Deamonbane — Roleplayer Guild

Things always got interesting in the Council of Shadows. The reason that they had named it that was still beyond him, but it was when the oldest and deadliest things on earth got together to discuss what the creatures that they represented were getting into. Trouble, when it came to creatures like demons, lupines.... Lycans, Mephistos mentally corrected himself, and vampires could get into were of epic proportions. There were days that their actions were not regulated by the efforts efforts of their elders, a time when they fought against the humans in battles. Mephistos shuddered slightly. Dagon had been one for battles and war, not him. He was of a darker, more shadowy purpose, subtle as a dagger slipped between ribs with a lover's kiss to take the pain away. Dagon's subtlety amounted to little more than a cannon ball to the face.

He always came up with a new analogy for it, and each time it made him chuckle. He was so amusing.

But he wasn't headed for the council, not yet. If he was late, His second in command would start things up without him. Demons all had one thing in common in their DNA and that was trustworthiness, which meant, in reflection, that they trusted no one. Werewolves were beasts, and while far from mindless, their wolf half had a mind of it's own. It was like having a race of people with dual-personalities, he remembered telling Dagon. Vampires were addicts, all their troubles and problems surrounding their need for human blood. It was almost galling to be seen as similar to them, but it was a fact that he had to live with.

He sighed and straightened his tie. He needed to take care of something first. Walking through the cobblestones of the city, he slipped into an alleyway. At the end was a small opening leading to an ill-lit area. He moved to the first door on the right. He knocked on it and waited politely.

A man opened the door. Mephistos winced a bit. The man could fell an ox with that stench. Humans were almost not worth leaving alive. Almost.

"And what would you be wantin' then? Oi!" The man exclaimed as Mephistos pushed right past him into the room. It was of similar stench of it's occupant," Get the fuck outta my 'ouse."

"Trust me, nothing would please me more," Mephistos said in that odd, off-beat way of his, smiling broadly.His accent was odd. Not quite British, although it had a few traits and not quite American.

"Well I suggest you leave then."

"And I suggest taking a shower a couple times a week, and cleaning this place up. Oh, and less onions in future meals."

"Wha..."

"I'm looking for a man, and believe me, the term man comes applying very loosely to this situation. About," He raised his hand more than a foot taller than his own head," Seven-five, bald, muscled, ugly as a man whose face caught fire and had it put out with a shovel. Dresses... well, like you. Have you seen him?"

"I ain't telling you nothing," The man growled, his hand snaking for a club that he had hidden. The move was supposed to be quick and furtive, but it ended up being obvious and slow. Mephistos smiled and decided to give the man a fighting chance, turning his back.

"Oh I'm sure you won't tell me nothing, Mr. Ames. Your life depends on you telling me... everything."

What happened next would have befuddled a human with the speed of it. The club came swinging high, for his head. He blocked it with his right forearm, his left hand coming around to snatch the weapon out of his hand, with a swift kick to Mr. Ames' gut sending him flying into a nearby wall. He hit it, but before he could drop, Mephistos has snapped the club in two, sending the handle half, now a spiked dart, into Ames' shoulder, pinning him to the wall.

The scream of pain was... breathtaking.

"Now," Mephistos continued in the same dull and bored voice that he had started out with," Seven-five, Bald, ugly. Where is he?"

No answer. Instead he heard a whined," What the fuck did you do that for?"

Mephistos face contorted to show his slight annoyance, and he stepped over to where Ames was pinned a few inches from the ground," Answer," He punctuated the word with a tap from the part of the club that was still in his hand to the bit holding Ames in place," The... Fucking... Question," Four words, four taps, four screams.

"Alright, Alright, I'll fucking tell you," The man whimpered," The man's name is James..."

"Don't care about his name. He uses a fake one now anyways," Another tap to the club part," Stay on track Mr. Ames. I asked you where he is, n... not about his love life," Mephistos paused as the man coughed and blood splattered his face. Others would have found offense in that. He didn't.

"He left for London three days ago," Ames said, still coughing," Said he was waiting for someone there. Said for me not to expect him back here neither. I swear, that's all I know."

Mephistos, with a morbid curiosity, ran a finger through the blood on his face and tasted it. It tasted of garlic too. Vampires wouldn't dare touch him, he thought with a laugh.

"What's so funny?" Asked the man pinned to the wall.

"Nothing you would understand, Mr. Ames. I believe you," And with that he spun on his heel and made for the door.

"Hey," Ames called after him," You can't fucking leave me like this. It ain't right."

Mephistos turned to him and smiled," You're absolutely right," His left hand flickered up, and with blinding speed, the second half of the club hammered into Ames, smashing his head and brains into the wall behind him. Mephistos tilted his head. It was almost an artistic spread. He shook his head and left the fetid room. Looking up, and around himself, to make sure he wasn't being watched, he jumped into the air, a flash of light flickering through the dank alleyway and a Harpy eagle took flight, it's wings flaring and flapping, speeding him to the council building. Once there, he slipped back into his human form, adjusting his tie again and using a kerchief to wipe the rest of Ames' blood off of his face before entering the Demon's waiting room, sitting down and pulling a newspaper from a nearby shelf, skimming over it.

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