Welcome to Gaia! ::

On the border between the CBD and the industrial district on its inland side, a concrete-and-glass office-block relic of the 1970s looms, the sun glinting off its pre-safety-glass windows. A gleaming, spotless Government crest has been tacked above the revolving doors into its tired-looking foyer. Where the letters "DFAT" are printed on the inner-city, ultra-modern Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade's crest, the letters are here inscribed: "BSPA". No-one who does not know does not particularly care what the letters stand for. To those who do, this is unquestionably one of the most important government departments: the Bureau of Supernatural and Paranormal Affairs.





What is the BSPA?
The BSPA is the government department dedicated to the regulation and, where necessary, control of the supernatural and paranormal beings and elements within the city of that particular office's location.

This department is run much like any other government department, but along with the ordinary administrators, negotiators and other desk-guys there is a large task-force of morally-conscious werewolves, vampires, mages, semidemonic beings, perhaps even some demons, soulless demon-hunters... the usual contingent of overpowered freaks and misfits.

What is the BSPA up against?
Other than the usual freelance trouble-makers, there is an organisation developing of paranormal beings who believe it is their right and destiny to rule over and exploit these pathetic, useless, virus-like humans. The organisation calls itself "the Liberation", and its sole purpose is to bring death, despair and destruction unto the humans of this populous city.

They work out of multiple bases at any one time, and these bases are always being changed and moved. As a result, they are extremely hard to track down.

When and where is it set?
Simply, some reasonably large, very ordinary modern city.

Who can I play as?
We need, of course, both employees of the BSPA and Liberationists... as well as perhaps even some freelance troublemakers, and unaffiliated demon hunters. You can be just about any race you please, except aliens, as long as you can make it make sense. (Eg. you'd need a damn good excuse to put a fully-fledged demon into the BSPA) GM creatures (eg HB's Abe Sapiens) are more than welcome, too.

How do I join?
Join the usual way: post a profile in the relevant thread in The Register of Births, Deaths and Marriages, and jump in.

Have a look to see what affiliation other people have chosen: we need to strike some sort of balance.

A small silver dragon, light dancing across the wet surface that was the dragon, sat peering out on the top of a doorway. Underneath him passed an immaculate white-dressed man, the rain seemingly avoiding him.

Intrigued, the small dragon stretched out its wings, rain dancing off them, as it launched itself into the air to follow the rain-less figure. With small wings beating almost like a hummingbirds the small dragon hovered about the shoulder of the man, taking shelter from the rain as dryness seemed to favor the person.

He was talking into a black object, electronic noises piercing the dragon's delicate and highly sensitive ears. It didn't understand a word that was said, it sounding like jibberish to it.

"Very well," he answered briefly. "I shall meet you shortly." With that, the call was ended.

Katashi broke into a loping run. This was not unusual on an evening like this: those caught without umbrellas ran from shop front to bus shelter, and sprinted along the long stretches of apartments where there were no eaves. What was unusual was his speed, relative to the amount of effort he was putting in.

He stopped once, to buy an umbrella from a newstand. The vendor seemed a little surprised that he could be perfectly dry after running through this monsoonal downpour, but seemed to forget when, starting to fumble for the change for the twenty dollar note he had been given, Katashi snapped at him to keep it. Were it not for the criticism-numbing properties of money, the vendor would have thought it stranger still when Katashi told him to pick the umbrella up for him, unseal the plastic cover, and hold is so that the unsealed end was angled toward Kakashi. The vendor happily obeyed, in a state twenty-dollar-induced general benevolence. Katashi slid the umbrella out of the cover without ever actually touching the plastic, thanked the vendor and continued.

He continued, the umbrella held in is hand still furled -- he had not, of course bought it for himself. He considered it good manners to have one when going to meet a lady, even though it was likely to be unneccessary.

After a short time, he stopped outside an apartment block. It was one of the nicer ones in the city -- while it did not have the almost resort-like clean sparkle of his own block, it was far, far less shabby than those which crowded around it.

He squinted upward, gagueing the height, dropped into a deep crouch, and leapt, landing daintily on the rail of Auren's balcony. Without touching the eave covering it over, he stepped carefully down onto the balcony itself.

The mildew on the windowsill stank. So did the dishes in the sink, the pile of dirty laundry, and the half eaten rat in the corner. Blaise carefully stepped around the door, carefully closed it behind him, and carefully tip-toed across to the windowsill, the one oozing with the slimy, gray mildew. He was already wearing those horrible, blue latex gloves (that all dentists seem to have), but pulled them off, and stretched a second pair onto his hands. These ones were a nice shade of lavender, and lavender scented, if one cared to sniff them. Carefully, ever so carefully, and making sure that he didn't brush his sleeves against the mildew, Blaise opened the window, and allowed himself to be sprayed by the water blown in by the wind. Again careful to keep his clothes and body mildew free, he leaned out the window into the downpour.

The rain quickly drenched Blaise's head and torso, but he didn't mind much. He rather enjoyed the sensation of cold drops running down his neck and sending chills through his spine. He liked the streams of water that made his dark brown hair stick together in long spikes, then dripped away to fall to the pavement five stories below. Blaise opened his eyes, looking through the blur of water with golden irises, and pupils much smaller than they should be in this cloud-induced gloom.

"Ahh..." Breathing out slowly, Blaise withdrew into his rat-hole of an apartment. He was now soaked from the waist up, with the exception of a patch of blue button-up shirt near his navel area. He shook vigorously to dry himself, rather like a dog, and managed to reduce 'drenched' to a comfortable 'cool damp'. But now, no time for celebration of the rain, by the schedule it was time to clean up the mess he had made in one of his more adventurous, and furry moods.

He slipped into the small adjoining bedroom, and emerged wearing one of those bright yellow suits that sanitarian experts wear if you have a large infestation of poisonous mold growing in your basement. The dishes were soon dispatched, as was the laundry, but not the rat. Blaise left that in case he got hungry at some later hour. At least he put it in the fridge (after mummifying it securely in plastic wrap). After vacuuming, dusting, wiping, and other general cleaning tactics, Blaise sprayed everything in disinfectant for a nice finishing touch (and a spring fresh scent). The suit came off, replaced by a his customary blue button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up, dark jeans, and a fresh pair of latex gloves; these were a pinkish red, and smelled of cinnamon.

Working for the BSPA did have it's advantages: you had plenty of wait time for house cleaning.

[I am...not really sure why I wrote that. Oh well.]

The naga shook her head and flipped her phone shut again. If Katashi had any sense of humor, he hid it very well. Auren stood by the counter for a moment, listening to the rain and drumming her clean manicured nails against the marble. If anyone else was callng, she would assume they hadn't left home yet. If Kakashi was calling, then he was approaching.

Nevertheless, more clothes needed to be acquired before they left. Crossing back to her bedroom, Auren wagered that she had time to dress before he arrived. And if she didn't, it was Kakashi was it not? He would find his way in on his own if needed.

There are guilty pleasures and then there are harmless pleasures. Auren's harmless pleasure was collecting clothes. The naga had lived long enough to have a very elaborate collection without any period reproductions or knock offs. She closed the door to her walk-in closet behind her and dressed quickly there in lieu of the open bedroom. Her decisions tonight were simple. Black strapless dress, black coat, black heels, black handbag. Simple, simple, simple. Yet perfect. Auren would blend in with the crowd she expected to find herself in.

Nathan, or Blancard for those who knew him long ago, was nothing without his ego and his money. His money and who it was going to was the cause of his current troubles with the Liberation.
Was he ever without an entourage or at the center of some important gallery opening? That would probably be the cause of their own troubles.

Auren looked in the floor to ceiling mirror. Hopefully she wouldn't look but so bad next to Katashi's unheard of immaculate wardrobe. The black brought out the subtle color in her hair and the green in her eyes, but dulled her skin to a smooth paleness. That didn't matter. What mattered was the small black designer jacket that had long sleeves and came down to end just around Auren's waist. A coat meant pockets for handy helpful things that her tiny handbag just couldn't hold all of. And tonight, they weren't just talking weapons.

((I already wrote it up; I'll put it in the profile thread.))

{>_> Yah. Eh heh heh, Yun stalks ye character.}