Demon and Demoness (closed to Celeste001)

[Seth_Rahl]

The tavern was warm, and Ifrit was glad that there was little people in it. He had spent the last week hanging about with humans, and they had gotten on his nerves, so now he spent his time drinking his wine in the tavern, which was called "The Scarlett Seahorse". It was an odd name, but Ifrit found the bar keeper and his wife charming enough so he decided to stop here for the night. There were no new bounties to catch, no new villains to apprehend, so he decided to make this his night off.

The cambion stole a glance outside. It had grown pitch black, but to the demon's red eyes he could see shapes moving along like giant centipedes, crawling and knawing. Forcing away the mental image, he polished off his drink and tapped his claws on his right gauntlet on the wooden table.

Boredom had snuck up on him again, it seemed.
Sorry for such a short post, but I really want to get you introduced into the crazy world of Althanas. Just start off anyway you want.

[Celeste001]

Syraelia crossed her arms angrily. “It is none of your business what brings me to this city,” she hissed at the gate guard.

The guards mumbled to each other, darting questioning glances at the strange demon as they thought about letting her pass through the gate into their precious hometown. She was well armed, and quite uncooperative. “Look, I need a place to sleep,” Syraelia said shortly. She began impatiently tapping her foot on the cobblestone. I knew coming into civilization was a bad idea. Humans ask too many questions.

“Alright,” the head guard decided stepping out of her path. “The Scarlett Seahorse is where you want to go to sleep. Just through the gate, make a left at the…”

Syraelia didn’t wait for him to finish as she brushed past the guard into the still crowed town. Though the hour was late, many creatures where still out and about; bustling from building to building or simply chatting in the street. Syraelia snorted at the dirty smell of flesh as human after human crossed her path. She hated things that breathed. You hate everything she thought with a grimace. Syraelia shook her head to rid herself of her growing anger as she turned her thoughts to finding that blasted tavern.

She rounded a few corners and easily found her way to the inn by following the stink of ale and the noise of drunken creatures. She sighed heavily before opening the tavern door, hoping to make a quite entrance before slipping into darkness of a corner table. Instead it seemed that all eyes where on her as she entered the warmly lit dinning room. Apparently I stand out like a sore thumb here she thought. The room was filled with tiny people no higher than her waist. There were a few humans and other creatures, but the darkness of Syraelia’s figure clashed against the light and happiness of the room.

Syraelia made her way to a table furthest from the fire’s light, glaring at those who stared at her and took her seat.

[Seth_Rahl]

Ifrit felt the demonic presence enter as soon as he heard the door open with a slight creak, and his first thoughts were of shock and fear. What was a demon doing here in Scara Brae, of all places? His first instinct was to draw his blade and confront the monster he could sense, as its demonic aura filled the room like miasma, but as soon as he caught sight of a pair of toned, feminine legs he stopped in his movement.

His gaze traveled on the demon. She wore skin tight shorts, black of course, that only covered what was needed to be covered, and a pair of black boots that rose all the way to her knees. His gaze traveled upwards to her exposed midriff, which wiggled temptingly as she walked, and then up to her admirable bust covered by a black leather vest. Her arms were uncovered and he could see finely toned muscles there, and judging by her hair it was as black as midnight.

But what really caught his breath was her eyes. They were blood red like his, and in them shone a warrior's spirit, a fighter whose fire would never burn out. They stared fiercely out at the inn/tavern, as if daring anyone to make a comment on her appearence, and then took a seat at the farthest table in the corner.

You could say that Ifrit fell in love, but as soon as a feeling welled up inside it was immediately squashed by the memory of Shiva, which reared its ugly head. Ifrit felt sadness again at the memory, but decided to pay this demon woman a visit anyways.

As he got up from the table and brushed his coat off, however, a man burst in with a battle axe in one hand and a sword in the other hand. He had a crazy, wide eyed look in his eyes that Ifrit could often relate to when one felt fear and nervousness at the same time. The man looked around frantically before his gazed settled on the newcomer, whereupon he screamed, "There she is! The demon!" and charged.

However, Ifrit was swifter than the man, and backfisted the man in the face with his gloved hand. The man stumbled backwards before charging again, obvioiusly too worked up to care that he just got hit in the face. "Idiot..." the demon swordsman muttered under his breath before drawing his giant falchion and slamming the flat of it into the man's stomach, sending him flying through the open door and into the streets again. Ifrit made sure the man wasn't about to go back and get up again before shutting the door closed once more.

He had expected stares his way from his actions, but instead he saw that everyone was now staring at the demon woman instead. "Hey." He spoke up, and simotaneously everyone's head snapped his way. "Leave her alone." he commanded, his bright red eyes glowing. As if by magic, they all resumed their tasks again, as if they never had stopped.

Ifrit strode over to where the woman sat and pulled up a chair across her. He silently took a seat before looking at her own blood red eyes once more.

Then he noticed the scarf.

Mentally he frowned. What was she wearing a scarf for? In any case, it really wasn't his business.

[Celeste001]

Syraelia tried to ignore the annoying stares from the rest of the inn while out of the corner of her eye she focused her attention on the most interesting person in the room. Another demon. She’d seen him reach for his weapon as she entered the room and now was secretly disappoint that he’d put it away. I suppose it’s better this way. Making a scene would probably end in the innkeeper throwing me out for slaughtering another guest.

Then the other demon stood and began to walk in her direction, just as a crazed brut burst through the doors. “There she is! The demon!” the screamed, and then he charged.

Syraelia was not really concern, and she certainly was not frightened. The man looked more drunk than anything else as he stumbled a bit on his way to her. The other demon sprang to action, punching the man and sending him stumbling backwards. The brut regained his balance and foolishly charged again. “Idiot…” Syrealia heard the demon mutter as he sent the brut through the doors with a swift punch to the stomach.

Syraelia snorted and looked away. If this demon thought she’d be impressed, he had another think coming. She could clearly take care of herself and was not in the mood to be underestimated. As the demon came up to her table and took the seat across from her she considered knocking him out, but thought twice about that. She was already receiving a lot of questioning looks from the others in the inn, besides the other demon’s actions puzzled her.

Syraelia caught the demon staring at her scarf and lost all control over her anger. Her red eyes flashed dangerously as she bolted to a stand. “It’s none of your damn business, demon. And don’t for a moment think I’m impressed with your actions. I can take care of myself and I’m not looking for a hero,” she yelled. She threateningly clenched her fists around the daggers at her hips.

[Seth_Rahl]

Ifrit was surprised at first. He hadn't been acting upon being a "hero" -- the man had been wielding weapons and was obviously crazed, so the had simply acted upon his first instinct this time. However, this female demon must have thought otherwise, as she had raged at him as if he had done something wrong.

Then Ifrit chuckled. "Girl, sit down." He said, still laughing. "I wasn't being one. And I don't doubt you can take care of yourself -- the blades on your back state that for themselves." He gestured with his gauntleted hand to the twin swords on her back.

He mentally frowned again, however, as her rage seemed to be sparked by his gaze on her scarf. He thought about it for a second, then mentally landed on one suggestion: that she was hiding something underneath. To show that he had nothing to hide, he pulled out his Bladewraith amulet from underneath his coat, the red tear-drop shaped ruby glittering in the lights of the tavern.

Ifrit glanced sideways and noticed that two men had stepped from the card table and now had their hands on their swords. At first, he thought they were demon hunters, but they way they looked hungrily upon his amulet said otherwise.

"Hey demon," one of them said to the cambion. This one was tall, taller than Ifrit himself, and held a long sword in his hand on the right and a whip in the other. "How bout you let us see that ruby of yours for a second?" He reached out his hand that held the whip open-palmed, as if to grab the necklace from the demon. However, Ifrit glared up at him with ferocious eyes and smacked the man's hand away with his gauntleted hand.

The metal upon skin sent a resounding ring up the man's arm, and he dropped the whip and sword as he clutched his arm. "Agh..." he clenched his teeth in pain. "You bastard!"

Ifrit smirked, but then the other man swung his own sword at the demon's neck, hoping to cleave his head off. Ifrit grabbed the sword before it could reach his head with his right hand and used the own man's momentum to press the blade into the table. Shocked, the man let go of the blade and started to back away, but Ifrit backfisted this one in the stomach and he fell to the ground coughing.

Ifrit looked at the bartender, to see if he was going to reprimand or do anything, but he simply mouthed "Thank you" at the demon while pointing at the two on the ground and rolling his eyes. Ifrit understood immediatley. These two must be bar-bugs, pestering all of his customers and making things rough for him.

"Next time either of you try to touch this..." Ifrit held up the ruby amulet. "...I'll kill you." Ifrit made no other moves, but the two scrambled to their feet and bolted out the door, leaving their weapons behind.

Ifrit sighed and turned back to the demon woman, who had been still standing during this entire escapade. Ifrit chuckled. "I don't suppose you would be impressed by that either. But as I said, it wasn't for your benefit." Ifrit stood up and picked up the fallen weapons, setting them on the table before the two demons.

The two swords were a long sword that was pretty finely crafted, having several designs upon it that suggested it was elven-made. Ifrit supposed the other man must have stolen it from another, as it was too well-made for a bandit like him. The other was a short, thin sword, one most likely made for fencing of sorts, which is why Ifrit had noticed the other man's lack of skill, for he had been swinging it like a broadsword. The whip was made of leather and ended in 3 lashes, and it was about 5 feet long.

Ifrit looked at them. The elven blade interested him, but he supposed he could do without it. After all, he had his father's blade. He looked up at the demon woman as he sat back down. "If you want them, I don't care. I've got a good enough weapon as it is." He patted the giant falchion upon his back.

[Celeste001]

The other demon looked hurt, apparently Syraelia struck a soft spot in his ego. He claimed he wasn’t trying to be a hero, and admitted he was not trying to help her. His genuine friendless came across odd for a demon; though Syraelia figured since she was also a demon and probably the only other demon he’d seen in a while, why not extend some compassion for one another. She silently admitted she could use company with her own kind.

Then, right before her eyes yet another brawl broke out and Syraelia was beginning to wonder if demons were acceptable company anywhere these days. A couple of brutes in the inn had their eyes on the demon’s ruby amulet and Syraelia found herself adjusting her scarf over her own pendant. She could not let anything happen to her own possession, so she considered pulling her blades on the men, when the other demon took matters into his own hands. Within moments, with the brawl solved, the other demon placed some swords left by brutes and laid them on the table between them.

Syraelia sat back down, carefully looking at the swords. The elven sword caught her eye and she picked it up for a closer look. “You can call me Syraelia. I prefer that to ‘girl’,” she told him without looking up from the sword. She remembered his amulet and wondered what it was, she considered showing her amulet to him, but that would spark questions he was not ready to hear the answers too. She decided instead to try talking to this demon knowing that he probably wouldn’t just leave her alone now. “And you are?” she raised an eyebrow.

[Seth_Rahl]

Ifrit was glad that at least she was talking now. It meant that she wasn't entirely antagonistic, and was open to questions. "Syraelia? Your name means 'wicked air'?" The demon asked. Syraelia indeed meant that in the Demon Tounge, at least the form that Ifrit spoke. It was interesting that she had such a name.

"Well, in any case, my name is Ifrit Obsidian, Captain of the Seventh Company of the Bladewraiths." He spoke without pride or ego, just as it was a statement. He noticed her looking at the elven blade as she picked it up, and noticed even more so the way her fingers traveled around the woven hilt and up the thin steel of the blade. This one knows what she's doing...Ifrit observed, before pushing aside the whip and the other blade.

"So, what brings you, a demon, into Scara Brae? And more importantly, what has happened to Haidia?" Ifrit asked, his eyes focusing on hers as he spoke. "I'm...looking for someone. Arioch is his name." He considered telling her that Arioch was his father, but decided against it. "Have you heard of him?"

He didn't miss the way Syraelia adjusted the scarf at her throat. She was defenitely hiding something there, there wasn't any doubt about that. Well, forcing her to take it off wasn't going to solve anything, so he let the matter be for the moment.

[Celeste001]

Bladewraiths? Syraelia repeated. Who are they? She shifted uncomfortably as Ifrit talked. He was asking questions, Syraelia hated questions. But for the sake of humoring this demon, she cocked her head to the left a bit.

“Everybody’s looking for someone. And no, I have not heard of Arioch,” she was lying of course, she’d hear a thing or two about this demon in her life. She had after all been to Haidia a few times, and no one can go to Haidia without seeing the duck Arioch. Syraelia tried to conceal her grimace.

There was a long silence before Syraelia decided to continue speaking. “I needed sleep, food, water and supplies on my travels. What better place to find all these things than in a town. I didn’t know I’d be so unwelcome by the locals, though,” she said. She did not feel completely comfortable letting down her guard, but the way Ifrit’s red eyes looked at her pierced her soul and melted a layer of frost from her heart. It had been so long since she’d even spoken to someone. Just then someone from outside the tavern shouted, “Demons! Come out and meet your fate!”

“Right now!” someone else chimed in.

Syraelia almost burst into laughter at the bravery in the voice. Who was foolish enough to not only challenge one demon, but two demons at the same time? At first Syraelia had no intentions of going outside, but she saw the familiar flash in Ifrit’s eyes- he was going to answer their call. Syraelia sighed and decided it was about time she showed someone there was a good reason demons where feared. She stood up and walked out of the tavern, a small grin touched the corner of her lips as she gazed upon the scene in front of her. Several brutes had gathered in front of the inn, armed with swords, clubs, daggers and anything else they could get their hands on. She counted six. This was going to be easy. She could take them all, but no doubt Ifrit would want part of the fight too.

“What fate do you speak of?” Syraelia demanded coolly. “Death?” she mocked. “I do not fear death, do you?”

The men were not in the mood to talk and instead they began to pounce. Syraelia easily twirled out of the way so that now she was behind them, with a clear view of the door, expecting Ifrit to walk out at any moment.

[Seth_Rahl]

She was lying. She had tried to conceal it very well, but Ifrit had learned to see past the deceptions with his aura sense. As soon as she had said no, her aura had shifted from the familiar miasma of her demon heritage to a bright red, and he saw something in her eyes that made him think that there was more than she was telling him.

He intended to find out just what Syraelia knew. He was going to inquire further when suddenly shouts came from outside the door way, calling upon the two demons to come out and fight. There's more? Ifrit slightly winced, but then his old bloodlust came boiling to the surface. Well, I guess a good old fashioned brawl wouldn't hurt. He was about to stand up and go face them himself when Syraelia moved in front of him and walked to the door instead, her eyes agleam with the sense of battle coming. Ifrit had seen that gleam many a time before, and he knew that this would end in bloodshed if he didn't do something.

And so Ifrit gave the bartender a slight nod. He nodded back and immediately began ushering everyone upstairs, and the staff began locking the windows and doors. Ifrit sighed, then adjusted the blade on his back so that it would be more comfortable, and finally grasped the elven blade that Syraelia had left behind in his left hand. It was light weight, and if he had to guess the metal was made of mythril, but it lacked a certain sheen that he had come to accost to the metal, so he was uncertain about his judgement.

Taking the blade in hand, he stepped out and pushed his coat back, revealing a long, ugly dagger that was curved, made for ripping. At the sight of all of these weapons, the giant blade on his back, the dagger at his side, and the elven long sword in his hand, the six men all took a step back at his empowering figure.

"So, who's first?" He said softly, eyes shifting from one to the other, as Syraelia spiraled out of the way. The six men rushed the single demon, as their first target had dissapeared, but with a quick draw of E. Beowulf the great blade swept in front of him and held the six back. Wielding the two blades in both hands, he spun the great sword around with one as he pointed the elven blade at the group. "Oh c'mon. If that's the best you've got then i'm wasting my time."

He heard the door close behind him and be locked. He smiled, and his red eyes gleamed in the night. Now the fun starts.

Just as a note the "mythril blade" is not made out of mythril, but a thin delyn.

[Taskmienster]

This thread has been sitting for a full year. Since no response has been made to create activity I am going to be moving this. If you would like it to be reopened please feel free to PM myself or another admin and they will be able to move it for you back to Scara Brae.