Streets of Obsequium

Filth spreads throughout the city and accumulates in dark corners where the average man (one who values his life) would try their hardest to avoid. But the filth does not consist of trash, but is also coated in illegal things as well. Obsequium takes pride in its assassins, black-markets, and rouges. They flow in and out of the cobblestone buildings and into the streets. The streets are usually full of people (many of them not deserving of being considered a person), each with their hand in some filth that needed to be mixed for some spare coins.

Raindrops patted the stone ground softly as Nyob tightened her grip on her antique umbrella. Some drops still dripped though the holes that had worn though the material over so many years of use and were absorbed into her frizzled, mostly black hair. He walked very slowly through the streets, avoiding those she ran into here and there, looking for a place to sleep. ‘It is going to be nightfall soon, and I have a small hunch this blasted rain will pick up soon…’ A very soft thunder clasp came to her ears which reassured her of her guess. She picked the closest inn and dashed inside.

It wasn't one of those well-known inns Heru had placed his sorry ass in today. It was one of the smaller, darker inns, where all that shady business was dealt with. Of course in secret, no one wanted to catch the eye of the dark lord not even Heru. There was one thing that made up for the lack of big space or good beer. That was the women, the waitresses was some of the - for a lack of better words- hottest women he had seen in a long time.

Heru had been short of work lately; the angel hunting was getting harder. The angels seemed to have taken hiding in their little city in the skies. Heru guessed that would be Zerachiel's work. Too bad even Heru wasn't strong enough to just march up there and kill every little god-loving angel. Of course, he would keep a few as slaves (and mating) wouldn’t be any fun to kill his prey totally.

He heard the screeching noise coming from the entrance being opened. Heru decided to turn his head and see what or who it was. He didn’t recognize the woman, but she was fairly good looking. Though Heru knew he didn’t have a chance unless he would rape her and, considering that he was a walking skeleton, even that would be hard. His whole body, face, hands and everything was covered in a full body white cloak with a hood, making it look like his face was just darkness. His breath was cold, and it created slight clouds in the warm atmosphere of the inn.

Nyob quickly tucked away her umbrella, not having the patience to wait for it to dry first. Her hair was soaked and drips would follow down her spine into her shirt creating a cold sensation. She took a few steps into the inn before realizing that her shoes were also covered in muck. Becoming aggravated, she took them off and walked up to the counter barefooted.
She tried to get the attention of the innkeeper... but he seemed to be busy with other customers, something about a dead body in one of the rooms.

After deciding to acquire a room latter, she looked around the lobby of the place to see some shadowy figures hiding in corners. 'I always seem to pick the good inns...' she thought as she sat down at a long table with a few strangers sitting at it. She took out some oil and a rag from her sack and began to clean the daggers bound to either side of her hip. The metal her daggers were made of required them to be cleaned once a day or they would rust quite quickly, and it did not help that there was rain today. She lost track of time and space as she cleaned them for what felt like hours.

Spica traipsed out of a back room carelessly, her short, bobbed hair bouncing around almost as much as she did. Hum, dum, how droll, the little demon thought to herself, looking around the room.

Lightly, she leapt up into a swivelling barstool a head above her height. Spica rested her elbows on the gutted, stained counter and drummed her feet against the counter restlessly. She grinned slightly, flashing her overlong canines and sending her golden eyes flickering around the room a second time. It was a decent size, with a decent number of patrons, though none too interesting.

She wiped a wisp of fiery red hair from her face with a pudgy child's hand and called petulantly for the barkeep. "Who cares about the dead guy?" she called out, "He's not a paying customer!"

Chortling to herself a bit, Spica then contemplated jumping over the counter to serve herself. Meh, too much work. The little demon was in a suprisingly good mood today, so she settled back to wait, her bracelets, necklaces, and myriads of other bejeweled bits about her person jingling and winking in the low light.

The huge, hulking ogre-like demon to her left looked over an expansive, warty shoulder with a yellowed, bloodshot eye in astonishment. It had taken a few moments for him to register the tiny demon's presence, but he shivered now. Spica glanced up at him, seeing his sudden fear, and grinned. The ogre cringed and looked away. Low-level swine, Spica hissed a bit to herself, disgusted as she turned back.

"Hurry up, you lazy halfwit!" she bellowed towards the back room, presumably towards the barkeep. She was being rather raucous, but she enjoyed the feeling of others' eyes on her. The little demon puffed her cheeks out and gathered a big breath for another yell.

"Full house!" An obviously very drunk-bad mouthed-idiotic- and not too good looking low level demon yelled as he threw the cards down on the table in front of Heru, they had been playing and Heru was losing. Not a good thing for the low-level. "I want a rematch." Heru said his voice sounding as creepy and ghostly as ever. He glared at the drunken low-level demon. But of course that demon couldn't see his face so he did not know Heru was glaring at him.

"Sure." The demon replied as he began to gather all the cards again, and mix them randomly. On the table in front of Heru and the demon, a little pile of gold coins had been gathered; it was all the money both of them had betted. There should be around 100 gold coins. The demon began to give cards to himself and Heru. One by one each card was given; Heru took all his cards and looked at them.

Another pair of sucking cards... Heru had nothing but random cards; he could use nothing of this. "I bet another 10 gold coins!" The drunken demon proclaimed. This just agitated Heru even more, he knew the low-level was cheating he just had to figure out how. "Count me in on that." Heru said calmly as he threw in another ten golden coins. The pile seemed to grow slightly. If only Heru could win that pile, then he could life peacefully for the next month.

A twinge tickled Spica's neck and she slowly released her breath. Trouble was brewing. An uncontrolled smirk spread unbidden across the little demon's lips as she turned around on the stool and settled her sparkling eyes on the gamblers a few tables over. Some sort of drunken sot was busily racking up coins against a hooded figure that seemed to be smoking out of his mouth.

Spica leaned forward eagerly on her slightly scuffed knees eagerly to watch. She hoped something interesting would happen, and she was prepared to do what she could to encourage it. The tippler guffawed loudly at his hand as he drew another card and Spica wiggled expectantly. He wasn't as much of a dullard as she'd thought!

Taking a glance at the pairs' auras, she grinned. The Fallen, lowly ranked as he might be, certainly had alot of power, but his odd moral code kept him from killing his fellow player at least until the drunkard could be called at cheating. The other was so assured of himself by a mixture of alcohol and recent winnings, that Spica was all but convinced that his methods would be revealed on his next draw.

The little demon grinned a little wider, twitching a finger or two to play with the idiot's aura. He'd slip on the next turn... Then, things will get interesting, she could feel the hairs on the back of her neck prickling in anticipation.

The next turn arises and Heru could feel it, a change in the ways the drunkard was playing. He was more arrogant most likely because of the drunkenness. Heru kept a watchful eye on his opponent; he was just waiting for that little slipping that could expose his opponent as the cheater. It was a very tense moment as they both made their bets for this turn. Heru’s breath got colder and therefore more visible. It was more like a constant mist now than just breathing.

There it came, the little slip that exposed his opponent in cheating. Before his opponent could even blink Heru had moved from his side of the table, and over to his opponents side. Heru placed a cold skeleton hand on the drunkard’s shoulder and said with a cold voice. “You cheated, I do not like cheaters.” The drunkard seemed to get scared. Heru was of course glaring at the drunk-demon, and maybe the demon could feel his cold gaze, Heru was certainly not going to hide his intentions.

“Take the money! Spare me!” The demon screamed, but for some reason it did not seem like he was going to run. It more seemed like he was going to try and attack. A very bad thing to do right now. The demon tried to hit him with an elbow, but unluckily for the poor drunk-demon that elbow was connected to the shoulder Heru had his hand on right now. So with a little concentration, that shoulder and the flesh and bones inside froze solid. Heru then with a very weak punch destroyed the shoulder shattering the ice all over the floor, and leaving the rest of the arm on the floor below.

Heru then continued to grab the demons neck and forced him down from his chair and onto the floor; it was most likely very uncomfortable for him, since the demon was lying on his own arm. Heru then froze the demons neck, giving him a slow death by lack of air. “That should teach you a thing or two.” Heru said, as he got up, and began to move all his gold coins down into a leather sack.

Spica was a tad disappointed at the lack of defense the drunkard had dredged up. Apparently, he wasn't as much fun as Spica had hoped; despite her encouragements towards battle, the idiot had still peed his pants rather than fight back. She sighed disappointedly and turned back to the bar.

"Hey barkeep!" she bellowed towards the back, "There's another one out here!"

The man came scurrying out of the back like a roach, wild-eyed and afraid. "Two in a day?! What'll that do to my ratings?!" he shrieked and scuttled over.

Spica sat for a moment watching the man fret over the body, enjoying his panic, but soon becoming thoroughly bored. "Ho hum..." she sighed to herself. "Why is there never anything interesting going on?"

She rested her elbows heavily on the bar again as the bartender recruited a few of the patrons to dump the body out into the rainy street. Glancing around the room again, she found nothing to interest her. If nothing happens soon, or the bartender doesn't come serve me in the next ten seconds, I'll make my own fun, she decided peevishly, pouting her lips in a little moue of disapproval.

Heru moved away from the table after he had gathered is nearly legally won gold coins. He was not about to let himself get mixed into the likes of the something like that. Not that he feared any police, guards or the like, for some reason the punishment for committing things like this had been quite lacking recently. Heru liked that, he thought it was the right way for this city, no rules, no code of conduct; just your own morals.

Heru walked up to the bar, but no patrons or barkeepers were there. Heru did not care about that, he was thirsty and nothing was going to stop him from getting anything. He took out a few coins at least 10 more than he normally would pay. He threw them on the counter with a somewhat lazy movement and said. "Someone give me a beer or something, and something for the lady beside me." Heru felt like doing some good now, just because he could. The extra coins seemed to work like a signal for the barkeeper to come. "What would you like mister?" The barkeeper asked, in a suspicious tone, as he saw the amount of gold coins. He certainly didn't hope it was something exotic like virgin or dragon blood. Something like those things were hard to come by nowadays. "Just a beer, and give the woman something too." Heru said, nodding his hood towards Spica while making sure he did not reveal himself and his appearance.

"Haven't seen you around here... What do people call you?" Heru asked after the barkeeper had done his part and asked for what Spica would want. Heru looked interestedly at Spica, but of course because of the fact that his head and face was covering in the shadow of the hood he was wearing, his interest couldn't be seen. His breath was as cold as ever, maybe even a little bit colder.

Nyob persisted to clean her daggers without looking up at the commotion that happened beside her. She was becoming tired of quarrel and need some peace for the night. 'I must find a room.' She concluded her cleaning with one last coat of oil and sheathed both of the daggers at once. The counter was beginning to become full with impatient customers and the only spot open was next to a rather small woman. Her oddly colored hair gave Nyob a very weird feeling about whether she should take the seat or not, but her needs overcame this concern. She took the seat without looking at the lady one more time. Pulling the sack of coins out of her sack she called over the barkeep for a room.

Spica's disappointed pout turned to a quizzically suspicious look as the Fallen glided over to her side and promptly bought her a drink. She eyed him with more interest than she had before. Is he a pedophile? the little demon almost chuckled to herself, thinking how she must look in the ridiculously oversized overalls she was currently sporting.

Oh well, she grinned inwardly, I guess everyone has his own rights... The little demon studied the Fallen a moment longer before demanding from the bartender what, exactly, she wanted.

Spica's golden eyes flicked about the room restlessly as she leaned back in the barstool, tilting the first two legs off of the ground as the Fallen tried to make seemingly random conversation. She sighed and almost began twiddling her thumbs. It would make thinks more interesting, Spica thought to herself, but then I'd never get my drink...

Weighing her options, the little demon decided to wait for a more opportune moment to present itself. For the most part, the patrons in the room were still stunned by the rather suddenly slow and painful death of their comrade to offer any sort of launch pad for Spica to stir up trouble. She pouted a little at the thought and ended up tapping her feet against the bar again.

The bartender appeared carrying a tray of drinks, motioning a pair towards Spica and her comrade. The little demon immediately snagged both drinks from the bartender as he passed and swigged them with the practiced ease of a sailor. Ho, hum... Spica was getting tired of sitting and doing nothing. Maybe I can stir up a game for myself...

She picked her teeth for a moment with a fingernail and turned towards the Fallen slowly, as if finally ready to answer her barmate's inquiries. however, instead of answers, she completely ignored the questions, instead substituting one of her own. "Do you always kill your opponents for their money?" she asked indifferently, staring up coldly to where the Fallen's eyes were hidden within his hood.

A mere wisp of a woman sat next to Spica carefully at the bar, seeming to wait for the bartender to take a notice of her. The little demon ignored her completely. She was a shell of a woman with little more substance than a shade.

(Note: I'm not trying to cut anyone off, Spica's just... shall I say mean or spiteful? Nah. She's more self-centered. D: Sorry if it seems otherwise...)

Ceberus walked into the inn with drinking on his mind. He needed a break from all his work and this inn seemed to do the trick. He always loved the liquor they served here. Plus, the girls that came here sometimes were strikingly gorgeous for demons. He tended to marvel and gawk at them when he saw one.

Ceberus sat down at the bar and signalled for the bartender to come over. He was feeling rather impatient and wanted to excersize his power as a Deluder over the simpleton.

"Get me a Scotch on ice. Make it snappy, worm," Ceberus barked. The bartender glared at him, holding out his hand as if he was going to get payed. Ceberus almost laughed at the sorry sap.

"I'm gonna need some coin fer the drink, punk," the bartender said angirly.

"Back off, Fallen, you don't know what you're dealing with," Ceberus said, eyes turning red as he spoke. The bartender quickly retreated his hand and set a bottle in front of him. Ceberus felt slightly offended at the bartender, he had mistaken him for any other demon. Silently, he uttered a curse and the bartenders trousers caught on fire. Ceberus chuckled slightly as the bartender jumped around and ripped his trousers off. Most of the demons in the bar looked over and stared at the fumbling fool, some began to laugh.

Ceberus opened his bottle and began to drink. He didn't pay any attention to any of the other reactions. He felt justified in what he did.

Spica blinked as the bartender's pants suddenly started dancing with fire, her eyes flicking back to the source for a split second before she joined the raucous uproar of approval as the bartender ripped off his pants frantically, exposing his -ahem- family jewels. Her high-pitched child's cackle was nearly drowned in the whistles and cheers of the drunken patrons as the bartender struggled to cover himself and escape, his face almost as fiery as his charred trousers.

She glanced up at the tall Fallen to her left, mentally shrugged, and slid off the seat. Well, he's busy, she snorted to herself, Kinda boring. I'll bet this new guy will be more entertaining.

Sidling over to the apparently pyrokinetic demon downing an amber bottle of scotch, Spica frowned at him for a moment, contemplating. She pursed her lips and narrowed her curiously wide eyes. A Deluder, but which one? the little demon wondered, studying the aura of emotions swirling blackly around him. Meh, unimportant.

Instead, she shoved a burly demon from his perch at the man's left and took up the seat herself. The displaced demon glared at her reprovingly and made a move as if to pick the impudent snip up and toss her out the window, but he got a glance of the recently-frozen orc-creature and decided otherwise.

The little demon swivelled around in the stolen stool and lifted a lip at him in a derisive sneer as the demon picked himself up and staggered drunkenly away to another table. "D---'d cowards," Spica hissed, spitting after him and making more than a few obscene gestures with practiced, fluid ease.

The little demon turned around again and faced the Deluder, raising an eyebrow at him quizzically. "What're you here for?" Spica demanded, opening her arms in a wide sweep around the room, "Surely, for a guy like you, there're plenty of other places you could be. Why this dump?"

In reality, Spica wasn't particularly curious, but rather wanted to cover her manipulations with a light conversation. Besides, Spica sneered inwardly, he doesn't seem quite as... imbecilic as most of the ansitif here, so there might be a millisecond of intelligent conversation somewhere in the babble.

(Note: Looked it up. Apparently, "Ansitif" is a minor demon. )

Ceberus looked over at the little demon. He could feel it before she told him, she was a changer, which meant her actual gender may very well be a man. He didn't feel so alone in this world of fools and idiots now.

"I prefer the drinks at this place over the others. They actually rob from decent cellars rather than buy the cheap crap you find in human cities," Ceberus explain as he took another gulp of his drink. He looked over at her once again, examining her attire.

"You want a drink?" He asked, feeling generous since this little demon was actually an intelligent one.

Spica felt the curve of a smile bow her lips and flash overlong canines up at the stranger. Her odd eyes sparkled, gleaming a bit at the thought of more patronage. Sure are generous today, aren't we? It wasn't that she particularly enjoyed drinking; as a matter of fact, alcohol rarely - if ever - dulled her senses. The little demon simply enjoyed the smooth feel of the drinks as they slithered or burned down her throat.

She extended a pudgy child's hand as if in welcome, her myriad bracelets jingling and glittering in the low glow that permeated the barroom. "If you're offering," the little demon replied coolly. "I'm known as Spica. Nice to meetcha," she chirruped.

Ceberus smiled as he flipped his long black hair out of his face. He liked this one. She, or he or whatever, had a look of cunning. A good friend and companion to have around. It was times like these when he enjoyed being the bloody bastard he was.

"Good day, Spica. Name's Ceberus," he said as he extended his own hand to shake hers. He nodded at the singed bartender. The bartender grunted and ignored him, going back to covering his, *Ahem*, genitals with a bag of ice. Ceberus' eyes turned red with sudden frustration.

"You bloody damned bastard," he said coolly, "you didn't learn did you? That was just a simple magic trick to grab your attention. Now, get my friend here a drink, or I'll make sure you don't even have the right to call yourself a bloody man!"

Ceberus chugged the last bit of his own ale and slammed the mug down to let the bartender know he wanted a refill too. He waited for the fool to make his move.

Spica pricked her eyebrows in interest at the Deluder's outburst, her lips curling in a wider facsimile of a smile. A tad unstable, are we? the little demon chuckled softly to herself. Could be intersting to play with.

The bartender paled uncomfortably, stammering a weak apology as he grabbed the mug, fuming inwardly. Let's see what he thinks of this round, the thin man sneered venomously, gathering another tankard. Filling the glasses with a pale amber ale, the man shifted his bag of ice and introduced a few chemicals not meant to be in the brew to the tankards.

A soft scuttling rustled Spica's overalls and a black widow the size of the little demon's palm emerged from somewhere deep in the recesses of a hidden pocket. Spica's attention was wholly drawn to the arachnid as it waved its spindly legs in the air demandingly. "Yes, yes, I know, Lolth," the little demon cooed, reaching a delicate finger out to stroke the spider's bulbous body.

The spider continued to gesture rhythmically, and Spica's eyelids fell to half-mast, glazed and almost bored. It was not unlike watching a child being chastised by an irate schoolteacher. She even went so far as to roll her eyes up at Cerberus exasperatedly, then sighed. "I know, I know... It's just so boring," the little demon whined.

Seeming satisfied with its mute rant, the black widow crawled back into its hidey-hole as the bartender returned with the ale. The whole exchange had taken only a matter of moments.

Ceberus noticed Spica roll her eyes. He felt the same way she did; bored. There was just nothing to do except drink and singe peoples bits and tools. Ceberus himself was ready for a little bit of excitement.

"I'm beginning to find this place boring. I'm sure you are too. So you want to go find something to do outside of this dump that would be fun?" Ceberus asked, feeling the need to escape this hell he was in. He was starting to get annoyed with the imbecils running the place.

Ceberus thought about the weres and how it might've been time to pay them a visit. But he didn't kno what to do. There wasn't much that he could bloody think about except maim and kill where he saw fit, but he wasn't so heartless to do that without cause. He had a sense of honor about him that separated him from the typical fools that call themselves demons.

The bartender slammed down the pair of tankards, slopping some of the odd-smelling ale over onto the bar. Spica wrinkled her nose at it, disgusted at the man's blatant attempt at sabotage. The little demon shoved the glasses, grinning as they shattered on the floor, the shards sparkling for a brief moment before trickling away. Lifting her lip in a dangerous snarl, Spica hissed at the bartender furiously, "You know better than that, swine."

Instead of jumping over the counter to pummel the man as she was wont to do, Spica restrained herself and bulled her way through the close-packed patrons to the door. She turned back to Cerberus suddenly, remembering her companion. Raising her voice over the rumble of voices rolling through the close packed room, Spica announced, "If you want, you can hang with me for a bit," a glint touched her eyes, though of malice or mischief, it was impossible to tell. "If, that is, you can keep up."

I guess I had better get on with this mess, she sighed irritably to herself, If it wasn't such trouble, I'd kill that ba-----d. She pushed open the doors and stepped back out into .the squalid streets.

Ceberus smiled at his companion. He could sense the irritation in her voice at the bastard of a bartender. He shared the same irritation, the only difference is that he could easily get away with burning the bloody place down and make up some sort of fool hardy reason to explain to Lucifer, who obviously wouldn't care one bit.

But Ceberus wasn't concerned with the whole place, just the single cretin of a man. His eyes glowed a deep, fiery red as the man lit once again on fire, except with his whole body. Ceberus made sure it consumed slowly before it finally killed him.

"I'm sure it'll be tough as a male to catch up with you, but as you see, I'm a shifter. And I agree that women are generally faster than men with their feet," he said. Effortlessly and silently, his form changed. He, now a she, grew shorter. Her figure and form protruded from what was obviously tight clothes that were meant for a man. Her hair grew longer and silkier, and her face became more feminine. Her voice also became high pitched and very girlish, which she hated the most about her profound ability. Her red eyes settled and became a natural ruby red color.

"I'm positive that I can keep up now," she said with a smile. It had been a while since Ceberus had shifted to his female form, and most deffinately felt odd with his most essential portions of his body replaced with more feminine suppliments. That was another thing she didn't like. But at least she kept his unnatural strength and senses. She smiled and waited for Spica to make the first move.

"By the way, I am naturally a male, this form took a long time to control, but it's not my natural gender. Just throwing that out there...... Hey, are you a shifter? You're aura is similar to mine..." She said with innate curiosity.

The room was becoming dark as the day came to a close. Lanterns were lit creating flickers of shadow along the walls and floor. Each shadow was connected by a chair leg, a rafter, a table, a foot. Each shadow danced in their own separate darkness. Each shadow was bound together by a single shadow. A shadow... What is a shadow anyway? Is it the absence of light in contrast to lighted areas? Or is it something more? For Itzal shadow was transport, life, home. And in the shadow, Itzal plants fear for all.

Itzal observed the scuffle thinking only of a partner. 'I need to find someone with the physical traits that I lack,' he thought to himself. He felt some emotion for his last partner, but only for selfish reasons. In truth Itzal felt no emotional attachment to this world. He spotted a woman sitting quite politely at the bar and decided to examine her for some time.