Re: Demon Butcher of the back alley district.

by **Jack Maroon** March 21st 2012, 12:32 pm

It seemed to Jack that his attack was working; the constant flurry of punches had dazed Daemon, and even though none of them did any lasting damage the success of his attack made Jack happy. It was an awesome move, he thought, and he thought it would have been a good finisher. That is, if his opponent weren't a murderous regenerating psychopath. Being so caught up in his own attacking, Jack failed to take notice of Daemon recovering and was surprised with a right hook in his stomach. It was a heavy blow, one that an ordinary man could not have survived, and even Jack would be feeling for the coming weeks. If he were to survive this encounter at all.

Upon receiving the blow, Jack instinctively began to move back, preventing any more punches from connecting. It was too late. Daemon wasn't planning another punch. No, dismemberment by giant knife was more up his alleyway. Daemon swung his blade with great mind, and for once, Jack was unable to completely dodge it, even with his speed. Jack felt the giant weapon cut through his flesh, creating a huge gash across his torso. He had managed to back up sufficiently not to get cut in half, or have any of his organs cut up, but it was still pretty bad a wound. The strength of Daemon's slash, though not enough to cleave Jack in two, had flung Jack across the alleyway in a fashion that was almost similar to how Daemon himself had been thrown around earlier.
With a loud thud he hit a wall and fell to the ground, right next to where his sword had landed before. This was new. Yup, definitely new.

Never before had he been wounded to this extent, and by only one attack. This wasn't like in the videogames he had played as a child, nor was it like in television shows. This shit really hurt. Debilitating pain spread through Jack's body as he tried to get himself to his feet. In a daze, he felt at his wounds. A few of his ribs were cracked, and he was bleeding pretty badly. His vision was blurry, his entire body numb. Struggling to his feet, he saw his enemy advancing towards him. Not to wound, but to kill. Jack didn't want to die. Not in an alleyway, killed by a stronger opponent. There was no story build-up, no dramatic finale. It was so anti-climatic. Not more anti-climatic than randomly succumbing to an aneurysm, but still. He closed his eyes. This wasn't like anything he knew.

Hell no, this was way better. The air was rife with tension, the strange emotion of fear filled every pore of Jack's body. This was new, this was exciting. Would our hero be impaled on an oversized knife, cut in pieces, decapitated? Fuck no he wouldn't, not if it were up to Jack Maroon. And guess what? His story, his rules. The hero doesn't just die that easily.
The brute charged at him with his blade, ready to deal the finishing blow. Jack opened his eyes and reached for his own blade. Using all the strength he could muster, Jack raised himself from the ground. Daemon's sword came from above, intending to cut him in two. That wasn't going to happen. With his left hand, Jack pushed away the blade that was coming down on him, throwing Daemon off-balance. A risky move that would have culminated in his death if he weren't so damn awesome. And there it was. His golden opportunity. Only opportunity. An opening he would use wisely, for once. Epic stab.

Jack's sword pierced through Daemon's unprotected chest and shot right through his heart, the blade's point sticking out of Daemon's back. Jack rested in Daemon's bloody embrace for a moment before pushing him away, sword still stuck in his body. Surprisingly, his enemy wasn't dead. Wasn't as sprightly as he was before though. Immobile was the word, since his heart couldn't properly regenerate due to the katana wedged into it.

"Right...you can..urghh...keep that hngg...for next time." Jack wheezed, clutching at his chest. "We'll finish this later...dude. See you around..." Jack managed to utter, then started a sprint. In his condition, he couldn't even make 150 mph, a pretty normal feat for him. It was a wonder he could still run though. Now he only needed to find a doctor before he'd die from his wound anyway. Eh, he'd manage.

And so began a glorious rivalry...sort of.

(OOC: Anything that may have seemed like godmodding in the battle portion of this thread was agreed upon by both players and planned beforehand. Exit Jack Maroon. Thread will continue between Eris and Daemon.)

by Husk March 21st 2012, 1:16 pm

Daemon advanced hungrily upon Jack after he was cut down. He wasn't dead yet, but that wonderful red liquid of his was now spilling out of his chest and being soaked into the ground. Of course, that wouldn't quench the thrist of the gods, nor appease Daemon's lust for murder, so he moved in the for final strike. The coup de grace as the fancy twats would call it. Daemon would, as always, attempt to slice his victim into pieces with his gigantic knife in one foul stroke of the blade.

As the final attack was in the process of being made, Jack reached up and diverted the knife swing to the side, something Daemon wasn't prepared for, and throwing him off balance. Before Daemon even know what just happened, Jack had picked up the katana so conveniently placed on the ground next to where he had been knocked back into and pierced Daemon's heart with it.

Daemon's regeneration and ability to survive were clearly superhuman, but no matter how tough he was, he still couldn't function without blood pumping through his veins. Not only that, but his body still operated similar to everyone elses when a sharp metal object was lodged inside of it, he went into shock. He toppled forward onto Jack, pushing the blade slightly deeper as he did so, until Jack pushed him to the side and he collapsed onto the ground while twitching and coughing up blood. Jack's words were lost on him, as he could barely take in his surroundings at this point, forced to weakly grip the handle of the blade and try to pull it out.

It was to no avail, as any strength he had, super or not, had been drained due to the lack of circulation to his extremities. He could only meekly tug of the blade that would not move, sending unimaginable pain through his body every time, though that was only a reflex on his body's part to draw away from it. Daemon did not care for the pain, he cared only that he had been rendered helpless. Even though his regeneration could push foreign objects such as bullets out of his body as it healed itself, something so obstructive was past the limits of such functions.

So he lay there, alone now that Jack had fled into the night, coughing and bleeding more heavily than physically possible. Sure, he was still producing some blood as his heart tried to regenerate, but it just drained away through the wound and through his coughs. The blade even punctured one of his lungs, so he had trouble breathing and forced his coughs to produce blood in their efforts to clear his lungs of the constant production of liquid. Daemon had his wish granted, as the ground was soaked with more blood than any other man could spill upon it.

((OOC: And now I believe Eris shall enter. Take it away~))

by Sweet_Sacrifice March 21st 2012, 4:26 pm

///*Madame Eris Sange///*

A scream oriented from pain. It could very well have been compelled into existence by happiness, joy, pain, grief, or sheer surprise. From TowerHill to Blackwall, a lowly figure made itself ominously unseen amongst the shadows. A hunt it seemed. A man hunt was the objective that night. These screams were not of the most radiance to speculate joy or happiness--A lovely surprise or the thrill of horror movies. These screams were deliciously vivacious and everything an insane sadist of a cannibal could look forward to.

She was the prime example and perfect wet fantasy of all gothic and emo persons dreams--But had she chosen to be this way? Well, of course not. It began as all tragedy seemed to, a lowly figure, shifted for the worst, bound by insanity, and ruled by ruthlessness and revenge. Her ancestry was a ghost story within itself, her self esteem was merely a chain of unsoiled murders, and her life was an enigma amongst the population of Europe.

She was Madame Eris Sange. A perfect, gorgeous rose, changed by the horrors of humanity and plagued by immorality until her restlessness had been settled--When that happened, she already had a plan. With two split personalities, it was quite hard to take the Madame seriously sometimes, but she was no fool. Her mind was a complete hellhole filled with convoluted and sick plans. Her intelligence peaked above the average human--FAR above. And she kept that little detail to herself for the simple joys of letting humanity deem her insane.

Insane? Yes. Completely stupid and clueless? Most definitely not. Those who believed such were digging their own sweet graves into Madame Sange dark heart. Her current residence was in her home since birth, London, England. At the moment. She was in Illinois though. The Madame was on a hunt for new members for her gradually growing team, and a lovely meal of different dialect and taste . . . Besides. If it was one thing that brought Eris joy, it was new, unique additions to her 'dollies'.

Screams followed wherever she went, though Eris herself hardly ever made one sound. People were always seen before, but never found once they entered the night wherever the madwoman lurked . . .

Come little children, don't you cry. Dance with the Madame’s Pure black Eyes . . .

Tonight was a night of failure . . . Eris didn't like failure. Her keen animalistic senses were perked and ready to be in use. She needed food and wasn't giving up only the hunt just yet. The thick iron smell of blood reached her nose. And immediately, she let herself shudder a bit in longing. Blood was the finest thing one could ever feed her, even compared to the loveliest of French wines. Usually, she maintained a high class, mature, and intelligent level of intellect and thinking, but as of now, her animal instincts were kicking in and the feelings for all sadism were leaving. She didn't want to torture, she wanted some damn food.

An alleyway seemed the prominent that night, so it seemed. She watched and observed a brutal fight between two men. There were several dead bodies and right then and there, Eris fought the urge to run out, take a body, and leave. But her innate curiosity plagued her and she remained right there, hidden in the shadows. As this 'Jack' person left, she tipped her head to one side . . . .

A childish essence swept over her dark eyes and she smiled just a bit--An eerie smile that the Cheshire Cat learned from. Reaching into her satchel, the woman pulled out a raggedy, bloody doll and let that toothy grin widen. The doll had brown 'hair' made of twine, a ratty cloth made 'dress' and an ugly structure and feel, due it's contents: human skin. There were mismatched button eyes adorn the face and a bloody few numbers on its chest. That was the date Eris had murdered that person.

"Ohhh, Mary-Jane, look at the little darling . . . Goodnight, sleep tiiiighhtt, nooo moorrree tears . . . " Crouching down almost elegantly, Eris began SINGING to Daemons body and then set her doll in the massive growing puddle of crimson gold. Leaning down in an almost motherly gesture, Eris kissed the man on the cheek.

"In the morning, I'll be here . . . Because we say goodnight and not good bye." She seemed content for a moment, not caring that she was sitting in a lake of red. But no sooner had she kissed the mans cheek, did she taste the tang of blood. Her eyes widened and she suddenly let out a loud giggle and ran one slender, ghostly white finger along the blade that impaled the man.

Sticking the finger in her mouth, as if testing the substance, she let a blissful grin spread across her face. Seeing more of the 'sweet red stuff' on his face, she curiously lapped at the blood that had been drying on his skin.

"C'mon . . . . !" She whined, tugging on the blades hilt. "SHARE WITH ME!!!" She screeched, suddenly tearing the blade out of the mans body and then practically purring as she licked it clean. Take a child that just got the bowl that had cookie dough in it and you had Eris’s reaction and expression.

"Oh . . . You want some too . . . ?" She blinked, placing both elbows on Dameons chest and curiously gazing down at him with unblinking, inky black eyes. Shrugging just a bit, she plopped down on her behind, letting her backside get soaked in crimson.

"London bridge it falling down, falling down, falling down . . . ."

by Husk March 24th 2012, 12:18 am

Daemon was not aware of Eris, for he was without his senses, his body mostly numb at this point aside from the wound. He did not react when the strange woman began licking his face in an attempt to lap up his blood. Her singing was lost on him, but he let out a hollow shout on reaction to the blade violently being teared out from his body. His wounds quickly began healing themselves, and it was not long before the flow of blood stopped coming. Daemon's ragged breathing began to steady, and his skin began to change tint to that of a healthy, blood-filled colour as opposed to the white husk he was before. His eyes adjusted to his surroundings as he sat up, just in time for Eris to plop herself down into the large pool of blood surrounding them. The sheer volume Daemon had bled caused his movements to splash blood around, soaking both strangers further.

Once he could function, Daemon glanced around and grimaced. 'That bastard Jack got away. First time that's happened before. The gods are gonna be pissed' he thought, then looked around for the katana that impaled him. It was there that Daemon first noticed he was not alone in the alley. He took in the pool of blood, which did no phase him, and the girl who was licking clean the weapon that had impaled him, the demented action not phasing him either. In fact, it was a good first impression, considering what kind of traits Daemon believed valuable in a person.

"Oi," Daemon grunted at her, "Where'd you come from?"

While not the most dramatic of greetings, Daemon didn't consider the situation anything out of the ordinary. It was the same for him as it would be for a normal type of person to bump into someone they didn't know on the street. Daemon didn't leave it at that however, as he then pulled off another grimance and said in a mildly annoyed tone "Don't get any funny ideas, those are my kills", to which he then gestured his head in the direction of the corpses scattered around the area. The statement implied that he either knew her intent already, or he was simply paranoid. Both may have been true.

Of course, he wasn't really that annoyed. She reminded him of his old 'family', the horrid cult that he grew up with. They often licked their weapons clean of blood as an appetizer for the cannibal feast to come afterwards. The feeling was nostalgic, in a sense, and gave him a softer attitude than normal. Though considering his standard attitude, a normal person would still consider him to be scary. Daemon would soon find out that Eris wasn't exactly normal by anyone's standards.

by Sweet_Sacrifice March 26th 2012, 9:07 pm

OOC: {(Sorry for delay})

BIC:

Still licking her knife as if it were a lovely popsicle, the Madame blinked a few times before the words sunk in--Disgruntled and gruff. Slipping back into her 30 year old persona and immediately feeling a bit releived at that, she let loose a little sigh, but continued to smack her lips tastefully. "Where do I come from . . .?"

A sudden emotionless mask seemed to reign on her pale face, replacing the childish, blissful one in a matter of mere seconds. "I come from London England. i assure you my highest regards, sir. I merely wanted a nice hunt before I settled down for the night. And I'm terribly hungry. I apologize if I've invaded amongst your prey--Though, I must say, without my assisstance, you're regeneration skils would've been useless. This blade is quite delicious though, Your blood is of a special nature, yes . . . ? I can smell it, taste it . . . "

Standing up and lightly licking her bloody fingers clean, she told him in her cold undertone,

" I am Madame Eris Sange . . . I am not your enemy, in fact, I find you most interesting . . . What is your name . . .?"[/

by Husk April 1st 2012, 7:21 am

Daemon let out a low, rumbling growl when she mentioned his helplessness. It was true, but it still pissed him off to be reminded of what just happened to him. Next time he saw Jack, he'd make sure to return the favour. He stood up after Eris had done so, and started stretching, his body being a bit stiff after having to regenerate so much. "Daemon Metzger" he said in answer to Eris asking his name, then continued to answer the query about his blood, "My blood is pure, 'cause of the regeneration...keeps it clean, that's probably why it tastes different".

The brute stopped stretching and moved over to pick up his great knife, lifting it off the ground as though it were a feather and letting it hang drag along the ground behind him as he walked back over to Eris, the sounds of metal screeching across the asphalt pervading the air as he did so. "Why am I interestin', an' what are yeh doin' 'ere so far from London anyway?" he questioned, looking her in the eye with a cold gaze as he did.

((OOC: Sorry for the delay, had a bunch of stuff pop up for the weekend.))

by Sweet_Sacrifice April 13th 2012, 12:40 am

With a wide, toothy grin, the Madame stood up to gaze up at his brutish being. "You are strong and i like that. A forceful, powerful brute that could be used in my favor, dear. You see, Daemon, I am the founder and leader of the Blood Roses--only a group of the most savage beings around....My goal is simple but my workers get more rewards than what I get from them; but I do not mind."

Placing a ghostly cold hand on one of his massive arms, she stated, "With great strength comes arrogance. I may not be Madame She-Hulk--No, I am Madame Sange. But rather, I am the brain and the center of my team. As to what I am doing away from London, well, I enjoy travelling, receuiting, and finding new delicacies of many races as I go."

Stepping back and dusting off her bloody dress, though it hardly made a difference, she lightly took hold of one of his massive hands, kissed it politely and turned. "I am in need a such a strong brute such as yourself. Youre bloodthirsty and cruel--Its so wonderfully satisfying....Theres a place for you, shelter, other members in tour control and that will aid you if you ever need it. I provide you money and shelter in the highest class possible as you are supplying me work and service. Think about it, my darling. Id love to have you as the main corner stone to my project--Something to hold us together..."

({sorry for spelling errors and wait--compiters down so im stuck on a slow Ipod.

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