The night is dark, and full of splendors. Into the city, you will find some places that are loaded with pleasant surprises, unpleasant ones, and... a mix of both. Depending on what you desire and what really gets you kicking, this place could be either. The haunting harlot is a fine gent's hotel where nothing is as it seems. The owner of the hotel, a supposedly human man, appears dead in different predicaments every day. There is a great scavenger's hunt to find his corpse that runs from 18 in the eve to 18 again, and during this hunt some people have reported some even more... frightening situations than a constantly re-emerging corpse. There's been a woman, who comes into people's rooms, looms over them with an axe, eyes glowing red. There's been a little girl and boy, whispering to people ominously and skipping through the halls when it's time for shut-eye.
Worst of all, a monster can be found. He is extremely rare to see, most often appearing in people's closets or in the mirror when people find themselves entrenched in vanity. He, unlike the others, actually kills.
It is a place meant for a scavenger, and a survivalist. It is also, by chance, a place meant for Nephilim who wish to infiltrate the city unnoticed.
Posted: Wed Jun 18, 2014 12:06 am
nu███████XXX███████XXX███████XXX███████ numineIN THE END ` JUST LIKE SOLDIERS♕》*WEMARCHON! bad apple
xxx n×◞KING ⊰OF(KEVAI)*⇣EMPEROR OF♕ARAMIL! by numinex for the food chain do not steal! c:CHAMPION OF ANTONY
He tapped on the counter. The lobby of the hotel sort of felt like a dried old woman's crotch; the burgundy wood stale and rotted, the smell putrid and only at its best 'mundane'. The people looked like they were recovering addicts. The man at the counter seemed extremely perky, though the fact that he was dressed and done-up to look like a clown sort of removed the charm. And yet more than anything, West was excited. He enjoyed the prospect of staying in a place embroiled in fear. He enjoyed the prospect of being wary of a monster that murdered, and for no reason that could be understood. He would like to discover this monster and its purpose. What sort of beast it was, if it was a beast at all. For all anyone knew it could've only been a man. He supposed it depended on the psyche of those who lived, those who told the story. Whatever the case, he was here and he was checking in. A stay of six nights. If that would not be enough to rile him up, then perhaps his place truly was to be glued to the throne.
He looked at a board covered with portraits, of the people who came here and never left. So strange that they had the images of them. West could not recall having a portrait drawn of him, upon coming here. Perhaps the woman and the beast both spent time in part drawing their victims, and when the art was complete they would end their lives. He should like to see an incomplete portrait of himself. That would make this trip worth the while; an artifact from a very demented mind. "Your room is 26B, sir. You will be staying next to... ah, a vacant room." He began to giggle a little, as did the people sitting idly in the lobby. West looked back and raised an eyebrow, wondering why that was. "Don't worry about it. Enjoy your stay." He gave him his keys, and then West went on his way. "I will," he said. It would be such fun when the monster realized that a far more powerful creature than he roamed these halls. When the woman with the axe was being held against the wall and observed, helpless, pleading for her life.
Nocturne was a place to be for when the Emperor wanted to be the demon.
█ █████ YOU'RE GOOD▂BUT I'M『ALISTAIR 』 _______ I CAN NEVER S-S-STOP ►NOT BECAUSE I AM ⇩LIMITLESS _______________BUT BECAUSE I AM LIMITED XXX BUT BECAUSE I AM LIMITED _______________BUT BECAUSE I AM LIMITEDXXXBUT BECAUSE I AM LIMITED
The Haunting Harlot was perhaps the single most amusing building in all of Luimira. Every time someone died, 1/2 of the time, they stayed at the Harlot. Though, no one was ever really surprised to hear about a death at the Harlot. All of the locals, if they could afford it, stayed away. The only ones who stayed there were local impoverished junkies and tourists who were told that the Harlot was the only place someone could actually stay due to the nation being highly militaristic and there being so many areas funded by the military which were restricted to anyone but an actual citizen. But even the junkies knew better than to stay for long.
Every now and then, Alistair came to watch the hunt for the human's corpse, of course sanctioned by the Inn Keeper. While most took it seriously, thinking that if they find it, they'd win something, the Inn Keeper treated it as a game, a means of attracting tourists and taking their money. After all, whoever died in the Inn had their possessions taken away, and the Inn would be the new owner of the fine items procured from so many corpses. The only reason the king allowed this game to go on is because the Harlot brought so much money into the city, and every now and then he'd send a guard to threaten the Inn Keeper and the Inn Keeper would stay in Alistair's good graces by occasionally sending over a few of the items found on the guests. Some were powerful artifacts, but few were actually of any real monetary value.
The king had already been in the building for a few hours, calmly waiting for the hunt to start so that he could see who was the first to die, or something else to happen. When he heard a tap on the counter at the other side of the dingy lobby, he looked up. There were very few people that could get past the man unnoticed, and this just so happened to be one of them. Just once look and Alistair could see how strong the man was, and he could tell something about him. He was familiar. A man could change his name and his looks, but his blood would remain the same. It was that Incubus he fed from after his battle with the hybrid b***h. One that commended him for getting into a fight with someone supposedly from a higher tier than he was. But they both understood that ranks were of little importance. Power dictated. Not title around here. Being the strongest in Nocturne, Alistair quickly ascended to the throne, and no one questioned his takeover. He was the student of the former king and the strongest candidate. Only a fool would have challenged Alistair at that time.
But a lot of time had passed since he became King. Nocturne's influence in the world has fluctuated from high to low, depending on the king's political activity. With his absence in public functions, other nations have started to question the strength of the Dark Nation. Some nations even desired to try and lay siege to Nocturne. Upon hearing this information, Alistair only became more amused. The only thought that came to his head was, "Vaet Nocturnum." He thought aloud. All eyes moved to him. If West hadn't noticed him before then, he'd definitely notice him now. Alistair wasn't exactly dressed like a King. He wore black combat boots, black denim jeans, a plain black v-neck, and of course, a cured black leather jacket. Rugged in many ways. But Alistair never cared for 'threads'. Clothes ripped constantly in combat. He had dozens more in his chambers. "You." He called out. "Disguises don't really work around here. I'd know your blood anywhere... Vampires don't forget the taste of anyone's blood, or the scent."
Posted: Wed Jun 18, 2014 1:41 am
nu███████XXX███████XXX███████XXX███████ numineIN THE END ` JUST LIKE SOLDIERS♕》*WEMARCHON! bad apple
xxx n×◞KING ⊰OF(KEVAI)*⇣EMPEROR OF♕ARAMIL! by numinex for the food chain do not steal! c:CHAMPION OF ANTONY
Such a recognizable voice. The thing was, though, that West was not blind to the Shadow King's presence. He embraced this place for all its additions. The Demon even wondered if Alistair might in fact be the monster that roamed this hotel. He was, after all, a lycan as much as he was not. They had uncontrollable fits and loved to taste the skin of mortal men. But somehow he doubted that. Perhaps because he didn't see him lowering himself to hiding in closets or appearing behind people as they watched themselves breathe in a mirror. In response to the King's words, the Emperor did not even turn his head. He smirked by the corner of his lip, and spoke: "Indeed they don't. Just like how you, dressing as a commoner, won't blind me to your identity. I remember you in a thousand different ways." He remembered the last time he saw him, it was at the Spwoon Fort. He was there for much a different reason -- he wanted to discover how diabolus were different from Incubus, and if they too could be made pure. Alistair stopped him, but the insight he gained from that one situation was well worth the trip. He learned about the psyche of the King of the third most powerful nation in the world.
West, since then, had wondered every now and then how and when he might approach Alistair once more. He remembered that as he left last time, he told him they would meet again if Alistair should like it. And so he brought himself here, knowing that the man would notice him. And when he did notice him, he called him out. That was a good enough way of saying that he did in fact enjoy the notion of speaking to the desire demon once again. And so, he responded to that. "Interesting that I'd find you in a cheap hotel of all places, though. I suppose you Lumirians have always been worldly creatures." He turned to him, finally, though his eyes faced the portraits rather than the King. "Do you have a room here, or do you extend the right to simply invade others? If you say nay to the first, then maybe you should sleep in the suspiciously vacant 26A. That would be exciting. We'd be neighbors too. I've never slept on the same floor as a King. At least not within the past six months anyway." He shrugged. It was dastardly to count Kirin, so that would make Jasper the last. And that was dastardly too.
He wondered if Alistair even had the notion that West was the Emperor of Nocturne's rival nation. That they were natural enemies beyond the casual meet-ups that they partook in every now and then. That they were the second and third most powerful creatures on Axiom, behind Kaminae. They were so destined to be tied up with each other, just as Gaston was with his 'Giletti' brother. He was interested in learning more about this man. And even more interested in the possibility of friendship over animosity. Though he didn't expect a King of Nocturne to have alliances in mind over chaos and destruction. They were all a little wild at heart. That was what made them, them. It was their charm.
"Either way, my interest in this lobby has diminished to all but you. Would you like to take a joy ride with me to my room? If anything, just to avoid the smell. I promise I won't be too ecstatic about your exalted presence. At least outwardly." He laughed under his breath, and finally caught Alistair's eyes with his. Perhaps Alistair had noticed as well how greatly the world was beginning to evolve. West wondered if perhaps they could share in ways with which to face it. He liked the idea of conversing with an equal, for once, instead of always being "His Majesty" with the curtsies and the bows.
█ █████ YOU'RE GOOD▂BUT I'M『ALISTAIR 』 _______ I CAN NEVER S-S-STOP ►NOT BECAUSE I AM ⇩LIMITLESS _______________BUT BECAUSE I AM LIMITED XXX BUT BECAUSE I AM LIMITED _______________BUT BECAUSE I AM LIMITEDXXXBUT BECAUSE I AM LIMITED
Alistair was not a shut in. Well, he was, but it's not like he didn't have a bunch of people telling him s**t he barely cared about. An oblivious king was a weak king, and there wasn't a soul in the lobby who thought that either of the kings were weak. Alistair, by no means, was trying to dress up as a commoner, but at the same time, he wasn't dressing to impress anyone. If anyone wanted him to impress them, they could step into the Hellgrind with him. "Trust me... I wasn't trying to hide in plain sight. Not my fault I don't dress in fancy silk clothing, bedazzled with various jewels from Amaranthine. I'm sure you are quite familiar with our customs, Raphael... Sorry, I hear you go by West now. I'm sure everyone is convinced you're the same person, especially since you are ruling the same 'empire' and are an Incubus. Nice cover."
Looking around, the hybrid grinned as he leaned forward in his chair. "What? You guys don't have this in Uuma? Oh, wait. Judai! No!... Uhh, Luke's Landing, maybe? I apologize for my ignorance, it's just that the name of your capitol changes every five minutes." With a push, the man stood on his feet, thinking it rude that he was sitting while his esteemed guest was standing. "I treat every area of my city the same, though I have to admit I do enjoy the plush pillows. My body tends to sink into them, but I didn't always live like that. When we met, I wasn't even a royal guard. I slept here, like many of the sad fools here. It was... fun." His grin grew as he thought of all of the nights he couldn't sleep because of all of the sounds he'd hear. "Strangely enough, the idea of sleeping here again doesn't sound too pleasing. But, what the hell. Why would I sleep in my ridiculously comfortable bed with some possible Red Light entertainment when I could be here, with the Emperor?"
But for a second when he caught West's gaze, his grin faded. Though the contact broke once he began to follow West down the hall. "You just can't stay away, can you? Last time it was the Diabolus?" He stopped. "What is it this time?" With his voice and face as stoic as ever, Alistair waited for his answer.
Posted: Wed Jun 18, 2014 3:13 am
nu███████XXX███████XXX███████XXX███████ numineIN THE END ` JUST LIKE SOLDIERS♕》*WEMARCHON! bad apple
xxx n×◞KING ⊰OF(THE SOUTH)*⇣EMPEROR OF♕THE EAST! by numinex for the food chain do not steal! c:CREDO IN DEUM PATREUM OMNIPOTENTEM, CREATORM CAELI ET TERRAE
He rolled his eyes. It wasn't as if West was all that fancy either, save for during the opening ceremonies in the throne room. Even then he wasn't ever 'bedazzled', that awful word that needed to die screaming. Somehow, though, his train of thought completely shifted with Alistair calling him 'Raphael'. So, he at least remembered that. He was flattered that he had the time to recall his past aliases while trying to organize forty million sluts and thieves. The wonders of Nocturne never ceased. "You're right indeed. They're convinced because I told them as much. My Empire is not one of secrecy. We like to keep ourselves rather exposed." Just as he finished speaking, Alistair bombarded him with more sarcasm and blunt wording. He didn't mind though. He enjoyed each and every blow that came with the onslaught. They were spontaneous enough for him to almost find them clever, though really he mostly enjoyed rebutting them.
"I forgive you for your ignorance. At least it's better than the vast boredom I must face to have to change my capital's name depending on my mood. Once I get home I'll be sure to change it again, considering our new Vangelist association. Perhaps I'll also change my name to North after this lovely meeting of ours. Since, you know, Nocturne's in the north. How clever am I." He didn't bother trying to explain the changes or why they came. It was all about his dedication to Lukhan, his love for his people, the Incubus. And Judai was in the name of his matron. It was the great privilege of a monarch to name after how they felt, like naming cities after loved ones alive and dead. Though Alistair might not understand as much, considering Nocturne hailed strength over royalty. It was a different world indeed.
As Alistair stood, he nodded with slight enthusiasm. That was all he needed to see. He began to walk, go towards the upper floors with the King following behind him, speaking. He didn't bother to respond to the rest of what Alistair said at first, until of course he said his last. Why was West here? That seemed like a question he must've already known the answer to. But perhaps he wasn't as perceptive as he wanted to seem. "Remember that experience of living like a sad fool? All the joy of not having to be anything more than just a regular old guy? That's why I'm here, Maric. I don't want to be Raphael right now. I want to be West." It was not a different persona, but it had a different meaning to him. West was who he was when he became a demon. And for so long he was free. Raphael was the tormented man who was born a prince, born into all of this conflict and with the undying obligation to serve. Serve. Serve.
He wanted to serve himself. And the place to do that was not Kusana, Yuran or a Fraxon hellhole. It was the nation of misfits, up north and beyond the sea.
They made it to the second floor, which was consequently where '26A-B' was. It made sense, this hotel was wide rather than tall. Also quite hard to maneuver around. Maybe that was half the fun. He'd so hate to be running through these long hallways with a monster chasing him, looking for blood. "What about you, Alistair? Last time, you wanted to shove me out of your fortress to enforce your rules. Now? You called me out in the center of the lobby, and with no rule to enforce. Are you afraid of me, Alistair? Do you wonder if I'm here to spy, or to bring harm to your nation? I hope that's not the case. I'm hoping that you're just as curious about me as I am about you. You're a very dynamic individual. Rare. Enjoyable. I highly regard that." His hand fell over the door knob, and he twisted it slightly to let it slowly creak as he stood by the side of the hall, looking very perplexed by what might be on the Great King's mind.
Upon hearing that Aramil was an exposed nation, Alistair raised his eyebrows. "Perhaps a little too exposed. Secrets pour out of your nation faster than Queen Kora of Kranila can open and close her snatch." Perhaps that analogy was too vivid. It almost made Alistair want to barf, the thought of Queen Kora even having a snatch. Not that it was being put to use. But that was beside the point. Sure Nocturne was a nation that loved it's secrets, but secrets are what make the world spin and keep the money flowing in. "It's true. This nation is very secretive, and it's not a secret that we're a bit... divided. Though, one thing I've noticed is that Nocturne always rises again. Fenrir died, we gained the abortion known as Srin. If you think we couldn't have gone lower, think again. People were happy, military power faded and Nocturne became Yuran number 2!... But then he cut his losses, seemingly out of nowhere." Untrue, but that secret was only kept for pity's sake.
"Do you not think that changing the capital's name every so often causes... just a little disgruntlement in your nation? News can only travel so fast, and maps are hard to update and toss away. Trust me, I've learned to keep the old ones, to save money. I've still got the Lightning Dog's old map of when Aramil's capital was but a marker indicating a recent attack." It was truly odd seeing how different Aramil and Nocturne were. Aramil changed, too much. Far too liberal in terms of social standpoints. People were flamboyant and loved to binge on... everything. Their nobles grew fatter and fatter everyday. Their warriors, although strong, don't know what it's like to fight a war. Aramil was on the brink of a war, but it's never going to really happen. It was a shame really. Alistair would have admired it greatly if West stood his ground, continuing to practice his own beliefs. Nocturne never faltered in it's beliefs. From the day that the first Vampire claimed Vaet Nocturnum as the Nation's official religion and transitioned the first of the Maric line, along with many others, it never changed. Many kings may have not really enforced the culture, but it ran deep in many of the native's blood. The culture was so strong that even those who visited from rival nations couldn't help but admire. Even though Nocturne's power fluctuated from time to time, power always came back. It was only a matter of being better than the rest. That was what made Nocturne strong. Not having one single strong king, but an army of capable soldiers. Soldiers that would equal 5 of the enemy. War would be welcome. It'd give the soldiers a chance to prove themselves.
This was not to say that Nocturne was better, or that Aramil was better. The world was on the verge of a war. Fronta was growing in power, so much that soon it will eclipse all nations in power. Alistair was not quite ready to simply hand over the world to Fronta. It was not a battle of religion to him, it was a battle of power. He couldn't care less if Kala came to him and told him to go or not to go to war. She was not the one making the hard decisions. She did not organize the nation's military. If she wanted to take down Fronta, she could do it herself in the name of... herself. He'd fight, and sure... he'd fight in her name if he so chooses, but he'd never make his choices, especially to a decision that impacted so many of his citizens and soldiers based off of creatures and deities that didn't give him, or the citizens of his nation the time of day.
"I remember every second of my life. From watching my family move from being one of the most influential vampire families in Nocturne to nothing once the Lightning Dog took power, to once again gaining power along with House Valentine." People mistake Alistair as a man who hides behind his throne. There is no throne in Nocturne. The only thing you get upon becoming King is the biggest house on the block. No crown. No throne. Just the renown for being the strongest man in the kingdom. "I don't care if you're here to spy, or around to just whore yourself out. I don't fear anyone, and no one should fear me. Unless I give them a reason to. Should I have a reason to fear you, West?" That was it. It wasn't really a question that needed to be answered. Alistair could feel it inside West. He was not here to fight, or to wreak havoc. Honestly, he was wondering why West came here in the first place.
As he watched the door crack open, he couldn't help but smirk. Shadows were about.
Posted: Tue Jun 24, 2014 2:15 am
The Emperor rolled his eyes. Was that really all Alistair had to critique? The ails and woes of map-makers? "Please. I'm the Emperor. I don't have to flex my narrative based on the plight of map makers. I'm the one who in truth draws the map. Aramil's colonies expand daily because of my direction. With that in mind the maps are constantly changing anyway. They change every year. Every year new things about the world are discovered, and so the maps change. Over, and over, and over. If you want an exact, up-to-date edition at all times, then that's your thing. If anything, the map-makers benefit from change. They prey on the people with the inclinations to always remain current. And those people can brag about how they have a map of both Uuma, Judai and Lukhan's Landing. Though honestly the maps of Uuma before my rule weren't all that flattering. They did after all entail a lot of rubble and ash." He knew that Alistair was only mocking him, only joking with him. And the way to respond to that was not by acknowledging that fact and taking his words like a b***h would, but rebutting them until he surrendered himself entirely to a different subject.
And speaking of different subjects, the Emperor's absent-mindedness did not warrant a response to what Alistair sub-initially said; about Nocturne, and how it rose again. He mentioned Fenrir, which made West sound an "ugh". A touchy subject. Alistair may or may not have known the demon's history with him. If he didn't, then perhaps that was beneficial for West. He never had to let the King of Nocturne laugh about how his youth and naivety had him murdered at the end of a lycan's nails. "You gained me as well, remember? I served beneath Srin. I knew him. He was stupid but sort of like a brother to me, at the time. Regrettable days." He moved from that subject. The past didn't matter much if you cut out precedence. Everything from that point on became the source of future conflict.
In truth, West remembered almost everything that had ever happened to him, as well. Would that he could see the past from before he was born, he would surely remember even the subtlest details like the iris of his father's eyes. He was a man who remembered because he was a man that had only the past to look forward to, a time of growth and excitement, whereas the future was a time of aging, hardening, and experiencing responsibility and pain. The past was like a meadow, a field of flowers and each one plucked told a hundred hours of stories that marked him. Stories that he loved and enjoyed, not despised but endured.
Giletti was always a prominent family, although West wasn't a part of them. He was legitimized by his decision to convert, which made the angels in heaven sing lies in the name of their agenda. Or perhaps they had been so blinded by the years that they didn't even understand what was true and what was not, anymore. It was all about their interests. Who cared about who fathered West? And whether he was legitimate or not? He was of benefit to their scheme.
But he was not exactly of detriment to those who fell outside of their machinations. Demons, he was one of them. Nocturne? He was a luimirian at heart. He was of no danger, and Alistair knew that. He knew, and yet he asked. Why? Because he wanted to hear it from his lips, see it in his eyes. Perhaps all of this was only a game, Alistair bored and wanting to pass the time. Examine the fine and unique specimen. The thing was, West didn't really mind the examination. He enjoyed being able to speak his mind to the aggressive, though stoic King in the North. "I'm much like you, Alistair," he said. He finally took away from leaning on the wall and stepped into the room. He felt his way through and maneuvered his fingers to the lightswitch, flipping on the light -- with the ceiling fan by association -- and staring at the jive a** turkey that was considered a "room". He smirked, but said nothing. He continued his sentence. "Give me a reason to be fearsome, and I will be. I'll destroy men, women and children by the thousands. I'll disrespect their identities. Rape them. Flay them. But move away from that thought -- imagine you're not my enemy. My thoughts are instead directed at your value, not the ways in which I can kill you. Perhaps you could pleasure me. Or give me something of value. Not you specifically, just anyone. But if I were speaking about you specifically..." His fingers smoothed across his chin, and he turned to Alistair so that he may see him properly.
"You're a strong man. You're wise. You're resilient, not faint of heart or mind. You're handsome. You're royal. In all ways I see you as my equal, Alistair. With that in mind, in truth you have more to offer to me and my nation than any single person in the entire world. You could also be more of a threat to me and my nation than any other person in the world, if you did decide that you should be my enemy. Considering these two opposite extremes, I'd like to keep on your good side." He grinned, but only for a faint moment to emphasize his point. "We could be allies, Nocturne and Aramil. You and I. We could be friends, or just partners in crime. Or perhaps neither. I would very much like to keep an open mind about these things, for reasons fairly obvious." The man walked over, through the fairly wide hallway, his body slightly slouching as he stepped over and took a seat on a sofa in the interior of the room. When he was seated, he glanced up to eye the King. "Don't mistake me, however. I didn't come here on a diplomatic mission." He rolled his eyes. He could leave that sort of thing to Maria, she had infinite time for it in her ambition and old age. "I came for pleasure. For excitement. Things your people offer to perfection."
Alistair didn't forget. Yeah, they had gained the powerful Incubus Raphael, but he was too caught up with the king to really make a difference. Not to say that he was useless. No, he spent his time making sure the soldiers of Nocturne were strong, while Srin spent time flirting with everyone, unaware that his daughter was playing the living s**t out of him. "Your 'Demon of Rage' was a retard. He spent more time flirting with girls than he did keeping up Nocturne's reputation. Nocturne should not be peace partners with anyone. Allies with common interests... sure. But at least partner up with a nation with real strength. I mean... Haruki of Yuran? Did anyone know that little furball was like, 14 years old?" Maybe Alistair only noticed these things because Srin annoyed the living s**t out of him. Nocturne no longer legally allowed death to simply happen on the streets anymore. Luimira became safe. It was vomit inducing. It was the type of kingdom Alistair wanted to stay away. As a king, he knew it was imperative that he with hold Luimirian traditions, making the city dangerous once more. Dangerous was fun. Predictability wasn't.
But perhaps in his attempt to keep Nocturne strong, he made the mistake of cutting everyone else off. West included. Alistair shut the demon out, not even bothering to listen to what the demon had to say. Aramil had already taken one soldier from Nocturne before, he wasn't going to let it happen again. Last time it was Red, and she came back as a corpse. Stupid girl. For some time, he wondered if West knew of a girl with bright red hair that died in his kingdom, but then again, death occurred frequently in kingdoms. Too many deaths for the Emperor to really care about.
Typically when most people say that they are much like Alistair, the man can't help but laugh. It's not true, in any case. Well, maybe a few. West, like Alistair, practically made the nation. Without West, Aramil would fall close next to Yuran in terms of strength. There would be no Kevai. There would be no Empire."I'd heard of your siege of Yuran. When you left, your... other king simply vanished. Then he came here, stirring up trouble looking for his lover, Danielle O'Malley. She was a soldier of Nocturne, then fled to Aramil. She was... very lively when she returned..." A joke. Red was a corpse. A Feral. "Please tell me that fool is no longer king. I had heard you took the man as your lover, then made him king. You should have just kept him as your whore, in the long run."
The thought of allies brought Alistair back to his original topic. When a kingdom had allies, it meant that they were obligated to always help them out. Kusana and Pronta were allies, but Pronta never received any help. What good were allies when people never live up to their promises? But there was something about the demon, whether it was the initial allure that the Incubus projected out or maybe Alistair became flattered with all of the compliments the man gave him. Either one of them could cause significant damage to each others nations should they make enemies out of each other. Alistair didn't want West as an enemy of Nocturne as much as West didn't want Alistair as an enemy of Aramil. "I don't care much for Aramil, but having you as an enemy isn't exactly... favorable. I'll tell you what. In terms of our kingdom, we keep doing what we do best. Aramil can continue to bully Yuran and Nocturne will... well, you'll see. I don't imagine Fronta having so much power forever. I don't like the idea of getting into entangling alliances but as long as you don't march on lands belonging to Nocturne, sure. Consider us allies."
Once West walked into the room, Alistair followed suit. "I didn't expect anything less. Honestly if you were here to be a diplomat, you would have gone to the Estate. Instead you came here." If the man came for pleasure, he... probably came to the wrong place. Unless he wanted some sort of STD, which would ruin the perfection thing going on there. "We don't give handouts here. You want to have fun? You want pleasure? Take it."
Posted: Wed Jun 25, 2014 4:33 am
Alistair mentioned a lot of things of interest. He mentioned Srin, and West before he was West. He mentioned Danielle, also known as Red, and the man that accompanied her: Kirin. Lots of unpleasant topics. It was almost as if every time Alistair sent words between his lips, he was conjuring up an unfortunate series of events from the demon's past. However he was not so weak as to ignore them or flee from their mention. Instead, he took the moment to speak of them all. All except for Srin, of course. Why? Because he was old news, even amongst the other subjects. He had become so rotted that there wasn't a bite left to chew. And the irony is that he was the only one out of these people that happened to still be alive. Probably at least. "Kirin and Srin are the same story. I gave them the benefit of the doubt. I trusted their loyalty over their intellect. But they weren't even loyal. Both were cowards. Both were delusional enough to love the sluts that they did. Both paid for it, and lost my attention for good." Then that brought Danielle into play. Danielle. Danielle.
He hated that name. He hated mention of her. She was a creature of spite, of insubordination, of weakness. Her last act was to kill herself, forever proving her intolerance for justice, for judgment. And she came back to life, fleeing to Nocturne? Not surprising. But that brought something to his mind. "Does she still live?" He asked. "If she is still here in your nation, I'd like to ask something of you. That we seal our alliance with her blood. I regard her with only one singular emotion: disgust. I'd love to see her burn." It was possibly something to ask of Alistair, but she was a rogue who had been punished by Aramil and labeled a traitor. If she were to be around, then he could not abide that. His pride wouldn't allow it. His heart squirmed at the thought of that creature roaming around, stitched together from her million scraps.
He went back to thought of Kirin. Those two were obviously very closely tied, as Alistair knew already. "I made him King of Kevai. And yes, I did make him my lover. But he was dishonest. And he started to think himself above me. He was my vassal, not my equal. I was the Emperor when he was the King. Some ambitious climbers just don't understand feudalism well enough." He had a new candidate in mind for the title, anyhow. Akeem. He wasn't a lover, but he did bring West pleasure. Great pleasure. Just his sight was enough. And he was loyal, and much more competent than Kirin. He could at least balance thoughts of these unfortunate creatures with one man that overcame them. Then he could get his head back on.
"As for the state of the alliance, it's simple. I won't declare a single offensive war without your agreement. I expect the same of you. If someone declares on either of us however, then we will be obligated to protect each other from harm. A typical alliance. Fully mutually beneficial. I imagine it will do wonders for the two of our nations." Though the Vangelists of Aramil might not be all that happy, what with West allying with the enemy of their faith and kind. He would only have to remind them that this was an ally with the King of Nocturne, not the nation itself. He would not attach himself to the actual people of this place. They were far too crude for that.
Still, more than anything this agreement was a great success on his part. Maria could say that ultimately West should be allying with Fronta, but that didn't suit his interests. He was a Giletti, and the King of Fronta before Gaston. That throne was rightfully his. He was bred for it, named for it, he deserved it. His ambition was not suited by ganging up on Nocturne with his brother. He didn't enjoy the prospect of making Alistair into an enemy, either. Why? Because he was a special man. West was a special man. Upon their collision he found himself very much drawn to the other in a multitude of ways. There were few moments so opportune as the ones he spent in Alistair's presence.
The King spoke of pleasure. The demon grinned, looked into the Fairhair's eyes. Then his own gaze zoomed down, and quite straightforwardly, he sized the man up before him. "I will." An implication if there ever was one.
"When I'm done taking what I came for, I'll be resuming a hunt of mine that's been ongoing for the past few years. Considering we're allies now I'd like to tell you about it." Mostly because Alistair in particular was strong. With both he and West, taking on the sea witch became much more possible. "It's about Kaminae. You know about her. She's the strongest creature that walks Axiom, that we know of at least." He doubted there was another, considering they'd probably sieze power if there was. It was likely that Kaminae, West and Alistair were the strongest that walked. "She's an unfortunate accident that has caused Aramil countless grief for years and years. She weakens my nation tremendously, and therefore weakens your ally as well. Not only that, but she keeps Los Anthos out of international trade and commerce for the ill of all nations. They could become our allies as well, as we would be known for all of time as their liberators." West had been thinking about this for a long time. About a way to more than rival Fraxen, but to defeat it. Los Anthos was the key.
"They could embargo Fraxen with their naval supremacy. They could stop their ships from assisting in the movement of troops and the invasion of their homeland. If you think about it, their ships are their only actually method of transporting troops beyond the Great Gate of Fronta. They would be trapped in their home territory while we could wreak havoc on their interests across the globe. Their ally, Kusana, would find itself battling against three nations far more powerful than it. Yuran will be a sphere of my influence in not too long, as well. We could split the world between us, Alistair." He stood up, stepped over to the man, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "All it would take is Kaminae's demise. And I believe that you can help me with that." West's ambitions were endless.
Somewhere along the line, he decided that he wanted to rule the world. Perhaps it was the moment he declared Aramil an Empire and rested that jagged crown atop his head.
As Alistair heard the man speak out against both Srin and Kirin, he couldn't help but laugh. The problem that West faced was that he was looking for love in places beneath him. Srin was about as low as a cockroach. Kirin... driving him out of Nocturne was easier than roasting someone alive. "Tell me that, at some point, you didn't love them? Or thought you loved them? How many times have you experienced love and then betrayal shortly after? Does your heart seek it's own destruction? Is it privy to that sort of thing? It's true. They were dumb as rocks, but they made you feel alive, for a time. They made you care. You know as much as I do that people like us... it's hard for us to care like that." He paused for a few seconds. Speaking about it made the King burn up inside. He knew everything he spoke about from experience. "The weak stick to the strong like parasites, sucking out every ounce of power they can from those they know are better than them. A weakling thrives on other's powers and will exploit them in the most cruel of ways. The man didn't have to speak out for West to know what he was talking about.
Love. Cliche as ever. Love isn't magical, it was poisonous. It's a tool that people use to exploit people that are better than them. The real kicker was that it wasn't even real. Alistair met the same fate that West did, despite his best intentions. All it took was a pretty face with red locks and he was smitten. Her touch made his fiery skin jump. Her presence alone was enough for him, and when she was around, there wasn't a single soul that mattered to him. She knew that. Perhaps in the beginning it was all modest and true, but power will shake the weak. Make them do whatever it takes to get more of it. Soon after, she asked to be Queen. That's where it all went sour. She wanted the title. She already had the new soldier's trust over Alistair's. She just wanted the power he had. The power to rule. In a solemn voice, he spoke. "I want to tell you a tale of a red haired whore. There once a girl named Danielle O'Malley, who was as pure as honey. A human who didn't know the first thing about battle or blood. The moment she laid her brown eyes into those of a deep azure, she changed. She left shortly after, finding a man ascending the throne of another nation, almost marrying him for the same power. But then, she died. Her soul lost. When she returned, her skin was pale, ripped in several places. Cold to the touch. She called herself Red, and she attached to the Hybrid King like a parasite. What he knew, she wanted. What he had, she wanted. She began using her body as a method of torturing the king. She didn't physically torture the man, just mentally. She made him want her. When they finally consummated, she grew twisted. Her true intentions showed, and something malevolent took hold. From inside her body, the Sin, Lust, took form. She ruined her kingdom and now she wanted a new one. I suppose her host couldn't have a king the first time around, but two times the charm, huh? Do you know that King did in response? He shut her out. Made her out to be the whore that she really was. A power hungry whore."
"Do you wish to know Danielle O'Malley's fate? As a Feral, there were very few ways for me to get rid of her, especially with that Sin there. I had a Necromancer dismantle her. She's gone." As angry as Alistair was, he still loved her. It was one of life's cruelest of jokes. Hearing West asking for her blood only made his blood boil. "I want to tell you a secret. I'm not some enigmatic king, I'm not special. I don't have as much power as people think I do. You say you see me as your equal and I say you're a fool. I am just a fool who was too stupid to see that he was getting played. I'm no better than the most common of men. I let my anger get the best of me. I fuel my fire with just the right amount of rage. I've gotten where I am on blind rage. This... king you see before you is just a man. I'm no demon, I have no Sin. The Gods look down upon me and ignore me. I'm about as special as a rock."
Perhaps the man went too far, but he saw something in West. Saying that he trusted the demon was foolish, but he did so nevertheless. If the alliance they were promising each other was going to work, it was probably important for West to know that the King before him was a man before he was the King of Nocturne, just as West probably expected Alistair to know. Only a King could understand a King. Regardless of their title, both were the absolute rulers of their lands. If there were anyone that could understand what it was like to be in his position, it wouldn't be his captain. It wouldn't be Riza. It would be West. "... The terms are sound. But I have a question for you. How will your nation feel when it finds out that you've allied yourself with 'Kala's Nation'? Will you defend Vaet Nocturnum? Will you tell them that you yourself once worshiped the same gods. One can always find new gods, but the old ones will always be with you. It's a fact that every Luimirian knows."
He himself will have to deal with his nations resentment towards peace treaties in general. Treaties entitled obligations that would be difficult to withhold especially since Nocturne's forces were so low on power to begin with. Alistair, his captain and another promising recruit were the only real help he could promise. Perhaps their power could make up for the sea of fledgelings in the nation. But for the most part, Alistair nodded. "If you go to war, expect whatever I have to offer to be at your side. I expect the same." The King just hoped that this wouldn't be a war based on religion. His nation would not follow him if he fought for Michael. As loyal as Nocturne was, more were loyal to Kala than to Alistair, despite all of the nothing she has done for everyone.
But when he went along to share his concerns about Kaminae's growing power along with her sudden activity in Los Anthos. Alistair never really cared for the tales because her activity never really impacted him. The jewels that he received from Amaranthine took a shorter route, not bothering to deal with the Mer of Los Anthos. "I don't care for the freedom of a few tailed bitches. I'm no liberator. It's true that, with their help we could severely limit what Fronta can do. But how many of our men's lives will go into killing Kaminae? Will you get your hands dirty? I won't give you anyone but myself for this fight. What I promise though, is that I'm no good in a water fight." It was the truth. Alistair focused on flames, while simple water wasn't enough to distinguish the flames of Hell's Grasp, it made it severely weaker, and with Kaminae being the strongest being on Axiom... unless West had a way to force Kaminae away from her domain and out of the water, for even just a minute, then Alistair could assist.
But the implications of going against Kaminae were too great. Kaminae revealed herself to be a servant of Kala. "I don't think you realize what could happen to Nocturne if we help you destroy Kaminae. Kala could very well remove the eternal darkness from my nation, sentencing millions of vampires to death and severely weakening every Lycan hiding under the moonlight. What is Nocturne with a Sun? Will we become The Land of Horus again? Forced to betray hundreds of years of customs and traditions of finding our true selves in the light of the full moon and take up the teachings of Ameterasu? In Kala's eyes, I'd be assisting a Vangelist in destroying another servant of Kala. I'll be flayed alive." Perhaps he was thinking to radically. Maybe Kala would welcome the chance for one of her followers to test their might against her greatest servant.
Posted: Thu Jun 26, 2014 5:15 pm
He wasn't sure how to answer Alistair's questions. He knew that he loved Kirin, if not for the briefest of moments. He knew that he cared for Srin and would've fought to protect him. But only because he was incredibly naive back then. He was naive, and proud to be naive. He was kind, and happy to be kind. He fought to keep himself alive despite his weakness, and many loved him for it. Isis came to be fond of him for his rather gold-laced view of the world. Maria found a hope in West that she hadn't imagined with any other. Of course after so many years that view diminished when he began to realize the intentions of the people around him, those cold hearted men and women. At first he felt that he had to atone, and that was why he acted the way he did. It was because he killed Jonathon, his first lover. He blamed himself for his entire life and thought that only compassion could mend the rupture he'd left. But this quest for atonement only weakened him more, and saddened him more. He began to realize that others were not like him. They did not even bother to atone, instead they always blamed their troubles on everyone else. Nothing was ever their burden or their shame. They were always right, everyone around was always wrong. Everything was about them. Everything about them was good.
He grew disgusted with people. The first hint of this change again came with his own actions. That was what it all came down to after all. He could see that Alistair changed in a similar way, he was blinded by emotion and enlightened by the desires of others. He trusted Red, he was consumed by Red. But she was an opportunist, and she in truth did not care for others. West knew that. "I'll tell you a story of my own," he started. "It's about Kirin, Danielle, Isis and I. It begins and ends with something very simple that I allowed to consume me. It was an overwhelming need for someone, something to share my burdens with. The longing for an eternal companion that many people feel. Despite being an Incubus and therefore designed to abandon my lovers, I have always had quite the romantic spirit. Kirin was just another attempt to find a companion in a long line of failures. And when I saw Danielle begin to take him away I grew so desperate. First Isis told me that she and Kirin were seeing each other, and that she liked him. I shrugged it off, I knew that she couldn't possibly compete with me. I was the Emperor. But somehow, she could." He didn't understand this notion in any way but the most simpleton of explanations, as to how some homely looking peasant girl could compete with the Emperor of Aramil. It was perhaps only because Kirin himself was a homely peasant boy, and so they belonged together. It made him wonder if a King could ever be seen in a human light instead of an outlet for other people's ambitions.
He sighed. He didn't think he wanted to tell the rest of the story. It was all about how he grew weak and pitiful, and absorbed himself in a matter as simple as trying to remove some weak girl from the picture. All he had to do was send Isis to assassinate her, but he dragged it out for so long that even he forgot why the game was still being played. And then at the climax, when it was all over, he left himself wondering whether it was worth it at all. He could've simply abandoned thoughts of Kirin and went for another. He just felt so hooked on that man, even though he was stupid and average of looks. He didn't want to bounce from man to man and dream for one to accept him. It made him feel pathetic. It wasn't how a King should live.
Alistair's secret revealed a lot that he didn't expect to hear. He didn't expect the man to trust him so much, and yet he did. It was strange how they found themselves just letting go with one another, even being the greatest rivals and men that could very much harm one another. They didn't care, because both of them weren't bad people, surprisingly. They both wanted to trust someone, but never properly could. "You're not alone. I was getting played too. I got angry. It's happened so many times. And I've paid for it every time. But I act the same way again, I don't learn. I can't change because I am only a man. I don't even belong with the rest of my demon-kind; I've turned on them, and for what? A fleeting relationship with Michael so that Aramil doesn't fall victim to a crusade? We are all weak, grasping at straws, trying to survive in a world dominated by the Gods. We are all their playthings. We are all equal in that respect."
As for Alistair's question, West knew very well the implications before he extended the offer. He knew how to fight this. If there was one thing he was good at, it was ruling. "The current generation of my people are very divided in thought. But in one way they are all equal: they came to my nation as a refuge. Some were prisoners shipped in by Fraxen, generations past. Some are Mer trying to escape their wicked Goddess. Some have fled from Nocturne, from the fighting and the suffering that takes place there. You see though, what my people want is not peace. It's the same thing I want, being a refugee myself. It's vengeance. It's the death of Kaminae, the death of Gaston, the divine right to rule the world. When it comes to allying with you they'll say "who cares"? They'll seek only to use you, Alistair, and then turn their attention onto you. But by then they will no longer want war. They'll be tired. The politics of being aristocrats and citizens of the upper echelon of nations will consume them. They'll turn their thoughts to me, their leader, and what I can do for them. And then my bet will begin." He didn't say what that bet was, there was no need to say it. It was a secret buried deep in the confines of his city, a scheme that would secure his place on the top of the world.
As for Alistair only offering himself, that was all that West was asking for. He bowed slightly, and agreed. "Yes, it shouldn't involve anyone but you. I can't be sure I can trust anyone but you, honestly. There are many who could gain a great deal from revealing our secrets to Kala. I've invited only people that I believe in." There were a few elite in his team, all men and women that had been harmed by Kaminae or the demons in their lives. People who had lost friends and loved ones to their schemes. He had to trust them.
As for what Alistair said last, West had an answer to that. It was something that Eklopyter, the first of his kind, told him while he wandered his dreams. Mano-a-mano, demon to demon. It was a thought that could reconcile any doubt of Alistair's, as to what the penalties for this feat might be. "Kala won't be able to do anything. The Gods can't hurt those outside of their plane. Only Michael can, because he designed Axiom to be impervious to other Gods. He did this to protect humans and the world from rogue angels at first, but this rule has grown to protect us from that monster as time has gone on. Why else would she not have destroyed us all already? Why did a mage have to be the one to cast Vaet Nocturnum over Nocturne, and not her? She is powerless to change the world. Only we can." As for the treachery that his people might see in him, West shook his head. He didn't see it the same way.
"Your people value strength above all. Come back to Nocturne wielding Kaminae's scales, dragging her head atop a cart, and see what sort of reaction you garner. It won't be spite and hatred, but praise. Glory. They'll see you as the greatest King to have ever been. Plus, how many of your people actually want to see Kala's dreams come true? To see all life fade and all pleasure, bloodshed, debauchery with it? You know as well as I that your people are loyal to her because they fear her. Once Kaminae dies though, they won't have reason to fear Kala for any longer." This was something he had learned from the pages he had so far, and it was something that would change the world as they knew it. For good. "If she dies, the gates of hell will open, and all of the dead souls of Axiom will return to the world. Hell will be emptied of its resources. Souls are power. They give strength to Michael and Kala. They are like livestock, like investments that garner great return. If the gates open, then Kala will be weakened tremendously. She will be weaker than Michael, and so he'll walk Axiom again and make amends for all that she has done to us. And he won't offer Nocturne his wrath, but his gratitude for helping to make this dream a reality."
It was all perhaps a fantasy or a dream that it could happen this way, but it was what the pages wrote. It was what the angels wanted the people who would put an end to Kaminae to know.
"Things are all boiling down to this. All of the strife across hundreds of years is rising up to surface and soon enough the world will be at war. No matter what, the world is going to change. I believe we can make it change the way that we want it to, if we're the first to act."
As the King listened intently, he knew that West hadn't told anyone but perhaps his closest friend this tale. It wasn't easy for a King to relay stories of their weaknesses. Especially to other Kings. Alistair told West things that he had never told anyone else. How he let a stupid little girl get into his mind, and even with her gone, she was still there. Gnawing at his consciousness, appearing on the face of every whore he slept with. It was why he seized them from behind, all in the attempt to not look at their faces, too afraid to look into the Red eyes flashing back at him. He said nothing for a few seconds. Even though he confided much in West, the details of what happened with him and Red and her lingering in his mind... it'd make him look like the weakest king ever.
To everyone, he was King Alistair I of House Maric, first hybrid king to serve the nation. He was resilient, strong, stone jawed and incredibly tame in terms of his behavior. There were many kings deemed as flight risks that were disposed of, too many in Nocturne's history. But it was the first time in Nocturne's history that it's king has never been challenged in the middle of his rule. It was a great accomplishment. But it was a lie. No one challenged his rule because Alistair never confided anything in anyone, and so his secrets remained with him, sealed behind pursed lips and a cold gaze. From the moment he was turned, the aristocrats of Nocturne saw it fitting for the hybrid to serve as king, in hopes that it could mend the relationship between the Fairhairs and the Vampires. It was all so cliche. But the result was that he wasn't accepted by either of the groups. That was the result of his turning. His old friends turned their backs on him. He was a monster. But the only thing he told them was that, 'In life, the monsters win.'
It was the truth. Alistair was King, not them. Alistair had more power than he knew what to do with. "I know what it's like to be shut out from those you should be calling brothers and sisters. The Vampires have shunned me. I am no longer welcome to join them in their blood feasts. The Fairhairs see me as an abomination. I transform just as they do, I don't even require blood to live anymore, but they think they can see every drop of blood that has passed my lips. They look at me. Smell me. They know I'm not one of them. I'm a monster. So are you. But I'll tell you one thing. In life, the monsters win." West wouldn't be standing here in front of Alistair right now if that statement weren't true. Had the king of Pronta or the Queen of Kranila came to offer an alliance between their nations, Alistair probably would have killed them on the spot. Their sheer stupidity would have alone been an insult by them being in Nocturne.
As West explained the that the complications Alistair thought about were illogical, he appeared as stern as ever. He was right in all aspects but one. Just because Kala herself could not come down didn't mean that she would never take on a vessel. Many angels and demons have done it in the past and many more will do it in the future. "A mage was strong enough to cast the spell and walk away, unhindered by it. Do you honestly think his power alone was enough to cover an entire continent? He was great, but not that great." Alistair didn't care if the gods took it out on him, but even though the vampires and the lycans have shunned him from their rituals, he cared for each and every one of them. He cared for their survival, for their chance to show the world that they too can change it and grow stronger than anyone before them. He sought out to protect all of the others like him. The ones with the potential to strike down a god.
"Then tell me. How exactly do you propose we bring about Kaminae's demise. Maybe it's just the fact that she isn't a problem for Nocturne, but the last time I checked, the Mer worship her like a goddess for a reason. Her power is overwhelming. I've heard the tales. With an eye roll she could cause tidal waves, imagine what she could do if she actually targeted any one of us. Maybe she could pull a Fenrir and bend the blood in my veins." Truthfully, the thought of not knowing worried him. He went into battle blind a lot of times, not really knowing what his enemy was capable of, but those guys were just men. Kaminae was a powerful creature, empowered by Kala. One thing was sure: he was not going in blind to fight Kaminae.
Posted: Thu Jan 08, 2015 9:05 pm
And there they were. While in the club, Amias had sneakily had another discussion with his sexual quarry; in order to find out where the elves were hiding out now that Nocturne had become demon paradise. And it turns out, they had taken up refuge with the Nephilim inside of a very abandoned hotel. "From what I learned at the club, this is where we'll find the last population of Elves that decided not to immediately flee from Nocturne. If anything, we'll encounter some nephilim as well. Two birds with one stone, i say." With that, Amias strode into the hotel, only to find that his quarry...was the receptionist. A dark elf with a cheeky grin and frustratingly sarcastic eyes was waiting for him to come up and claim a reservation or rent a room, fingertip tapping impatiently the entire time. When Amias strode up, he said only one thing. "I'm not here for a room. There's something else I require from you. Something a little more devious, but nothing you can't handle."
Energy (1400/1400 Energy) Stats 10/12 Equipment Gauntlets Passives
• Glory To Me Pagans are very... noble. They have the air of a King or Queen about them; even a divine. This comes from this particular ability. 'Glory To Me' is a mental allure that they constantly release from their vessel, similar to an Incubi's seduction, but weaker. Rather than seducing people, this ability fools their mind. It can make them see things that aren't real. In fact, they can even feel these things. This ability is literally impossible to ignore or break out of, but it serves little benefit other than prestige. A Pagan will often use this power to make themselves appear divine; the sun will rise behind them, their clothing will flow and shine with the breeze, they'll just seem so... God-like. They can even change their appearance using this, although it's a temporary thing. This ability can have some uses in battle, though. For example, if a Pagan is to cast a shadow over themselves, it'd make them harder to see. If they make the sun shine behind them, they can make their enemy flinch away from the overbearing light. They can also fool enemies into thinking they've struck a shield or something like that, although that sort of manipulation over reality is something that only Pagans who focus on this type of power can do.
• Three Wishes Up to three times per fight, the djinn may manipulate the force around an attack to redirect it for two ranks less in energy. This can only be done on skills of one rank higher than them. This is an extremely powerful passive of the djinn, an intelligent djinn capable of using it to largely make up for their vulnerability to ranged magic. It can also help to leave an enemy open in close-quarters combat.
• Mind Games The djinn have a permanent 'force' around their skin that will reduce incoming damage by a rank (excluding holy and unholy magic). This puts them on the same level of base defensibility as a werewolf, although they can't regenerate, so... At adept rank, this force can become amplified by the djinn's mind, psychomanually controlling the level of force in the layer of magic. They can apply energy to it to block all manner of attacks, meaning they don't really have to learn defensive abilities. It is really no more potent than any other defense of its rank, though.
The Receptionist: Jovine ----------------------------------------------
The receptionist smiled at Amias as he approached him, getting ready to offer him a room but soon stopped when he spoke about something else. "Oh? What is it that I can help you with sir?" He asked as his hands went down to his lap, slowly reaching for the warning button to evacuate the entire hotel of the residents inside. "Devious eh? What does that entail from you?" He asked as his voice was a tad on the annoying side as he glared at the man. He was a business man, not someone who delved with the devious, so it was obvious he was trying to keep himself in a calm demeanor.
