Liaison

The Family Biz [Open To Apply]

The Pleiades Casino & Resort: Surface Entrance - Allure City, EarthF67x

Owned by the eccentric intergalactic casino mogul and ice devil, Vileiro. Upon entry, exotic aromas produced by enormous fuchsia kadupul whelmed nostrils with a slight hint of sulfur, followed by unfurling vines offering early blossoms of ghost flowers. Floating off-white gloved hands greeted guests the instant their soles, hooves, whatever, touched the calacatta marble floors. Some carried menorahs of cold, midnight-blue flames for ambiance, and others, golden trays of the most selective hors d’oeuvres the Hells could offer. Admittedly, many of these delicacies were of an acquired taste. Ranging from its mini brimstone broiled Kalua Demon Boar Quesadillas, all the way to its Southern-Style Deviled Harpy Eggs.

Further inspection revealed the lobby's overgrowth of red throned vines belonging to an enormous lime-green carnivorous plant, Thornaldo The Bewitching, playing one-half receptionist and the other security. He was a regal and dignified plant, with an air of authority and sophistication. Carrying himself with grace and poise, it was easy to forget his diet exclusively consisted of unruly guests disrupting the tranquility of the hotel's lobby. Very appropriate, considering this was no little shop of horrors. It was a big house of the deepest terrors parading under a single roof.

Attached to a lower deck of the casino, at the restaurant Melchior, overlooking the busy streets of Allure, a tall, clean-shaven devil with razor-sharp pointed ears and undersaturated blue skin like he was suffocating calmly enjoyed his plate of angulas drizzled in virgin blood, seasoned with reaper peppers and dried saffron. Vileiro took in the views and epileptic assault of lights that were only a sample taste of what you'd see if you took the elevator down to the -666th floor.

Quite accustomed to the chaos, with all on his mind going in Allure, it was relaxing to treat himself to an early evening of fine dining. The visceral screams following a nearby car accident indulged his sensitive ears like that of a great symphony until the sensation of uneasiness infiltrated his spirit. The fine dark purple hairs of his body stood on end. It was far. Very far but seeping out the grand elevator was a presence like a seductive dog whistle to powerful demons. Only approved demonic forces had clearance to enter the surface and into Allure from Aeternus and it worked on a visa-like basis, allowing for swift deportation, dragging them back to hell on the slightest whims.

Every ward established is only as powerful as its caster. Considering the not-so-dark secret of the casino is that its ironclad barrier was forged by Mafia head Ealdorman Sarcoen, an ancient archdemon preceding time itself, this was worrisome. It was likely a rivaling force from hell being this powerful enough to be felt on the surface. Unchecked, it could break the barrier between the worlds resulting in a war between Allure and Aeternus. No matter the lives lost, frankly, the biggest concern was that it was outright bad for business. EarthF67x was already on high alert after the mass replacement of Spain. Dozens of New Roswell satellites sat perched in the direction of the city at gunpoint. A disaster like this checked off all the reasons for the government to wipe Vileiro’s flagship casino off the map. Sweating profusely, his perspiration formed icicles before falling, shattering into little sprinkles of ice on his off-white tux.

“WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS?!”

Vileiro’s emotions flipped like a switch. His anger alone brought a brisk frost to the other restaurant-goers' breaths. Obsessively worried about his public image and self-aware enough, the frost demon reeled himself back in before he effectively turned the place into a winter wonderland. The bulging blue veins in his forehead flattened upon his return to rationality. The answer to his question was quite obvious, though the devil didn't want to admit it. Tugging at his cold soul he knew the answer. Opposite in every way, his hot-headed brother was not only alive, but well, and up to his same old tricks. Eyes closed, taking a deep breath, the devil grinded his teeth exhaling an icy chill through his asymmetrical flaring nostrils.

“Bring the check…”

Signing the slip, the tall, lanky demon cleared his throat, stood, adjusted his tie, and headed for the exit through the thick sea of concerned eyes. His rectangular head narrowly avoided the once candle-lit chandeliers he effectively put out in his rage. Entering the hall, the casino owner ducked slightly, avoiding the embossed archway. Immediately upon poking his head into the hall, Vileiro noticed the lights were off. A mix of confusion and annoyance formed between his puce eyes and wrinkling forehead. A blood-curdling shriek echoed throughout the halls, followed by a slight tremor signaling the activation of the surface hotel's backup power source, The Crucible of Souls, burning with a white flame from The Eternal Pyre.

The malevolent process in which it harvested them was quite simple. Like a machine, it whirred in its start-up, anticipating fresh souls. At any time, those who made deals through the casino for fame, wealth, fortune, and power could be ensnared by one of its infinite hooks, dragged across the threshold between worlds, and wrung to be used as fuel. Whenever a scream was heard, it just meant another miserable soul perished. For every expended, the crucible’s flames danced, twisting in defiance of the void as the energy spread further and further down into Aeternus with bald-faced impunity to counteract. It wouldn’t be dark for too long but it wasn't exactly a permanent solution.

“We've got problems on the lower level, Sir!”

Zazzie, a black imp carrying a mischievous smile and fur exuding a kaleidoscopic sheen approached Vileiro. Balancing on a gold trident, the creature filled the ice demon in.

“The Aeternus lobby, no, the whole square mile of the building’s radius has been swept with a great darkness. Might I say, it’s kind of neat” she snarked.

“I wonder if the two anomalies are related?” Vileiro couldn’t help to air his thoughts out loud. “Tell Thornaldo to clear everyone from the library. I’m on my way. There is something I need to do.”

The Pleiades Casino & Resort: Thalgrim’s Gambling Quarters - Aeternus

Succubi roamed the streets in raunchy designer, leaning into the windows of triple-parked beige ElDorado Cadillacs soliciting clientele. The neon lights of various nightclubs proudly touted their admission fee of "1 Soul" yet creatures of all shapes and sizes fought just to get in. Cauldrons of bats populated the streets like city pigeons, hanging from living gargoyle statues who'd occasionally devour them for midnight snacks. It was always midnight here. In this dimensional cellar lies everything wrong with humanity, yet it thrived. Various celebrities from around the universe could be seen casually strolling down the streets enjoying the paradise of vice after selling their souls in their respective fields. Even charlatans, televangelist grifters, false prophets, and idolaters alike congregated in and outside the resort and its competing chains, attending satanic galas, frequenting museums like the Hall of Torture & Sadism.

A gang of green flame-headed ghost riders sped by, leaving a trail of exhausts smelling like burnt rubber and brimstone. One veering too close to the sidewalk, inadvertently or not, launched some street smuck on the crimson cloak of a grim, hooded figure murmuring to himself. Bearing a shadowy visage, he sauntered towards Thalgrim’s wing of the casino, whispering, casting a single-word hex echoing throughout the infinitely stretching Vegas strip. It did so until it perhaps made its way back through the gates of hell like most inconveniencing forces to the casino had a propensity to do. Enigmatic displays of force like that vacuum effect let the cat out the bag long ago that someone powerful was protecting their assets even from the darkest pits of Hell.

"Extingue.”

The incantation was heard, but far from the oddest occurrence of the day or even minute for the demonic denizens going about their usual antics. Once the darkness crept in, many took the opportunity to dial up the usual marauding and debauchery to even higher levels despite the demons having the innate ability to see quite clearly in the abyss. Even then, antique gothic street lamps glowing with unwavering hell flames dispelled some of the obsidian veil cast on areas.

JAZZ 🎺

Upstairs, motley crews of demons continued their revelry unfazed by the blackout which they assumed would be resolved sooner than later. Much of the casino was dark but several demons and the staff themselves took it upon themselves to light small objects on fire with controlled blazes, giving them just enough visibility for the visibly challenged creatures among them to play their games. At one table, a group of burly devils smoking the room up with their endless consumption of Regius Double Corona cigars were locked tight in a heated game of poker using their ashtray full of burning butts as a light source, wagering souls, and ancient magical artifacts with a warlock dealer.

In another corner of the massive room housing thousands of games, a pair of slender empusa languidly lounged by the roulette wheel, encouraging what looked like a group of lawyers and greedy landlords to gamble what was left of their souls. One flicked their spade tail upwards, gently caressing the stubble of a visibly nervous man in glasses. The combination of her sultry smile and entrancing eye contact made his lenses fog. In efforts to appear confident, he gulped, wagering it all.

Tons of other games continued simultaneously despite the inconvenience but amidst the chaos and clamor, a lone, stoic man in an onyx padded piece blazer slouched at the blackjack table. Locked in thought, he paid just enough attention for the game to continue but not enough to react to the results. In fact, he was on a winning streak. Hot hand after hot hand. He couldn't lose. The man was clearly someone's favorite.

The Pleiades Casino & Resort: The Asmodeus Athenaeum - 57th floor

“What! I paid good money to have access to this library for a photo shoo—wait! What are you doi—?!—AAAAHHHHHH!”

“Farewell, Sir. May the ground below embrace you as warmly as my hospitality.” In his retort, a mysterious scarlet sparkle of magic gleeked from under Thornaldo’s tongue.

Thick thorns receded and shards of an enormous shattering stained glass window pelted the grounds below like razor hail. The uncompromising guest was promptly dealt with, freefalling with his last visuals being a breathtaking view of the alien city that was Allure. Just as the coins dropped earlier in the filth fountain of Aeternus, he too plopped the same and without a wish (or so he thought) in a mirroring fountain in Allure. One that was much cleaner, decorated with alabaster statues of peeing angels into crystal blue waters. In a miraculous exhibition of good luck and magical fortune, the man found himself not crashing into the shallowness of the fountain but submerged in the deepness of a putrid murky expanse, resurfacing with a mouth full of unknown excrements sliding through the gaps in his teeth. With foul liquids and odors embedded into every inch of him and his clothes like a symbiote, a dread-laced scream escaped his exasperated lungs. If this man could just look at the bright side, perhaps a slither of relief could be found in that he survived. The only problem now? Being surrounded by sheer darkness. Reeking of far more than a single spritz of the city’s least finest Eau de toilette, he was now to navigate this strange world alone.

The Family Biz [Open To Apply]

The spinning projection’s wing clashed with Selena’s blade. A thunderous clang rang out as mesmerizing sparks emanated. Out came a mystifying cloud which Ceven examined skeptically. Given the circumstances, it wasn’t natural. His keen eyes squinted like an old man holding a piece of paper from his face. Never had the ox-horned devil seen lightning or any energy for that matter produce steam that actively eliminated his sulfuric cigar smoke. He planned to entrap and lull the woman with its smokey toxins to unconsciousness but the momentarily spinning visual manifestation of Selena whisked it away and now the vapor fumes were coming in his direction.

“Best not to take a whiff of that.”

Rather than deal with that concerning gases, Ceven casually waltzed out the hallway, back to where everyone went back to unapologetically party despite the commotion. The second his back hoove exited, the demon dropped his Mayan sigcar. Upon impact, Its wilting cinders ignited a malefic brand of sanguine fire, closing it off. Only those truly one with the infernal depths of hell could produce such voracious flames from an ember. Well beyond an ordinary inferno, this hellfire had a sentient relentless hunger. It wasn’t just that moisture evaporated. Its presence in all ceased to exist and so could an unguarded spirit. In its grip, vibrant souls distort and wither, leaving desolation in their wake and here it was racing along every square inch of the hallway toward Selena.

Funny enough, afterward, Ceven looked around in confusion at the shag carpet for his very much expensive cigar. Despite how it looked, He most certainly did not drop it by mistake but there was no retrieving it now. He shrugged. A minor inconvenience. Ceven was far too drunk to care. Not that anyone noticed. Known as the beast of commerce, despite his miniature stature, his role in the Sarcoen family was just as important as Parooz, Ixxa, or Vileiro. They all had their avenues they excelled in and after seeing what the young devil hunter did, it was enough to think of her potentially as an asset to flip. With his cutthroat business approach, the minotaur devil learned the approximate value of a soul. In fact, he was quite infamous for his weekly updates which he influenced the soul market off the mere roll of his black forked tongue.

“They’ll pay a lot for you. Let’s get Parooz’s opinion.”

Now that he couldn’t be seen, he hightailed it out of there—knocking over drinks, popping a few dress straps with his sharp ribbed horns. Shimmying through the crowd, despite his best efforts, he created quite the scene. His miniature size limited the damage but the crowd had little concern. However, members of the Sarcoen family like Vincenzo wondered why he was in such a rush. Ceven was more attuned to what Parooz was cooking up. It was time to bounce. Personally, he wanted no parts of her. Unfortunately for the devil hunter, she was about to find out.

Eerily, the last door of the hallway shuddered open with a loud creak. The only seemable escape from the raging flames. Inside? Selena’s squinting vision revealed two devils quite cozy. One with an arm around the shoulders of the red-skinned, snow-blonde-haired other. Their burning glares penetrated her spirit as if they looked into Selenas’s very soul. No doubt, there was malice behind their snake eyes, but in her situation, where else was there to go? The flames even stopped at the doorway.

“Come in… We don’t bite.” They said in symmetry.

[Symphony]

The red door with a crystal skull door knob at the end of the hall creaked open. Permeating at her ankles out the doorway was a rich black fog. A grand spectacle was underway, woven with threads of lust and greed. Ceven’s flame barrier set up at the end of the speakeasy’s doorway winded further and further away. Selena, the young devil hunter, found herself at the threshold of a hellish domain.

Front in the center, a blood-red draping canopy bed, magnolious in its opulence, cocooned Parooz and Ixxa, two devils entwined in an embrace that exuded both seduction and danger. Their quarrel appeared resolved for the time being. The air crackled with an invitation, a questionable gesture considering their surroundings in this dome-shaped chamber.

A foreboding ambiance of the chills whelmed the space below a sky awashed in apocalyptic hues of crimson and onyx. A macabre rendition of Triumph of the Medici unfolded in the air. One where beautiful succubi orchestrated an aerial ballet of agony and torture upon hundreds of hapless humans. Some even relished in the pain, cascaded by thunderous whips, strapped to infinitely elongating racks, unmitigated genitalia mutilation, and absurdly degenerate forms of sodomy. Their visceral screams and orgasmic moans competed for air time with the singing and laughter of hell’s demimondaines. A twisted symphony following the sharp, rhythmic black-nailed index of Parooz. Their wonderful sacrifices would not perish in vain. These were but a morsel of souls sold willingly and of their own volition to Ixxa after all. Plus, half of their wretched hearts could probably survive another round. Even as unethical as it was, the requirements were almost met for her to briefly manifest before them.

Parooz almost shed a tear. It was beautiful. “Since I’ve been gone, you’ve gotten better, Ixxa.”

“And earlier you were thinking about killing her…” Tony chided.

Parooz’s pistol spoke out of turn yet again. Trying not to ruin the moment, without saying anything, the demon reached for his hip, flinging his smart-aleck pistol over the headboard of the bed a football field’s length away.

Focused on the task at hand, Ixxa ignored Parooz’s backhanded comment. Sex sells, and her business was at an all-time high. Whether it was the insurgence of incel streamers or women desperate to manipulate and gain their audience through objectification, Ixxa could and would help, and at a steep fee.

Nevertheless, a gentle vortex of swirling black clouds, an ominous herald of their impending ritual, formed from the ankle-high fog just before the bed’s ottoman. Amidst this developing maelstrom, the eyes of the devil duo gleamed in muted luminescence—Parooz’s amber orbs exuded a suspicious warmth of tempting power, while Ixxa’s lime-green gaze bore an orgasmic allure laced with danger.

The chamber itself seemed a canvas for the arcane. During this summoning, where the lines between worlds grew thin. Selena stood at the precipice, but would she be torn between the allure of the invitation and the weight of her sworn duty? A choice beckoned—a choice that would only mark the rest of her life.

”Ysolde, our sovereign, hear my plea,
From realms veiled in mystique, emerge to see,
In the dance of shadows and ethereal grace,
Answer my call, reveal your face.

Oh queen of the void, mistress of disguise,
In your formless beauty, you mesmerize,
Come forth from the unknown, oh ancient sprite,
To this earthly plane on this fateful night.

With your veiled countenance, a sight to behold,
Ysolde,, by stories told,
Lurking in mirrors and the corners unseen,
Grace this circle, make this scene.

In the whispers of darkness, in silence profound,
I summon thee, with powers unbound,
To join our worlds in this mystic hour,
Ysolde, queen, wield your beguiling power.

By the enchantments woven in this space,
Let our destinies intertwine and embrace,
Oh ancient one, from the abyss you roam,
Ysolde, appear and make our domain your home…”

Just a slither of her prodigious presence anointed itself into the air. It could be felt outside the bounds of the dimension. To those new to Aeternus, this presence was especially radiant, inviting, comforting, motherly, yet terrifying. It ensnared them.

“Find me.”

The words spoken profoundly into the consciousness of Rory. He could only hope that the man in contest with the gorgon heard it as well to save himself from facing it alone.

“Find me.”

The Family Biz [Open To Apply]

The thin slice delivered to the windpipe of the devilish cretin brought his lugging frame crumbling to the restroom's glossy obsidian floors. Like the majority of souls in Aeternus, he wouldn't be missed. Perched on this cumbersome corpse, the young devil hunter went through a limited brief of Ixxa but afterward chose not to dispose of the body. There was no telling how long she planned to stay in this den of demons but anyone stumbling upon the striped-horned, pot-belly demon’s undead body has certainly seen odder considering where they were.

>Name: Ixxa -/Redacted/- (Full name plants seeds of lust into hearer's souls)
>Age: Several Centuries
>Demon Classification: Succubus
>Bio: ˙uoᴉʇɐʇdɯǝʇ puɐ ǝɹᴉsǝp ɟo qǝʍ ɐ uᴉ sɯᴉʇɔᴉʌ ɹǝɥ ƃuᴉɹɐusuǝ 'lnos ǝɥʇ ɟo ǝɔuǝssǝ ǝɥʇ ɹoɟ ǝƃuɐɥɔxǝ uᴉ ʎʇnɐǝq ƃuᴉsᴉɯoɹd 'sʇɔɐd ɹǝʇsᴉuᴉs sǝʇɐɹʇsǝɥɔɹo ɐxxI 'sɹǝqɯɐɥɔ ʎloɥun ǝsǝɥʇ uᴉɥʇᴉM ˙ʍolƃ uosɯᴉɹɔ 'ǝᴉɹǝǝ uɐ uᴉ pǝpnoɹɥs puɐ 'ʇuǝɔs ƃuᴉʇɐɔᴉxoʇuᴉ uɐ uᴉ pǝlᴉǝʌ 'sʞlᴉs ɥsᴉʌɐl ɥʇᴉʍ pǝuɹopɐ ǝɹɐ sllɐɥ ʇuǝpɐɔǝp sʇI ˙uoᴉsuǝɥǝɹdɯoɔ lɐʇɹoɯ ɟo sǝᴉɹɐpunoq ǝɥʇ puoʎǝq sʇsᴉxǝ ʇɐɥʇ lǝɥʇoɹq ɥsᴉɹɐɯʇɥƃᴉu ɐ sᴉ ɯlɐǝɹ s,ɐxxI

>˙uoᴉsᴉɔǝɹd pǝʞɔᴉʍ ɥʇᴉʍ slnos s,uǝɯ ɟo ʇɟǝɥʇ ǝɥʇ ƃuᴉʇɐɹʇsǝɥɔɹo ǝlᴉɥʍ uoᴉʇɔǝɟɹǝd ƃuᴉʇǝǝlɟ ɹoɟ slnos ɹᴉǝɥʇ ǝpɐɹʇ oʇ uǝɯoʍ sǝɔᴉʇuǝ oɥʍ ssǝɹʇdɯǝʇ ɐ 'ʎʇnɐǝq ɟo ssǝɹʇsᴉɯ ǝɥʇ sᴉ ǝɥS ˙uoᴉʇɔnpǝs ɟo qǝʍ ɹǝɥ oʇuᴉ slɐʇɹoɯ ssǝlʇunoɔ pǝɹnl sɐɥ ʇɐɥʇ ǝzɐƃ ƃuᴉzᴉɹǝɯsǝɯ ɐ 'uǝǝɹƃ ƃuᴉʇunɐɥ ɟo ǝpɐɥs ɐ ǝɹɐ sǝʎǝ ɹǝH ˙uoᴉʇɐʇdɯǝʇ ɟo ǝɔuǝssǝ ǝɥʇ sǝᴉpoqɯǝ ɐxxI 'ʇɥƃᴉl lɐǝɹǝɥʇǝ uɐ ɥʇᴉʍ ɹǝɯɯᴉɥs oʇ sɯǝǝs ʇɐɥʇ ɹᴉɐɥ ǝpuolq-ʍous puɐ uᴉʞs pǝɹ ʎɹǝᴉɟ ɹǝɥ ɥʇᴉM

>˙ǝɹnllɐ ʇuǝloʌǝlɐɯ s,ʎʇᴉɔ ǝɥʇ ɟo uoᴉʇɔǝlɟǝɹ ɐ 'ʎlpɐǝp puɐ ƃuᴉʇɐʌᴉʇdɐɔ ɥʇoq sᴉ ʎʇnɐǝq ǝsoɥʍ ǝɹnƃᴉɟ ɐ 'ɐɯƃᴉuǝ ƃuᴉɹnllɐ uɐ sᴉ ǝɥS ˙ǝuᴉʍʇɹǝʇuᴉ ǝɔᴉʌ puɐ uoᴉʇɐʇdɯǝʇ ǝɹǝɥʍ ʎʇᴉɔ ɐ 'snuɹǝʇǝ∀ ɟo sɥʇdǝp ǝɥʇ uᴉɥʇᴉʍ sǝʌᴉɹɥʇ oɥʍ sǝɹᴉsǝp ʇsǝʞɹɐp ǝɥʇ ɟo ssǝɹʇɔnpǝs ɐ sᴉ 'sǝssǝɹʇ ǝpuolq-ʍous ɥʇᴉʍ snqnɔɔns pǝuuᴉʞs-uosɯᴉɹɔ ǝɥʇ 'ɐxxI ˙ǝsnoɥ lǝɥʇoɹq lɐuɹǝʇƎ ǝɥʇ ɟo uǝǝnQ

The information wasn't easy to process, but she got it. The instant the bathroom door closed, from the other side of a glory hole, uttered in a grumbling voice "Wrong Password."

Upon hearing that voice, it was enough to have Selena unconfident in her kill. Even worse, to some degree, that fat slob might have enjoyed her sitting on him and caught an unsolicited whiff or two with his monstrously hooked nose. That was not the biggest of her troubles perhaps, considering the jazz music literally stopped in the speakeasy.

The leers of several dozen demons were alone enough to stop a mortal's heart but it was uncertain how strong the young devil hunter's nerves were. Perhaps she had nerves or steel but in the hallway where the chandeliers hung oddly low, its blood-red baccarat crystals reflected thousands of futures. Some more gruesome than others, but many if not all unanimously leading towards the aftermath of drawing the fiendish ire of the crowd.

"Wasn't it too easy to get in?" An almost comical, stereotypical New York Italian accent came from the crowd.

Walking down the hall, a DeVito-sized minotaur-looking devil with rigid, curling sabbatical goat horns smoking a Mayan Sicar bellowing unnecessary amounts of yellow brimstone spoke out to the young woman. The amount of sulfur in the air was suffocating, yet the mustard-skinned demon took a ridiculously long hit to the point where the plumes masked his quizzical expression.

"This is a Sarcoen spot. In quite literally a den of demons. I don't think a demon hunter stands much of a chance." Rubbing his unmanaged stubble, Ceven visibly pondered.

"I assume you're working under some angel bastard, no? I generally like to work behind the scenes but everyone knows not to walk to the back uninvited. Maybe you're that stupid. Or maybe…you're interested in how we do things here."

"You want to make a pact with Ixxa Ludirs Auðr Ivayla Nettuno Irenka Kalyani Tyche Morrigan Brechtje Cecílie? Most demons can communicate telepathically, you know. You just have to leave your line open. Since you heard this I assume you now know the depths you ignorantly plunged into. The only question is whether I can convince the humble folks here that you're not a threat. Let's see what ya got."

Ceven hawk spit, knocking down one of the supernatural chandelier's fuchsine rhombus-like crystals, snatching it casually out of the air. Examining it for a moment, the minotaur mumbled "Hmph, not bad," charging the crystal with a fiery violet. He slung it directly at Selenas's bosoms overhand like a throwing knife, watching it briefly knuckleball before erupting into a pink plume of smoke.

"How do you handle this distorted Future?"

Exploding out of the crystal at Selena was an alternate version of herself bearing elongated fangs, newly protruding horns, and glowing amber eyes hurling themselves like a spear. At the last moment, concealed sword-like black bat wings sprouted as she spun like a deadly top, dicing through several of the irreplaceable paintings littering the hall's walls.

The souls trapped within the landscape beneath the painting's starry nights finally ascended, floating majestically towards the heavens, flooding the air with hundreds of "thank yous" just happy to move on.

There was no telling how long this distortion clung to the world but make no mistakes, in the meantime, this apparition threatened to turn Selena into a fleshly rain of confetti. Regardless of what came of this exchange, the party went on.

Meanwhile…

As soon as Dangerrutito knocked, the door quickly lost its aura.

"What's the password?

On the other side of the totally not inconspicuous door, a nightmarish gaze leered from the sliding peephole. A Gorgon's eye staring into Dangerrutito’s soul with malevolent intensity. Its mystifying amalgamation of serpentine pupils and swirling, deep, blood-red irises seemed to consume the light around them. Normally the moment eyes met the Gorgon's, an icy shiver slithered down their spine, but considering how far Dangerrutito had come, this was probably nothing at all. On the bright side, at least the creature was female.

Before Dangerrutito could come up with a witty retort, the creature behind the door shifted gears. "I propose a game of entwined gazes, a duel of captivating intent, where our eyes lock in a dance of seductive fascination. Will you accept this invitation, where the boundaries between desire and surrender blur, as we share a forbidden contest of yearning gazes?" Which was a very fancy and longwinded way to challenge someone to a staring contest.

Becoming a fan of their alluring eyes began a dreadful transformation. It starts subtly, with an inexplicable stiffness climbing from your fingers into your limbs as its petrifying power travels through your very nerves. This was obviously a test, but how would Dangerrutito fare against it before his body was met with agonizing paralysis and he became the subject of a fancy hell tableau?

The Family Biz [Open To Apply]

3 New Races/Options to play added. I may post this as an interest check soon.

The Family Biz [Open To Apply]

Added some rules. Another location I'll probably add next

The Family Biz [Open To Apply]

I also want to reiterate that this is a multiverse/omniverse rp, so people's characters from other stories and threads can find their way into this setting if they write a means that makes sense. Characters don't have to be an exact fit as sometimes it is cool for characters who contrast with the setting to get wrapped up in the shenanigans of a world they're not familiar with. I see what I can come up with to give some more guidance.

The Family Biz [Open To Apply]

@Havoccultist The only thing I'm really opposed to is fandom stuff. It's kind of sandbox as you first described but generally, I kind of throw stuff against the wall with the first couple of posts and find the plot from there. I don't know if anyone is open to creating an opposing faction and different locations. I should perhaps write some rules down standards for characters and joining.

Never done one of these

Hey, Liaison here. As long as I've been here, I don't think I ever formally introduced myself. I'm not much of an occ poster but some of you may know me as Lest from the discord as well. I'm introducing myself because to a degree I feel like though I'm open to it, I haven't rped much outside of my personal group on this site. I'm not the greatest at recruitment but I can at least tell people what I am about in terms of my writing.

I am a big sci-fi guy who dabbles in horror at times. My latest RP, which I plan to make an interest check for, is about a hell version of Las Vegas and the shenanigans that go on there with a devil mafia. I can do fantasy and have plenty of characters that use different types of magic. I am familiar with arena and combat though I am way more interested in storytelling these days in roleplays that last multiple threads

I consider myself to be a pretty decent writer. You can check out my writing to see if I am a fit for anything. Personally, I'm just looking for a few writers who like writing about fun stories which emphasize group world-building.

The Family Biz [Open To Apply]

"This Earth right here is ripe with desire, dreams, hopes, lust, and a .1% that rules it all. It's the perfect place for envy and the desperation of those in search of influence, and money to cultivate. Along with that, many live in fear, and out of their prejudices, desire power to crush any threat. They'll take any advantage they can. That's where we come in. A few powerful devils were hanging around there that ruled for eons but I pushed them off the block for now. No telling when they’ll come back but I'm not the type to sit around and fear the inevitable retaliation, whatever that may be.”

Two demons locked eyes. Amber-colored versus lime. Both uniquely devious from one another, but cut from the same cloth. Both devils carried their own insidious agendas behind their poker faces, masters of their devilish trades. Ixxa, the succubus reigning over lust, and Parooz, the guile soul stealer. However, despite playing for the same team, neither was too fond of the other's style.

Violet whips of Parooz's cigar emitted a settling plume of smoke obscuring his eyes, ending their stare-off. An obvious tell.

"You're thinking about fucking killing me." Ixxa's face screamed unamused.

"I didn't say that." An expected retort.

"You're FUCKING THINKING IT!" Her voice could be heard out the hall even with all the live music flooding the bar.

Slit-eyed, Parooz skeptically examined the snow-haired succubus, figuring the cat was out of the bag.

"Who told you that?”

Ixxa's poker face broke.

"A little birdie."

In a fit of aggression, Parooz snatched his two-timing pistol out of his trousers in something resembling a stranglehold on its grip if that was even possible.

"Tony, you low-caliber snitch."

Provoking the gun to speak, the mobster recklessly stared down the barrel. A shot rang off from the pistol, lodging itself in the center of his forehead.

The pink-skinned devil fell like a brick, rattling the room's polished silver Schonbek Sterling chandelier overhead. His ashen hair blended into the dusty shag carpet and with a loud thud, he alarmed tiny fleeing blood-orange critters specifically planted in the carpet to clean up waste. Ixxa clutched her 2.55 Chanel Flap, whose leather parted with long lashes as startled almond eyes leered at the faceplanted mafioso. Seeing this as an opportunity to escape, Ixxa pointed her nose up in her exit strut, but Paoroz flopped like a fish out of water, grasping at her heels just within his reach. Promptly lifting her foot ever so slightly, Ixxa stamped the heel of her red bottoms right through the dorsal side of his extended hand with such force it penetrated the oak floors.

"You never change Sepias, but a lot has since you were gone. I think I’ll tough it out with Vileiro and see what he's got planned. Your plans are too dangerous for my liking. Not excited to find out which elder demon you’d like to make an enemy out of for your great return.”

Unphased, Parooz’s slowly raising head mumbled “Funny you asked.”

With a bullet still lodged into his skull, his wide grin became apparent even though Ixxa couldn’t see his eyes.

“I need you to put me in contact with Queen Noppera-bō herself, Ysolde.”

Ysolde, the embodiment of terror and beauty entwined, exists as the apotheosis of the Noppera-bō within the intricate tapestry of existence. Her form, a paradoxical fusion of allure and dread, casts a captivating shadow across realms, yet she is rarely seen. Ixxa draws much of her seductive power from this entity, but even she knows not to dip too big of a cup. Her presence alone projected an intricate dance of elegance and foreboding malevolence. Far beyond mere appearance, Ysolde becomes a beguiling visage, an enchantress that beckons with an insidious charm that resonates with those who yearn for aesthetic ecstasy.

Her form, or lack thereof, transcends the constraints of mere physicality. Ysolde dons the enigmatic guise of an ephemeral enigma—a spectral figure bereft of facial features, eyes, or mouth. Instead, where her visage should be, lies all-encompassing emptiness, a void that absorbs all light and warmth. This formlessness, like the caress of a shadow, becomes an enigma that invites mortals to unravel its mystery, an intricate riddle that tugs at their deepest desires.

With power like that, it made sense why Sepias wanted to use her as a medium to siphon souls. Ixxa was already a masterful manipulator of beauty and fear, wielding an arcane tapestry that intertwines mortal yearning and apprehension. Yet, the demon before her wanted better. As terrifying as it was, the succubus was now intrigued by the proposition. An unholy partnership of Ysolde's beauty-infused malevolence merging with Parooz's dark ambition would result in a crescendo of chaos that echoed across countless realms. The devil in her came out. The main question she had, however, was that it was overkill. What was on Earth F67x that Parooz felt he had such a need to recruit such a powerful source? Maybe he was looking far beyond that planet alone. Either way, she knew not to dismiss his intuition.

The Family Biz [Open To Apply]

Name: Sepias Corleone Parooz aka “Parooz”
Age: 36 appearing
Gender: Male
Race: Human/Devil-like
Profession: Underboss of the Sarcoen crime family

Random descriptors:

He was a shaggy-looking man of average height and build with heavily damaged, matted slate-gray hair. His mophead contrasted with his clean-shaven face and he smelled like an unholy concoction of charcoal fumes and Eau de Parfum. Some stubble snuck through his peculiar red-tinted skin and he often scratched it with an aloof expression while talking. This strange mobster's complexion is easily mistaken as the result of an extremely bad tan but it was a reflection of his race. For lack of better words, he was a "devil" but not quite when looking closer. He wasn't the devil Just one of many.

Sepias was the owner of a pair of lethargic vermillion eyes with yellowing sclera signaling intense liver damage. When he widened his eyes a bit, a noticeable amber glow projected. Despite his hair, he was relatively well-kempt in terms of attire, often sporting matching slacks, blazers, and hats, appearing as some sort of ‘not so smooth criminal.’ For a devil, his horns were rather miniscule and hidden by his hair but he was certainly headstrong.

Physical Description: He had somewhat bad posture, always walking with his hands in his pockets, head down, usually mumbling to himself. He smoked a lot, and even when cigar-less, smoke and fumes escaped from his cuffs, hems, ears, and even his mouth when speaking. He had veiny hands with natural black nails and an odd spiral pattern to his palms. Sometimes he’d talk to people with closed lips through a voice that came from the base of his brimmed hat. Clearly, there was a mouth somewhere within that forest he called the top of his head, but not many people were inquisitive enough to try to find out.

Personality Description:

He was a frequent goer to casinos, particularly those run under the intergalactic Pleiades Casino & Resort chain owned by the perpetually uptight frost demon and business tycoon Vileiro. The only reason Parooz wasn't banned was because of the frost demon's respect for the mobster's superior, Ealdorman Sarcoen, who guided them both as youth and was the primary financial support of the Casino chain at its inception. Even as early as that, it was clear they were on two separate paths but in a way, they were like brothers. A pair of cramp twins. Whereas Vileiro had an unhealthy fascination with luxury, Sepias had an equality unhealthy relationship with vice and of all things, numbers.

The idea that the world is made up of numbers and that everything quite possibly had a numerical explanation kept him up at times. In a sense, numbers serve as the new deity for him, but it was one to be challenged and he often did with his unlucky dice. This led to him becoming quite a gambling addict and his obsession with dice rolls and coin flips determined if he'd act on a situation at times.

That being said, if you happened to be unlucky, and you failed to pay up from a bet, he’d take a finger or worse for his inconvenience. When Parooz became animated, more of his fiendish characteristics manifested. His already sharp canines became pronounced, multiple mouths and eyes appeared just about anywhere on his body, and a deathly heat radiated off of him, followed by random eruptions of fire. However, aside from that, he often clung to his self-proclaimed title of being a "fun guy."

Skills, powers, and abilities:

Tough son of a - Parooz's skin has what can be described as an iron-like elasticity to it. It was exceptionally tough and thick, allowing him to handle and take on some of the sharpest of weapons and projectiles very well, mostly dealing with the blunt force. With enough focus and time, he can augment its effectiveness. Combine that with his already exponentially fortified ram head of a skull and skeleton. Parooz was not one to challenge to a fight when you're feeling moxy in a speakeasy.

Occult Anatomy - Sepias can spawn the features of his head anywhere along and within his body at will. This includes eyes, mouths, ears, noses, and even sabbatical goat horns. He can remove them, cartoonishly jumble his face like Mr. Potatohead, and even place them on foreign objects with the functionality to grow.

It is no surprise the energy radiating off of Parooz is malefic in origin. He is not simply a practitioner of the occult, he is the occult, hailing from a race of human/devil hybrids who live in a hellscape version of Vegas. Its strip extends endlessly, only rumored to end at the gates of hell.

Though he had no affinity for massive feats of external manipulation, he had exceptional control over his soul, body, and demonic energy. Sepias could grow multiple of his body parts like arms and legs out his frame. He could place parts of his soul into basic objects to give them fiendish personalities, increase their strength, and grant basic movement. For example, he could put a switchblade on the floor, give it eyes and have it jump up and take a whiff at someone when they walk by. In reality, these objects aren't actually alive and just represent the multiple personalities he has. It's a coping mechanism for him to stay sane, though if enough of them are together, it's common to see them bicker amongst each other.

Cremation - Parooz has an affinity for manipulating heat, smoke, fire, and ash, often utilizing them in unorthodox, creative ways. He could turn a boulder into a wave of hell fire and brimstone. He could turn a forest into a small hell and there was no foreseeable limit to how hot his flames could get. The mobster is particularly fond of igniting opposing forms of energy, especially magical barriers, and shields. Parooz was especially sensitive to things that passed through the smoke he produced. The faintest of charred smell in the air could mean he's scouting out the area you're in.

Not so fast, buddy - With the ability to replicate parts of his brain, Sepias gained the ability to manipulate his central nervous system as well, allowing him to react significantly faster. In combination with Sepias' ability to place his eyes anywhere and his accelerated understanding of physics, trajectory, and arithmetic, it makes him quite the challenge to blitz or ambush, even with high velocity projectiles.

Dancing with the devil - For someone who slouched in seats, has bad posture, and an unexplainable leg drag that switched depending on the day, Parooz was cartoonishly nimble and flexible when motivated. At times he’d even resemble a snake, narrowly evading in slithery manners when contorting his body to avoid threats. He could briefly turn his body into the shape of a stop sign to hide behind one. He could dislocate his elbow, whirl it like a propeller and fly away like a helicopter. You never seemed to know what you will get when dealing with him.

Buck 50 - Parooz tail is thin and spade-shaped. It extends at will much like his forked tongue and was ridiculously quick, strong, and sharp. It could be used like a whip and it was capable of lifting boulders, clashing with swords, and cleaving fortified metal armor. Truly, a lethality effective weapon for surprise attacks, slicing and even constriction.

Knives out - Parooz had a seemingly endless amount of stiletto knives that never encumbered him. They were stored just about anywhere: Pockets, socks, shoes, sleeves, in hats, under his tongue, ass crack. Use your imagination. Not to mention, he also happened to pull much larger objects seemingly out of thin air like glass bottles, standard Tommy guns, anvils, and sometimes even freakishly large hammers. It was common for him to embed said weapons with his hellish energy to increase their effectiveness against magical shields and armor.

Character Equipment

Barrel-Tone Tony - A slick talking ghoulish-looking pistol with noticeable anxiety that only got worse when firing. He'd often taunt Parooz when he was off the mark, especially since specific rounds physically hurt him to fire. During disagreements, it wasn't surprising to see Tony attempt to pistol whip Parooz on the spot and even take literal shots at his owner.

Bullets shot by Tony could curve at absurd angles and the rounds themselves had a habit of gnawing and devouring absolutely anything they seemed to be lodged in or penetrating. They also had the capability to stuff themselves fat and explode. The effects they'd have was dependent on what Barrel Tone Tony told them to do. They could turn corrosive, explosive, incinerate, become cryo rounds, etc. Parooz considered him an idiot but he did have some amount of psychic proficiency. He could at least warn Sepias when someone was trying to penetrate his mind.

Pair of dice: Cerulean glass dice whose snake eyes are actually snake eyes.

Zippo Lighter: A holographic lighter embroidered in his emblem. When flicked open, it revealed a set of razor-sharp teeth like a barracuda and a blue flame. If you weren't paying attention, you could lose a finger or two.

Switchblades: Stiletto Milano Knives whose blades could extend moderately to become sword-like.

A stick of dynamite: Bang Bang

Character History:

roleplayerguild.com/topics/191144-par…