Demon Wars: civil war in hell

Name: Alan McKinley

Age: 28

Gender: Male

City: Inferno

Appearance: Alan is totally average. Average height, average weight, average all around. He's rather boring, in fact. He likes to keep his hair combed neatly and prefers to stay clean and hygienic, and has a tendency to wear dark suits.

Spoiler

Personality: Alan is not one for being at the center of things. He prefers to sit back and observe from a distance. He's strongly opinionated, but rarely actually voices his opinion, instead opting to follow his idol's words and be like water, finding the path of least resistance. You could say he is lazy or unmotivated, but that doesn't exactly fit. He just prefers to make life easier for himself, and especially prefers making it easy for himself to be on the winning side. He'll remain a loyal member of his side as long as it is beneficial to him, but as soon as someone more powerful comes along, he'll quickly cozy up to them and get in their good graces. It isn't that he's disloyal scum, but rather that he simply wants to survive. He doesn't sell out his previous companions, but rather simply leaves them for new alliances, all in the interest of keeping himself alive.

History: Before he died, Alan was a lawyer for the mob with a proclivity for chess. He loved playing it, watching it, and most importantly - betting on it. When he wasn't winning cases in favor of the family, he was out improving his chess game. He had a string of bad luck, however, and wound up in severe debt to a rival family. Now considered a liability, the mob cut him lose, and he was tortured to death by the opposing family after being unable to pay back his debt for several months.

Powers:

1- Telekinesis - Alan discovered he had the ability to lift and manipulate objects with his mind. Currently, his power is very weak and limited to small objects like handguns or baseballs, but will eventually strengthen to allow him to lift buses and other large objects.

2- Hyper-agility - Alan is super quick and agile. Not strong, but agile. Float like a butterfly, sting like a... like a... like a something much, much weaker than a bee.

3- The Poison Pawn - A tongue-in-cheek reference to his favorite pasttime, Alan can create a little mook to run around on the battlefield. If the little mook gets killed, he straight up explodes, damaging everything around him.

Other: He's up for love. Straight love, mind you.

*Alright lets get this thing started. Loller you'll have to change one of Allan's powers my character already has the ability to command fire.*

Feoryn:

"Where is it?" Feoryn muttered under his breath as he dug through the filing cabinet. He glanced up and down the aisle of shelves that faded off into the distance. It had taken him several weeks to gain access to the Records Department. Records was a sort of pocket dimension that could be accessed from any of the nine cities. It had files on everything to do with hell, from the different demons to those souls which were slated for damnation.

Feoryn shifted the tube of liquid fire that served as a makeshift flashlight and peered at the files in front of him. Part of his mind was listening for approaching footsteps, after all young demons weren't allowed in Records.

His hand froze and his lips twisted into a feral smile as Feoryn lifted the file out and shut the door. "Found you." He murmured softly as he flicked the file open and began to read.

Name: Markham Theodore Amadayos
Occupation: King
Sin Committed: Sparking a revolution and orchestrating the deaths of his brother, sister-in-law, niece, and nephews.
Expected Date of Death: Sept, 18 /2052

"Forty years!? He's not supposed to die for another forty years!?" Feoryn exclaimed as he slammed the file shut and stood from his crouch. "I am not waiting four decades to get my vengeance. He tapped his chin thoughtfully as he tucked the file into his pack and spread his wings. "So how can I expedite the situation?"

He flew to the tiny entrance he had created in the spells that created and protected Records. Feoryn had made the hole as small as possible to avoid detection, he tucked his wings in tightly against his back and crawled through the opening emerging in a back alley in Pandemonium. With a snap of his fingers the entrance closed behind Feoryn, and he took off into the crimson sky.

His eyes quickly found the Gates in the Central Plaza which allowed instantaneous travel to the other cities. A crowd had gathered at the edges of the plaza to see the eight visiting rulers as they arrived with their entourages. Archangel Phenex, Lucifer's nephew and the current regent of Pandemonium stood waiting on the steps of the Spire. Everyone knew that war would be declared tonight. Feoryn could care less, the only thing that mattered to him was that the chaos would provide an ideal cover for his own activities. He settled on a roof top to watch as the first gate opened.

Timothy Johnson
People were gathering at the plaza, waiting for the archangels to arrive. I was watching too, since I had nothing better to do.. Or well, I would've been watching if it hadn't been for the man who suddenly passed me. He was hurt, a steady stream of blood running from a gash in his head.

I instinctively put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. He turns to glare at me. "What?!" He doesn't sound happy. Why did I always do this? He'd probably be fine without my help.

"I'm a doctor. I can take a look at that if you want."

"A doctor in hell," he mutters, but he doesn't leave. "How much does it cost?"

"Nothing," I say with a wry smile. What did I need extra money for anyway? What I wanted was impossible to buy. A doctor in hell. Not a very common sight, but then again, people didn't need us to the same extent as they had in life. "Just stand still."

He did as he was told as I held my hand just above the wound. In a few seconds the bleeding had stopped and the skin had healed. There was still a lot of blood on his face and shirt though.

"Thank you," he muttered as I backed of. He carefully touched his forehead, his eyes as he realized that the wound was gone. "Can I tell people about this."

The question sounded a bit silly. Of course, that was to be expected. Just a few seconds ago he had had a concussion. I shrugged. "Sure. If anyone need my help, tell them to ask around for Tim near the plaza, they'll find me sooner or later." Before he had time to leave I added: "And try to stay out of trouble in the future."

He muttered something as he left, but I couldn't hear what it was. I felt better, just slightly, but better none the less. This power was a blessing. For a moment that thought made me happy, but then I realized that wasn't the case. It was a curse, worse than any curse that had befallen me since I came here. If I had had this power while Jason was alive.. If I had been able to do these things back then I wouldn't be here now. I would be happily at home with Laura and Jason.

The memory of them reopened the wound that had never quite healed, and that never could be healed. I couldn't stand having all these people around me anymore, so I went into a bar and sat down. I couldn't even remember the last time I had something to drink, so I ordered some scotch. If I couldn't take away my pain by killing myself, then maybe I could drown them in booze. I thought about that fro a moment, before tasting the scotch. It was horrible. No wonder i never drank. No, this wouldn't do.

I was about to leave when someone sat down beside me. "You're Tim, right? I need your help."

Does this SB have a DT?

*:( okay, there*

Alan

Alan sat on the large leather wing chair, his .38 special levitating inches above his hand. He twirled it around idly, watching the stream of customers stream into the brothel. He'd taken to running a few around Inferno. It was good money, and it kept him off the streets. The door drifted open, this time revealing a hulking, furious looking demon clad in a wifebeater stretched tight over his muscled chest. Alan could smell trouble from a mile away, and this guy reeked of it. He stared around, eying each of the girls in the room. He settled on one and stormed towards her. Alan darted in his path in the blink of an eye, .38 slipped into the holster under his blazer and arms outstretched.

"Hey pal, listen, my girls chose their clients. I'll talk to her."

He grabbed the young woman by the arm and whisked her behind a beaded curtain into another room. She was wide-eyed and clearly afraid. He stroked her hair in an attempt to calm her.

"Okay, listen, doll... this guy can't hurt you. If you think he's going too far, you ring the buzzer on the back of your medallion and I'll be there as quick as I can, okay?"

She nodded timidly and he reached into his coat and produced the steely gray pistol, twirling it around his finger.

"And I will deal with him, alright? You rest easy, okay?"

She nodded and strutted back out, leading the huge man up the stairs. Alan collapsed back into his chair before lighting up a cigarette and taking a long drag. He loved the afterlife. All of the awful things that would kill you, with none of the cancerous repercussions. He'd never been much of a smoker in life, but in afterlife he smoked like a chimney. Besides, in a city that constantly stank of brimstone, he practically smelled like daisies. He had burned through his first cigarette, and had almost lit his second when the buzzer in his pocket went off. She was afraid. As quick as the wind, he flew upstairs, pistol drawn, and kicked down the door to the room the massive man was in.

He stood over the small girl, his boxers around his ankles and his right hand curled into a fist. His face had three bloody, ragged scratches down it, and Alan could see the finger marks on the girl's throat. Without so much as a second thought, he leveled the pistol at the back of the man's head and squeezed the trigger.

"Hey, asshole, wait a second, your girl scratched me when I started choking-"

He was cut off by a hollow point round blowing the top of his head off. He sank slowly to the floor before collapsing. Alan slid the pistol back into his jacket and offered the girl his hand and helped her up.

"Okay, sweetie, how about you head home and don't come back for awhile? Cool off, take a vacation on my tab, you name it. How's that sound?"

She wiped the tears from her eye before embracing him and hurrying out of the room. Alan kicked the door shut and headed back downstairs, passing another girl and her client on their way up. Alan turned to them, jerking a thumb towards the room he'd just left.

"Hey, pal, unless you're into some really weird stuff, you might wanna void that room, yeah?"

The client looked at him, puzzled, before going to another room. Alan slumped back into his chair and lit another cigarette.

I could get used to this life, I think.

*Here's the link to the DT. Thanks for reminding me, I always forget those.
viewtopic.php?f=200&t=96141 *

Feoryn:

From his perch on top of one of the taller buildings Feoryn had a perfect view of the action unfolding below. As he focused on the plaza a scent reached his nose. It was the stench of blow flies, rot and blood masked beneath a gallon of antiseptic. Not that it helped.

Feoryn stifled the urge to gag and turned to find Pestilence sitting beside him. The Horseman looked normal enough, curly blonde hair, blue eyes, tall and broad shouldered. But the smell of disease clung to him. "What do you Pest?" Feoryn demanded. The Horsemen had been waiting for him when he had awakened in Hell. They had claimed it was because he was the last of the Archons. Whatever that meant.

"No reason. The view's nice from up here." Pest smirked as he gazed down at the crowd. "One of mine is down there."

Feoryn quirked an eyebrow. "One of yours."

"One whose life was shattered by disease. You are quite unique Feoryn. I can't recall the last time someone broke into Records for their own reasons." He glanced meaningfully at the bag.

Feoryn froze. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Pest laughed. "Don't pretend innocence Feoryn, you can't pull it off. When a human becomes a demon they almost always cast away whatever pained them in life. You on the other hand seem have taken the phrase "Death is not the end." to heart."

Scowling, Feoryn retorted. "I'm a demon now. As far as I can see there's nothing to stop me from turning God's laws on their heads. My Uncle deserves to be punished he doesn't deserve another forty years of life."

Pestilence stared at him and then smiled. "You certainly are your father's son. A word of advise Feoryn. This is not a path you can travel alone. You need allies. You seek to rewrite destiny. Something like that can be very tempting. One could even bring the dead back to life, with the proper preparations." Pest faded away as he talked, become a cloud of noxious grey smoke that flitted away.

For a moment Feoryn stared perplexed at the spot where Pest had been. Turning over the Horseman's parting shot in his mind. "Allies, huh?"

Genesis "The Black Seraphim" Marston

I watched as soon the Arch Angels would ride in on there chariots and declare war, Arch Angel Phenex would soon ride in and things would get nasty. My only chance of finding Lord Lucifer was though his nephew, and even then I could be just shooed away, but I was stubborn and has to convince the Arch Angels that none of them were fit to rule, and that Lucifer must return to his throne. The crowd gathering, the demons of the underworld, to them I stuck out like a sore thumb, my bright white wings and everything showing. Soon I see them, the Arch Angels flying over head, everyone in awe as they soon began to land. I pushed my way though the crowd so I'd be the first to say anything to the Arch Angels, people moving around as I pushed though my voice was loud and clear as Arch Angel Phenex landed.

"Arch Angel Phenex! You mustn't declare war! Lord Lucifer must be found!" I yelled out.

Everyone immediately took notice, seeing a little girl such as myself demand so highly of the Fallen Arch Angel, he looked at me surprised I would step forward before he said anything. Soon his look turned to that of anger and dismay, as he raised his spear and pointed at me.

"And who's authority do you declare this child?" He asked in a gruff voice.

"Lucifer's! I hold a pendent that he gave me to show how much authority I hold, I hold more command than all nine arch angels combined! Arch Angel Phenex. I demand that you call off this Civil War and search for Lord Lucifer!" I demand showing the pendent.

He just smirks and laughs at me, how? I held more power than him!

"Child, my uncle has lied to you, that is no Pendent of Authority, that is a Pendent of Sealing! Your claim to power is worthless!" He laughed.

"War, take this child from my sights at once!" He ordered.

Then a big man walked forward with a sense of anger and authority about him, he grabbed me roughly by the arm and pulled me away.

"Let me go! I demand you let me go!" I yelled in protest.

I couldn't pull my arm free no matter what, I was soon dragged away my screams of protest drowned out by the Arch Angels speech and declaration of war, soon out of ear shot where no one can hear me. It wasn't until another guy with wings appeared, he had the same as Lord Lucifer, the sheer power of command and authority, he was different from Lord Lucifer tho, was he, was he Lord Lucifer or was he someone related to him?

"War, allow me to take this child from you, I shall ensure she is okay and out of the way." He said.

War tossed me to him, and he grabbed my before I could fall my pendent still visible, I regain my balance but he held my arm to ensure I wouldn't cause any more trouble.

"What you do with her Feoryn, I do not care, just keep her out of the way until things are sorted out and a new ruler is declared." War said in a calm but menacing tone.

"Oh I'll take care of her alright don't you worry War." Feoryn said.

"Let me go!" I pouted.

Jack Masters

Revenge. Why had I found myself in this city again? It was boring. The most interesting thing to do would be watching the prisoners entering and exiting the Gates.

Were I from Gates of Hell away and clear, riches and wealth should hardly draw me near.

I wondered if Shakespeare had come here when he died. The tales he would've told about this place would have labeled him a madman back with the living.

I fumbled with my shades a bit before opening the door of my small house and exiting. Breathing in a breath of rotten air, I set off, hoping to find something fun to do.

Cecilia

The Gates of Hell were soon to be opened, and this man was dying from an open wound. His entire chest had been split open with a practiced hand. I could see every organ inside of his body, and somehow no veins had been nicked. The body seemed to be in order his heart was beating and his lungs were steadily inflating and deflating, but when I had stumbled upon him in this back alley he had been steadily crying.

I had panicked, seeing someone in this much pain had brought bile to my throat and made me shed tears as well. I had placed my hand on his forehead and hoped for the most comalike sleep I could produce. For right now he was going to live, but I would give him about an hour. I had heard whispers of a doctor, one that could heal with just a touch of his hand. I knew the best chance of fining him was at the gates. I knew what he was supposed to look like.

I let a torrent of air push me off of the ground. The Gates were a good twenty five minutes away at top speed. I had only an hour to help this dying man. I had to hurry. I blasted through the air, and stopped when I saw hellfire.

I slowed down, as to not create a distruption, though this was hell so that was a little bit of a moot point. I landed, near dropped out of the sky from some of the looks people gave me. I didn't bother looking at them, I knew who I had to find.

I looked for three minutes. There was I couldn't find him. In my periferal vision I saw someone sitting at an open air bar with stone gargoyles arched over the entrances. I'd never seen them like this before, on earth gargoyles didn't move. Inside the bar there was someone matching the description perfectly. I walked in, trying my best to avoid the sculptures who were now baring their teeth at me. The bar was filled with men, some playing pool, others throwing darts one, almost hit me; I jumped. I clutched my bow nervously and scratched at my tattoo. I sat down next to the man. "You're Tim, right? I need your help."

He nodded and looked at me intently. "I found a man whos entire chest is ripped open. He's still alive, but only because I put him in a coma."

Tim hadn't said anything yet but he didn't seem to get what I had meant about the coma. For an example I placed my hand on the bartender who insantly collapsed. I hoped I hadn't put him in a coma too. If I had, the coma had been lifted from the dying man.

Tim nodded, "I'll help. Take me to the patient."

He got out of his seat, leaving behind a partially drained scotch. I picked it up and finished it off. I didn't want to see the dying man again sober.

"How are we going to get there fast enough?," asked Tim when we were outside. I didn't have time to explain, so I just took his hand and pushed off the ground.

Timothy Johnson
I just barely stopped myself from screaming when my feet left the ground. After spending a couple of weeks in hell I should've gotten used to stuff like this, but I hadn't. People with superpowers.. It was insane.

During the flight I tried to imagine what kind of injury that man would have, but I couldn't understand how a man 'whose entire chest is ripped open' could still be alive. I just hoped that he would stay that way until we arrived.

"How did you who I was?"

"I heard some rumors."

I nodded. My tactics seemed to be working. Help people and tell them to spread the word. Hopefully it would spread enough to keep me busy most of the time. I didn't like having to much free time. Concentrating on the things in front of me kept my mind from wandering.

"We're here," she warned me, at it occurred to me that I hadn't asked for her name.

My landing was far from graceful, and it took me a moment to regain my balance. I looked around and found the man that she had been talking about laying in the alley. I couldn't believe what I saw. His chest was indeed ripped open, but all the veins were intact and I could see the organs through the net of veins. Thank God he was unconscious.

"Can you help him or not?" She looked nauseous and I realized that I had been staring for too long.

"I think so. Do you know what caused this?" I focused on the wound, feeling the warmth in my hands as I held them above his chest. It started closing immediately. I could even see the nerves reattaching themselves.

"No, I found him like that." She was looking away now. I couldn't blame her. If I hadn't been used to it I would probably have reacted the same way.

"It has to be magic," I muttered to myself. There was nothing else that could cause a wound like that. "There, all good." She turned too look again as I removed my hands and stood up. "You should wake him up and talk to him. After all, he owes you his life," I said with a smile. I was glad that I wasn't the only one in hell who actually wanted to help others. "What's your name, by the way?"

Genevieve:

No matter where I went in Hell, it all seemed the same. From the sulfurous mess of Inferno to the dilapidated Wrath, the only difference was the smell, and one got used to that after awhile. Even in the afterlife it seemed I was cursed to wander and so, after my second week in Wrath, I decided to travel again. Maybe this was the real curse of Hell; to always look for something that you know in your heart you'll never find. But then again, some people made quite a home of hell. It was more like Earth than anyone could ever know. The political tension kept people divided and made them hate each other before they even understood what they were supposed to stand for.

I myself wanted nothing to do with politics. In finding Hell, and realizing that one can keep to themselves as much as they desired, I made myself a sort of observer, trying to make sense of what was going on and what who the prominent players were. I had compiled a large mass of information and I fancied myself a kind of self-employed insider trader. I had paid for room and board along the way by uncovering an affair between the wife of a strange but affluent man and a scrawny demon from Despair for example, and because I had no bias, I managed quite a successful business.

My next destination was Pandemonium. It was a center of political struggle and I had heard that a battle for succession was taking place within it's gates. Many more eminent demons would certainly pay a decent sum for knowledge of the situation as in the end, they would want to know who to stand behind and whose case to pump the most monetary support into.

In fact, as I entered Pandemonium, I remembered a man I had met in Inferno. Alan McKinley who always looked out for himself and managed to end up on the right side of the track in the process. It would be interesting to know if what he had heard about the Pandemonium conflict and I was tempted to call him so I wouldn't go in blindfolded. After all, I cleaned up a few of his girls when he misjudged a couple of clients.

I found a phone booth and, checking the area for curious ears, I dialed a number that I kept on a folded piece of paper in my shoe just in case. In rang a few times and then I heard him pick up.

"Alan, it's me, Genevieve. You got a sec?"

Cecilia

"Me llamo Cecilia"

"Pardon?" Whoops, I'd spoken in Spanish. "Umm, Cecilia. Sorry, I'm from Spain."

"I thought I'd heard an accent. We should probably get back to the gates." He was right, I could already hear excited shrieks. The revived man was starting to wake up.

I kneeled down. Now that the gaping wound was gone I could look at his face, he had white hair and white skin and appeared to be very old. I spoke tentatively, "Did you see who did this to you?"

"Non, non. Exiit nusquam. Ego iustus sentiret hanc nigrum, opprimendi tenebris convestire me. Tu me dormire. Gratias ago tibi, gratias tibi aget." The man spoke in Latin, I could tell. It wasn't Spanish or Italian, it didn't sound the same.

I could understand a little bit of it. He said he hadn't seen it and he thanked me for helping him.

I asked him for his name. "Ego sum pontifex." He said he was a pope. He didn't elaborate on which one, but being Catholic I kissed the finger where his ring should be. I didn't understand why he was in hell, but I wasn't going to ask. The pope hobbled off.

"Come on, let's go to the gates." I took his hand and lifted off, going a little bit slower for his stomach's sake.

We landed as we saw someone coming through the gates. I was scared. I'd seen Phenex, and he scared me badly enough. I didn't wasn't to see what would be coming through the portal from a different realm. I stood next to Tim. I let go of his hand. He glanced over at me, and apparently he could tell I was scared shitless. He took my hand. He was probably scared too.

Timothy Johnson
Cecillia looked scared, so I took her hand and smiled reassuringly. I had never been very brave, but seeing someone else who was scared or hurt always made me 'man up'. "I've never seen any of the archangels before."

"Then you're lucky," she mumbled.

We watched them in silence as the archangels arrived. They were supposed to proceed into a building, but the words from a sweet little girl stopped them. She couldn't be more than ten, and she had small white wings sprouting from her back. I frowned. Where were her parents? Whatever she was doing was dangerous. Then I realized that she probably didn't have any here in hell.

I watched until I saw a big brute pick her up and carry her away. I couldn't let him hurt that child, I just couldn't. I hurried through the crowd, more or less dragging Cecillia with me, and arrived just in time to hear her shout: "Let me go!" the man who was now holding her.

I let go of Cecillia's hand now, not wanting to involve her in this. "Excuse me." I smiled as they all turned to look at me. None of them seemed very happy. "That child hasn't hurt anyone, so would you mind letting her go?" Oh dear.. He looked like he was going to punch me in the face. "I'm guessing that she has no one to take care of her, and I'd be more than happy to take her of your han.." The big guy was standing only inches away from me now, freakishly much like a bull preparing to ram someone with his horns. I couldn't hold back a nervous laugh. This is going well.

*Sweet I like where this is going. Nice job Feoryn's combative personality by the way. One of the things that makes Feoryn unique is how rapidly he assimilates information. So, unlike most of the other characters he had almost no lag time adjusting to hell.*

Feoryn:

Feoryn watched the man jump when he moved to within inches of him. The little girl he tucked under his arm like a sack of potatoes. A squirming sack of potatoes. The guy was nervous, his abilities probably not geared towards combat, yet he still stood his ground. A girl with soft brown curls stood behind him shoulders hunched up, yet there was a spark in her eyes that spoke of a surviver.

Smirking Feoryn decided to ruffle their feathers a bit. He opened his mouth to taunt them and that was when the vision hit hard. His eyes went blank, the girl slipped away from his suddenly nerveless grasp and he went to his knees. It lasted only a few short seconds but to Feoryn it felt like an eternity.

"Fuck." Feoryn swore as he reached out and caught the kids dress and snatched up the man's arm. He flapped his wings and leaped into the air, shouting at the girl as he went. "Get away from there, right now!" He would never be sure if the girl moved in obedience or because she didn't want him taking off with her friend. He landed on the roof of a building just as the spot where they were standing erupted in an explosion.

I'm sorry sylver but I have no idea what happened in that post. I think it's just because you use a lot of pronouns. Could you provide like a translation in the DT?