Supernatural/Crime Thriller RP

[Ty]

The strike to the head caught Darius off-guard, and he stumbled and briefly shimmered back to his original form before returning to the Kammie shape. He glared at Polo.

"It is true, she bears no transgressions against me. However, I have my master's orders to remember. She is an evil myth, and so must be destroyed." He pointed a rapier at him. "In fact, I sense an evil aura from you as well." He laughed. "If you wished to die first, you needed only to ask. En guarde."

He entered a fighting stance and made a feint thrust at Polo, testing him.

[Ms. Cleo]

OOC: Ty that pic's tiiight. Where's it from?

He dodged the strike by shifting to the left, remembering his fencing practice with Captain Sparrow from back in the 1700s.

"Get her outta here and give her medical attention!" Polo ordered the wraiths and banshees. "I'll hold him off!"

They quickly rush to her and lift her, then carry her mid-air out of the room.

"And get me my sword back in my room!" Polo shouted out before facing Darius, holding out his Candelabra in front of him.

[Ty]

OOC: I'm a DnD nerd. It's from one of the monster manuals.

IC:

"I'm afraid that-" Darius quickly slashed the candelabra out of Polo's hand. "-won't do you much good. I'll admit, though, this hardly seems sporting. If you like, I will gladly wait for you to acquire a better weapon."

He took a few paces back but kept his guard up.

[Ms. Cleo]

The adversaries waited some 10 feet away from one another.

Not long soon after, a wraith rushed through the door, howling out in pain as it juggled the Kris, which was violently shocking it with a spell, from one hand to the other like in the game "Hot Potato".

It tossed the blade to Polo, who caught it and swung it professionally from side to side as the wraith grunted, irritated that he was not warned that the Kris would shock him for not being the true owner.

"Sorry." Polo apologized to the spectre. "So how is she?"

It grunted lazily and left the room, phasing through the wall. Polo looked at the grandfather clock by the fireplace, seeing that it was 3:00. He didn't feel his powers surging through him, so he assumed it was the afternoon. Then turned to Darius, pointing his sword in an intimidating fashion.

"Your move."

[Ty]

Darius smirked, then changed form again, this time to a mirror image of Polo. He shot forward and thrust at Polo, who parried and tried to counter-attack, but Darius sprang back out of reach again. As Polo followed and slashed at him, Darius dodged his attack and slashed back with both rapiers. Polo parried one blow, but the other nicked his shoulder, though not seriously. Darius stepped back again, trying to lure Polo into another attack.

[Ms. Cleo]

Polo, obviously not as expierienced at one-on-one fencing as Darius was, took the bait, and was met with a large cross-slash to his back, leaving a long, slightly-arched cut from one shoulder blade to the other.

"Aww, you sonova--" Polo stopped his sentence as his silk robe fell to the floor due to the slice.

[Ty]

"Oh my, how embarrassing." Darius chuckled, stepping back again. "To fight a disarmed opponent is one thing, but a disrobed opponent is quite another. Would you like a moment to compose yourself before we continue, or do you wish to surrender now?"

[Ms. Cleo]

"What is your problem?" Polo scoffed while strutting to the curtains and, using his Kris, quickly cut out a makeshift tunic. "What's up with all the 'proper medieval English'?"

He slipped on the sturdy shirt and faced Darius.

"My sincerest apologies, good sir. I implore you, do not misinterpret the outright shrewdness of my request." Polo patronizingly said to Darius in a tone, accent, and grammar mocking his style of speaking. "The sophistication of your terminology does not perplex me, as I comprehend your lexis in it's entirety. The intentions of my inquiry are merely to discover the motive behind the unneccesary complexity of your grammar when it is much less difficult to simply proclaim, 'Bitch, I'm bout ta whup ya monkey ass.'"

[Ty]

"If it would please my master to speak thusly, I certainly would. I had been under the impression that much of the civilized world spoke as I do, but perhaps I have been dormant for too long." He held his rapiers at the ready. "Well, I have never taken linguistic advice from my enemies, and I do not intend to start now. However, if that is how you wish to spend your last breaths, that is your decision."

Darius sprang forward again and thrust at Polo's stomach, then spun and slashed at him with his other hand. Polo dodged left, narrowly escaping being run through, and ducked the slash. The miss was so near that several strands of his hair were sliced off and fell to the floor.

[Ms. Cleo]

"Aww hell naw." Polo grumbled after feeling his hair. "Now it's personal."

He tied his hair back into a none-cumbersome bun and pressed on the attack.

Polo drew his Kris in an underhand grip then uppercut slashed Darius on the chest with his right hand, causing a minor wound due to Darius' backward dodge, then he does a clockwise spin into a reverse grip and slashes Darius across the midsection with his left hand, then, reverting to a classical knife grip, finally jumps forward and does a power thrust to Darius abdomen into a front flip, landing 4 feet behind his foe.

Polo swerved back around, awaiting Darius' reactions to see whether his attacks were successful enough or not. He hoped the unorthodox knife-based usage of his Kris would throw off Darius.

[Ty]

If Polo's attacks did any damage, Darius didn't make it obvious. As soon as Polo landed, Darius was already on him. He slashed at Polo with one hand, but didn't even try to hit him. As Polo prepared to dodge, Darius leapt up and over him, slashing across his shoulder again, and landing behind him. Polo spun around to attack again, but Darius darted right and ended up behind him again. As Polo turned and attacked again, Darius slashed at his hand, knocking his weapon across the room. With his free rapier, Darius pointed straight at Polo's throat, the tip just barely touching his skin.

"Game over."

[Ms. Cleo]

Polo's eyes suddenly glows an eerie purple.

"Says you."

Polo throws a kinetic shockwave towards Darius, knocking him back halfway across the room, making him land flat on his back. Unfortunately for Polo, his Revenant energy abilities were all non-lethal.

Polo seized the opportunity to make a mad dash for his Kris, then running out into the hallway with Darius in hot pursuit. The hallway they stepped into had windows on the left-hand side, giving a view of the valley from the point of th mountain-top castle.

Before Darius neared, Polo saw that it had just barely turned night. He looked at the cuckoo clock and saw that it was already 7pm. The grandfather clock in the library was 4 hours behind.

Polo's familiar purple mist had returned, and as it orbited around him, he awaited Darius' attack.

[Ty]

Darius could tell the fall of night was making his opponent more dangerous, and so decided to try to fake him out. He rushed forward, faked an attack at Polo, then ducked and dashed around Polo's side, jumped and flipped gracefully over him to the opposite side, then turned and thrust at his ribs.

[Ms. Cleo]

The thrust connected, and Polo yelled out in pain as the blade drove into his ribs, but he swerved around and parried the blade before it got too deep. Darius brought his other rapier down on him, but Polo quickly dashed to his right.

He jumped up on the wall and pushed himself towards his foe, adding much power to his kick, which subsequently knocked Darius backwards. Polo then mightily swung his Kris at him, hitting Darius' right rapier out of his hands. It went flying out the window, crashing through the glass.

Darius reached for it and caught it just in the knick of time, but as he was distracted by that, Polo tripped him out the window and allowed him to hang out with his hands gripping the sill. Darius through his rapiers back inside and they stuck to the wall so he could grab onto the ledge. Darius didn't seem at all worried about his predicament--or if he was, he didn't show it--even though below him was a thousand foot plummet to a jagged-rocked demise.

To add to the tension, Polo pointed his Kris into Darius' throat to thrust it in case he made a wrong move.

"Alright, fancy pants." Polo snarked, looking into his own eyes, meaning Darius was still in Polo's form. "Now that I have your undivided attention, tell me who the F*CK you are, and who the F*CK you work for!"

[Ty]

OOC: I probably should have mentioned earlier, but you can't actually disarm him like that. The rapiers are actually part of his body. Let's just say you knocked him out the window, and he had to retract them to grab the ledge.

IC:

"There is no need to curse," Darius said calmly. "In any case, well done. I underestimated you. As you have bested me, I will answer your questions. My given name is Darius. At this present time, I am at the service of the gentleman in the other room. His name is Sarge, if I am not mistaken.

"However, I ask that you do not bear him any malice. My orders to destroy you and your friend came not from him. My original master, my true master, has long since died. It was his dying wish that I do my utmost to destroy all evil myths I may encounter."

Darius's shape faded, and he took on his true form again, the metal humanoid with the long red cape.

"Once again, I commend your efforts, Polo. I look forward to the next time I may face you. Until then, fare thee well."

Darius released his grip on the ledge and let himself fall toward the jagged rocks below. Before he hit the ground, though, he uttered an incantation in some ancient tongue, and he suddenly slowed in mid-air. He fell slowly the last 20 or so feet and landed on his feet without a scratch. He turned and looked up at the open window, giving a little wave, then dashed off into the night.

OOC: Good place to end. I gotta clock out for the night. Later.

[Ms. Cleo]

OOC: Ahh, I see. And see ya later.

Polo scoffed as he saw the man disappear into the night. He checked in ajacent rooms, but there was no sign of this "Sarge." He felt a stinging pain on his left rib and remembered his wound. It would be fine in a few hours, though. It was already starting to heal thanks to his power.

As he walked down the hall, he saw a wraith carrying a vase full of some medical substance and he decided to follow the spectre in the hopes that it would lead her to Kammie.

After some pursuing, he came into what appeared to be Kammie's bed chamber. Kammie was in her bed being treated by several of her servants, with Jake holding her hand by her side.

Polo set his Kris on an endtable and rushed to the bed.

"How is she?" He asked Jake.

[Rakk]

OOC: Holy Christ I missed a lot... Can someone just give me a PM about what I missed? As I don't feel like reading 13+ pages at the moment.

[Delacroix(Rei)]

The banshees lay me down on a Cliarnies table and they put some parchment with latin on it.
"Irimas regenfarafkat..." I say weakly as the Banshees use their power to heal me aswell.
The wound closes itself up, But it's a painful process so I scream a scream that's worse then the Banshees.

[Scorpio]

It's chaos. Polo was in combat with a thing and Kammie was wounded being rushed to safety. I'm in no state now to help either one, so I grab my deposit box hoping to find something helpful. It takes some work to get the key in, and the box opens slowly due to it's age. I find a letter inside.

Dear Jake.
Man that is weird to write. Well, you're probably wondering about the lost memories, mainly a security measure. You, me, we see a lot of weird stuff, saved a lot of lives, so it's safer for us and the world if we forget, sometimes all an old foe needs is memories to return.
But I can give you some help. Check the stuff in here. You'll know when to use it. After all, what's an angel without his sword?

I look under the letter, inside the box is a belt with two Colt peacemakers, one gold with 'salvation' carved into it, one silver with 'damnation'. A badge with an hawk motif reading 'Judgement' on it. But no sword.

"Dammit! This can't be all!"

I hear Kammie screaming and rush to her, still carrying my stuff. Finding her being treated for wounds by some banshees.

"Christ. What the hell happened?"

[Rakk]

Ry'ach stretched his perception of the city thin covering everything, trying to tune into that one narrow band that the mystery man was on.

He spent days feeling the cities pulse, some people said cities were alive. Ry'ach would not say yes or no to this, all he would say is that the crowds of people in cities resemble alive beings.

Still he could not find anything. But he could not be sure, that mystery corpse shook his sense of the city. No longer was everything in the city accounted for, there could be that place, that hotel room, that basement or that alleyway that was beyond his perception.

And if the Divines were doing this... where were the Great Old Ones. Where one went the other was not far behind.

Still nothing, something was wrong, usually he could feel one or two accultists or self titles angels, but now there were none, well not none there were some adepts, but nothing that could a threat, not a threat as large as the Divines or the Great Old Ones. A few days ago he had felt many leave the city. Something was brewing, he did not know what.

Ry'ach traced the mans greave in the dirt next to him, studying it, moving into his fully demonic form where he could place all of his attention on the task at hand with only a few parts of his consciousness or unconscious tracing the city looking for those who might stumble on him.

Taking out the gathered sould of the gargoyle he enslaved earlier he spread it out carefully on the greave marks. He could tell Metatron had been careful with this one, mixing in several other greaves. Maybe that was it, the greave had no flow in history, it was a spark of chaos in a calm sea... maybe he just had to pull his view back to witness it, maybe he was focusing to closely on the city.

After all if there is an anthill next to a highway the question is if the ants can perceive the highway, or even comprehend what a highway is.

He finished placing the enslaved soul dust on the greave. Digging his what could be described as a hand, if one ventured a guess at its job and purpose only seeing the narrow band of existence mortals saw, into the greave he pulled a small wispy form of energy out of it, hovering there he emersed himself in its being, a being of pure chaos. Nothing could be completed in its existence, not even a thought. Pulling his mind and senses back from it he saw what they were doing, they just created such an intense display of chaos he would have trouble seeing it. But now he might be able to do it. It would be difficult but he could do it.

Ry'ach pulled his senses from the city, finally seeing a few angels coming in out of L.A. heading towards the city, a small convoy of 3 cars, 4 angels in each. They would come over a pass which he had corrupted years ago, they were walking into an ambush and never knew it. He only had an hour to set up and wait.

Moving into human form again, as his demonic form would release too much power and energy and alert them. this would have to be timed just right, take out the lead car, move into Demonic form, such a sight would probably paralyze the newer Angels in the middle and end of the caravan, but something needed to be added... ah, music. He had enough time to get some going.

Just enough time.

[Delacroix(Rei)]

I scream loudly again, this time loud enough for the wood on the door to splinter and buckle.
"Helas Moutrian! Evicion!" The Wraith yells at Jake to donate some of his blood.
"Come...here...now..." I say, Breathing raggedly at each word.

[Scorpio]

"Alright. Whatever you need."

I tear the sleeve off my shirt and wrap my belt round my arm as a torniquet. Sitting down next to the table I turn to one of the wraiths.

"Go for it."

[Delacroix(Rei)]

OOC:Don't worry, I'm not a vampyre.
I immediately spring up from the bed and I sink my teeth into Jake's arm and I puncture it with my teeth.
"Malvous Girash!" I tell the Wraith's to restrain Jake as I lap up his blood with my tounge.

[Scorpio]

"What the hell!"

A wraith lunges from behind and pins my other arm behind my back.

"I thought you where gonna do this medically!"

[Delacroix(Rei)]

"You better...be happy...I'm using....all...my self restraint to not tear you in half and devour you." I say regaining my composure and standing over him.
"Sorry about that, I got to say though. You taste delicious." I say with a bone chilling grin as a drop of blood drops from my chin to the floor.

[Scorpio]

"I don't want to know how I taste."

The wraith lets go, I pick up the box I dropped earlier.

"Who the hell did this to you?"

[Delacroix(Rei)]

"A Myth of some kind...Most likely before christ himself, I'm weak against Blessed Holy Weapons, As you can see." I say pointing to my midsection which has a crecent shaped scar now.
"Oh, and by the way. You taste like fine wine. Very delicious... I would sleep with your door closed from now on." I say phasing through him.
"But then again...I can pass right through it." I say with a icey undertone.

[Scorpio]

"I'm gonna just go and....get some rest. Can I borrow this?"

I grab a spare roll of bandages from the wraiths, I still have the bruises and burns from fighting in that club, and now a bleeding arm.

"I'll see you later."

I run back to my room, maybe I can find out more about myself from the gear in the box, something I missed. I lock the door and read the letter over whilst bandaging myself.

[Delacroix(Rei)]

I summon a Banshee and I tell her to cook something nice for him.
"Oh and...Make yourself look presentable and try to speak English." I say to it as I phase through the wall into my room and I sit down on my desk and I start reading a book to research on the being that attacked me.

[Scorpio]

Angels sword? What the hell? Was I such an idiot back then that I forgot to put it in?

I look at the colts, the designs nice, but there is no way to load them. I point at the wall and pull the trigger a few times, nothing.

I pick up the badge, suddenly hear a voice in my head.

"Well fine, you deserve some of the better memories."

I start having flashbacks, everything looks like the 1930's. Me Investigating, not looking any younger or older. The women from over the years, and ending with me getting cut down by Tommy Gun fire in a darkened alley. I throw the badge across the room.

"You son of a b*tch Jake, why taunt yourself like this?"