Naomi's Testing Thread

[Naomi the Shadow Wolf]

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"She is talking. She is talking. She is talking." This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post.

She is thinking. She is thinking. She is thinking. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post.

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[Naomi the Shadow Wolf]

"Insert Quote"

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"He is talking. He is talking. He is talking." This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post.

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[Naomi the Shadow Wolf]

We Are… Senyren

If you must know we are… a normally peaceful race who like to keep to ourselves. We reside in the Belus Galaxy of around twenty other planets that are mainly uninhabited. So we are mainly alone in our little galaxy. Though we may seem like a race of beings unfit for war or conflict, we can be the opposite when we need to defend our homeland. Beyond the gentle communities resides a strong military that is ready to fend off any would be invaders. A final thing to note on is that families upon out planet tend to follow in each other's footsteps. So if you are born into a family of cooks you'll be a cook to.

Under the armor… we appear very similar very humanoid. What set's us apart from them is the animal like traits we have. Such as furry animal ears upon or head and tails. Many of these features resemble animals humans could find on their home world causing some to speculate that our two races may have some sort of connection. Other traits we have would be sharp canine teeth and claws. Eyes and hair color of our kind come in all variety of colors as does skin color. .

In truth, we can… strong users of elemental magics. Normally we demonstrate the ability to use one element but overtime we can learn to use more then one.

You call that Technology? We have… The Level of technology your people have. It can be anything from sticks and stones, to plasma cannons and jetpacks. Technology is at its peak thus far, so just about anything is possible. Also, a brief understanding of any special inter-workings your technology uses (I.E: It’s sympathetic to brain waves, and thus the pilots control the ship with their minds. Or Something. Be creative.)

This, is our home… A picture of your world, in link form. Also include a name for it, and if you want, any info about it and the surrounding system. (Surface shots are also acceptable)

[Naomi the Shadow Wolf]

"Insert Quote"
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[Naomi the Shadow Wolf]

"Underestimating me was your first mistake. Continuing to make that mistake is what signed your death warrent."
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This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post.

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[demi wolfsong]

"Mercy. I knew a Mercy. She had her head ripped off by a daywalker.
I haven't looked back since then."

-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-
Daemian gave a snarl as he felt himself shudder for the umpteenth time. Never again. Never, never, NEVER again. He didn’t care how far away the town, city- or hell- CONTIENENT was, he was NEVER riding in another vehicle, again. There was a puff of smoke from the overhead lights, and then the entire bus that Daemian rode on was pitched into the dark, fully accompanied by startled screams and shouts. He wanted to strangle something, hell beat it’s face in (Slagging something would also be quite lovely at this point) but he had to reign in his temper. It wasn’t doing anything other then playing havoc with the magic that he wielded.

As it was, anyone who had a moderate skill with magic often found themselves excluded from the technological age. Generally, they we’re limited to anything predating or dating as far back as WWII, But Daemian didn’t even trust that stuff. He’d had to many close calls with electronics, ( I.E: he’d missed his target by moments, and became so enraged that every light for half a block blew out, for no reason at all.) and found he couldn’t trust them at all. Yet, this new info about Caligo bared quick movement, quicker then his measly feet could carry him.

Which brought him to his current situation, riding in quiet agony in the middle of the bus, a gym bag at his side. He couldn’t sit at the back (much as he might want to) for fear of blowing out the engine, (He’d once seen an entire engine block simply fall out, just because he’d been in a foul mood) but couldn’t sit close to the front either, for fear of blowing the instruments. The bus gave another violent shudder as Daemian felt his ire flaring again, and forced himself to think calming thoughts. Preferably something along the lines of beating a Walker’s face in repeatedly, until it stopped being funny. Which he doubted it ever would, but hey, it would make an excellent stress reliever.

He saw the sign drift by in the darkness that marked the Caligo city limits, and gave a silent cheer. Within minutes, he found himself at the edges of the city, and thusly started yanking on the rope signaling the call for a stop. The bus finally ground to a halt, and the moment it did Daemian flew from the confines of it. As he passed the doors of the bus there was a slight popping noise then a warbling warning claxon. The doors tried to close, only to spring right back open as the gearbox that controlled the doors sparked, and then billowed smoke. Daemian gave a sympathetic wince to the appalled bus driver, who first glared at the box, then Daemian.

Turning, he slung his gym bag over one shoulder and made his way away as quickly as possible before accusations could start flying his way. People weren’t entirely in the dark, and when things started going wrong for no reason at all, they generally started blaming him. Not that he had anything to do with it. Honest, he didn’t!!

Quickening his pace, Daemian walked through the darkened streets, keeping his ears peeled. Something was out there he just knew it. While it was true, he had the ghosts as scouts for him; he didn’t like to rely on them too much. Doing so would only bring on a dulling of his senses, which in turn would cause him to miss something, something vital, something that would cost not only him, but also everyone around him their lives. It was a dangerous game Daemian played, but there was no other option. Someone had to do this; someone had to stand up to these monsters. It was his duty, his responsibility to do so. He had the knowledge, the know-how. He had the training and the skills. He had every resource he could think of at his disposal, which all added up to one thing: His responsibility.

He stalked the now silent streets, a block or two away from the broken-down bus now, and wondered idly what his first move should be. He had no contacts here, no one person or persons he could turn to in this instance. While William was rarely wrong when it came to his hunches, Caligo was a big place, and Daemian didn’t even have a single lead, much less a starting point.

No, scratch that, he had a starting point. The Walkers. Surely someone knew something. Daemian smiled then as thoughts drifted to his earlier fantasies of beatings and funniness. He shook his head then, focusing on his newest objective. He’d need a place to stay as it became increasingly clearer that this would be a long-term operation. Yet to do that meant he needed a freakin’ destination, which meant a map would definitely come into play/help.

“Gas-station then.” He said to himself, and passed the thought along to his little spies. Undulled senses or no, he couldn’t fly through brick walls as if they didn’t exist, or travel three times faster then a man could run. They would find him what he needed a lot faster then if he just blundered about in the dark.

And while he could just as easily send them searching for a hotel, in a city this wide the search could likely take a lot longer then a gas station. So, he’d settle on this slightly longer, but safer course of action. Sides, laziness had its uses too. It gave Daemian time to think ahead, plan out his course of action.

It took Dres about ten minutes before he slipped through the building adjacent to Daemian, and motioned him along. “ Found it not to far from here. Place is still open, even this late at night. Brave a** b*****d.”

Daemian nodded at that, knowing full well what Dres was speaking of. He could feel them, out there in the darkness. He didn’t know where or how many exactly there were. But there were a lot. It felt like more then just one coven or two. Damn, but he’d sourly underestimated his odds in this.

Didn’t mean he was just going to back down though. Like before, this was his job, his responsibility. Sides, a good challenge was always fun. Rounding the last corner in their path, Daemian caught sight of the glow of the corner store ahead, and quickened his pace.

Once inside, the clerk, a steely matron with salt n’ pepper hair pulled back in a bun, cobalt blue eyes, and a firm grasp on something under the counter, glared at him. Given the state of this town, least, from what he’d heard, the only ones out this late at night were Walkers, or their underling junkies. Yet this was a woman who wasn’t going to take crap from anyone or thing.
Daemian found he liked her more and more with each passing second. “Easy there. I ain’t lookin’ for trouble.” he drawled, slowly setting his bag on the floor then lifting his hands in a placating fashion.

“ I don’t serve bloodsuckers round here. Go elsewhere.” She said with a jerk of her head towards the door. Daemian smiled at her, she might not know much about Walkers, but she knew danger when she sensed it. It tended to radiate off of Daemian in waves,“ I ain’t no walker, miss. I’m actually the stuff that hunts them. Need a place to stay over-night, possibly longer.”

“How do I know you’re not a… what’d you call ‘em? Walkers? How do I know you not one of them?” There wasn’t much Daemian could say to that. Most walkers looked just like human’s until they got closer to feeding time. He did some quick thinking then came up with the only reasonable answer he could come up with. “ Do you have a cross on you? Or around you?” She nodded, and pulled it from under her shirt.

“Hold it out in front of you. I’m going to come closer to you now and touch your cross, so you know that I’m human. Walkers can’t touch that stuff.” She did so, tentatively. He mimicked her, and slowly stretched out to grasp the cross. When he did, she visibly relaxed, letting out a heavy sigh while her shoulders slumped slowly.

“Sorry it’s… been a rough couple of months.” he nodded, knowing exactly what she meant. To suddenly be exposed to the world of night like this, to not be able to refute it in any way (as human’s usually do with anything that frightens them) was often a traumatic event. Turn it into a whole town and you had a recipe for total havoc and insanity.

She eased her hand off the gun Daemian knew she had aimed at his gut, and placed both hands on the counter. “Nearest hotel is a few blocks over, off Rutherford. It’s a bit on the upscale though, kinda pricy for this city.”

Daemian laughed merrily at that, and nodded. He could probably afford a room there, mainly for the fact that A: The stipend he made as a hunter was no chump change. It’d be nice to spend some time under real hot water for a change, though TV and lights would definitely be out. B: More people there were the better. Sure, the walkers in this town were more presumptuous then most, but generally speaking, they avoided an open confrontation in the lobby of a hotel. Long as they could keep the townsfolk restricted from spreading word of their existence with solid proof, they’d be okay. None of them wanted the military breathing down their collective necks, Walker or no. Humans, under general policy were giant slobbering idiots. They blindly went about their lives, oblivious to the thousands of monsters and creatures that lived amongst them. Yet, should they suddenly become aware, should they awaken… Well. That slobbering giant? Its hand is probably five times bigger then your head, and human’s were much the same.

If the general population became aware, it wouldn’t be just with shock. It’d be with fear and rage, and the first thing anything scared does is try to escape. If it can’t escape, it goes to plan B: Smash, smash, and more smash. Needless to say it would be a bloody and likely never-ending war.

Daemian leaned over and picked up his bag again, slinging it over his shoulder. All this thought on monsters and matters he couldn’t control was getting him nowhere, fast. He turned, and glanced father into the small store. While it was true he had the info he needed now, it just felt wrong to leave like that. He owed the old matron, he knew that much. Eyeing the freezer section, Daemian slowly walked to the back of the store, glancing over the selection of candies drinks, and other treats.

Finally finding a few favorites, a can of Arizona Iced Tea, the kind that border on twenty ounces of sweetly goodness, and of course, two Musketeer candy bars. Treats in hand, Daemian made his way to the front of the store, when something odd struck him. There was a bite to the air suddenly, a chill that had been absent before. It felt like someone had reached inside him and dropped about five blocks of ice into his lungs, and lined his spine with the same stuff.

It caused chills to erupt up and down his spine, and goose bumps to spread over his flesh. It was an uneasy feeling, one that set into his body to warn him of imminent danger. Seconds later, the bells attached to the door jangled open, drawing Daemian’s attention to the new comer. He was a tall man, nearly six two by Daemian’s estimation, and moved with a surety and confidence one only found in the upper class of society, or in predators. This man acted like he was both.

White-blond hair fell freely down his head, to just past his shoulders. He wore a black trench coat that billowed down past his ankles and swept around him like a flag in the wind. Daemian couldn’t see much of his features from where he stood, but he knew something was wrong about the man. Blondie turned his attention to the Matron then, and approached the counter. Whatever he said or did, it set her off, her back becoming ramrod straight and her jaw setting in a grim determination.

Daemian used this time to slip up further, and caught the last line of the man’s statement, “-tell me, or I’ll rip your throat out, hag.”

Daemian didn’t need any more provocation then that, his hand flashing to the gym bag he carried over one shoulder, and found the hilt of his Katana within the space he’d left open for just such an occasion. He drew it with a rasp of steel on holy silver, a ringing tone that bounced around the small store with unnerving clarity.

“Step away from the woman now s**t-face, and I might let you walk out of here.” There was a slight gasp from Blondie, and he turned on Daemian. It was then that Daemian cursed his sore luck, and leveled the blade in his hands at the man. He’d wanted to duke it out with a walker, just not this soon. He recognized the blackness of the man’s irises, the soulless gaze as the man’s eyes fell on him.

The man let out a low chuckle, licking his lips, “ Well, well, well… I didn’t expect to find you this easily Daemon.”
Crap. He knew Daemian’s true name. “So you know me. Then you know I slaughter your kind.”

That only drew another laugh from the walker. “Did slaughter them. Did, my foolish friend. You made a foolish mistake, coming to this city.”

“First off: I ain’t your ******** friend, pig, and second: why’s that?” He shifted slightly, feeling the throws of combat and the adrenaline pumping into his veins. This nice little chat would be over soon, and they both new it.

“Because, fool slayer, we know of you and your kind. And in this city of vampires, you are the hunted.” The lights in the store suddenly went out, as did every light for two blocks. There was about six explosions of glass then, more walkers entering the store from nearly every direction, and a scream from behind the counter.

“Time to die, little slayer.”
Double crap.

-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-

[demi wolfsong]

"Mercy. I knew a Mercy. She had her head ripped off by a daywalker.
I haven't looked back since then."

-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-
Forests. Trees. It all seemed to blur together. Animals and wild life, the dark sky above, little puffs of clouds rolling by in feather-falling slowness. The wind sighed quietly through the trees around Daemian, the breath of the world caressing his skin. Funny, he always thought the planet itself would damn the forsaken.

Yet here he stood, gently caressed by the winds of the earth, the cool waters tickling his bare feet as he stood in the tress of water that drifted past him, feeding into the larger tributary. Moments like these made him remember why he was alive. He lived to keep these moments pristine, to keep the earth as it was. Humanitarian? No, not really. Humans were fools, often taken by petty squabbling and lies.
Did he hate his own kind? Far from it, for he still fought for their survival. No, he just wished they’d wizen up a little.

‘Tired of fighting alone?’ Whispered the phantom words from within the recesses of his mind. No pun intended, for Daemian knew it truly was spoken by a phantom. Sighing deeply, Daemian lowered his gaze from the sky, to the stones set against the small stream of water.

"Dres, how many times are you going to bug me? I know already, alright?" Dres, a man of braided silver mane and red eyes to match Daemian's, sat rather haughtily on his throne of a stone. His eyes were filled with a casual mirth, a smile gracing his lips. If he'd been corporeal, the moonlight would have been reflecting off his lip ring, but seeing as how he wasn't it mattered little.

‘Just sayin Ian. There's not a lot of time, and you do have to get to the sanctuary within the next two hours.’ Daemian scowled at the man, his long time companion, but sloshed his way out of the stream and onto the bank, drying his feet quickly before replacing his socks and combat boots.

"What’s Hawk got to say?" He asked casually as he finished tying his boots, then slipped into his belted overcoat. It reached all the way down his six feet three inches of body, stopping only a foot from the ground so as not to drag along it. Hawk himself approved of the look on Daemian, for at least the coat would fit on him as well, if he were alive. Hawk though, was mostly bald, save for the mohawk and beard he wore, both white. The coat probably would look really odd on him, but who knew. His eyes Matched Dres and Daemian's perfectly.

‘Not much. About four of the scum, spaced out through the cave. Taken, from the looks of it’. Dres made to yawn and stretch, a ridiculous notion considering he had no lungs nor could feel exhaustion, but did it out of habit, and an attempt to still seem human. ‘Merc's spotted a few cattle as well, gunners from the looks of it.’

"High tech?" Daemian questioned idly as he strapped on his Katana, then made sure it could be easily drawn. As for Mercy, or Merc as they called her, she was another ghost, like Dres. And like him, she had silver hair, though her eyes were a bright green in hue instead of red. She had a tattoo that scrolled down one side of her face, starting from her right eye, then stretching down under her shirt to reappear on her arm.

‘Course. You know how these newb Walkers are. They hear word a hunter is coming, and figure they grab as many cattle as they can, arm em with the one thing they think a hunter won't be expecting, and then sit back and let the fireworks go.’ Daemian checked the blade for nicks then, and satisfied with its conditions replaced the blade. He made sure that he had several Seal's within easy reach on his belt then turned back to Dres, who was now standing ahead of him, within the tree line.

You ready for this? Daemian glared at him for a moment, but instead of snapping at him, he indulged his curiosity. “As much as I can be. You okay Dres?” The ghost gave a slight shrug of his shoulder, a blurring of lines as the ghost moved. ‘Just… a feeling. I dunno. It feels like… like we’re missing something. Like there’s something looming in the distance, ready to…to… I don’t really know.’ Dear gods. Ghost jitters. Now that was something Daemian didn’t want to think on. “Relax Dres. We’ve got this. I’ve got it. I’ve had it for nearly seven years, alone.” Daemian started forward then, passing farther, deeper into the trees. “ I think I can handle a few foolish berserk walkers.”

Dres snorted as he followed, ‘Never said you couldn’t. Just…be careful.’

Daemian ignored that as best as possible. Not much shook the ghost; and Daemian knew that. But it wouldn’t help him at all to be straining his neck to look at his backside if the walker was pointing a gun at his skull from in front of him. Which had basically become Daemian’s general practice with these things. Forge ahead, and don’t look back.

So he did that, ghosting through the tree’s of this moonlit night, a bare whisper of sound on the wind. After what felt like twenty or so minutes, he found himself perched on one of the higher treetops, alongside Mercy and Dres, who were pointing out the small silhouettes of moving shadow in the brush below, signaling the goons the Walkers had ensnared as sentries, and later on, as meals. He had a roll of garrote wire in one hand, and was tying one off one end of a strip of wire to a knife, the other in a loose lasso large enough to fit one’s head through.

Set up in a jagged line in the brush leading up to the mouth of a cave, were three of them, one passing under Daemian while patrolling. Another one kneeled in the brush about twenty feet ahead of him, and finally a third one, stood at the mouth of the cave, which was set a little (about six feet) above ground level, allowing him to keep watch on the others. They each bore one model or another of a Automatic rifle, ranging from a Uzi, all the way up to an M4.

Wisdom said to take out the one at the top first, but Daemian had never been one to listen to conventional wisdom. Besides, he hated back tracking. So, as quietly and calmly as he could, he lowered the invisible wire down from his perch. It settled around the throat of the unsuspecting man, and before he could even realize what was happening enough to scream, the lasso became a noose as Daemian dropped off the other side of the branch, causing the thankfully sturdy wire to rip the man off his feet and suspend him from the branch-turned-pulley.

As he landed, Daemian drove the dagger he’d tied the wire to deep into the earth, and left it there as he flashed behind the tree. While it was true, the wire could not possibly hold the man for long, and the knife would loosen within moments, the damage was already done. The garrote had crushed the man’s larynx and trachea, thus rendering him mute and strangling. It would take only a few minutes for the loss of airflow to kill the man, so Daemian left him be, darting through the trees to his second and third targets, respectively.

The first of the two to notice him, the one at the ledge, let out a shout and took aim at Daemian. But he was faster then the man apparently, for he already had one of his many knifes drawn from its sheath and pulled back for a throw before the guardian even had finished his shout. By the time the gun had come up, the knife was soaring through the air straight at him.

Now, it’s true: throwing knifes ever rarely hit their targets. Especially when thrown by a moving person. It’s usually saved only for things like movies, with lots of wires and special effects. More often then not, the pummel of the thrown knife ended up hitting the target rather then a blade. But Daemian wasn’t aiming to kill the man with the throw. Not at all. He was well aware of the fact that the pummel of the knife had struck the man instead, doing relatively no damage. But what it had done, was made the man flinch to one side to try and dodge, even more so when the knife struck his shoulder. He’d completely left his comrade uncovered, who was still scrambling to reorient on Daemian’s shifting form.

By the time the man had finished turning, Daemian had already passed him, his Katana leaving it’s sheath in a silent flash of metal and a rain of bloody droplets fouled the air as the man gasped, then crumpled to the ground, holding what was left of his severed shoulder. It took all of two second’s for Daemian to dive forward, sliding through the last of the brush separating himself from the final guard. The man had finally recovered, and took aim at the brush just in time for Daemian to come into view. He got off a quick burp of automatic fire, and there was a short series of burning hammers ripping through Daemian’s side, but he ignored them as he came to his feet again, leaping at the man as slashing his sword at the mans face.

There was a moment of agonized screams, more blood fouling the air, then a sickening ‘thunk’ as metal bit into earth, and then all sound died out. Daemian wiped the blood from his sword on the corpse’s shirt, then replaced it in it’s sheathe and checked his side. The bullets had slipped through a niche in the Kevlar worked between the inner and outer layers of his coat, and had scored cleanly through his flesh, which bled rather profusely. Damn. The Walkers would smell him coming then, scenting on the blood. Ah well, he’d have to make this fast then. He dredged up what he could of the blood with a spare napkin, then covered and taped the wound closed with a small bit roll of duct tape he carried with him at all times.

No sense going into a fight if you’re going to bleed to death soon after. And he’d have to be careful from here in. With the wound as it was he’d end up favoring that side, especially if he tried to stretch too far. Thank god the Kevlar had slowed and altered the bullets path, preventing any major damage.

Daemian shifted slightly, then made his way deeper into the cavern. About the time the stench of rotten meat began to get strong, Daemian drew his hands together before him, producing a single, small shuriken. The cavern began to dip deeper into the earth, though the roof stayed straight and even, creating a high-ceiling pit, full of columns and farther down… corpses.

It didn’t take long from there for him to find them. In fact, they found him. Three Walkers, disfigured by blood/blood rage, fell on Daemian from the rafters of the cavern. He’d heard one creak against the stone’s above him, rolling forward before they even touched ground. When they did, Daemian had already begun to turn, his thumb moving in a practiced motion, clicking the small indent in the Shuriken, causing it to split into it’s true form of four hooks. He tossed two into his opposite hand mid-whirl, passing them before his mouth as he readied them, then flung them at the two Walkers who descended on his left and right sides. The blades found purchase as the Walkers came to their full height, catching them directly in their solar plexus. The third, and only one left untouched let out a feral roar, as he lunged at Daemian.

He’d expected that, and had been in mid draw before the Walker even lunged. He met the Walker mid leap with his sword fully draw, slashing through it’s chest which subsequently erupted in a blue green fire as walker flesh met blessed silver blade, which in turn caused the walker to start making a whole new kind of music: Screaming.

Daemian had barely finished the slash when he lunged himself, ramming Katana through the walkers chest, impaling it with a slight pop as blade punctured spine.

Daemian laughed then, his eyes alight with insane mirth. “Skewered, like a ******** pig.” Fear passed over the newly turned vampires face, then shock. Lots and lots of…
“-Shock.” Daemian said aloud as he whipped the blade from the Walkers chest with a whirl and a forward jerk, which dislodged the blade from the Walker. The Seal he’d worked into the pummel of the blade came alive with a brilliant blue light, then something akin to blue-white serpents erupted from it, and traveled down the wires he’d tied to the pummel of his blade, into the hooks dug into the other two vampires.

More screams rent the air as the walkers were burnt to ashes, causing a wicked, sadistic grin to cross Daemian’s face, showing his canines. Dres and Hawk simply rolled their eyes at him as he stood there, silhouetted in lightning as it flashed from walker to walker, and a brilliant blue-green flame that was the first of the walkers to die.

Merc appeared then, and got half a thought out that sounded like ‘Ian, watch ou-‘ but her words were cut short as the clash of clapping hands reached Daemian’s ears. It was exaggerated, like the kind you find in B-rate horror movies, or pompous jackasses who underestimate their enemies.

“I must complement you, that was a most stunning display of brutality I’ve seen in awhile, and that’s saying something.” Daemian turned then, noticing a set of stone steps that had randomly appeared out of thin air. What the hell? He paid little heed to the ridiculous fool that descended said stairs, other then the fact that he had pompous, overbearing, butt-licking dumbass written on his forehead. Okay, not really, but it really stood out to Daemian, what with the Victorian style outfit that seemed to have come from the dark ages.

Dark eyes accented long, dark curly hair, which hung down to the man’s shoulders. He had an air about him that Daemian wasn’t which would quantify it better: I’m better then you, bow down to me or I’m better then you, please kill me. He liked, and would oblige the second one much more, and readied himself to do so when the man held up his hand, as if asking for pause. “ Come now, we are both men. Can we not talk this out like civilized people?”

Daemian could only stare at the man. His sword dropped to his side, and he started to tremble. “ There now, was that really so hard?” The man almost cooed as he strode several more steps down the staircase.

Daemian threw his head back then, and roared with laughter. “Me? Talk civilized to a ******** Walker like you? Are you brain dead, or just ******** stupid?” Daemian kept laughing, much to the man's ire. “I suppose what, you want to talk about turning me? How I should join you in your 'dark afterlife'? Bunch of ******** bullshit.” Daemian snarled finally, the fire returning to his eyes ( though the tears of laughter mitigated this some what).

“You....” The man seethed, his fists clenching and un-clenching, as if he couldn't decide weather to strangle, or punch Daemian. Oh yeah, he loved having that effect on these damn monsters. “ You fool! How dare you insult me like that! You dare insult the son of Botheric, king of all vampires?!”

Now that was a new one, and caught Daemian's attention. Botheric, eh? This bared thinking on, but that would come later. He had a job to do. “ I dunno about any ButtTrick, but I'll gladly teach you a new one:making your face meet your a**.”

“Don't you dare speak about Botheric like that!! I'll kill you! Make you respect the power that is Botheric!!” The walker roared, then thrust his hand out at Daemian. In it's wake, the earth literally rippled, then shot forward, a spear of rock stretching from the stone staircase at Daemian's shocked face.

Huh. Explains the staircase. He thought, and in a swift movement shifted to his right. He wasn't fast enough, he knew he'd been caught off guard, and took the spear through his shoulder, but thanks to his quick movements it only cut him as he spun about its side, instead of impaling him. As he spun almost drunkenly, his left shoulder on fire, he reached into his coat and withdrew yet another knife, his last of the set. Coming out of the spin, he threw it, but thankfully this time it struck true, striking into the expectant Walker's shoulder, knocking him off balance. It only took a few seconds, but that was all the time Daemian needed to cross the distance between himself and the Walker, slashing upward along the man's chest. It rended his chest, blood taking to the air before exploding into blue-green flames.

As the slash reached it's peak, Daemian overextended himself, pulling the blade back over his head and drawing his body taunt. Then with one swift move, and a roar of triumph, Daemian drove the Sword home through the Walkers skull.
---

An hour later, Daemian walked through the door's of Sanctuary, the small tavern set up nearly in the underground of New York. And yes, it was an honest to god tavern, not a pub or anything like that. Bartender, flaming hot grill, and sixteen tables spread out around the room, respectively. The walls were covered in images of old myths, visages and paintings of a time long forgotten. Or some held the belief they were. This was one of the few places that knew those creatures still walked the earth. Monsters still lurked out there, in the shadows.

And this was one of the gathering points of any knowledge on such creatures. Daemian walked to the bar, nodding to a few patrons that he knew, then took a seat at the bar and set his prize, the necklace of Fredric Lestool, Walker of Stone, as he'd gained the name, on the table. “ Will. We've got a problem.” Daemian said, addressing the barkeep.

“Oh? And what's that?” the man replied. He was well on his way to his thirties, but showed no signs of aging, a long mop of golden hair hanging from a ponytail at the back of his head, his blue eyes alight with simple mirth, and his perpetual smile gracing his face. He had a very boyish charm about him, that few in this day and age retained this long, a gentleness and innocence. It was the best damn facade Daemian had ever seen. William Mccrosbie, owner and proprietor of Sanctuary, was one of the best damn hunters Daemian had ever had the pleasure of knowing. He'd never actually seen the man fight, but he was kind of thankful for that. Word was the man was a demon one did not want to see on the battlefield.

Then again, Daemian was something of one himself.

“I just squared off against a walker. Who controlled earth William. He made a spear out of the ground to try and skewer me.” The man stopped dead in his tracks at Daemian's words, all mirth leaving him. He turned slowly to Daemian then, looking the man hard in the eyes. “Merciful night, you're telling the truth...”

“Yeah, and something else. He said something about a King of Walkers. Somebody by the name of Botheric.” William pulled two bottles from under his counter then, one for Daemian and one for himself, taking the cap off with a twist of his hand. Will was like that.

He took a pull from his bottle, then glared down at it, hard. “ I dunno much Daemian. First I've ever heard of it. But I'll look into it, do some digging. I have heard of something though.”

“Oh?” Daemian replied before taking a pull of his own bottle. “Mm. There's been an uprising of Walkers lately. Caligo, some town not to far from here. It's getting drenched in blood man.” William paused then, and took another pull from his beer. “Might be a lead. Might wanna check it out.”

Daemian nodded then, took another pull from his own beer, finishing it, then placed a twenty on the counter. “Thanks Will.” Cool Autumn air met Daemian as he stepped from the Tavern, rustling his long-coat as he started down the street. Caligo, was it? Time to do some digging then, maybe knock a couple Walkers on their asses. It was time for some answers, and Daemian wasn't above leaving a trail of blue-green blazes behind him to get them. One thing he knew for certain though:
This was going to be fun.

-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-

[Naomi the Shadow Wolf]

"Mercy. I knew a Mercy. She had her head ripped off by a daywalker.
I haven't looked back since then."

-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-
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-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-

[demi wolfsong]

Daemian §Von §Culix

"Mercy. I knew a Mercy. She had her head ripped off by a daywalker.
I haven't looked back since then."

-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-

Forests. Trees. It all seemed to blur together. Animals and wild life, the blue sky above, little puffs of clouds rolling by in feather-falling slowness. The wind sighed quietly through the trees around Daemian, the breath of the world caressing his skin. Funny, he always thought the planet itself would damn the forsaken.

Yet here he stood, gently caressed by the winds of the earth, the cool waters tickling his bare feet as he stood in the tress of water that drifted past him, feeding into the larger tributary. Moments like these made him remember why he was alive. He lived to keep these moments pristine, to keep the earth as it was. Humanitarian? No, not really. Humans were fools, often taken by petty squabbling and lies.
Did he hate his own kind? Far from it, for he still fought for their survival. No, he just wished they’d wizen up a little.

Tired of fighting alone? Whispered the phantom words from within the recesses of his mind. No pun intended, for Daemian knew it truly was spoken by a Phantom. Sighing deeply, Daemian lowered his gaze from the sky, to the stones set against the small stream of water.

-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-Φ-

[demi wolfsong]

Ϛɭɑӌϵг

Daemian◇Von◇Crux

[✡]xxxxxxxxThe Basics →

• My friends call me . . . . Ian
• The doctor said I'm a . . . . Male
• My slayer clan is . . . . Von Crux
• I specialize in . . . . Magic/Melee
• This year I turned . . . . 21
• Just so you know I'm . . . . cursed. Oh wait, you mean women? Yeah, I like em well enough.
• My heart longs for . . . . Did I not say I was cursed? Generally, us cursed are outcasts, ergo we don't have crushes.

[✡]xxxxxxxxMirror Mirror on the Wall →

• My reflection shows this . . . . I hate Headphones
• If you must know my height, I'm . . . . Taller then you. Generally. 6' 3" tends to tower over a lot of people.
• You may notice on me . . . .myriads of scars. I've fought to survive, to live, since I was practically born. Still I'm rather proud of them. For each one, there is an equal corpse in the ground, or mound of ash.

[✡]xxxxxxxxThe Finer Points →

• My Personality is my own.
And I've been known to be calm. I've always has an aura of calm about me, though this is tinged with the perception of coiled wrath. I can be kind at times, gentle to people and quite loving. But this will dissipate once pushed far enough. In battle, I becomes a ruthless maniac, barely chained from destroying anyone who crosses my path.
I've been told my eyes alight with a inhuman wrath, and I becomes a whirling flash of steel, crimson blood, and uncontrolled laughter.
Isolation, I've been told by a trusted source, from humanity has stretched the coil of My mind to the breaking point, and some hunters say I've already snapped.
I'm often seen talking to myself; thus enforcing the notion of my instability.
• Listen to my story.
Born to a family within the Von Crux, Daemian was trained from the moment he was old enough to walk, and hold a stick. War and death became his life, his entirety. By age ten, he was already fighting the day-walkers, working with a group of youths like himself, who had been raised amongst the Von Crux. Everyday was a battle for survival, each bringing it’s own scars and honor to his name. Though life was hard, it was at least good.
That life ended in his thirteenth year.

Being sent to destroy a coven of day-walkers was nothing new to Daemian no; in fact that notion had brought on a sense of excitement and joy. Joy at being chosen for such a task, of the honor it would bring him and his team. Little did he know, that none of them would walk out of there alive.
Not even Ian himself.
Oh he lived sure enough, his heart still beat, and he remained unturned. But to say he was whole would be a lie. To say that he was still human, still a regular man would be a farce of the highest order. For what he had watched, what he had experienced, changed him forever.

And the horror didn’t stop there. His honor was stripped of him. His home. His entire life was destroyed in one fell swoop, and his life was forfeit in the eyes of the Von Crux. But Ian would not go quietly. He would not lie down and die. Fighting the only family he had known, Ian became a rogue hunter, fighting for his survival.
His life is fraught with pain and misery and slowly, the light that shines in the darkness of his life is dwindling, soon to be snuffed out entirely, leaving only the darkness of insanity.

• I just adore these things.
- children
- Animals, Wolves in primary.
- Mint Chocolate chip Ice Cream
• Get that away before I smack you.
-Day-walkers
-Injustices
-Humans serving he Day-walkers
-Lies
-The Von Crux
-Electronics

[✡]xxxxxxxxBackstage Secrets →

• I sing this in the shower . . . . The answer is No, for no one's earned it.
• Colors of choice . . . . green
• My puppeteer is . . . . demi wolfsong

[Naomi the Shadow Wolf]

"And though I am prepared to face my destiny, you will not find me easy prey."

☪
Calling Calling out! For The Place of Knowing!
There's more that what can be linked!
Calling Calling, Never will I look away!
From what life has left for me.
Yearning Yearning, for what's left of loving!

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"She is talking. She is talking. She is talking." This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post.

She is thinking. She is thinking. She is thinking. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post.

This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post.

This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post.

This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post. This is a test post.
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[Naomi the Shadow Wolf]

Ϛɭɑӌϵг

Natalia◇Skyler◇Bellator

[✡]xxxxxxxxThe Basics →

• My friends call me . . . . Lia, Nat
• The doctor said I'm a . . . . Female
• My slayer clan is . . . . Bellator (latin for fighter)
• I specialize in . . . . Melee and Modern
• This year I turned . . . . Twenty-One
• Just so you know I'm . . . . Straight
• My heart longs for . . . . None Yet

[✡]xxxxxxxxMirror Mirror on the Wall →

• My reflection shows this . . . . [My Machine Gun & Me] [Close Up]
• If you must know my height, I'm . . . . 5'5"
• You may notice on me . . . . that my ears are pierced twice though I don't wear earrings often. If you're lucky to see me in a bikini you'll see the foot long thin scar that runs down my back. Though my left arm looks normal, the skin is cold to the touch as it is fake. Under this fake skin is a mechanical arm.

[✡]xxxxxxxxThe Finer Points →

• My Personality is my own.
I'm the type of girl who shows kindness where kindness is due. So if you're nice to me, I'll return the favor. Insult me or push me around and you'll set off that all to easily sparked fury of mine that sometimes is accompanied by a nice solid punch. I'm not afraid to put up my dukes when the occasion calls for it even when dealing with people twice as big as me. So I can be incredibly brave or in some cases down right stupid but that's just a side effect of my stubbornness and hate when it comes to being pushed around. Many times I've bitten off more then she can chew but have managed to survive one way or another.

In a casual setting around people I trust I am just a happy-go-lucky girl who can be a little hyper at times. Somewhat a bit of a chatterbox as well. The simplest things can entertain me. For example give me a tic-tac container and I will amuse myself with clicking it open and shut. I'm not always so nice and carefree. I take my job as a slayer very seriously. When dealing with vampires you can't afford to make mistakes. Never am I one to give mercy. Mainly because when it comes to the vampires I hunt, they don't deserve mercy.
• Listen to my story.
I come from a slayer clan dating back around two hundred years. It was established by my ancestor Philip Bellator after his first wife and two sons were killed by a vampire. Slaying is in my blood. I didn't have much of a childhood. As soon as I was old enough my training began. My father had been killed during a mission soon after I was born and so it was my uncle who trained me. Needless to say it wasn't no walk in the park. Many days I was left on near unconsciousness with a multitude of new wounds to tend to. Such was the way of slayer training. When I was ten I received my most prominent scar which lays across my back, a long thin scar about a foot in length. I got it while training with my uncle. It was a mistake on my part. That wound though severe was nothing compared to one I got when I was fifteen.

I was on my fifth mission after being made an official slayer. The vampire I was up against turned out to be far stronger then the scouts had reported. Myself and two other slayers who were assisting me barely managed to survive the attack. We were all battered and bruised to near death. My left arm had been nearly torn to shreds and in the end it had to be amputated. Using some new technology the clan had created they were able to built me a mechanical arm that I could use just as well as if it was a real arm. It even looked like a normal arm to. The thing was there was nothing normal about it. Reason being that there is a gun hidden within it that I can summon a will when it's needed. (Like so) It was hectic getting used to but I managed.

It's been six years since then and I've started doing missions on my own.
• I just adore these things.
- Sweets
- Motorcycles
- Weapons (guns, swords, grenades, etc)
- Roses
- Video games
• Get that away before I smack you.
- Vampires
- Seeing my own blood
- Getting my picture taken
- Snobs

[✡]xxxxxxxxBackstage Secrets →

• I sing this in the shower . . . . Krypteria - "The Promise"
• Colors of choice . . . . Darkviolet
• My puppeteer is . . . . Naomi the Shadow Wolf

[Naomi the Shadow Wolf]

Ηυɱɑη

First Name◇Middle Name◇Last Name

[☀]xxxxxxxxThe Basics →

• My friends call me . . . . (Nickname/s)
• The doctor said I'm a . . . . (Gender)
• This year I turned . . . . (Age)
• Just so you know I'm . . . . (Sexuality)
• My heart longs for . . . . (Crush/Love)

[☀]xxxxxxxxMirror Mirror on the Wall →

• My reflection shows this . . . . (Appearance in link form - Anime style pictures recommended)
• If you must know my height, I'm . . . . (Height)
• You may notice on me . . . . (Any scars, tattoos, or piercings)

[☀]xxxxxxxxThe Finer Points →

• My Personality is my own.
This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality.
• Listen to my story.
This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past.

This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past.
• I just adore these things.
- Likes
- Likes
- Likes
- Likes
• Get that away before I smack you.
- Dislikes
- Dislikes
- Dislikes
- Dislikes

[☀]xxxxxxxxBackstage Secrets →

• I sing this in the shower . . . . (Theme Song)
• Colors of choice . . . . (Color/s you'll be using)
• My puppeteer is . . . . (Username)

[Naomi the Shadow Wolf]

Ϛɭɑӌϵг

First Name◇Middle Name◇Last Name

[✡]xxxxxxxxThe Basics →

• My friends call me . . . . (Nickname/s)
• The doctor said I'm a . . . . (Gender)
• My slayer clan is . . . . (Slayer Clan)
• I specialize in . . . . (you may pick up to two of the three different killing methods)
• This year I turned . . . . (Age)
• Just so you know I'm . . . . (Sexuality)
• My heart longs for . . . . (Crush/Love)

[✡]xxxxxxxxMirror Mirror on the Wall →

• My reflection shows this . . . . (Appearance in link form - Anime style pictures recommended)
• If you must know my height, I'm . . . . (Height)
• You may notice on me . . . . (Any scars, tattoos, or piercings)

[✡]xxxxxxxxThe Finer Points →

• My Personality is my own.
This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality. This is the personality.
• Listen to my story.
This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past.

This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past. This is the past.
• I just adore these things.
- Likes
- Likes
- Likes
- Likes
• Get that away before I smack you.
- Dislikes
- Dislikes
- Dislikes
- Dislikes

[✡]xxxxxxxxBackstage Secrets →

• I sing this in the shower . . . . (Theme Song)
• Colors of choice . . . . (Color/s you'll be using)
• My puppeteer is . . . . (Username)