Supernatural/Crime Thriller RP

[Scorpio]

Okay. Trying a mix of two theme's. Hope it goes well.

Present day. The supernatural is quite real. Demons, vampires, werewolves, the occult, and many more mythical elements.

The 'myths', as they know one another, have been keeping up with the times however. Living normal lives, working 9 to 5, just finding their niche. However, some try to achieve the same levels of power their predecessors had in times of old. To that end some have formed criminal empires, gangs and businesses, using their unique powers to gain a head start. There is also a healthy market for 'unusual' items waiting for the right owners.

Some other 'myths' fight to protect humanity against these ancient evils. Although humanity as a whole is not fully aware, seeing it only through the corner of their eyes

The setting is Las Vegas and the surrounding desert, maybe some smaller towns. (Yeah, I was watching 'The Stand'. What of it?)

Note on Characters
Characters can be pretty much anything. Humans Demons, Angels, Vampires, Werewolves (or were-something else), Immortals, Cthulhian horrors etc. With a mix of cops, criminals, gang members, vigilantes, or ordinary people who just find something weird happening.

Try to mix it up....say for example, if Ty wanted to update some Greek Godery into modern times. Or if Grig wanted to play a priest again.

Weapons, anything within reason really. Regular, or mystical weapons. A shotgun? Or maybe a silver sword?

I suppose this is mostly for the nexus players. Just not post apocalypse style. But join if you can anyway. Just write a decent description first, name, distinguishing features etc.

Members/Chracters

Name: Jake Angelo.
Height: 6'7
Eyes: blue
Hair: dark blond hair
Age: Unknown
Physical age: mid 20's
His most noticable feature is the two huge white feathered wings protruding from his back, somewhat like an angel, although he hates being called that. Has a tall, slim and well built frame perfect for flying and heightened senses to match. His wings are very tough, and heal faster than the rest of his body, sometimes overnight. They can be tucked in leaving only the slightest bulge under his clothing.
Jake usually dresses similar to a 1930's detective, with an overcoat and fedora. He travels the country for any information about his past, which he knows very little about apart from his name.
Carries a .38 snub colt special and a pair of brass knuckles with norse runes etched into them, which deliver a concussive, thunder-like impact. Typically uses low calibre, single shot weapons (to keep balance in flight) and small hand to hand weapons like knives.

Scorpio- Jake Angelo. Angel
Rakk- Ry'ach. Former servant to the 'Old ones'
Grigori- Travis "Boomer" Williams. Werewolf
Justin- Justin Inman. Hunter
Khallos- Chezzy Katz. Cheshire
Cleon- "Polo" Lamayan. Revenant
Jax- Kamisama Noken "Kammie", Exiled Grim Reaper.

[Rakk]

Rakk - Ry'ach

Actual Age: Indeterminate

Apparent Age: 32

Ry'ach is his true name, the name that was embedded in his flesh when he was born but hidden from him and everyone until he saw it at his awakening to the warp, that realm of chaos he once touched hundreds of years before the Armies of Rome marched across the Mediterranean, many years before Alexander the Great Conquered the known world, the time when he was born has been lost to the mists of time. He is Ry'ach the corrupter once Ry'ach the divine before his fall, a fall that would shatter the old systems and bring about a new world full of new religions, religions with these new upstart ideas of one god, his fall was still long before most known civilizations flourished.

His fall into Chaos and the warp twisted his body and opened up his mind to the will of The Great Old Ones, the former gods and monsters, he has remnants of his human form, it just holds a twisted, scarred, and otherwise inhuman aura to him. although he looks normal that is because he has learned how to hide or otherwise trick people into not seeing his inhuman qualities, he though has a true demonic form, he just learned how to hold this form back and away from all view.

He dedicated his life to learning the secrets of the warp and its connection with our part of existence, he can feel the forces of chaos and the warp just on the boundaries of our realms existence, he can see where the breeches in the fine layer between our realm and their lie untouched and unnoticed. When the new world was found he was one of the first over, and he quickly disappeared off into the west finally settling in one of the harshest settlements possible, the land that would become Las Vegas the city of sin. He had hundreds of uninterrupted peace, tranquility and study, bending the land to his will, far away from the prying eyes of western civilization. Here he planted that desire for free will to do whatever one wanted or needed, here he joined himself and the land drawing power from its communion with himself.

The Great old Ones wish to return to this plane of existence, and they wish to use Ry'ach and those like him as their servants or rather slaves, Ry'ach has something else in mind from what he learned in his long life. At first he served the great Old Ones hoping they would break the "Trap of the Divines", the method in which the self proclaimed forces of good and righteousness maintain control of this decadent realm of existence, but he realized that they would just follow the same trap and not free the realm but rather impose their own trap. Ry'ach then dedicated his life to destroying these traps and creating pure, unimpeded, free will.

[grigori]

OOC: Any superflu?

Travis "Boomer" Williams
Age: 124
Apparent age: 27
Height: 6'7"
Lycanthrope

Born in 1883 in a log cabin near Tombstone, Arizona, Boomer grew up in the latter times of the Wild West. His family was poor, and the draw of crime sucked him in. He ran with several gangs, commiting everything from shoplifting to bank robbery. After a botched attempt at a train hold-up, Williams went on the run. Not much is known about his time spent in the wilderness, but if any of his companions were still alive they'd swear he came back "different." He earned his nickname from his elongated canines and excess body-hair, with one companion saying, "he looked just like his dog Boomer."

Boomer is a very large figure, and extremely tough, which is even truer in his feral state. He is very good at what he does, which is liberating large amounts of money from people who have it. He has had well over 80 years to perfect this art. When it is necessary to fight (which it rarely is), he is a skilled fighter, using a variety of martial arts and boxing maneuvers. Williams is also very skilled with a large and ancient Bowie knife, which he keeps in his equally ancient boots. He is almost always seen wearing and old cowboy hat.

Recently, Boomer has gathered a small following of fellow criminals in the boomtown of Las Vegas. Rumors are he's planning something big, but can't be confirmed. Police have yet to find any information on where he is hiding out.

OOC: I know, not very high quality stuff, but I haven't written in a while.

EDIT: Re-wrote this crap. It kind of sucked. EDIT2: Added on current activities.

[Kan]

His name is Justin Inman, former SF Weapons Sergeant of a squad in the 10th Special Forces Group.
He and his team were sent out to the countryside of western Europe to investigate the brutal attacks on the local army.
The only remains of the men were maimed bits and pieces.
As his team arrived to the point of assumed deaths they found a quaint and quiet village. When they approached the villagers they were met with mistrustful gazes and looks.
After a few days of searching they came up empty, on the last night they called for evac declaring the mission unsuccessful. During the last hours of the night the moon could be seen full and full of light.
The next day the only man to be found by the evac team was Sergeant Inman badly wounded, and bits and pieces of the other squad members.

A week later a follow up team searched the town and found the bodies of many villagers in a warn torn motel, along with the uniforms of the other squad members.

When questioned, Inman, refused to answer any questioned concerning that last night, all for but one thing, The fullest moon he had ever seen. Soon after the Man left the Army and disappeared from the eye of the government, however he has thought to have been seen fleeing the scenes of unexplained murders, this has never been confirmed however.

More of his backstory will be revealed as the RP progresses, but I think yo all can guess what happened that night, can't yah?

He is 23 years old and he is very muscular, as you would expect a member of special forces to be.
Has a vendetta against most things supernatural(again i think it is obvious why )
Prefers using FN weapons, such as the P90 and the Five-SeveN (Jax chill out) mainly for the armor piecing ability and the fact that the ammo is the same size for each gun, Also uses melee weapons such as swords, and also has been seen using weapons that cater to his targets specifically, though it is unknown where he obtains them, though many believe he gets them from a underground community. He also has a limited ability of precognition, which allows him to see things a second or two before it happens.

So what do yah think? I know it is open to changes so let rip with the criticism.

[Khallos]

Name: Chezzy Katz

Chezzy is whats known among the Myths as an ancient - older than man, older than gods, some would say older than the world itself. Chezzy has seen everything from the beginning of time... and therefor it should come as no surprise that hes completely LOONY.

There is method to his madness, however, and he is on that golden plateau of existence where Insanity gives way to Genius. During his brief periods of Lucidity he has been able to create beautiful works of art, and has made it somewhat of a hobby of his to act as a muse to various people through the years.

Chezzy is, in particular, a shape-shifter, but a very special kind - known colloquially as a Cheshire, because of the bizarre markings found on their skin which, despite their ability to change into any shape and size they desire, find impossible to mask naturally. Chezzy himself has Purple and Blue ones, and a rather feline like face.

Another thing Cheshire's are famous for are being damn nigh impossible to destroy - you can kill them, oh yes.. but they don't stay dead for very long. Only one thing is actually able to damage them, a kind of naturally occurring volcanic black stone that forces anyone exposed to it to tell the truth, and reveal their true form - which, for Cheshire's, who's lives are one deceit after another, is as toxic as arsenic. Its name, however, has been lost to antiquity, and the Cheshire's make sure it stays that way [OOC: Sorry if that sounds kinda twinkish xD people who know their Anthropology will know what I mean here, but I'll take it out of you want]

One should remember, however, that "Damage" and "hurt" are entirely different things....

Currently Chezzy is employed as an entertainer at one of the more highbrow casino's on the strip, both as a magician and a.... ladies friend. Still, he seems happy enough with his lot, and it does mean he can keep his ear to the wall, if you know what I mean...

[Scorpio]

Okay, everyone so far is in.

Justin. I'm watching you for any sign of trenchcoating. Explain where you get your weapons, no sci-fi, no carrying weapons in full view without causing panic, no carrying huge weapons concealed. etc

[Khallos]

So, My characters "not dying-ness" is ok?

[Scorpio]

You seem to be a Mxyzptlk style troublemaker rather than biased to any one side. So it's good.

[Rakk]

drkhallos said:

So, My characters "not dying-ness" is ok?

My dude has been alive longer than human civilization and is immortal. I think it is okay because it is supernatural. Problem is Sci-Fi stuff/non-sensicle weapons stuff. Like the classic Tom being promoted to a general in the Red Army within two days of being captured and then being trained to elite skillz lolzerskates on weapons that th Red Army does not even possess.

[Kan]

elscorpio said:

Okay, everyone so far is in.

Justin. I'm watching you for any sign of trenchcoating. Explain where you get your weapons, no sci-fi, no carrying weapons in full view without causing panic, no carrying huge weapons concealed. etc

I know how to keep things in reason, the biggest thing I would ever have would be this thing
www.securityarms.com/20010315/galleryfiles/3100/3196.htm
And it would be in a case not put together, if I even use it at all, which i doubt I will, and everything he has will be able to be explained, as I said earlier more of his back story will be revealed as teh RP progresses.

BTW I forgot to mention this, he has been known to have been payed for jobs, IE killing super naturals.

[grigori]

drkhallos said:

Name: Chezzy Katz

Chezzy is whats known among the Myths as an ancient - older than man, older than gods, some would say older than the world itself. Chezzy has seen everything from the beginning of time... and therefor it should come as no surprise that hes completely LOONY.

There is method to his madness, however, and he is on that golden plateau of existence where Insanity gives way to Genius. During his brief periods of Lucidity he has been able to create beautiful works of art, and has made it somewhat of a hobby of his to act as a muse to various people through the years.

Chezzy is, in particular, a shape-shifter, but a very special kind - known colloquially as a Cheshire, because of the bizarre markings found on their skin which, despite their ability to change into any shape and size they desire, find impossible to mask naturally. Chezzy himself has Purple and Blue ones, and a rather feline like face.

Another thing Cheshire's are famous for are being damn nigh impossible to destroy - you can kill them, oh yes.. but they don't stay dead for very long. Only one thing is actually able to damage them, a kind of naturally occurring volcanic black stone that forces anyone exposed to it to tell the truth, and reveal their true form - which, for Cheshire's, who's lives are one deceit after another, is as toxic as arsenic. Its name, however, has been lost to antiquity, and the Cheshire's make sure it stays that way [OOC: Sorry if that sounds kinda twinkish xD people who know their Anthropology will know what I mean here, but I'll take it out of you want]

One should remember, however, that "Damage" and "hurt" are entirely different things....

Currently Chezzy is employed as an entertainer at one of the more highbrow casino's on the strip, both as a magician and a.... ladies friend. Still, he seems happy enough with his lot, and it does mean he can keep his ear to the wall, if you know what I mean...

Once again, Khallos, you have shamed us all with your top-notch RP. I salute you. Rakk, yours is really good, too.

Y'know, I'm liking this RP more and more by the minute. It's got the potential to be much more deep than they normally are. There's a couple tiers of involvedness.

And I'm getting rid of the gun in this one. hands-only.

[Scorpio]

I'm just waiting for replies from a few more people. We'll start soon.

[Kan]

OOC: do you mind I go ahead start mine now with letting out the rest of my back story and the reason I go to Vegas?

[Rakk]

We are waiting for a few more people to respond and join or not join before we start anything. Because adding character descriptions during an RP is very risky and can kill off a good promising RP when a new character is just added to the mix much later on.

[Kan]

alright then, and just for the record, nothing in my backstory posts would mention any of the other characters, unless grig would let me mention his.

[Ms. Cleo]

Name: Lamayan (Tagalog for "wake", as in a vigil for the dead)
Moniker: Polo
Ostensible age: 22
Authentic age: 508
Height: 6'0"
Weight: 196 lbs.
Revenant

Born "Malig Tumibay" on a mountainous, tropical island in the medieval Philippines, this tall Filipino farmer lived a harsh village life plagued by civil war, disease, constant labor and personal loss. His loving mother was taken by malaria when he was just at the tender age of 9 years old, forcing him to take on the dual duties of tilling the crops in their claim on the community fields and maintaining the upkeep of the family hut while his abusive father and manipulative older brother, both hedonistic womanizers, went off to town for self-indulgence; sometimes for days on end.

Virtually neglected by his father, Malig learned to fend for himself thanks to the help of his neighbor; a caring, elderly woman named Asuncion who nurtured him as a baby when his parents were out of the house. Affectionately referring to the old woman as "Lola," which is Tagalog for "grandmother", Malig became close to Asuncion and her teenage nephew, Tosac. Tosac was an adamant warrior fighting for the Hilaga ("north"), a coalition of the various rural communities in the mountainous region of their island--which Malig's village was a part of--fighting against the southern lowlands for domination of the area.

Tosac taught the young Malig how to use a Kris sword in their spare time. After years of obsessive practice, Malig's skills became so prominent that he joined in the battles of the civil war alongside Tosac and the rest of the northerners.

Malig became renowned as a natural-born killer; he was so adept at his craft that he was awarded a lieutenant's position in the Hilaga army, and his reputation spread like wildfire throughout the archipelago. His fame earned him popularity with the ladies, and he soon found a beautiful wife.

Days after Malig's 22nd birthday, the southerners staged a stealthy midnight raid on his village, and Malig was cowardly killed in his sleep, then buried in a mass grave.

Almost 150 years later, when the Spanish expeditionary forces showed signs of evolving into an imminent threat to the freedom of the nation, the peoples of the Philippines grew desperate and assembled the country's most famous shamen, witch doctors, sorcerers--pretty much anybody having anything to do with the supernatural--to attempt a farfetched ritual which, according to legend, was not performed since around 1000 BC.

The plan was to resurrect from the dead the 100 greatest warriors of their history to help lead and combat the invaders. Following very rare obituaries, they traveled from each candidate's gravesite to another to perform the ritual. Much to the shock of all those involved, the plan worked, and 73 of the greatest fighters of their time came to their aide.

Among the revenants were Lapu-Lapu (the guy who lead the force that killed Magellan) and, of course--Malig. Malig held no memory of his past life, and adopted the name "Lamayan," which means "wake", as in "vigil for the dead."

Each revenant was given a weapon which matched the one they were known for, but further, the armaments were given individual enchantments; Lamayan was presented with a particularly high-quality Kris that was near-unbreakable and perfectly-balanced. The enchantments were unknown at the time but would later reveal themselves to him when he faced a desperate situation.

The revenants were also blessed with heightened senses, speed, endurance, and reflexes--which were all amplified during nightfall--as well as the gift of immortality, but they could still be wounded and even killed, although could never die of natural causes. After some decades of liberation, the remaining revenants eventually pursued their own interests.

Lamayan traveled the world, perfecting his skills throughout history; he sailed under the command of great pirates such as the legendary Blackbeard and Jack Sparrow, bettering his sword skills and mastering various new blade forms, such as fencing; he traveresed Europe during great wars, learning to live off the land as he roamed the continent; he trained under the Shaolin monks for some months, disciplining himself through meditation and patience; and he fought in the Spanish-American war, running odd jobs for both sides for some cash.

He arrived in America in the 1800s to see the so-called "Wild West" for himself. By then, Lamayan was well-built, very logical, and world-weary. He used his abilities to slowly build up a fortune throughout the century until he got mixed up with the Russian Mafia in the 1980s and lost everything.

He now has founded a gang and resides in Las Vegas. His gang continues to grow in power, despite its humble beginnings: Some years after Lamayan's fortune was taken, he became the bouncer of a hole-in-the-wall pool hall/bar called Pro Billards. His popularity among the regulars, staff, and the local populace sky-rocketed due to his personality and job. After an incident in which Lamayan, now going by the more modernly-western name of "Polo", denied entryship to some kid for being underage, making the hot-headed minor to return with two carloads to seek revenge on Polo, only to end up getting their asses beat then retreating back to their hood, the attack prompting about 20 bar patrons, all friends of Polo, to roll with him to their turf and killing them all, Polo decided to found a gang, calling themselves PB ("Pro Billiards"), with their turf based in the pool hall of the same name.

After years of slanging, turf wars, and jumping in new members, PB became so big and powerful that it was decided that another word be added to the end of their gang name to mirror their crime organization's growing success---"Mafia."

The Pro Billiards Mafia is one of the dominant organized crime syndicates on the east side of Las Vegas, numbering over 400 heads, with much more connections: the top 12 members (including Polo), nicknamed the "Dirty Dozen" come from their own gangs and still have old ties to them. One of them started a very popular college fraternity, renowned for it's rowdyness, which he can call up at any time. Their numbers, both graduated and current, are around 2,600 strong. Several of the 12 came from LA-based sets such as Rollin' 60s, Eight Trays, Vatos Locos, Sons of Samoa, Real Pinoy Boys, Hillside Trecé, etc. There are even ties to the Asian and Italian mafias, as well as connections to the army (one of them held a captain's rank in the Marine Corps for 3 years) to secure explosives and other toys to use at their disposal. Should the need arise, thousands of "soldiers" could be mobilized in less than a day.

[grigori]

kanian said:

alright then, and just for the record, nothing in my backstory posts would mention any of the other characters, unless grig would let me mention his.

What do ya mean? My guy's a cowboy, and I can tell you right now he prefers to lay low. I'll explain in my future posts.

And Cleon: Daaaaaaaamn. How long did it take you to write that?

[Ms. Cleo]

OOC: XD ooooh about an hour. You know me--once I get to writing, I get more ideas and just keep going and going. BTW did you get a chance to read it all? If so, how is it?

The hangout is full up tonight; all 30 pool tables got a game going, the bar is littered with half-drunk beer bottles, the homies fooling around with women, and the entire building is covered in a smoky haze to various tabacco products and illegal substances, all while the speakers blast the new 2pac. Well, to be fair, every night was a party up in here.

I take another shot of Tres Generations before taking my turn at table 23 near the back of the room.

"Damn Polo," Doughboy exclaims inbetween gulps of his 40 of Colt 45, "As long as I've known you, you're still so young-lookin', dawg!"
"What can I say, homey?" I reply while keeping my eye on the ball before hitting it, knocking the 5th ball near the corner pocket but failing at scoring the point. "Us Flips're different from you Samoans."

We then hear the magic whistle from the front of the pool hall and the entire hangout goes silent and glares at the 3 nerd-looking guys standing nervously at the entrance.

Only PBMs were permitted to kick it in Pro Billiards. Ignorant-ass outta towners.

"Wassup, cuz?" One of the homeys provokes as several others take out their guns and point them at the unwelcome guests.

[Kan]

OOC: I thought the rp hadnt started yet

[Ms. Cleo]

OOC: For real? My bad, oh well that could be reserved for later.

[Rakk]

Spam Deleted.

[Scorpio]

Cleon in. we'll just see if we can get Ty and Jax in.

[Khallos]

Ohh.. Hehe, wonder what Jax is going to be.

Careful that this RP doesnt end up too fragmented. Too many cooks and all that. Then again, look at how well Realistic Zed Rp is doing... Hehe.

And, hehe, thanks Grig ^-^

[Scorpio]

We've only gone too far with an RP if we have to pull a DC and retcon everything.

Crisis on infinite Proboards?

[Rakk]

kanian said:

drkhallos said:

Then again, look at how well Realistic Zed Rp is doing... Hehe.

Was that sarcasm?
and Jax will probably be evil and yell at me for using Five SeveNs

Is that spam, yes it is!

[Scorpio]

ooc: Okay, to prevent the spammy build up. I'm gonna officialy open this RP. Ty and Rei know they are welcome. So go ahead. I'll try to get something in a while.

ic:
I walk down a desert road towards Vegas. My Fedora tipped low and my overcoat over my shoulders, carrying a large duffle bag with most of my gear. Most would question how a guy in a heavy coat walking the desert stays so cold....I have my ways. It's just to cover my wings. Some would call them a gift. But they don't have to live with them.

I stop at a gas station, taking a glance at a very nice 1970 Oldsmobile four-four-two parked outside. I head in and grab a bottle of water from the drinks cabinet, a pack of matches and a pack of ciggarettes. A nervous looking kid at the counter bags everything.

"T-t-there you go...see ya." He stammers.

"Don't you want me to pay for this?"

"Um....it's on the house, I've g-g-got to lock up."

"The sign outside said open twenty four hours."

I hear a shotgun cocking from behind. I dive backwards knocking the shelves over into my potential assasin, his gun goes off, I catch a few pieces of buckshot in my right wing. It hurts like hell, but it's better than catching it elsewhere. I stand, then pull the robber out from nder the shelves, unconscious.

"Call the cops kid, and take this."

I pass the shotgun over, then take the car keys from the mans pocket.

"Umm, anything you want?....y'know, just to say thanks."

I take the stuff I came for and leave a ten dollar bill on the counter.

"Just don't tell anyone about me."

I head out, taking the car with me. Might as well hit Vegas in style.

[Khallos]

It was a big show tonite, and as always, the star himself was flaunting it.

They say you couldn't come to Vegas without checking out Katz's show. He was the best in town, put everyone else to shame. The stuff he did was other wordly, not to mention enough to question your sanity. One critic described his show as an "LSD High thats suitable for children." Because, of course, entertainment is all about the kids.

Chezzy loved this place. They didn't care if he settled into his preferred form, the Fuzzy, tall and slender purple n blue cat, complete with cats ears and tail. He got to wear that fantastic Tophat and Red Velvet lined cloak without drawing looks. And, of course, there was the publicity...

"Thats right. Cheer for Chez. Give aaaaall your love to Chezzy.." he mumbled under his breath, before giving another giggle and giving a final bow. When he entered, he'd looked magnificent. With the cheering crowd on their second Encore, he looked almost godlike. "Thank you, Thank you!" He called, waving a paw elegantly. "I love you people, I'm nothing without you! But, Hehe, Alas, I must go. I'll be here all month, Ladies and gents. Try the steak!" And with that, he imploded in a shower of multicolored smoke and skittles.

He'd eventually be found in his dressing room, reclining on his sofa, when the knock on his door came. Ahh.. That must be Susy. And Sarah... And Katie... Settling back in his chair, he grinned, flicking a paw and opening the door. Damn he loved this town...

[Delacroix(Rei)]

Kamisama Noken "Kammie"
Age 1200+
Physical age 21.
Exiled Grim Reaper.

This woman looks like any other person looks like anyone else, But stand next to her and you'll feel your body become colder and colder with each passing second, She is death, in the flesh.

She was exiled from the other realm because of her sadistic and cynical attitude.

She now travels the world, In search of...something.

Her appearance is just a Tall Asian woman, Most likely Japanese but look into her eyes and you will find them to be an odd silvery blue color with red specks inside the iris.

The powers of a Reaper is of course Levitation, Invisibility, Ability to pass through walls, shapeshifting, Fear inducing gaze and of course Death's scythe and Death's touch.

[Rakk]

OOC: If you must know I am actually taking the name Metatron from Christianity, not something like the transformers. Metatron is gods scribe in christiantiy etc.

Many people said they saw things out here int eh desert surrounding Las Vegas, some saw aliens, some saw demonic twisted creatures. All of this was accounted to bad peyote or other drugs that people frequently took in the city or out in the country to escape it all.

Some of these sightings had truth to them but many were teh results of a strange mixture of alcohol and drugs.

Those who saw the real thing though, they were scarred, they would remember that demonic twisted form that the ages just seemed to roll off. A small minority were driven into insanity with what they saw whether it be from the combination of drugs and that twisted unnatural form or just the form itself it still drove that few insane. And unfortunately for Ry'ach, one of those who was driven insane just happened to commit suicide this very night. If Ry'ach had known that mortals were lurking about he would never had felt free enough to move into his demonic form letting loose into the night striding through craggy rocks and windswept mountains. It was here outside Vegas that Ry'ach lived. He had a mortal house with large mortal grounds and much of th eland around him he owned. One of the benefits of living thousands upon thousands of years you see the cycles and cogs of life that most mortals never see. Ry'ach had used this to acquire the funds he needed to be left alone. It was unfortunate when the natives had been forced of their land, at least they knew to leave him alone to his studies.

But this new civilization, only a few hundred years old had taken over, a purely wealth driven civilization that saw that anything could be bought or sold. And as such he knew he would have to own the countryside. Some of it he sold to developers who wanted to build more to the city of Las Vegas, but much he kept to himself, so he could be left in peace, and out here he could normally sense mortals coming miles upon miles away.

But this poor Mortal was part of a new breed, he was invisible to his sense, senses so accurate they bordered on prescience. He was going to have to study this man... see why he avoided detection.

He knew he was going to have to report this, no sense letting a body go missing, but first he would stretch his senses thin over the body, try and pick up on whatever it was that left the body invisible...

Time passed, the moon arched high over the sky morning would be soon, and it was here he felt it. A small greaving in the sould, a surgical carving turning it into a mess, turning the mortal into a raving mess. He recognized the handwork, the small signiture hanging just above the right ear...

Damnit, its Metatron and the divines... and with his soul greave in such a mess they surely wanted him dead. What was that Private Detectives name... I met him once when several bodies turned up on that hill side...

Minutes passed as they always do, he remembered the guy wore clothes from near seventy years ago, and the question was if he was still in town.

Ah, thats his name, Jake Angelo... guess I will give him a call today. But what was Matatron doing out here, this wa sa personal job and not the work of one of his minions.

There would be plenty of time to ponder that question, but first this body needed to be reported.

[Scorpio]

ooc: Jax in. and Rakk, what would Metatron turn into if he was a transformer?

ic:
I eventually make it to Vegas. I start to let my mind wander. Leaving my body driving on auto pilot. I don't know much about myself, only my name, Jake Angelo. But sometimes, I get drawn to places, people that need help. I wonder where I'm being drawn to this time.

I pull up outside a hotel. The 'Blue Oyster', I make my way into the lobby, throwing the car keys to the valet as I pass. I make my way up to the front desk.

"Can I help you?" asks the clerk

"I'd like the usual room." Why would I say that?

"Uh-huh. and you're name?"

"Mr Angelo?" Someone calls from behind me.

I turn around and see an elderly man in a expensive suit. He turns to the clerk.

"Get Mr Angelo the penthouse suite. Call someone up to take his bags and coat."

"No!...I mean. I can manage." I take a look at his name tag, William Preston. Apparently we've met.

"Oh? Well fair enough. My, my, look at you. You haven't aged a day."

"Uh, yeah." We walk to the elevator, the clerk hands me the key for the penthouse floor. "I've been trying to keep in shape."

"Well, I'll let you get to it. Everything is the way you like it.

"I'll see you later....William." I step into the elevator and stick the key in the slot for the top floor.

Penthouse in Vegas....The first thing I've found out about myself for some time. I like it.