Though this place promised only trouble overall, a portal opened in front of one tavern called The Chains. From it stepped a tall, rather thin man. He stood at least six feet, four inches in height with a gangly, awkward appearing figure. Bone white skin contrasted with the black and midnight blue clothes he wore. His hands were gloved in black leather. His hair was short, slightly spiked, and the color of freshly spilled blood. Around his eyes were crimson tattoos that resembled demon wings. His eye color was odd, though those within this realm found it normal. His eyes were a rather pale blue that bordered on completely being white. At times it seemed his eyes were actually a pearly white.

Many , upon seeing this man, whispered that he was Death on two legs. Others said he was a messenger of Death. Others merely saw him as a sickly being that was harmless. They could have all been correct.

From the windows, the pale man saw that The Chains was as crowded as ever. However, in the back corner were several booths that had been left empty. It would do. Though, he had yet to figure out why he had decided to come here. He wasn’t one for conflict or engagement with others.

However, some recent and past events had enlightened him…and puzzled him.

Pushing the door, the stranger stepped into the loud tavern. Beings of every imaginable kind were here. Cages hanging from chains displayed beautiful, sultry, and inviting women that beckoned to all the oocupants. In places, he could hear the moans and pleasured squeals from men and women that had engaged in open orgies. The room was lit by several lamps and torches, but the place was still dark by any standard. The chuckles of beasts and men were heard as they swapped stories. Hollers were echoed as gambling patronage argued and fought.

Despite his awkward appearance, the man strode with casual grace toward the bar. Giving tempting and inviting women a wan smile and a shake of his head, he found a place to stand for the moment. Pale eyes searched the crowds for any familiar face, even though he knew he wouldn’t find one.

“What’ll it be, Handsome?” came the purring voice of the current demoness that tended the bar.

His eyes focused on her. Her skin was a shade of lavender. Her outfit hinted at all the treasures that a woman had to offer. Tight leathers with chains hung in various places, taunting and teasing those men and women who watched her openly. Her hair was a dark blue-violet and framed her pretty face and reached her rear. Her eyes though,were much like his. A pearly white, but hers had red pupils.

The pale man grinned slightly. “Blazing Hell,” he replied in a voice that contrasted to the extreme with the harsh words and voices that swarmed and mingled. His voice was a soft, calm whisper that seemed unnatural for his appearance.

An eyebrow arched as the demoness regarded him. “Whatever gets your boat floatin'…”

She gave him his drink. Nodding to her, he moved away from the bar toward the empty booths he had seen.

She sat at the back of the room.

Had in fact, been sitting there for quite sometime.

Nursing a Jack Daniels and tonic, chain smoking, and watching the room with, shifting, and shifty golden hued eyes.

One slender leg, covered from foot to mid thigh in a tight, patent leather boot. Propped on the edge of the table in front of her.

A golden brow arched as she watched the comings and goings of the less than rich and famous. Her full lips, now carrying a smile, then forming a small moue of distaste.It's not that Tricky thought herself above anyone in this shit hole. She did of course, but that wasn't the point. She at least bathed once and awhile. Even changed her clothes on a semi regular basis. And, thruth be told, the stench of some of the patrons was a bit over powering. A particularly ripe specimen happened to walk by her at just that moment. She shrank back and comtemplated, not for the first time that evening, throwing her drink on him. Not only would he smell better, but it had the added benefits of being a disinfectant as well. Then she happened to notice the the...er....WOMAN he was with, and decided not to waste her drink. They could go merrily on their way and swap whatever diseases they both currently had. Ah love, what a beautiful thing it was.

A small snort of laughter followed that thought. Tricky was not above laughing at her own jokes.

She turned her attention back to the room. Placing a cigarette between her red lips, she struck a match and lifted it to the tip of the butt. The yellow flame ignited more than her smoke. It cast it's glow upon the pale and guant figure of a man standing at the bar. His red hair fairly seemed to drip blood. His sallowness almost ghost like, odd, even in this room full of freaks and super freaks.Claiming his drink, and, after some outrageous flirting with the bar tender. He started to weave his way, expertly, through the crowd. Somehow managing, to never let anyone touch his person. She followed his movements with her unsettling amber gaze. The match now burning dangerously close to her slender fingertips. It singed, and she swore brilliantly, as she shook it out.

When she looked up once again, she had lost the man somewhere in the crowd. Placing both feet on the floor, she rose, craning her neck to scan the room from a higher vantage point. Idlly wondering why she was so interested in him. True, he was different. But then, so was she. So was almost everyone in the joint. She chewed her lip as she pondered, finally regaining her seat. Sighing softly as she picked up her drink and took a sip.

Where could he have gone?

The demoness bartender continued to watch the pale stranger as he left her there without another word. What a werid guy. No one ever left her without at least ten minutes of "conversation". Shrugging, she went about serving those who would pay for drinks and other pleasures.

As he moved away from the bar, the man many stared at despite what activity they were engaged in sipped his drink. It wasn't as strong as he would like, but it would do for now. He wasn't exactly here to get obliterated. In fact, he still wasn't sure as to why he had Planed here.

As he slipped into one of the empty booths in the back, he noticed a golden haired woman stand and gaze around as if searching for someone. It didn't cause him to wonder really since everyone within the walls seemed to be looking for someone or something.

Just as he was beginning to relax in the hard cushions of the booth seat, what looked like a cross between an elven woman and a pixie approached him. Her skin was a silvery color that seemed as though she wore glitter. Her hair silky, the color of honey, and reached her ankles in gentle waves. She was small in height, and looked as though she might break at the slightest touch. As though a mere breath might cause her to fall to pieces. From her back were translucent wings that glittered and changed colors of a rainbow in the faint light offered. Wearing a gown of white silk, she seemed out of place against the beasts and rugged, brash, and almost lewd activities of the tavern. Around her upper arms and calves were thin, curling braces of gold that seemed tattooed into her pale skin. Her eyes swirled colors of lavender, baby blue, and silver.

His pale blue eyes gazed at her and studied her.

"May I help you, Miss?" his soft, quiet voice asked.

Shimmering lips of pale pink formed into an inviting smile.

A sweet, honey voice answered him, "Don't you remember me, Darkling?" She slid into the booth on his left, and curled up against him, batting her long eyelashes of honey.

A blood colored eyebrow arched slightly as her warm, soft body pressed up against his dark clothing. Though he looked sickly, and too thin, he was all muscle, and those muscles tightened as she touched him. Gazing into her eyes briefly, he inched slightly away.

"I'm afraid you have me mistaken for another," he replied quietly, staying polite.

A pretty pout formed on the creature's lips.

"You would never say that, Sinnyn," she said sadly. "You said I was the only one..."

The pale man blinked, almost blanched really. His jaw set as he stared hard now at the woman.A large gloved hand rested on the table while the other squeezed the tankard his drink had been served in.

"Miss," he began, trying to clear his head of the thoughts, violent and pained, that flooded his mind. "I am not who you think I am..." Sliding out of the booth, he left her there, staring in disbelief.

He moved through the crowd again in a numbed state. Yet, he was now more aware of the stares he was getting. The stares were because of how he appeared...well, not necessarily. These things weren't looking at him with fear or hesitation. They were not looking at him as others did when he went to realms who had never seen the likes of him.

The occupants of The Chains were seeing his father walking among them. Yet, what they saw being acted was not his father. Yes, the pale man was the exact replica in looks to the one who had declared love and loyalty to his mother, but the bastard was nothing like him. This pale man had a heart. He cared. The man whose blood ran through his veins was a heartless user of the mind. A fucking leech.

Somwhere he heard something crack and shatter. Thinking it to be someone dropping a plate or cup, he continued to walk in the direction of the golden haired woman that had stood earlier. He seemed unaware of his surroundings suddenly...and to the fact that blood soaked and dripped from the leather glove of his right hand. Shards of the tankard buried into his bone white skin.

His mind exploded with violent actions and desires, causing his pale blue eyes to turn completely white. He wanted to suddenly find the one many mistaken him for and kill him...How many lovers had Sinnyn had before meeting Peiallai? How many while he had been married? And how many women's minds had he fucked with?

Thin bone white lips formed into a sneer as a snarl escaped him...

A soft pout prepared to recieve the edge of the vessel, that would transport the firey liquid to her waiting mouth.

A slight turn of her head, had brought, perhaps one of the most beautiful creatures she had ever seen into her view.

All starlight and moonglow and silvery wings.

An odd being to be frequenting such a place as this, she thought.

But then, it took all kinds.

For lack of anything more interesting to watch.

Tricky followed this etheral wisp of fantasy, with her unsettling golden gaze.

One brow arching upward as she saw the destination of faerie girl.

It seemed that she had a rendezvous with the man Tricky had noticed earlier.

The glass in her hand hit the table with a solid thump, as she rose to her feet in almost the same instant.

The other hand pushing back unruly blonde tresses as she tried to bring the pair into a better field of view.

Straining her hearing, leaning forward as if this would give her access to their conversation.

A small frown nestled between her brows as faerie girl cuddled up to his side. The action spoke of long familiarity between the two. Why this brought a small knot of jealously to Tricky's very attractive abdomen, she really couldn't say. But it did and she didn't like it at all.

A small growl exiting her slender throat, one hand falling to caress the dagger hidden within her shiney patent, leather boot.

Red lips twitched at one corner, a feral snarl marring, or perhaps enhancing, their velvet countenance.

She stood as still as a perfectly carved statue. Watching, waiting, every nerve dancing on the edge of forever...

Tiger, Tiger, Burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

...To her surprise, or perhaps delight? The bone white man seemed less than pleased with the faerie thing's attentions.

He slid from the booth with the speed and agility of someone running from their worst nightmare.

Laughter rang from her throat. Sweet and melodic, it rose it beautiful cadence, above the mostly guttural din of the room.

The expression on the winged girl amusing Tricky to no end.

It was quite obvious that she, the winged one, had expected a vastly different sort of welcome.

Being rebuffed, and quite soundly, at that, had never once occured to this flirty faeling.

It was then that Tricky noticed the tall and gangly man making his way through the crowd. And it looked like he was heading for her!

A sudden gasp choked off the laughter, as she quickly fought for her usual icy control.

Tucking the half drawn dagger back into her boot. And settling back into her seat with a less than graceful thump.

Grasping, slender finger's sought her glass once more, she brought it to her mouth hurridly, taking a rather large mouthful.

To her dismay, she began to cough and sputter as the burning liquid caught her in it's grip...

He was only two tables away and his eyes were on her...

The pearly white-blue eyes seemed to focus on the beautiful blonde hair woman just briefly, but didn't register as to who or what she was or what she was doing...her sputtering had not made him react in any sort of way. He had yet to realize he was bleeding from his hand, and that it was soaking through his glove, and dripping on other patrons. Yet, a gruff voice made his attention turn away from Tricky.

Thin bone white lips formed into a sneer as a snarl escaped him...

"Hey, Skinny," came a low growl.

Pearly white eyes snapped on a creature that resembled a mix between a wild boar and a lion. An ugly creature with fur, tusks, whiskers. The thing glared up at Michil.

"Yer bleedan in m'drink," the creature said in a snarl.

Thin bone white lips curled into a demonic smile. Strange that this would come from such a quiet soul as Michil. Leaning in slowly and close so that their faces were millimeters apart, the thin man sniffed a bit. His pearly white eyes flashing dangerously.

"Then, drink up," he snarled back. "I ain't got nothin' in my blood. Besides, I'm sure you had plenty of blood earlier..."

The creature's beady eyes narrowed as he gave a growl in response. Michil only grinned at him, opening up his arms wide as if giving the creature a free shot. Blood still flowed freely from his gloved hand, staining his black sleeve and the floorboards.

Nearby, about a five foot radius, various beings had stopped to watch. Faint murmurs could be heard. Barmaids smiled faintly. Bets were being made. It was not unusual for fights to break out here...besides, they all thought the pale man was Sinnyn. The Citoahc had a reputation in Kraos...several reputations really...should a fight break out, it would prove enlightening to say the least...

The creature stared at Michil for several moments. Pearly white eyes challenge the black beady eyes. Those thin lips still in a dark, humored demonic grin.

Murmuring and dark whispers began to filter through the crowds. Some of them were bets as to who would win. In many minds, there was no question. However, this bone skinned man seemed not to carry any weapons on him. How could he possibly fight, even win over, a huge thing as that creature he was now blatantly challenging.

The creature's name was Grtyiuck, and he was also one of the feared patrons of The Chains. Yet, here stood this scrawny looking thing with arms wide open, inviting the ugly thing to hit him....

Other Scenes

The Cast