The Almost Gods: Rage (IC-OPEN)

by **Joshulia** » Fri Nov 14, 2014 8:24 pm

OOC
10 Little Gods

10 Little Gods came together to shine,
One hid in his shadow and now there are nine.

One was a traitor, their mere presence bait,
A lone killer rode into town and then there were eight.

One's own father carried his secrets to heaven,
From his madness there were seven.

One's blood pooled into pit's,
A vampire touch and then there were six.

One lost his very will to be alive,
His wish was granted and then there were five.

One's heart was rotted to the very core,
Her savior came and then there were four.

One's mind left him to be whomever he be,
A bullet helped the decision and then there were three.

Only three Gods left,
One died on the run,
The killer was killed,

And then there was one.

That's a fun little poem, curtsy of yours truly, but it's not really accurate. I mean, not that many have really died yet.....plus who the hell is 'The Killer'? This OP, as well as the entirety of the rp's story line is a load of bullish-

The Academy of Almost Gods
Season 2: Rage!
Back and Better Than Ever!

Group one, otherwise know as Team Anton, was placed under arrest at 0900 whistle standing among Paris's ruins by International Agents. Azrael, Markus, Mala, Parat, Luke, Moloch, and their suprise guest, Alem were arrested by a speacil unit of a highly trained individuals who's one goal in life was the capture and containment of beings such as they. Powerful wards and speacil iced weapons ensured that the already weakened group, caught searching the wreckage for survivors, couldn't escape.

They were quickly transported north, sporting bags over their heads the entire time, split apart and reunited and so on, and subjected to various forms of transportation until they reached their destination: Russia. A Russian, high security, prison camp, nicknamed The Pitt, that's sungluar purpose, like its employees, was to contain magical individuals. While the facility is maximum security, the being's within are allowed free roaming of certain areas, the cafeteria, rec center, and the outdoor grounds. Fights and deaths within are common and each cell block, five of them, are controlled by seperate gangs, save E, that is. The Demons control A, Angels have B, the Skulls, a mixture of all breeds, have C, and the insane inmates of the psyche ward roam D.

Strict curfews are enacted and guard beating are common......have fun.

Biju, Steve, Anima, and Iva. All four, dead by, what Ralevon beloved, his hand. Had he been faster, or stronger, or....or something.....they wouldn't have died as a result of the crash and magical pulse.......God.....they were so close......

Ralevon and his group, the bloodied and beaten students of Group 2, as well as August, crawled their way out of the burning bus and half dragged themselves into the woods. And there they wandered, searching for a save haven for weeks before finally settling on an abandoned Church in southern Germany. Through stolen or battered supplies, they fixed it up, gave it running water, heating, the works. And that's where they began recruiting, far and wide they reached out, putting out feelers in nations across the globe, looking for anyone still loyal to Earth.

And they found some.

But, before all that.......they found a girl in Paris's smoking wreckage. Not a girl, persay, but a faery, one who was left behind in the blast as she left to help her friends of the café......but she survived. Somehow, amidst all the death, the one girl survived with barely a scratch on her, and low and behold as she was found by those only she would know: the Almost Gods.

Funny coincidence, right?

by **Aona** » Fri Nov 14, 2014 10:28 pm

In Which Tlthonl isn't late, like the First Chapter, but wished he Was.

Seriously, fuck Kdulituog. He shows up at the beginning of every goddamn Act, like he means something. As if he had gone through Hell and back over the past few months. As if he had to get in a car crash after witnessing a city get blown up (by something other than Mother-Father), and get mud and other gross stuff shoved in his face.

Goddammit.

BROTHER HOW IS LEARNY FIGHTY PLACE
Tlthonl sighed. "Overrun, Kdul. It has been for a few months. Long story, surely one you don't care about."
HA HA YOU ARE RIGHT HA HA
Another sigh. Tlthonl dipped his hands in the bucket of water that rested at his feet, before washing his face. Oh, how he loved the moisture on his skin, after so long.
ARE YOU GOING BACK TO MOTHER-FATHER THEN
"I....I am not sure, okay, Kdul? I don't know what I'm going to do."
OKAY. TELL ME WHEN YOU DO SO WE CAN PLAY
"..Sure." Tlthonl realized how tired he sounded.
I MISS YOU
"...You too, Kdul."

And with that, the mental connection was severed. Tlthonl stood there for a moment, and sighed deeply.
What had he gotten himself into?

In Which Parat is Sort of Popular in Prison but also Kind of Not.
Cell Block C was an odd place. You were just as likely to be bunking with a werewolf as you were a plaster-goblin that looked like a mix between Celine Dion and Pennywise. Parat never understood how the latter didn't apply as a demon. Like, seriously, if that isn't a creature of nightmares, he didn't know what was.

Parat made friends in Cell Block C. He also made some enemies. The two did as they usually do, canceling each other out, leaving him to simply exist. For some reason, he wasn't as depressed as he had been in Paris, more just...inactive. Yes, that was the right word. He felt very empty and fictional inside, leading his life with the normal gusto he did, just less purposeful. Being on the front line with the Almost Gods was important to him, oddly enough, and for the first time in his life, he felt like he belonged there.

He missed Cyll, as much as he didn't want to admit it. A part of him told himself that they all died in the explosion, but somehow he refused to believe that. He didn't want to believe that. He wanted to believe the Almost Gods he knew were alive and well, and that the fight would go on. He wished he could be rescued. He knew he couldn't.

As for now, Parat reclined against a wall in the Prison yard, as cold as ever, and waited for his friends. They didn't talk often in person anymore, but every now and then, the yard would be underpopulated, and on of them would sneak in. Parat hoped for a moment like this today. His prison jumpsuit's sleeves were rolled fully down to ward off the chill. The sweater he wore in Paris was gone, torn int scraps, which he now used as a scarf. Sure, it was a choking hazard, but hey, style is everything, right?

by **Lavan Tiri** » Fri Nov 14, 2014 10:45 pm

Moloch was no longer sad.

He had recovered his precious.

And so, we find our hero, black, un-dyed hair hanging round his shoulders, striding with purpose down the halls of the prison, to the yard. He wore his jumpsuit, ugly as all hell it was, and only one thing hadn't changed.

Yes, dear reader. The prison guards couldn't take Moloch's dignity, as he had none.

They couldn't take his sanity, since he had none.

They couldn't take his heterosexuality, since he had none.

They couldn't take his deodorant, since he had none.

And they flat-out refused to take his fedora, since every time someone tried the Mad God had a full-on, foot-stomping, screaming, nose-breaking temper tantrum.

So yeah, no touchy-touchy, bitches.

Nice reference, bru

Shrek is love, Shrek is ……

Don't you dare………

linguine

Shut up.

Soon, Moloch reached the yard, clutching his precious Heinz ketchup bottle, and went over to Parat. "Wassup, mah zombie whore?"

by **Westeastern Dicantia** » Fri Nov 14, 2014 11:25 pm

Violet carefully walked into the middle part of the church holding a boiling cup of tea and a piece of almost burnt toast. She stumbled, half asleep, onto a pew and meditatively sipped until she was awake. At that point, she was on her third cup of tea, and the pitiful piece of toast she had made was stone cold and starting to harden. She sighed and threw it across the room. The toast hit a wall and materialized inside a trashcan somewhere a rather large number of miles away.

Morning, noon, or, indeed the middle of the night, Violet despised waking up. Unless it was an absolutely pants-shittingly great morning, this was her routine, and seemingly nothing had the strength to interrupt her. Of course, this was a particularly bad morning; so, as always, toast, and whatever she could find with almost a one-to-one ratio of caffeine to drink. The bus crash and subsequent running like hell had triggered strange recurring dreams filled with images of the dead and dying. For the last three months, it had haunted her.

At some point, maybe half an hour later, she stood and attempted to recall what had caused such a bad start. Luckily, she couldn't remember, so she located a change of clothes and began her way to the bathroom.

by **Zirkagrad** » Sat Nov 15, 2014 8:58 am

Kalyna walked into the church and looked around, she had heard vaguely what had happened earlier and wanted to see what was up. After receiving the 'ad' for a safe haven for all, she decided to check it out because home was boring as hell. Not that hell would've been particularly boring, but it probably would once the novelty wore off. Her mother just sat around trying to lure men into her traps and her father was doing his sciency things, so she decided to go here.

"Helloooo?" Kalyna said as she went inside, the smell of dust and who knows what else assaulted her nose as she spoke. Oh geez man, fuck this smell. I'm getting incense or some shit like that. she thought as she held her hand up to her nose.

She then took off her backpack and plunked it down on a pew. This apparently angered a moth family as they flew away angrily, because moths live in church pews, it's scientific fact. Kalyna scowled at these creatures as she swiped at them like they were the fucking devil, which they might as well be, she hated the shit out of moths.

by **Aona** » Sat Nov 15, 2014 2:18 pm

Parat perked his head up, and was half-relieved, half-disturbed, to see his schizophrenic friend, who also happened to be a God. Why that sentence was normal, Parat had no idea.

"How'd you get over here? I thought your block was locked up pretty tight, ever since you tried to bite a guard's ear off, or something. But hey: I'm stuck in a cold-ass prison with no goggles, and no guns. But...I have a scarf. So, I can't complain." He grinned.

"What about you?"

by **Tarnen** » Sat Nov 15, 2014 5:20 pm

Markus walked around the yard, wrapping his hand slowly at it still throbbed from the pain. Both of his hands were cut as was his left cheek but other then that he was fine, even though it didn't look like it he got out of a fight with a vampire, who no doubt was still lying on the floor in the bathroom. He eyed Moloch and Parat walking up to them, tightening the bandage on his hand "Hey guys, Moloch I see you have your ketchup bottle back, good to know." Running a ran through his unkempt hair, as well as wiping his still drying cut on his cheek.

by **Joshulia** » Sat Nov 15, 2014 6:01 pm

"Umf.....is that the best you've got?" Azrael mumbled, recoiling from the latest of many punches to his face at the hands of the three men that stood before him. Two at his back, holding him on his knees and hands behind his back, one with a small knife, the other unarmed, while the 'leader' stood in front, dealing out the punishment.

Azrael, in all his splendor, hung loosely against their grip, his leaned forward and blood dripping from his face to the floor. His blood's golden quality meant he could see his own reflection in it, and what he saw was a longer haired version of himself, tied off in the back, in a prison uniform, sleeves rolled up and out of the way.

"You really are dumb as shit, aren't you kid?" The large, and rather muscly, Archdemon giving out the beating said, smirk on his face. He threw yet another punch which connected with Azrael's jaw, causing both blood and spittle to fly off in the direction he head whiped.

Azrael slowly turned his head back towards his captor, silently though, which prompted him to say, "Oh, so now you've learned some respect, aye? Too late for late you little shit!"

He reared back, arm poised to deliver yet another blow, but, right as he began the descent, he took a wad of spittle and blood to the eye. The momentum are built up from his commitment to the act of aggression kept his fist on track.......right to where Azrael used to be. The archangel ducked to the side, causing the brute to merely smash his friend who'd been holding Az's kneecap.

As the unready man's bones broke backwards, and his buddy to the left went wide eyed as he leaned in to help, Az jumped forwards, his hands now free, and head butted the large demon who'd been punching in the stomach. As he bent over the Angel brought his elbow down on the back of his head, cracking his skull, before turning and kicking the same man in the other kneecap, breaking it as well.

The demon fell backwards, smashing his head on and breaking the porcelain sink before coming to a silent stop on the ground. Finally, before the third, and utterly baffled, demon could raise the shiv in his right hand, the Angel of Death delivered two crushing blows to his cheek and under his jaw, sending him slumping to the ground.

Azrael, bloodied and beaten slowly turned, limping as he did so, and walked out of the cell, much to the suprise of the prisoners who'd been watching the event unfold. Yet, almost as quickly as he did so, a new batch of Demons erupted from various cells, some armed, and some not.

Azrael, favoring his right leg, stood completly still, save for tightening the hand that wasn't holding the cell's metal frame, into a fist.

"Well you're new."

A melodious questioned from one of the church's wings. It belonged to a young looking man, save the slightly curly white hair, who leaned against a doorframe, coffee mug in one hand and a newspaper in the other. He sported dark clothing, black pants, blazer and shoes, though the open front revealed a red and white plaid flannel.

He was shaven, thigh he still had some stubble poking from his jaw line, a jaw line that opened as he spoke to his student who sat nearby.

"Violet, we have a guest.....get behind me would you?"

He then turned back to the newcomer and spoke with an easygoing feel to his voice, as if he's done this a million times before.

"Well hello, my name is Aleki, but most call me Ralevon or Headmaster. But that's not important, the real question is who are you, and why are you here?" He questioned, nonchalantly taking a sip of coffee as he finished.

by **Zirkagrad** » Sat Nov 15, 2014 6:59 pm

Kalyna looked at Aleki after her unfortunately fruitless battle with the moths. Damn those things. She was wearing a black leather jacket with 4 pockets on the outside and 4 on the inside, a mint green shirt, dark pants, and black military style boots with mint colored laces. The blue skinned girl looked at him and held up a finger for him to wait a second as she got something out of her bag. The item was a piece of paper that looked slightly water damaged and wrinkled, but her handwriting was still visible after all of that duress.

"I heard you were advertising this place as a safe haven, right?" the girl continued as she looked at the piece of paper, "Well, I'm Kalyna, if you're not going to kill or skin me alive." the girl finished as she smiled.

Kalyna looked up and around again, she never liked the smell of dust, or maybe she just didn't like the smell of churches. It was hard to tell.

"So, you planning on getting some incense or some nice scented candles? This place needs something that smells like a girl spilled her body spray in here. Like the kind that says, "Yo baby, I'm just dying to see you naked!" or something stupid like that on the bottle. As much as they have shitty names, they smell like perfection." she said jokingly, hoping to get on Ravelon's good side.

by **Westeastern Dicantia** » Sat Nov 15, 2014 7:53 pm

Violet reappeared in the room where Ralevon and the strange looking new person were talking dressed in an old t-shirt and a pair of tattered jeans, her hair was still wet after attempting to clean herself up. "Did someone call my name?" she asked, standing behind Ralevon. Glancing over at who he was talking to, she caught sight of a very odd looking girl with blue skin, "Who are you?" she asked the new person. Maybe she knows what happened to the others...Maybe she's a spy thought Violet, I wonder what she can do.

by **Arana** » Sat Nov 15, 2014 8:23 pm

Joshulia wrote:"Umf.....is that the best you've got?" Azrael mumbled, recoiling from the latest of many punches to his face at the hands of the three men that stood before him. Two at his back, holding him on his knees and hands behind his back, one with a small knife, the other unarmed, while the 'leader' stood in front, dealing out the punishment.

Azrael, in all his splendor, hung loosely against their grip, his leaned forward and blood dripping from his face to the floor. His blood's golden quality meant he could see his own reflection in it, and what he saw was a longer haired version of himself, tied off in the back, in a prison uniform, sleeves rolled up and out of the way.

"You really are dumb as shit, aren't you kid?" The large, and rather muscly, Archdemon giving out the beating said, smirk on his face. He threw yet another punch which connected with Azrael's jaw, causing both blood and spittle to fly off in the direction he head whiped.

Azrael slowly turned his head back towards his captor, silently though, which prompted him to say, "Oh, so now you've learned some respect, aye? Too late for late you little shit!"

He reared back, arm poised to deliver yet another blow, but, right as he began the descent, he took a wad of spittle and blood to the eye. The momentum are built up from his commitment to the act of aggression kept his fist on track.......right to where Azrael used to be. The archangel ducked to the side, causing the brute to merely smash his friend who'd been holding Az's kneecap.

As the unready man's bones broke backwards, and his buddy to the left went wide eyed as he leaned in to help, Az jumped forwards, his hands now free, and head butted the large demon who'd been punching in the stomach. As he bent over the Angel brought his elbow down on the back of his head, cracking his skull, before turning and kicking the same man in the other kneecap, breaking it as well.

The demon fell backwards, smashing his head on and breaking the porcelain sink before coming to a silent stop on the ground. Finally, before the third, and utterly baffled, demon could raise the shiv in his right hand, the Angel of Death delivered two crushing blows to his cheek and under his jaw, sending him slumping to the ground.

Azrael, bloodied and beaten slowly turned, limping as he did so, and walked out of the cell, much to the suprise of the prisoners who'd been watching the event unfold. Yet, almost as quickly as he did so, a new batch of Demons erupted from various cells, some armed, and some not.

Azrael, favoring his right leg, stood completly still, save for tightening the hand that wasn't holding the cell's metal frame, into a fist.

Luke lay on one of the bunks in his cell, bored. At first, he had had trouble adjusting to being in prison. After all, the last time he was in a Russian (or rather, Soviet) prison was back in 1953 in Vorkuta, but he was one of the guards. Upon being thrown into Block E, he was relieved to find that he was among his own kind. Most of the prisoners there were either his siblings or his father's subordinates, the archdemons. He ended up being assigned to a cell with his younger brother Eshaad. The two of them had always been friendly, until one day Eshaad disappeared while on Earth. Apparently, this was where he had been. Apparently, he was well liked by the other prisoners, and that had helped in Luke's goal to not be beaten up. It also helped to try to avoid the name Luke as much as possible. It only took one beating to realize that things went much smoother when he went by Eluzhar.

"Eluzhar..."

"What?"

"I'm bored. Can we go hang out down by Block B? We might catch an angel coming out so we can beat them up."

One of the first things that Luke had realized was that a good way to fit in was to beat the crap out of an angel every now and then. Not only did it help him fit in, but it was a good way to relieve boredom. It also just so happened that there was another angel, the Archangel of Death, to be specific, in the same cell block. Since first being thrown in jail, the two of them had had a sort of understanding. Whenever Azrael was being beaten up, Luke would join in, and whenever Luke got too close to Block B Azrael and several angels would jump him. They both knew that the only reason for this was for them to fit in. They also both knew that the other was probably lying about that.

"Remember last time? There were like ten of them. I almost broke a wing, not that they're much use in here anyways. And they stabbed you. Like ten times."

"But at least it was something to do..."

It was around that moment that the two of them heard a commotion in the hallway. Poking his head out of the cell, Luke noticed the rest of the demons all converging on something, but what it was he couldn't tell... so he just went back inside, grabbed the makeshift knife he kept hidden in his mattress, and looked at his brother.

"Well, looks like your wish has been granted."

Curious, he walked back out with the knife in his hand and went up to the crowd. After getting close enough, he grinned slightly at the sight before him. From the looks of it, the Archangel had been beaten pretty bad, but was still on his feet. Time to change that. Maneuvering himself to the front of the crowd of demons, he looked at the Archangel silently and readied his knife.

by **Charmera** » Sat Nov 15, 2014 8:32 pm

Tarnen wrote:Markus walked around the yard, wrapping his hand slowly at it still throbbed from the pain. Both of his hands were cut as was his left cheek but other then that he was fine, even though it didn't look like it he got out of a fight with a vampire, who no doubt was still lying on the floor in the bathroom. He eyed Moloch and Parat walking up to them, tightening the bandage on his hand "Hey guys, Moloch I see you have your ketchup bottle back, good to know." Running a ran through his unkempt hair, as well as wiping his still drying cut on his cheek.

Markus might notice a small figure next him. If he looked down, he would notice the blue eyes and white hair of Jean, fear and concern in those eyes. Anyone who knew her would know her fear wasn't just of the prison in which they were stuck. She knew it was only a matter of time before Mala weakened her mental defenses to the point where she could come out again, so sticking with the people she knew helped her constant struggle against Mala, as their comforting presence helped lighten the mental load. "Guys. Where are Az and Luke? I haven't seen them at all today..."

by **Joshulia** » Sat Nov 15, 2014 8:45 pm

Ralevon smiled a warm smile, one that competely betrayed his harsh and, seemly, cold words as they were spoken in a timely and efficient manner.

"You came to this clearly secluded and out of the way abandoned church in the woods because you were bored?"

The man took yet another swig from his coffee mug, revealed in it for a moment, and then turned his sights back on the new girl, a questioning gaze adorning an already hard face.

Azrael wiped the blood from his mouth.......and eyes.......and nose......before turning towards the approaching Spawn. It was Luke. Of course it was Luke, he would be the only one to come at him with a knife, the little bit-

Just an act Az, just an act.....

The archangel glared at the Spawn, both mock and true hate in his eyes as he spoke, "Is the knife supposed to intimidate me? God, demons are getting dumber every day."

by **Arana** » Sat Nov 15, 2014 8:55 pm

Joshulia wrote:Azrael wiped the blood from his mouth.......and eyes.......and nose......before turning towards the approaching Spawn. It was Luke. Of course it was Luke, he would be the only one to come at him with a knife, the little bit-

Just an act Az, just an act.....

The archangel glared at the Spawn, both mock and true hate in his eyes as he spoke, "is the knife supposed to intimidate me? God, demons are getting dumber every day."

Luke looked at the Archangel in front of him, then down at the knife.

"No... it's a knife... the general purpose of knives is to cut things. Would have thought that would be pretty clear, but then, angels..."

He didn't mean it. Well, he meant it a little. Or a lot.

"Figured I might as well pay you back for last time. So, we gonna talk or fight?"

by **Lavan Tiri** » Sat Nov 15, 2014 9:15 pm

Moloch was confused. What ketchup bottle?

Oh. He didn't like way Markus was looking at Heiny.

He wants you, bae. He wants your smooth, plastic curves and your petite bod and your cute white head.

You're fucking insane

Drop it like it's hot, drop it like it's hot.

U wot m8?

Moloch didn't notice the voices. He was deep in thought.

Fact: Moloch didn't like prison, or spaghetti.

Fact: Markus was eyeballing Heiny.

Fact: He was smarter and cleverer than all these bozos put together.

Fact: He. Had. A. Plan.

Moloch made a break for it, clutching Heiny close to his chest. Ten yards, twenty, thirty, fourty……… this was it. If he could go backwards fast enough, he could puncture the time-space condominium, and go back in time to where he wasn't in prison, and could be alone with Heiny five-ever, since that's moar den four-ever.

This brilliant, incredible, genius plan, though, didn't take in account the fact that Moloch was about as graceful as a dead, greased pig on roller skates.

He fell, tripping over his own calf, and rolled, somehow going forward instead of back, landing at Markus' feet. He clutched Heiny close to his chest and yelled

"NO, MARKUS, YOU CAN'T TOUCH MY HEINY!"

by **Zirkagrad** » Sat Nov 15, 2014 9:32 pm

Kalyna rolled her eyes, "I came to help as well, you know. I brought medical supplies." she said and crossed her arms, "Not everyone needs a big meaningful reason to come and help, I met one of your recruiters and I wanted to come." she continued as she sat down at the edge of the pew.

She could tell that he probably didn't like her much, if at all. She honestly couldn't care less. Oh well, it meant she would've gotten a vacation and maybe could beat someone or something at one point.

Kalyna breathed out of her nose sharply in annoyance, so much for trying to be friendly, "So let me guess, you don't like people like me or something? Or are you just naturally distrustful of anyone that proposes help?" she quipped flatly.

I need a smoke. she ruminated, finding this place was hella hard and now this man was being like this.

by **Tarnen** » Sun Nov 16, 2014 1:43 am

Lavan Tiri wrote:Moloch was confused. What ketchup bottle?

Oh. He didn't like way Markus was looking at Heiny.

He wants you, bae. He wants your smooth, plastic curves and your petite bod and your cute white head.

You're fucking insane

Drop it like it's hot, drop it like it's hot.

U wot m8?

Moloch didn't notice the voices. He was deep in thought.

Fact: Moloch didn't like prison, or spaghetti.

Fact: Markus was eyeballing Heiny.

Fact: He was smarter and cleverer than all these bozos put together.

Fact: He. Had. A. Plan.

Moloch made a break for it, clutching Heiny close to his chest. Ten yards, twenty, thirty, fourty……… this was it. If he could go backwards fast enough, he could puncture the time-space condominium, and go back in time to where he wasn't in prison, and could be alone with Heiny five-ever, since that's moar den four-ever.

This brilliant, incredible, genius plan, though, didn't take in account the fact that Moloch was about as graceful as a dead, greased pig on roller skates.

He fell, tripping over his own calf, and rolled, somehow going forward instead of back, landing at Markus' feet. He clutched Heiny close to his chest and yelled

"NO, MARKUS, YOU CAN'T TOUCH MY HEINY!"

I don't want your ketchup Moloch." Picking him up unto his feet wiping the dust from his shoulders. "Hey Jean." Almost forgetting about her, leaning against one of the walls. "Yeah anybody heard about or seen the others."

-I.M.O.G. · by **Slorch** » Sun Nov 16, 2014 8:16 am

Zirkagrad wrote:Kalyna walked into the church and looked around, she had heard vaguely what had happened earlier and wanted to see what was up. After receiving the 'ad' for a safe haven for all, she decided to check it out because home was boring as hell. Not that hell would've been particularly boring, but it probably would once the novelty wore off. Her mother just sat around trying to lure men into her traps and her father was doing his sciency things, so she decided to go here.

"Helloooo?" Kalyna said as she went inside, the smell of dust and who knows what else assaulted her nose as she spoke. Oh geez man, fuck this smell. I'm getting incense or some shit like that. she thought as she held her hand up to her nose.

She then took off her backpack and plunked it down on a pew. This apparently angered a moth family as they flew away angrily, because moths live in church pews, it's scientific fact. Kalyna scowled at these creatures as she swiped at them like they were the fucking devil, which they might as well be, she hated the shit out of moths.

Star woke up groggily. 'Damn it who the hell is yelling at this time of day?' she thought as she rolled over for what felt like the 100th time and attempted to slap a light that wasn't there. Her hands searched for a few minutes before her mind finally realized where she was and she stopped.

She unzipped her sleeping bag and sat up. Some, thing had been off about the sound of the voice she had heard though. Something she knew was important. Star rummaged around the floor to find a particular item. 'Gun, nope. Food, not right now. Oh found it.' She grabbed a what looked like an epipen to a normal person, but she knew it was not filled with the usual 300 μg of epinephrine. Instead through a lot of blood and sweat she had filled it with a mix of Caesium-137, Rubidium- 85, and Rubidium-87. She now pulled the pen off the end of it and stabbed herself in the thigh. Now to most it would have likely been a death sentence, but to her it was like the equivalent of of drinking a few dozen espressos at once.

She sat up fully awake now and looked down from her little balcony to see the Headmaster, Violet, and some chick. Silently she grabbed her gun and took aim in case the new person tried anything.

by **Achidyemay** » Sun Nov 16, 2014 1:55 pm

Relatively speaking, ~~Amanda~~ Andy was very happy. He had gotten up early, dressed himself in a mixture of stolen and gifted clothes: A windbreaker, hoodie, shirt that was too small and pants that were to large and held up with a bit of rope. In the end, he looked like a hobo, albeit a hobo with stunning blue hair and eyes. As he left the church in those early hours, he grabbed the PVC pipe that had been capped on both ends and had been stapled to a sash, Andy's first attempt at constructing something without other's help. He had watched the sunrise, "painting" the image from the top of a tree. He had taken this last few months to focus more on training his powers than the disasters in Paris. Today, was a new dawn, a new day. He shifted the color on the paper to match the sunset using his powers, creating a detailed picture that matched the sunset. Then reversed the colors so white was black and green was red etc. He changed the colors back, and then changed them again, and back. He smiled to himself, it had become so easy. Rolling the paper carefully into the tube on his back, he carefully climbed back down from the tree, passing the spring flowers in bloom.

He bent down, smelling a flower tentatively. It smelled like dew and dirt and fresh cut grass. Not exactly a lovely smell. But the purple was unlike one he had ever seen. And he knew all he had ever seen, a gift really when it came to mixing paints. He copied his right middle-fingers color to match the purple of the flower. He looked at his nails then, ever since he had started collecting colors, his hands had been rainbows. There were fiery oranges and muddy yellows and three different shades of green on his nails. This new purple would replace a reddish-brick color.

He made it back to the church front yard, picking his way easily through the sparse underbrush. It would be more thick in the later summer, he could tell. As he approached the front door, he slowed, taking in the strange scene, suddenly pink eyes narrowing dangerously.
Who is she?

by **Aona** » Sun Nov 16, 2014 2:46 pm

Parat snickered at Moloch's otherwise irritating leaps and bounds. He missed the carefree feeling of them, and was glad to see them crop up every now and again.

"Hey, Markus. How're things holding up?"

by **TriStates** » Sun Nov 16, 2014 3:04 pm

You've Never Quite Met a God Like Me

Scene: Lower Mens Restroom|Cellblock C|The Pitt| Somewhere In Russia -Further Location Redacted-

Cast: John Lee Pettimore

“So listen...it none of my business..but as our blocks gastralyor, I figured you deserved a heads up..” muttered a lanky looking man in creaky English to the burly young inmate doing his business in the urinal next to him.

Both were standing with their backs to the restroom door, their heads low with eyes downcast at the ground. The first convict went by the name of mysh', known as Mouse to the English speaking degenerates of the Pitt. It wasn't a comment on his size, considering he stood nearly 6"9 if he stood an inch. Rather, it was for his skill of being the intelligence service in this prime ex-Soviet institution. Anything that was said, anything that was done usually fell through some crack in the wall, and ended up gracing the Mouse's eye or ear.

You could also say it fit his personality perfectly. A otherwise ordinary Russian Skull spawn, but with a knack for capitalism and a strangely sunny disposition. By which I mean, he wouldn't intentionally take a chunk out of Lee for kicks, like so many other of his species would. He considered himself a businessman! And its bad for business to eat out of your potential pool of clients. Of course, he had a cowardly streak. You could sure as hell count him out of any fight, whether it was for you or against you. He prefered to have your back, from a long ways away.

The other man looked up briefly, his steel grey eyes going over the aged and pockmarked face of the senior inmate. Gastralyor. Guest criminal, is what it meant. A grim little joke that the guards and criminals had bestowed upon him the first week of his internment, considering he was oh so far away from home. They thought it was funny as hell… In any case, he prefered that calling card to anyone using his own name.

“I heard one of pakhan," spoke Mouse in a hurried fashion, turning to look in the direction of the door every few words, as if monitoring for some unknowable impending doom. "One of the gang leaders, has it out for you. Something about settling accounts with the new fish on the block, razborka, you understand? Anyway one of the Skull crews.. is headed this way to prshit’ you...” Mouse drew a grim line across his neck with his thumb, slashing ear to ear.

"Thats too bad. But I appreciate the heads up," commented Lee in a nonchalant tone, as if they were discussing a surprise rainy day. Buttoning the fly of his sky blue prison jumpsuit, hitting the rusty flush bar with a downward tap, the younger criminal turned his back on the other as he walked to the sink.

“And they got shivs…” finished Mouse.

Lee’s hands halted in mid wash. The whole joint was a magic-free zone. Supposedly, that made it safer. All that really meant was instead of getting blown apart by powers, you’d get the shit shot, stabbed, or beaten out of you the old fashion way. A sigh escaped his lips as he rolled his head from side to side. Mouse was one of the few inmates at this armpit of an institution to have embraced the teenager heartly. Usually, there would be a price tag on anything being said here and now. Now who ever said there's no honor among thieves?

“Ah, shit.. how much time do I have?” the young man inquired.

“Not even 10 minutes.” The noisy gurgle from the urinal announced that Mouse’s moment here was almost up. For him, coming down here before hand was the epitome of bravery. No way in the Devil’s Hell or a God’s Heaven would he be 100 meters near a place that promised such heavy action in such short time.

The sound of rushing cold, grey water from an equally rust faucet echoed in the now silent restroom. Mouse walked over to Lee, reaching into his pocket briefly. His hand returned into view with two things: A shank, and a make shift cigarette. The former was nothing to brag about, but better than nothing. Just a sharpened pork chop bone, filed to a sharp point. Good for jabbing and gouging. But the second item... that might as well have been a golden grand to Lee! No doubt it was stolen from the guards. But who gave a flying fuck about those screws anyway

"Consider good bye gift from me and boys eh?" said Mouse, placing the items swiftly in Lee's pocket before turning to leave.

“Legit as fuck. Thanks.” Lee said over his shoulder, placing the pilferred smoke in his mouth, chuckling at the departing jailbirds dark humor.

“You won’t be saying that when They get here...dasvidaniya gastralyor.”

The metallic creak of the swinging door announced the end of their conversation, leaving Lee to mull over the ticking timebomb that he'd been warned of.

by **Vesperis** » Sun Nov 16, 2014 3:37 pm

It's kind of funny, this whole situation. It all definitely happened, but it hardly makes any realistic sense. For you see, when a large or shocking event happens such an earthquake or the death of someone, we remember exactly what happened. We know where we were, who we were with, what we were doing. This is called a flashbulb memory. A snapshot of that moment permanently set in your mind. It must be expected that all of the students who were in Paris remember exactly what was going on when the explosion happened.

Then there's Alem. She remembers being in the hotel room, running out, towards the cafe. Everyone had left her behind, so she had attempted to at least help. But the running there, the explosion, all of that is empty in her memory. She knows what she did but not how she did it, and she does no find it odd. There is vagueness, though she finds none of it out of the ordinary. She had been hit by a huge explosion, who could possibly remember much? There was the sky, and something that had covered it up above her. It could have been a cloud, some rubble, a bird, who knows?

The next time she sees anything clearly, she is gasping for breath as she layed in the rubble of a destroyed Paris. She immediately questioned why she isn't dead. Faeries don't live forever, just far longer than humans. She feelt no pain, yet she doesn't feel numb. The only thing she can feel is the heavy dust upon her, the uncomfortable rubble below her, and an unexplainable feeling in the back of her mind. She has an objective that she cannot define, and so pushes it out of her immediate thought.

She attempts to sit up and her vision clouds and goes darker. She fell back and closed her eyes tightly. The next time they open, she has been found by her classmates. All that is wrong with her was a single shallow gash across her collarbone and some bruises. Luck, as she believes, that she managed to survive. Pure luck.

Alem didn't like prison. Who did? She could deal with the uncomfortable bed, as she knew the pain of slepeing in trees from her younger years back home. She could deal with the horrible food, all human food tasted the same. She could even deal with the constant fighting, for the people who immediately interracted with her seemed to not want to deal with her. She couldn't fight back if she tried, and so she used every last bit of her energy each day to keep it so other prisoners wouldn't see her as a worthy opponent. She couldn't do much, however, so staying out of their way did wonders. She longed each day for her abilities to mess with them. Many days she longed for something she couldn't quite explain, almost a bloodlust that she knew she couldn't satiate.

The lack of shiny things was also a bother. She had taken to collecting whaever she could as of late, using large amounts of energy to make people believe they misplaced things so she could swipe them. There was a fork, a small broken chain link, some rivets, and one last object she found particularily useful. This particular day, she had found it wedged between a wall and a door that was usually always left open during the day. Someone had been trying to hide it, and so she swiped it. She was making her way back to her usual hiding spot in a small unused corridor in block C when she heard a conversation. She paused in the shadows as two demons passed. They spoke of an Archangel beating and how much they wanted to get a hit in. The conversation faded and she moved to be on her merry way back to her hiding.

Suddenly there was an overwhelming feeling that made her turn and begin to follow them as quietly as she could. She never had a desire to see blood spilled before, but now was the time. When she came closer, she took out the wonderfully shiny object from before. It was a rather unbloodied knife. She did not wonder why she was steeping so low as to use a knife for intimidation. The uncharacteristic want for conflict dragged her closer and closer to he scene. Lo and behold, it was Azrael being beat. His opposition had a knife, so maybe it was time to get him out?

Many of the demons hardly noticed the very short bright-eyed faerie crouching through the crowd. Once she got close enough, she drew the knife and held it as intimidatingly as she knew how. She couldn't weild a knife, but Az could. She walked right up to them, something she wasn't used to having the balls to do.

"I could ask you why you're here, Az, but then you might have a sensible reason." Her eyes drifted over to his opponent, and she kept her eyes locked with him as she stood.

by **Arana** » Sun Nov 16, 2014 4:13 pm

Vesperis wrote:
Alem didn't like prison. Who did? She could deal with the uncomfortable bed, as she knew the pain of slepeing in trees from her younger years back home. She could deal with the horrible food, all human food tasted the same. She could even deal with the constant fighting, for the people who immediately interracted with her seemed to not want to deal with her. She couldn't fight back if she tried, and so she used every last bit of her energy each day to keep it so other prisoners wouldn't see her as a worthy opponent. She couldn't do much, however, so staying out of their way did wonders. She longed each day for her abilities to mess with them. Many days she longed for something she couldn't quite explain, almost a bloodlust that she knew she couldn't satiate.

The lack of shiny things was also a bother. She had taken to collecting whaever she could as of late, using large amounts of energy to make people believe they misplaced things so she could swipe them. There was a fork, a small broken chain link, some rivets, and one last object she found particularily useful. This particular day, she had found it wedged between a wall and a door that was usually always left open during the day. Someone had been trying to hide it, and so she swiped it. She was making her way back to her usual hiding spot in a small unused corridor in block C when she heard a conversation. She paused in the shadows as two demons passed. They spoke of an Archangel beating and how much they wanted to get a hit in. The conversation faded and she moved to be on her merry way back to her hiding.

Suddenly there was an overwhelming feeling that made her turn and begin to follow them as quietly as she could. She never had a desire to see blood spilled before, but now was the time. When she came closer, she took out the wonderfully shiny object from before. It was a rather unbloodied knife. She did not wonder why she was steeping so low as to use a knife for intimidation. The uncharacteristic want for conflict dragged her closer and closer to he scene. Lo and behold, it was Azrael being beat. His opposition had a knife, so maybe it was time to get him out?

Many of the demons hardly noticed the very short bright-eyed faerie crouching through the crowd. Once she got close enough, she drew the knife and held it as intimidatingly as she knew how. She couldn't weild a knife, but Az could. She walked right up to them, something she wasn't used to having the balls to do.

"I could ask you why you're here, Az, but then you might have a sensible reason." Her eyes drifted over to his opponent, and she kept her eyes locked with him as she stood.

Luke was taken off guard by the sudden appearance of a faerie with a knife. To be more specific, he was taken off guard by the sudden appearance of a familiar faerie with a knife. From the looks of it she was planning on either attacking him, or giving Azrael something to attack him with. But why take sides at all? For a second she suspected that maybe the faerie didn't recognize him — his hair was longer than before, and his prison uniform didn't allow him to have his wings or tail out (also the fact that they could be used against him) — but the more likely reason was that she just liked the Archangel more.

"Alem? How in Hell did you get here? And why?"

Part of him hoped that her distraction would create an opportunity to calm things down. However, his brother soon chimed in from the crowd.

"Eluzhar, kick his ass!"

The rest of the demons soon started egging him on as well... most likely, if he didn't do anything now, they'd beat up all three of them.

by **Vesperis** » Sun Nov 16, 2014 4:39 pm

Arana wrote:
Vesperis wrote:
Alem didn't like prison. Who did? She could deal with the uncomfortable bed, as she knew the pain of slepeing in trees from her younger years back home. She could deal with the horrible food, all human food tasted the same. She could even deal with the constant fighting, for the people who immediately interracted with her seemed to not want to deal with her. She couldn't fight back if she tried, and so she used every last bit of her energy each day to keep it so other prisoners wouldn't see her as a worthy opponent. She couldn't do much, however, so staying out of their way did wonders. She longed each day for her abilities to mess with them. Many days she longed for something she couldn't quite explain, almost a bloodlust that she knew she couldn't satiate.

The lack of shiny things was also a bother. She had taken to collecting whaever she could as of late, using large amounts of energy to make people believe they misplaced things so she could swipe them. There was a fork, a small broken chain link, some rivets, and one last object she found particularily useful. This particular day, she had found it wedged between a wall and a door that was usually always left open during the day. Someone had been trying to hide it, and so she swiped it. She was making her way back to her usual hiding spot in a small unused corridor in block C when she heard a conversation. She paused in the shadows as two demons passed. They spoke of an Archangel beating and how much they wanted to get a hit in. The conversation faded and she moved to be on her merry way back to her hiding.

Suddenly there was an overwhelming feeling that made her turn and begin to follow them as quietly as she could. She never had a desire to see blood spilled before, but now was the time. When she came closer, she took out the wonderfully shiny object from before. It was a rather unbloodied knife. She did not wonder why she was steeping so low as to use a knife for intimidation. The uncharacteristic want for conflict dragged her closer and closer to he scene. Lo and behold, it was Azrael being beat. His opposition had a knife, so maybe it was time to get him out?

Many of the demons hardly noticed the very short bright-eyed faerie crouching through the crowd. Once she got close enough, she drew the knife and held it as intimidatingly as she knew how. She couldn't weild a knife, but Az could. She walked right up to them, something she wasn't used to having the balls to do.

"I could ask you why you're here, Az, but then you might have a sensible reason." Her eyes drifted over to his opponent, and she kept her eyes locked with him as she stood.

Luke was taken off guard by the sudden appearance of a faerie with a knife. To be more specific, he was taken off guard by the sudden appearance of a familiar faerie with a knife. From the looks of it she was planning on either attacking him, or giving Azrael something to attack him with. But why take sides at all? For a second she suspected that maybe the faerie didn't recognize him — his hair was longer than before, and his prison uniform didn't allow him to have his wings or tail out (also the fact that they could be used against him) — but the more likely reason was that she just liked the Archangel more.

"Alem? How in Hell did you get here? And why?"

Part of him hoped that her distraction would create an opportunity to calm things down. However, his brother soon chimed in from the crowd.

"Eluzhar, kick his ass!"

The rest of the demons soon started egging him on as well... most likely, if he didn't do anything now, they'd beat up all three of them.

Alem hearing her own name suddenly sounded like it was being yelled from dozens of yards away. It was unfamiliar, weird, and she didn't understand who was saying it or why. The world around her came back in to focus and it occured to her exactly what was happening. She didn't know how she got in there, or why the hell she stepped in. All she knew was that the feeling of wanting to see a demon bleeding on the floor suddenly shifted in to the desire to get all three of them the hell out of there. She convinced herself of a made-up reason to justify her going there. That somehow she knew it was Az and that she was going to get him out. She knew that wasn't really the reason, but it was less confusing than her unexplainable bloodlust.

Her face showed the sudden dismay. Her expression that just a moment ago had been menacing (as menacing as you can get for a faerie), was now struggling to keep the same expression. She had just wanted to slice Luke to bits, he hadn't looked like himself a moment ago. And now it was absolutely clear who he was and it terrified her. "Az...Luke..." She tried to start, her voice fading in the slowly growing roar of demons wanting a fight.

by **Lavan Tiri** » Sun Nov 16, 2014 4:50 pm

"Back. Your. Asses. Off. The. Angel. Now."

This voice was cold and menacing, carrying with it the promise of several degrees of pain if it's wishes weren't obeyed.

Most people wouldn't think Moloch could make those sounds.

Like Two Minutes Earlier

Moloch hissed at Markus, not wanting to be touched by this…… degraded thing, this thing that wanted to fondle his Heiny. "Of course you want Heiny. Even though h doesn't like bondage, you want him."

And with that, Moloch stalked off. He'd be damned if he spent another minute in that perv's company.

And so, it was with a combination of idiocy, inanity, and pure dumb luck that the Mad God was found standing behind a group of demons, plus Alem and Az.

And Luke, his crush. Former, now.

Moloch simply stood there, awaiting a response from the demons.

The Almost Gods: Rage (IC-OPEN)

The Almost Gods: Rage (IC-OPEN)

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