glimps of the halfling. Those sort of demons were much too greedy, and they tended to lust after things until they found a way to get it. It made the rest of demon numbers look horribly bad. Flickering her eyes to the side once more, still thinking much upon the note that the blind gentlemen in front of her was infact just that, her expression turned from kind and light-hearted to a particularly seductive 'You couldn't touch even in your dreams' look, causing the demons to tumble on the floor in disbelief. She rarely ever used that look...though it did wonders in turning a few legs to jello and getting those gazes off of her once and a while. With a smirk tracing over those smooth, full lips, she turned her attention back to Nemo.

But perhaps she'd been judging him too lightly. Pandora had a horrible sense of judgement, either that, or it was just perfect. Where as on certain occasions she could easily tell a demon or vampire from a simple glance, when it came to others, she was left stumped, to puzzle it together off of the little information she did have. She'd very well sensed a intense of power from the man, she couldn't put a finger on quite. And she was just as sure she'd rather not recon with it. Maybe it was that simple enough cover up...or the fact that oddly enough Pandora just couldn't seem to bring herself to lead on the seemingly harmless man, that would have her walk out of La Lune tonight without causing the destruction of another immortal to those Slayers. Invisible to her frighteningly gorgeous features was a hatred unmatched, one that dwelled in the very few immortals who had a soul; perhaps a tainted, darkened one, but a soul none the less. Those Slayers were driving her far, very far. Maybe this would be the one to finally have the girl blow up on those Slayers, and then flee about NightWorld for her life from the countless demons and vampires who'd be hunting for her. For more than just a bounty, none the less. And knowing that cocky Slayer of her's, he'd even elaborate that 'dead or alive' factor.

"I've also not properly introduced myself. My name is Pandora.."

 

[Tie of Hope]

((Pushing the board up...))

 

[Kuldaboli]

Jhacahrr "Nemo" Lehane

He smiled at her and thanked her kindly when she told him the drinks were on the house. This wasn’t the first time he’d gotten free drinks at a bar. Nor was it the first time he’d gotten free drinks from a pretty girl. When she spoke to him she seemed a bit distracted. Something was on her mind, troubling her.

He’d noticed the drooling stares the other demons had sent her. The kind of stares that could practically rape a woman. He couldn’t believe how much the bar scene here was similar to the bar scene in the human world. Where men, drunk out of their minds, would think themselves really suave as they leered cross-eyed at women and drooled all over their shirts. He also noticed the look she gave them in return and smothered another grin. This was a girl who could definitely take care of herself.

He could feel the cautious stares and the frightened glances that were being directed at him. The patrons were trying to hide them, making them seem like nonchalant browsing, or curious glances, but he knew them for what they were.

“Pandora.” Her name rolled so very easily off his tongue, his voice almost dreamy. The name suited her. Fit her like a glove. He chuckled slightly.
“Like the girl from the Greek legend. A curious girl with a box of wonders.” It was like there was no other name that suited this almost divine creature.
“It’s a beautiful name. Fitting for a sweet woman such as yourself.” He lowered his head slightly.
“You have very soft hands, miss. Your touch is very gentle. You have a kindness within you. That is a rare thing to find here in this realm. It is something that makes you special, and you should treasure it.”

He could hear faint whispers behind him. People were beginning to wonder what was going on. And who this brave (or stupid, depending on how brave they thought themselves) woman was who was talking so nonchalantly to the ‘Warlock’, giving him her name and what not. It was an attitude he’d gotten used to receiving from people over the centuries. He ignored them.

He raised his head to look in her general direction and smiled. “I am very honored to meet you, miss Pandora. I am called Nemo.”

 

[Tie of Hope]

"Thank you, Nemo. But I can't accept your compliments, I'm not really all that special after all. Perhaps strange...different. Halflings aren't given common compliments..." Well...most of the time they weren't. Despite the constant 'You're beautiful' or 'You're perfect...too perfect' she got from many a vampire, demon or were-creature, that odd feeling of being out of place never seemed to go away. It was always there. There were many demons and vampires who preferred to make her life as difficult as they could get it. She smiled to Nemo, none the less, raising a hand and brushing back a few of those long, dark and crimson strands. "..It's really nice to hear, though. Hey, maybe I could offer you a room? La Lune might not seem like much, not in the bar area, but it's a great place to stay when you don't really have any other place to go. Just a wild guess, though--"

"Pandora! What have I told you?" Head turning to the side quickly, she caught sight of her manager. The tall, dark skinned demon could have easily frightened off many. Deep, pupiless black eyes, the traditional horns of a demon and the tail to match, not to mention claws, and dressed in black made up his appearance. No doubt, Pandora tended to mouth off back to him like he was anyone else. She paused for a moment, glaring right back up at him. If there wasn't any other demon she hated more in the entire NightWorld, he remained on the top. She'd tried countless times to get him as a target, but her Slayer had rejected the request, despite the fact that he held a good ammount of influence around NightWorld. He didn't hold any formidable powers. Just the basics. And despite that Pandora was sure she could very easily kill him, she didn't, liking her head on her shoulders quite fine.

"Excuse me for a moment, please." She spoke to Nemo quietly, that voice maintaining a soft tone as she turned and walked to the exit-entrance of the horse hoof shaped bar. It seemed that he wouldn't go any further, perhaps for the fact that Nemo was seated there. She didnt quite grasp why they were so fearful of him...maybe it was just the simple fact that they were just about all drunk. But not her manager...so it was an odd sort of ongoing. She brushed aside a few of those long strands once more, letting him grasp her chin and pull her head up to gaze at him, the demons sharp claws digging into her cheek.

"You've got a job to do, so do it, don't just stand around...talking. Unless you'd like to be back on Waitress shift." She pulled back from him sharply, watching as he walked off hastily, yelling some other girl's name as the crowds fanned out of his way. She rolled her eyes, a hand motion to her cheek to feel the cut heal beneath her fingers, those small droplets of blood disappearing into nothing as she turned and walked back to that place she'd been standing, arranging a few glasses on the counter before speaking.

"Sorry about that. My manager is a pain...sometimes I just feel like--he's just so--urg!" She took a deep breath, letting it out in a huff before giving a friendly smile. No, her problems shouldn't be anyone else's. She'd find a way to deal with her manager...later on. Guessing a drink would do her well, she turned, slipping a few bills into the register, pushing aside a few of the bottles. Finding what she wanted, the human brandy she'd grown to enjoy, she began to shift them back, before feeling a sharp prick against her finger. Withdrawing sharply, she scowled and checked to find a broken bottle, lifting it tenderly and dropping it into the trash can.

"If things get any better around here, I might as well just quit." She said with the air of humor, sticking that finger into her mouth and sucking, preferring not to lose any blood. She poured brandy into the glass, noticing the still bleeding finger, but ignoring it. It'd heal sooner or later. Sipping on the brandy, she looked back up to him.

"Anyway, there are plenty of rooms in the back, if you'd like one."

 

[Kuldaboli]

Jhacahrr "Nemo" Lehane

She thought she wasn’t special?!! How could she think so little of herself?!! This woman was unlike anyone he’d ever met in his entire existence! A descendant of a fallen, a demon blood AND a Halfling! That combination of races had NEVER come together to do anything as a unity, EVER! She was someone that countless wizards, witches, warlocks and sorcerers, not to mention a plethora of scholars, would give their eternal souls, for dozens of re-incarnations, just to catch a glimpse of! Never in ANY recorded history had there been a creature such as her! Well, maybe one, but she… wasn’t around anymore. No thanks to those bastard slayers!

She smiled at him and brushed a few locks of hair from her face. She really was exceptionally beautiful. The kind of woman, entire realms were torn apart over. The unnatural version of Hellen of Troy. And she thought she wasn’t anything special!!!

As the manager called her over he could smell his terror. He wore his mask of arrogant confidence well enough, but the stench of his fear was overwhelming. Nemo felt a cold fury rising within him when the manager grasped Pandora’s chin none too gently and pulled her head up to meet his gaze. That thing was a brute, and he flung his insubstantial illusion of power around to make himself seem more important then he really was. He was a wannabe!

A scent filled his nostrils. It was so sweet and so strong that his class halted on its way to his lips. Blood! No ordinary blood! Sweet! Rich! Powerful! A mixture of attributes he hadn’t smelt before! Demon blood mixed Halfling… and the subtly disguised scent of a fallen. And something else… something very common… Vampire! His head turned ever so slightly to catch Pandora in his peripheral vision more fully. Her back to him, she raised her hand to her cheek, as if to dab at a wound. He swallowed in reflex! That was her blood! She wasn’t a mixture of three races… but four! No, that’s impossible! He’d only heard of one such a creature ever existing… and the slayers had gotten her. His mind had to be playing tricks on him.

Shaking himself slightly, his mind caught on to something. The manager must have scratched her cheek. He’d hurt her! The cold fury rose within him again and he gritted his teeth. That worthless excuse for a demon had no idea what kind of creature he had in his… ’employment’.

He quelled his temper as she returned to where he sat. He noticed her cheek was flawless, no mark, no scratch, just an ever so slight line in her make up. Hardly noticeable. Oh yes, that brute had scratched her! He understood why she vented her frustrations about the demon. He had no right to treat her this way! No matter what Pandora may or may not have done to find herself working in this hell hole, she didn’t deserve this. He understood her wanting to get back at the prick. He would have liked to help but there was something about slitting himself open and sending a bolt of negative material energy across a crowded bar to fry the demon in his own fat that just didn’t sit well with him, unnecessary attention and all that. He was sure it wouldn’t score him any points with Pandora either.

She was re-arranging bottles to get at something in the back of one of the shelves, no doubt finding her drink of choice. He couldn’t blame her. She jerked her hand back as if she’d been burned, hissing slightly.

And there it was again! The scent of the blood! Slowly his hand returned the glass that had just about been to his lips back to the table. For the first time in, he didn’t know how long, he stared directly at another person. Her back was to him, she didn’t notice. She was disposing of a broken bottle. She had obviously cut herself.

It was her! Her blood! The rumors had been wrong! The only creature with the mixed blood of four opposing races was standing right in front of him! As a barmaid in a shady dive in the middle of NightWorld! He actually gulped. The Slayers hadn’t gotten her!

He looked away just a second before she turned around to face him again. Her head down examining her finger, she mumbled something about ‘things getting better’ and ‘quitting’. He couldn’t help himself. He glanced at the cut on her finger and gulped. Her blood was whispering to him, tempting him. Her hand moved and his eyes darted away to look at something else. Out of his peripheral vision he saw her standing there sucking on her finger, before pouring herself a drink.

She asked him about the rooms in the back, if he wanted one. He didn’t need to sleep, part of his demon heritage, but a rest would be nice. Again, unnoticed by her, he glanced at her finger, it was still bleeding. Then he heard the manager growl at somebody named ‘Tina’, followed by a feminine yelp of pain. His jaw clenched as he saw Pandora’s whole body tense. To the untrained eye, she didn’t appear to budge, but Nemo’s eyes were several realms away from being untrained. She really didn’t like that prick. In fact, he’d go so far as to say she hated him.

That brute needed a lesson or two on how to treat a woman. He prayed Pandora would forgive him if she ever found out what had caused what he was about to make happen. He visualized the brute in his mind and relived how he had grasped Pandora’s chin forcefully, his large clawed hand scratching her fair skin. He saw every joint, every vein, every muscle, and every scale on that filthy hand. He had just thought of the perfect punishment. Pandora’s blood, still seeping from the cut on her finger, still whispered to him, and this time, he answered its call. He wouldn’t need much. The amount that was already on her finger and oozing slowly out of the wound should suffice.

The blood on Pandora’s finger seemed to come alive and gather together like a teeny tiny slime-creature regenerating itself. It then stretched itself upward slightly, away from her finger, like a cat trying to reach for something held just out of its reach. The light from the neon decorated shelf rack behind Pandora seemed to dim slightly for a split second and the blood on her finger began to slowly evaporate in a barely noticeable wisp of blue-black smoke until it was all consumed by the magic. The small cut on her finger healed almost instantly. The whole process took mere seconds. He knew she would have, at the most, felt a slight tingle in her finger.

Raising his head to look in her general direction, he smiled at her. “Yes. Thank you Miss Pandora.” He said in a soft voice. “I believe I would like a room.” He retrieved his hat and held it to his chest, his smile not faltering one bit. “If you would be so kind as to lead the way.”

A short while later, in the other end of the bar the manager was snarling at a scantily clad, petite, teenage looking demon girl known as Tina, making her cower into a corner. He felt a slight stinging sensation in his hand, the same one he’d held Pandora’s chin with, making him shake it in an attempt to make it go away. It only intensified, growing into a full fledged pain. Snarling slightly with the pain he looked at it and froze. It looked like the blood in the veins of his hand was boiling. He gave a whimpered gasp/scream of pain as he grabbed the wrist of the hand with his other one and staggered slightly. This drew a few looks from the nearest tables but nothing more. Tears of pain sprang to his eyes as it looked like his entire hand was churning and bubbling under the skin. He staggered again, and whimpered. He had the attention of about a quarter of the bar’s patrons now, none of them knowing what was happening. The skin on his hand seemed to sizzle and burn as he turned to the patrons and begged them to help him, all backed away in horror.

He roared a guttural roar of pain as his entire hand from the wrist down suddenly burst into flames, unnatural blue-black flames burning his hand up from the inside out.

 

[Tie of Hope]

Almost unnoticingly, the girl glanced back down to that finger, absentmindedly taking a sip of the Brandy. Rubbing that finger together with another, those short, claw like finger nails brushing together she smiled somewhat. That was much better, it didn't make her feel so vunerable with such a scent travelling around. It was better if most of the drunk demons around thought her to be nothing but a halfling, a un-common demon-vampire crossing, not a four-blooded wonder which existed in Medieval times, and still in numbers such as three on the earth at one time. None the less, that small wiff of blood was kept relatively hidden, only drawing a few heads to the air for a moment, before back down to the things that they had been previously occupied with. Why? Because right now, as far out in the deep end as she was floating, she couldn't risk being spotted by anything that might potientially be a threat to her. It was hard enough coping in NightWorld. But there was no way she'd dare take a trip back to the human's realm, where it'd be near enough impossible to stay alive in.

Over the raring music, she could hear that asshole of a manager of her's screaming at one of the newer girls, Tina. It seemed he was never comfortable with anything other than screaming and treating the females around La Lune like dirt. She tensed somewhat for a moment, setting aside that glass and rolling her eyes as he continued to scream. Some times she wished he'd just get what was comming to him, without her having to do much of anything. The much more powerful demon, none the less, could easily get her killed if she took him out personally..but then again, if no one ever knew, then how could she possibly get in trouble? A small smile rose to her smooth, deep red lips as she glanced out of the direction of his screaming at the girl, back to Nemo.

"Sometimes I really wish he'd just shut up...or at least scream about something that wasn't directed at anyone else." She said with a soft air of amusement, running a finger over that glass. But what if her manager had caught on to her? What if he knew...no. He was too dumb to know. That might have, none the less, explained why he tended to treat her like he did. As Nemo spoke once more, Pandora let for once a true smile grace those pretty lips of her's.

"Very well then." Gracefully stepping from that place, exiting the horse hoof shaped bar, leaving it for whichever of the others would come back without the presense of the charming blind man, she came finally to stand aside him. Those deep, crimson orbs of her's observed him curiously. He was quite handsome, none the less, a pleasent change from the normal 'ever beautiful' demons and vampires who never seemed to change, with flawless beauty that she tended to admire.

Pandora thought lowly of herself, but an easy comparison made it more than obvious she could easily surpass the most beautiful vampire to walk NightWorld. Unlike them, that celestial blood kept her skin from paling so much as she aged into the thousands that you could view her veins. She had no worries of many a vampire's weaknesses, despite her minor sensitivity to sunlight. Coffins or death by the heart weren't possible commonly for her. Her wounds healed in such a fast ammount of time that even if she'd had herself pinned somewhat, with her heart peirced, she could stay alivel ong enough to free herself. Now much closer to Nemo, she began to get those same currents of power, though much stonger. Damn that idiotic Dark Gift...I wish it'd make up it's mind... Well, it was better than the human realm, where she would feel things ten times worse, or make things move so randomly that it tended to be on the next nights news show. She regained her focus once more, deciding it'd be easier to lead him then have him try and find his way there, none the less.

"Here, I'll guide you there." Taking his hand lightly, leading him from the bar through the crowds, she smiled somewhat back to him. It seemed many of those on the dance floor cleared away as they walked through, only until a bit more of that gift tapped in just as she'd reached the door. Pain.

How she had gotten the vibes from so far away was almost shocking. The entire distance on the other side of the bar area. That sharp, etching pain, mixed with horror seemed to cloud her vision for a moment as she stopped, the effects from such a massive blend causing her to pull away from the door and place that hand on her forehead, massaging her temples in attempt to shake the feeling. She managed to grab the handle to the door and open it quickly to open it, leading Nemo back, feeling a flooding releif as that spiking pain disappeared. Who it was? She didn't want to know.

"Sorry about that...someone in there is feeling a little too much." She said, that lingering head ache annoying her by the minute. She gave a weary smile none the less. Whoever it was, she hoped they were someone who really deserved it...like that prick of a manager of her's.

"The better rooms are in the back." She said softly, regaining that friendly tone as she continued to lead him down the long, plush carpetted hallway, the music reaching even inside of the hallway. She passed the room in which she'd killed the young demon in earlier, on down the hallway, dimly lit in multi-colored lights. That long, smooth black tail flickered at the end, the arrow head tip only just brushing the ground as she finally halted in front of one of the doors, placing her hand on the doorknob to let it scan her palm before it blinked red to green, opening it to reveal a finely furnished room.

"Here we are, it's quite nice back here. It's sound proof, but it you'd like the music, the closet in the corner has everything for it." She said, leading him in finally to walk around the nice room for a moment before halting in the center and looking back to him, raising a hand once more to tuck a few of those black and red strands behind her ear, the silky black giving a breif shine. Not that he, she said to herself, would be able to tell. But still, she'd known a few demons who posessed a Second Sight and were blind. He certainly wasn't faking it, she'd told herself. He seemed too nice to do that.

"Well, if you'd like to be alone I could go..." She offered with that still very friendly tone. What are you doing, Pandora? You're supposed to stay with him...get to know him better... Then why did she feel it was too horrible. Curse that fallen heiratage. Pity was something that flooded the soul of a fallen, and forgiveness, and shame. So it was no wonder why she couldn't help that feeling. She'd leave, and if her Slayer didn't set his demon dogs on her, she'd march right back into the human realm and tell him to burn in hell like he deserved.

Wondering if she was doing the right thing, she thought on it hard. Well, she couldn't keep it up for long, so it seemed that she'd have to face the real fear sooner or later. Better try and spare the life of another and see if she ended up meeting all those demon's she'd sent to hell rather than keep up that little 'role playing' game she was forced into. She'd stay, but only if he wanted her to. And there was another problem she had to worry about. Telling him the reason why she was still alive.

 

[Tie of Hope]

((Just to keep the board alive...))

 

[Kuldaboli]

Jhacahrr "Nemo" Lehane

Her smile was like a ray of sunlight in an otherwise dark and dreary realm. Her touch was as soft as before when she had guided him to his glass. The warmth from her body as she guided him across the dance floor filled him as well. Seeing the patrons on the dance floor stepping out of their way as they stepped through was almost comical. Like Moses parting the Red Sea.

She seemed to stagger slightly when they got to the door and massage her temples. Like she was receiving something mentally that she really didn’t want to feel. Once on the other side of the door she seemed to come to grips with what it was she’d felt.

Telepathy!

Empathy!

There was no mistaking it! She was the one! The one that he’d heard about! The last of her kind! Though, she probably didn’t know that.

As she spoke, Nemo smothered another grin. If she only knew how much the prick was feeling. And would be feeling for a long time.

As she led him towards the back, he felt her warmth again. Her body so close to his. He couldn’t believe he was actually in her presence. After all this time. After all his searching. He’d finally found what he was looking for. He had lived up to half of his promise.

As she led him to the room, opened it and showed him around, his mind shot back to the time he’d made said promise. A millennia and half had past since he met her. Abbadonna! The penitent fallen angel! The unwilling participant in the revolt against god’s angels!

When he’d met her, he’d been nothing more then a sorcerer, an excellent one, but still, merely a sorcerer. He’d been sure his days were numbered. No one had gone up against a fallen angel and walked away unscathed. He’d seen that she was horribly wounded, as if she’d been through an intense battle. He’d readied his most powerful spells and gotten ready to hurl them at her. She had raised her head to look him in the eyes. And everything he’d been about to do or say had gone up in smoke, as he stood there dumbfounded by the vision in front of him. Her eyes had been warm and full of kindness. She’d smiled at him warmly and he had literally fallen to his knees, amazed by her beauty.

He had helped her to the best of his abilities. He had treated her wounds, given her shelter and food. For eight days, Abbadonna had been a guest in his lowly hut while she recovered from her injuries. All this time she never spoke of what had happened to her. Finally on the ninth day she’d told him everything.

About how a group of the most vengeful fallen had forced themselves on human females fathering children that never should have been born into this world. How they had also traveled from realm to realm, raping females of all the other races and setting the balance of the realms in danger. How these children had grown to take after their fathers and their children had done the same, until one day the races had gotten mixed beyond all reason. Half-breeds were common. A threeblood; though not an uncommon mixture between some races, a threeblood of demon/vampire/halfling variety was extremely rare.

Never, while all of this had been going on, had there been any interference by god… Until an extremely rare event happened. A four blood was born. A child who’s blood was a mixture of a fallen, a demon, a vampire, and a halfling. Then, and only then, did true angels set foot in the realms. Every four blood infant they could find, dead or alive, they took out of the realms, never to be seen again. People never knew why.

Abbadonna had figured out why. They were afraid! The true angels, made by the ol’ mighty heavenly father… Were afraid! Afraid, that the children whose blood was a mixture of the four races that despised them the most, were the ones who could bring them to their knees. And they had every reason to be afraid. Because those children could! They were the closest things the realms had to their own true angels. True angels, not made by god! And that scared the heavenly choir more then anything they had ever faced.

Abbadonna knew that there were still a few four blooded individuals left in the realms. And the most amazing thing was that not all of them had a fallen parent that was pure evil to the core. There were those who had taken human mates freely, male and female. Abbadonna herself had given birth to eleven children, by three human mates. She had begged Nemo to help her find the remaining four bloods and protect them. But Nemo had just been a lowly demon sorcerer and had been afraid. So Abbadonna had given him the only thing she could give him as payment, the knowledge and mastery of Blood Magic!

Soon after he had agreed to help her, they had gone their separate ways, to search the realms. That was the last time Nemo ever heard from Abbadonna.

For half a second millennia he had searched all the realms. He had found rumors, tales of lore, myths… but never had he found any hard facts. Until now.

He was shaken out of his revelry when he heard her offer him his privacy. That was the last thing he wanted! He had found the last four blood in all the realms, and he was not about to let her go back into that bar where every Tom Dick and Harry could, and undoubtedly would, lay their filthy hands on her.

His voice was soft and polite, accompanied with a smile. “Actually, Miss Pandora, I find myself delighted by your presence. And I would be honored by your company.” He bowed his head to her slightly. Making his way to a comfortable plush chair, he eased himself into it. “Please, Miss Pandora, won’t you join me.”

He knew she could take care of herself, and she had probably done some things in her existence that would sicken anybody else, but he would not be letting her out of his sight any time soon. He had made a promise, and he intended to keep it.

“I hope you don’t think me too forward, Miss Pandora, but I have a thirst for knowledge and you strike me as a woman… of mystery.” He smirked, his face a mask of mock conspiracy.

He only hoped she’d understand when he told her everything. For she truly needed to know her the whole truth. Like her true position in life, her true function within the realms and where her true roots lay.

He had recognized it when she had brushed those silky strands of hair from her face when offering him his privacy. Her eyes! He’d only seen that color, that exact tone and hue of color, once before. The very beautiful penitent fallen angel he had nursed back to health so long ago, Abbadonna, had had those exact eyes! So warm, kind and yet a bit mischievous. He knew exactly where Pandora’s roots lay!

“Please, tell me a bit about yourself.”

 

[Tie of Hope]

Pandora gave, again, another small smile. Brushing aside a few strands of her long hair, those dual colored strands falling back into it's silky, flexible place among the others, she raised a hand, drawing up a chair in the air and bringing it closer to her until she seated herself comfortable, that long, arrow head tipped tail brushing the ground softly. He'd requested she stay, so, like she'd been thinking, she would. But for how long would depend. She smiled somewhat at his words. Oh, mystery was but the tip of the ice berg Pandora followed after. The tip of it indeed.

She wondered though, that empanthy and telepathy kicking in once more to allow her to lift the heavier, larger object and place it in a position she liked. The brightness of the flash light. These spikes didn't last very long, so she decided to take advantage of it a bit.

Now what was this? The softness of accomplishment, delight...and it faded, just like that. She scowled mentally. It seemed so typical that it would just happen to do such a thing right then and there.

A bit about herself? There wasn't much to tell, no doubt. Nothing much to tell without lying...or giving herself away. A pawn of Slayers. She wondered what had, in the first place, make him feel such accomplishment. Unless he knew something about her that she didn't. Had he caught on?

In a way, her interest for him grew...but if it was good or bad was difficult to read. Mainly because, despite the minor ammount of trust she'd given to the kind man, Pandora was always cautious of who she was speaking to, and the topic. Sure enough, had her quick thinking not been used to get her by the Slayers, when they'd first gotten a hold of her and branded her with the mark of a slayer spy, she would have been hunted down a while ago and killed.

The demons of NightWorld who were of high power and status, did not wish to have something so superior, yet undeveloped on their trail. She'd cleverly managed to, after three days of difficult, concentrated healing magic, gained from that angelic heiratage she held, she'd managed to full heal that mark, which had been scorched into the line of her wing, a almost impossible thing to remove, burned there by black flames. Magic, no doubt, but if one touched the place, they could very easily sense it. Invisible to even the most sensitive gaze, but sensible, no matter how hard she tried to hide it.

That, and the fear of her race being discovered. Few knew what Pandora was, and she knew so little about it, she went by Halfling to all and any, normally telling them that she was nothing more than a strong demon-vampire cross breed. Many of them bought it, those unexperienced who'd thought nothing of the odd scent she carried, or aura. She shook the thoughts. None the less, finding it rude to not say anything at all, she crossed her legs, careful not to press too harshly on the subject, just enough to give him an idea. He was different, she'd sensed. She wondered if he'd found out. Her back wasn't pressed against the chair, in fear of the wing print reacting. Normally it responded to a well ammount of force, or her emotions. She was surprised they hadn't appeared out of that pain she'd been getting in the hallway before the door. Probably because it wasn't her's.

"Well...I'm a Halfling, for the most part. I was born in the human realm, to my mother, Bellatina, who was half-fallen angel, half vampiress, and my father, Xerterois, half-demon and halfling in all. I know...it's a strange mixture. I don't inform many of it..." She said lightly, her soft, deep crimson eyes centered on him curiously. With a flicker of feeling, she noticed the empathy and telepathy returned. Taking the opportunity, she scanned over him mentally once more to try and discover just what type of creature he was. Perhaps a were? No, were-creatures were normally very rowdy, or very very quiet.

All of them, none the less, had a unmissable wild streak, and the feeling of brutality to them. A vampire? Highly doubtful. He didn't seem much like a vampire, who'd certainly identify her as part, if any, vampiress upon first meeting. A demon, perhaps? It seemed the most likely answer, being that demons came in so many varieties, she'd yet to see them all, even in her life time. Pulling her mind back, centering on herself she continued.

"My mother, undoubtfully, died..." By those god forsaken slayers. Fallen seemed to be their second most favorite to find and kill, mainly because they thought them unholy, powerful, dangerous, and knew that they were in so few numbers you'd be lucky to come across even one, "And my father, being the conjuror and telepathic halfling he was, tried to conjure up her murder. It did not work too well. I had to leave him, and he died soon after. I grew up in a filthy, human infested place they call 'orphanage'. It didn't last. I had no idea how to hide anything, especially..."

Trailing off, she paused. Oh, but he wouldn't be able to see those wings, would he? Well, no doubt, he'd asked her to tell him a about herself. Demonstrations always helped to understand better, even if he could only hear them. Moving just slightly forward in the chair, she paused, bracing herself for those wings. She hadn't streched them in a while, that might help as well. Slowly, the wing print marking, signifying the place of her wings glowed white, slowly fading to a deeper red.

The wings began to take shape, a swift process of bone, muscle, and finally the outter layer of skin and feathers. Pain had come, as well, but none the less nothing she wasn't used to. The set of massive, dark black wings more radient than even the angel's themselves, their appearance perhaps softer than the finest silk to the touch, carressing the eyes by appearance. Of course, leasing those wing in the bar was almost attempted suicide. She hated to think the reaction of the demons and vampires there if they saw, or even sensed the presense of such purity, tainted or not. Thus, she was greatful that the better rooms were placed in the back. Giving an experimental stretch of them, fanning them somewhat she smiled.

"My wings. The hardest thing to live with, especially at this day and age, when those human bastards would be all too keen on getting their hands on a halfling.." Careful, Pandora. Not too many clues...if you screw this up, then you'll have worse than hell to try and fix.. She reminded herself quickly. Finally settling back in the chair, those wings carefully kept to the side, in a comfortable fashion, those soft, oblivion hued feathers gently brushing the ground below she continued still.

"I eventually found my way to NightWorld. Not the greatest life, no, working in a bar with more bastards, who tend to be even more dangerous than humans when there drunk then sober, but a life none the less. I can't remember much past the death of my parents...they never told me much of anything, I never got a chance to learn anything. But...I'm not sure, maybe there might just be someone out there as unique as myself...or someone out there who would not see me as a only a object, or a threat to the kind of all, or a pawn...I guess it's like asking time to slow down, isn't it?"

She said softly with a joking smile. Ah, but it seemed that was almost impossbile. Such a thing was as if she were asking for time to slow. Pandora had seem demon after demon, vampire after vampire, were and were. All the same. All souless, damned creatures ment to roam the earth and attempt to cope. Pandora was just the lucky one who happened to get the soul, the oddity, and the outcasted chunk on the immortal scale.

 

[Tie of Hope]

((Just pushing up the board..))

 

[Tie of Hope]

((Bump))

 

[Kuldaboli]

Nemo

Listening to her words, Nemo found himself even more fascinated by the very captivating woman before him. He knew of the hellholes she referred to as ‘orphanages’. They were dwellings not suited for a muck dweller, let alone children.

As her wings formed he almost had to restrain himself. To call them beautiful wouldn’t do them justice. They were perfection in the purest sense. He so desperately wanted to reach out and touch them. It was like they called out to him, begging him to touch them with a gentle touch. He had only touched angelic wings once before. When he’d been tending to Abbadonna. He had no words that could describe what the touch of those wings had felt like.

He detected something in her words after that, something she tried to hide behind a light joking facade. Loneliness. He understood that feeling very well. Blood Magic and his eyes weren’t the only reasons why people were afraid of him. There were other rumors about him. Like that he was a living contradiction. A demon touched by an angel! It was true. He had been touched by an angel. A fallen angel, but an angel non the less. When Abbadonna had given him the Blood Magic, she did more then just hand it to him on a silver platter. She had sealed it within him so that the magic would always be under his control.

The main reason why Blood Magic was taboo was the ease with which the negative material energy could consume the caster if his control over the forces he was manipulating was lacking. If the caster was lucky, this would leave him a babbling idiot. However, if worst came to worst, the caster would find his mind, body and soul sucked into the magical rift to the negative material plane he himself had created, to experience eternal torment that no imagination anywhere could ever begin to fathom.

Abbadonna had made sure that would never happen to Nemo. But in doing so, she had left a sort of mark on him. No other race could detect it. Not even other fallen. But she was certain that True Angels… or a Four Blood could sense it. She’d said that it would probably describe itself as somewhat of a confusion. An inability to detect what race he was.
Oh yes. He understood loneliness very well.

He felt for the girl. She was looking for acceptance. Someone to accept her for ‘who’ she was to them, not because of ‘what’ she was to them, what she could be for them, or what they could use her for. He understood her desire. He had felt so for a long time. Being feared and not trusted wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. He wanted to show her that she wasn’t alone. That just because she was special, it didn’t mean that she was destined to spend her immortal life on the outside looking in.

And then she said it. I guess it's like asking time to slow down, isn't it? Her smile was so sweet… and so fake. She was hiding her pain and it showed.

Slowing down time? That could be arranged. Well, sort of. The whole process would take less then 3 seconds to get done. He smiled at her comment. Keeping his fingers laced together, successfully hiding his thumbs and palms from her view, one of his thumbnails grew into a sharp talon and pierced his skin in the opposing palm before returning back to its original state. He was sure she’d catch the scent of his blood and pick up on his demon heritage, and even the mark left by Abbadonna. He wasn’t sure what her reaction might be to what was about to happen, but he was willing to take the risk.

Using the blood from the cut in his palm he worked his magic. He created a bubble within the confines of the room, purposely excluding the clock on the wall behind his chair. In essence, the spell detached everything with in the created bubble from the normal world, time and all. Within the bubble time would continue at its normal pace. The outside was a different story. Within the bubble you could live an entire lifetime, while only a few seconds past in the real world. The wound on his palm healed instantly after the spell was cast. Now all he would have to do is wait.

His smile firmly in place he commented on her last statement. “Interesting choice of words.” The ticking of the clock on the wall behind him seemed to grow louder with each passing tick of the second-hand. Then it started slowing down! Each passing second seemed to take longer to pass then the last! The movements of the second-hand became sluggish and the ticking sound grew lower in pitch like a Walkman with the batteries running low. Until, eventually, it stopped completely!

He saw her reaction to time seemingly coming to a complete stop out of his peripheral vision. It was almost comical. If the clock had run out of batteries or had to be rewound, it would have stopped on the dot. It wouldn’t have bothered to slow down first. Especially not like that.

His voice was soft and kind. “There is still hope, Ms. Pandora.”

 

[Tie of Hope]

Pandora paused for a moment, not making it very obvious she had caught something. Not a heavy scent, but certainly not something through the wall or outside of the room. And it was powerful, oh so powerful. For a moment she wondered if whoever it was would be safe to be around, another trigger setting off in her mind. This person was not only a powerful demon, but they held a mark left by a angel. A fallen. One in which she felt a light, remote relation to through that scent. But no, she shook the thoughts mentally back. There was only one other in the room, the only one that scent could possibly belong to. Pandora was starting to learn just why he had been her assignment.

A smile placed upon her lips as she looked up, towards the clock. Odd, it seemed to be moving at a slow pace. She fully centered her eyes on it, watching as it ticked slower, moments passing as if in ultra slow pace. Until finally the cloe did not move. She'd never seen anything like that, and it also did not take her long to recognize time play either. With a delighted smile on her face she rose, remaining in that circle crafted to gain a better look at the clock as he spoke.

"Yes...very interesting. Perhaps I should use such phrases more often..." That light friendly mood returned to her as she turned, passing him a quick glance, that smile still gracing her features. Those wings had to be raised, just lightly, to keep from touching the ground any. She began to place it together speedily in her mind. Just how he had done it. The reason she caught that unusual, very rare scent. And just why he was such a threat toward those slayers. The more she thought of it, the more she regretted her decision on staying.

What he used was dangerous...fairly dangerous. Someone that could very easily presume a massive problem towards the slayers. Not that it wouldn't serve them right, every one of them, but if she did not do as she was told, they would find out. They kept tabs on her, other demons, vampires, and weres who watched her, and made sure she was doing what she was supposed to do. But this was just a job she was going to refuse. And maybe if she got out of it safely enough, they could try and find someone as skilled as she was to take her place. She would cherish the day to see the entire line of slayers wiped out, perminantly.

That smile turned to a sketch of both worry and deep thought as she bit her bottom lip lightly. No, she wasn't going to do this. She would call it off, and go right out that door, and leave NightWorld, and head right back into the human's realm and tell the Slayers to catch her if they could, because she wasn't going to help them hurt anyone else. If anything, he seemed to be using those abilities for good intentions. He did not seem like a demon to want much interaction with the humans and their crude race. So why should they worry. None the less, if she didn't do this, then he would be facing things ten times what she had.

"I'm sorry...I just...I've got to go. I can't bring you in on any of this, it's just not right.." Without another moments hesitation, the wings began the process of being hidden, sealing themselves back into that wing print. No, she didn't want to get him involved. Because if they discovered he knew...then they would all be at stake. And in a way, that was just a major to the center. Because in the few hours she'd known him, she felt a certain connection...something uncommon, different from all of those others. He was no normal demon, she understood now that what he had just done, that odd form of Magic she had long forgotten the name, much less seen, made him different. Perhaps much more than herself. And dreadfully powerful. No doubt, it would be the most alone she had felt in a good time when she walked out of that door, having finally found someone who could remotely relate to her. And she was set to bring their life to an end.

"I can't explain either, you would hate me for it...and I can't control it. All I can do is fight. Nemo...just please, please do me one thing. Leave La Lune. Forget you ever came here, forget you ever heard of my name...it would be better that way. Then at least they can't send their little pack rats here to search you out. Don't come back to La Lune..." That was it, just what those Slayers needed to finish her life. But lucky for Pandora, she had been more than careful over the years. They had long since removed any trackers, voicers or bugs, letting her do her job with little supervision, other than those tabs on her. Other wise, they would have likely already sent in their little demon pets to kill them both. Pandora waited, a bit unpatiently, wanting to space herself as far as she could away from him, before something bad happened. Or she became too attached. She could not go out yet, not until that flush of celestial blood died down once more. Parading about after just using her wings...it was asking for attention.

"And I really wish it did not have to be this way...but like I said, if I told you, you would want to kill me."