Perhaps in a cliche manner for such an evening, the skies above this strange little bar in the middle of absolutely fucking nowhere were overcast with thick, black, rumbling clouds, rain thundering into the ground in sheets, and lightning a constant companion to the air. Perhaps it was just coincidental, or perhaps it was the world reacting to the select people gathering in this place that night. Maybe a bit of both- But it made for a nice, gloomy air to the meeting that was to take place.

The tiny bar in which the group was to meet was just as cliche as the storm raging outside- A simple, small structure of wood and brick, a flickering neon sign above the door marking it as 'Ricky's'- More commonly known as the only building for several dozen miles in any direction. Inside, there seemed to be, well, nobody. Nobody but one man, apparently awaiting other's arrival. In some brand of dark humor he sat underneath a gaudy banner in the middle of the little pub, by a table covered in bottles of booze, party food, and a very dead demon, laid across the table with its blood soaking into the wood, most of its organs neatly set out around it. The man himself swirled a wineglass in hand, appearing quite bored and sipping from the thick fluid within- Far too dark to be real wine. He simply stared at the door with pale white eyes, the metal claws on his hand tapping against the glass and the immense white wings behind him idly flapping, stirring the banner over his head to briefly make the words printed on it clear- 'Welcome, Hell's Angels!'.

The man's brows furrowed and he muttered to himself.
".... God needs to stop trying to throw us parties."

The rain rain slanted sideways as the figure moved through the rain. The man reached up and puled up his green cloth hood against the rain. His back lacked wings and his head lacked a halo but there was a pale aura that seemed to pierce the darkness around him driving back the rain. Holding the hood with his right hand the vambrace on his left hand bounced against the hilt of the sword sheathed on his left hip as he moved through the rain. Lightning split the sky once and then twice before flashing down toward the man in the rain but he simply lifted his left hand and a half dome of pale light appeared above his hand and the lightning was diverted around the figure. He chuckled to himself "really, lightning? that's kind of juvenile." He continued through the driving rain toward the bar in the middle of nowhere, literally. Nowhere just like the cartoon with the dog and the two elderly individuals. The name chuckled at this work of mortal drivel that had been concocted the entertain small children yet strangely the mindlessness of the television program amazed him. He was over a thousand years old and yet the mortal invention of Television amazed him, particularly cartoons. He chuckled again at the thought of a lightning bolt hitting him and the idea of it turning him into a skeleton before he crumbled to dust. Wouldn't the others love to see him reduced to a pile of ash by a lightning bolt, too poetic for him though. He'd know grace once, been damned once and risen again, this time he was here to stay. The man stomped up to the front of the bar and pushed the door open and ducked his head into the bar as he stepped across the threshold of the bar taking it all in, including the Risen sitting at the table and the disemboweled demon on the table. "Well I see you started the party without me" Samael pushed the hood back from his face, his eyes shone misty grey and pale without iris or pupil.

A young, crimson haired woman crashed the party -literally crashed as she ran into a table she was moving so fast- soon after. "Ah! Have you seen the weather? It seems that our presence is damning the entire..." she was going to say town, but after a look out the window it just didn't fit. So, instead, she just continued her lament. "I do so hate getting wet. Although," here a devilish smile formed on her lips, "Perhaps I look better that way. Just think! Soaked to the bone, shivering and in need of a warm body to hold onto. The water would cause the clothes to just cling to my very form!" A laugh. "Ooh, I'm going to have to try that trick next time."

It's worth mentioning that since she has risen, Lynarra has not slept with a single person. In their sleep. Without them knowing. Okay, so maybe she's not as good as she wanted to be, but she really is trying. Besides, she's a succubus, she can't just abstain. It would probably kill her. So, now, she actually picks up guys in bars to get what she needs. It's ridiculous, just how much work it is, but somehow it is also refreshing. Men now choose her. Sure, it isn't her real body, but hey, it means she knows what men want all the same.

The woman plopped into a chair and placed her head on the table. "I don't know why I show up to these things. They're so boring." In her human form, she could not even fly around for fun. That wasn't a good idea anyways, part of the reason she'd chosen this look for tonight. "I mean gosh. I can't hook up with any of you! You're all so..." Here she grimaced before a pout took its place. "It's so unfair. Why does He have to be so... lame? Not to mention..." she paused gazing at the two in the room with a confused look in her gray eyes. "wouldn't we be Heaven's Demons?"

Amidst the chaotic mix of risen and fallen, into the bar stepped a rather ordinary looking human being. A young woman, of slender build, clad in decidedly ordinary clothing, fit for walking a decent bit of distance, but not quite sporty. One had to look presentable in their casual attire, after all. Jeans and a leather jacket were the choice for today, though they seemed to fit so well with the persona that one might as well expect to see this young woman wearing the same composition every day.

Her striking blue eyes slowly glanced from one person to the other, a strangely neutral expression on her features, as if a young man with claws and wings, a disemboweled hellbeast and a pair of other somewhat out-of-place characters were completely par the course. Of course, they were. And to their unnatural eyes it would be apparent that this young woman was anything but human. She stepped her way non-chalantly over to the bar, leaning against it languidly and folding her arms under her supple chest.

"Nice place." she mused, eyeing the extent of Ricky's humble interior "I never thought God would share my enthusiasm about fantasy tropes. It's like the start of a DnD session. "You all meet in a bar.." and all that. Next thing you know - rats in the basement that need slaying. In our case - demon rats."

"So, this is supposed to be the meeting of our little club. I was hoping for there to be more of us, but this will have to do. I imagine some of us have met before, on occasion, both on opposite sides, as well as the same one." at that, the woman glanced briefly toward Samael, smirking faintly and then continuing in dry tone "But heck, what's the entire Legion of Hell against all four of us? You know, all gathered in one spot and just waiting to be ambushed?"

Despite the rather grim expectations she spoke of, the woman seemed anything but concerned, her brows raised faintly, and her eyes squinted faintly in a wry, light-hearted smile.

She was, perhaps, in transition. Her eyes were wheels of flame, spinning and shifting to fill the entire eye and lick at the edges or narrow to a pupil surrounded by obsidian. To humans and lesser demons, the hellfire that filled her eyes was simply too bright to look directly into, particularly when she was actually using her abilities. What rain touched her skin gave startled hisses and turned to steam, efficiently cloaking the woman in a cloud of thick white vapor. If one were to catch sight of her from a peripheral glance, they'd see the fire that coalesced around her form, taking the shape of wings that spread gargantuan and boiling behind her.

With each step closer to her destination, the fire in her eyes began to settle and become mere irises, the black shrinking in to become a pupil and leaving the remainder of her eyes a human's white. Her hair, which had been mostly flame, cooled into slowly dampening tresses of myriad hues from a dark auburn to a rich sunny gold. Stretching her arms and arching her back, Seraphina gave a rather loud yawn as she settled more fully into her mostly human form. A more contained heat swirled around her, keeping the air around her humid as she slowed her land-devouring stride and observed the lonely little establishment.

Black encased the woman from head to toe in the form of jeans, tank top, jacket, and tall leather boots. The jacket and boots did a decent job of resisting the water, but with her other form contained the rain made quick work of her hair and jeans. Her weaponry, though strapped to her body, remained in a dimension a sliver away: there, but not visible. Deciding there was little information to gain from staring at the entirely too mundane bar, Seraphina released a gusty exhale and closed the remaining distance. As she moved to enter the bar, a light of amusement crept into her eyes and she couldn't resist what she did next: her hand burst into nearly invisible flame as she began to push the door open, leaving the scorched imprint of said hand as the woman moved further inside. Shaking back a wet mane, she offered an ill-practiced smile to those within, briefly exposing teeth a little too sharp for comfort.

"I'm sure," she began in a contralto voice husky from breathing fire and smoke, "they'd be properly intimidated by five." Or more, she supposed with a cursory glance behind her.

Malicham hated the rain, always had and always will. Rain messed up his illusions and made it hard to make beings believe in something different. Then again, if Malicham had taken the time to train with his illusions he might have been able to make the person who is in his illusion feel as if they are being stabbed by daggers when it is just rain. But, Malicham had never been much one for using his illusions on people all that often. The desert generally does that for you if a person is out there long enough. There was a second reason Malicham hated rain and this one was a bit more mundane.

Malicham had lived in the deserts almost all of his life and hated the feeling of rain. He much more prefered to be dry and basking under a sun that would burn the skin if you didn't have any shade. Malicham never had a problem with burnt skin and somewhat loved the smell of it. His human form never felt pain from being in the sun too long and never tanned which made it really hard to trick people in that form. After all, how can you trick people who live in a place where everyone is tan and you aren't? His human form has changed over the years until he took his current form. A rather bored looking eighteen year old with unkempt hair in Malicham's most favorite color, red.

Malicham looked at a watch on the person next to him the street and realized that he would be late if he didn't hurry. It took Malicham a few minutes to find a person willing to give him directions to the bar, mostly because he was an underage minor. When Malicham arrived at the bar he glanced through the window before moving towards the door and noted a scorched mark on it. He decided that one of the others inside must have done it and pushed the door open. As he stepped inside, Malicham noted five other individuals sitting around the building. "Well, I guess I am fashionably late as always. You can't expect a person who has never lived in a city once in his life to know exactly where to go." Malicham said with a smile as he took off his soaked hoodie.

"I guess this is everyone otherwise I would have seen people in a hurry to get here. Anyway, I am Malicham but my friends call me Mal." Malicham said after walking to a table and taking a chair to sit in. If these people knew each other it would be very akward for him. He knew not a single one of them but that happens when you live in the Middle East.

Between the arrival of Samael and Malicham, Aren didn't say a single word. He merely sat as he was, swirling the glass in his hand and idly sipping from it, waiting in silence for the entire group to arrive- In fact, the only motion given to so much as suggest he registered their appearances before then was a slight nod of greeting to each of them. But, when everyone finally got together, he seemed to regain his presence of mind. Downing the last of whatever the thick red fluid in his glass was, he set it aside and gave a hard flap of his wings, effortlessly lifting himself from his chair and settling on his feet, the banner overhead whipping around a moment in the gust the flap had created.

"It -has- been a while now, hasn't it everybody...? Peacetime can be so boring without all of you. -And- I see a new person or two. Pleasure to meet you all, yada-yada-yada, you get the point. Who wants some imp ribs? Fresh out of the flames of Hell."

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder to the dead demon on the snack bar, a slight grin on his features.

"Still hot. And what is going on with all those pesky human skins? Stuffy to stick in when there isn't a human for miles, I think. Besides, I get the feeling we won't have long to party- When's the last time the man upstairs herded us all to one place unless there was work to be done, after all?"

Indeed, it was rare this group was sent to one place as a group unless some random demonic threat or another had cropped up in the area. The 'party' beforehand was just a display of that dark sense of humor even God seems to possess. Because really- Who can resist a bit of a grim joke in war time?

Samael inclined his head calmly toward Rahab at the mention of past battles "I'm sure it will be a pleasure to fight along side you once again" If Samael's pale grey eyes could express gentle mocking and mild amusement they did. He hooked his right foot through a bar stool and pulled it over to him and sat down. As he did the faint aura surrounding him faded and his clothing morphed into a olive drab T-shirt and a pair of tan cargo pants. Talio didn't change however Samael's sword belt changed so Talio's frog was at angle allowing for a faster unimpeded draw. His eyes also lost their pale grey monocrome and became normal human eyes of emerald green.

Once he had comfortably perched himself on the barstool he folded his hands in his lap sedately. Though his posture radiated a calm and relaxed feel anyone with combat training could see that his right hand was placed on top of his left and his hands where placed on his left thigh close to the hilt of Talio and his legs dangled from the barstool at a gentle angle so it would only be a matter of shifting his weight forward to clear the bar stool and draw the sword. He also had his back to the bar which meant no one could come at hm through a window or doorway without him noticing them first.

"So, when do we get our little party started?" Samael's voice had the same calmly mocking and joking tone to it but his eyes where bright and sharp in contrast to a voice that sounded like it was on the edge of a quite laugh.

Gwyndollyn, or Rahab's human guise, slouched against the bar like a regular that had just snuck out of an AA meeting. The azure eyes on the young woman glanced between each of the others as they spoke or made their appearances. Just like their eyes could see what he truly was, he too saw beyond the physical shell. Though his lighthearted, easygoing demeanor did not show it, even now he felt a sort of admiration for these creatures, these fellow exiles. Particularly the four youngest among them. Theirs were not the oldest souls in existence, that much his eyes could tell as well, but where it took him two millenia to finally realize he had the power of choice, they awoke to the realization, nigh on to the first centuries of their lives.

It was so long ago now, that the Duke barely remembered how he came into existence. He wasn't "born" as humans are, no, too fleshy, even the notion of gender sat oddly with him. He simply remembered..being, one day. Out of nothing - there he was, an entity evil to the core from its very first moment of existence. He wasn't glorious or powerful from the start, no, but he was a villain to his very core, all he knew was war and death, and how he reveled in it. It took this mighty Duke of Hell nearly two thousand years to understand the notion of freedom, of choice. But that's how it went, wasn't it? The older generations learn slower. He'd raise his blade in their defense, he thought - they'd already become more than they were created to be, just like him. They deserved to live, to test the limits of their own power to choose. One thing he bemoaned was how sappy his thoughts sounded sometimes - very unfitting for a one-time lord of Hell.

And snapping out of her internal contemplations at the mention of imp ribs, the young woman seemed conflicted as her eyes landed on those delectable giblets. They had such a nice, reddish-brown hue to them. Chances are, it was one of her one-time minions, too.

"Oh, no, I couldn't. Cannibalism disagrees with me. Gives me gas, you know?" she waved a hand dismissively and slouched back onto the bar "I'll just help myself to a coke, could use something bubbly before we're sent on a suicide mission."

The young woman hopped off the stool and languidly stepped around behind the bar, absently raising her voice to the newest arrivals.

"Sit yourselves down, then. The party's still technically going." her head peeked up from behind the counter as she crouched "Chances are we have a few moments to get acquainted before we have to add more of our colleagues and relatives to the barbeque over there."

"Well, I am not about to split with my human form anytime soon. I've grown so use to it plus I can fit into buildings better. They just don't build them quite as big as they use to ya know?" Malicham said with a smile. In truth, his human form was as much a part of him as was his demonic state. With a wave of his hand, Malicham released the illusions covering his weapons. As the illusions wavered away, it revealed the large bow on Malicham's back and two small swords at his hips. "Who wants to play some darts? I am not sure if everyone here knows the rules behind it but it would quite the learning experience." Malicham said as he pulled a dart of the board. With a flick of his wrist, the dart flew and landed straight in a bullseye. Malicham casually glanced at the cooked demon and looked away again. He wasn't one for eating demons, he preferred to eat human food from time to time.

Samael moved from his purch on the barstool to join Aren at the table festooned with the dead corpse of an Imp. He carefully picked his was around the pooling visceral organs but his foot slipped once. For a second Samael eyes clouded again with grey light only this time the light was shot through with black veins which worked there way from the corners of his eye toward the center. Samael set his jaw for a moment concentrating and pushed the blackness back. With that he finished picking his way to Aren and sat down calmly.

Samael turned and spoke softly to Aren wilst Mlicham was hurling projectiles at a cork board with a disturbing ammount of accuracy and Rahab was fishing behind the bar for a coke. The two exchanged words for a moment before Aren closed his eyes for a moment and cocked his head as though listening to something and his mouth worked like he was talking before he nodded his head and gave Samael a knowing look.

Aren stood from the table "Well now that we've gotten to know each other nicely I'm going to have to bid you goodbye and all that jazz. The big man has decided I'm of use somewhere else away from the party scene. You kids have fun I'm sure we'll be working together soon enough" With that Aren stood and strode out of the Bar and with a titanic heave of his wings ascended into the still raining sky.

Samael sniffed "Well. I didn't realise I was such a terrible conversationalist. I don't think god has ever been used as an excuse to get out of talking to me. Mabye as an excuse to try and kill me but never to flee a conversation." Samael's mouth twitched into a grin.