Universal Affairs

July. 18, XXXX

The Demon King and Satan started to force mate the devils and the demonics, creating a new race of blood lusting beasts. The power of the blood was too hard for the weak-skinned race, nobody knew how to control them, not even themselves. Almost as soon as they were made did they start The Great Slaughter, killing anybody who walked in front of them, even their own kind. Troops were sent out to kill, a few still remained. The gods had a meeting on what to do with them, when asked by King if he could experiment further he was declined, all remaining races were to be executed. Each god sent one of their kind to witness it, making sure King and Satan went through with the new declare. Of course they did and for many years the Devil-Demonics faded into obscurity, neither Demons, devils or gods ever mentioning it.

In one meeting King asked if he could research further and was declined yet again. Not soon after that decline did rumours start spreading that he had continued nonetheless. This sparked up small debates in meetings, nothing ever too serious. Not until they found proof, on a single paper, did they start immediately question King. King directed some of that blame onto Satan and even managed to give a bit to Relissia. Soon enough, all the gods were blaming one another, almost none of them wanting to talk to each other at the end. A rumour even appeared that there was still a single remaining Demon-devil, yet, nobody could find proof of that.

To be able to lift the fight from the gods an investigation is needed. A man sends for a group of people to find out the truth.
(/cheesy headline)

CS:
Name:
Age:
Gender:
Personality:
Appearance:
Bio:
Other:

Name:Sebastian Klaus.
Age:18.
Gender:Male.
Personality:Optimistic, playful, and comically overdramatic.
Appearance:Light brown hair that goes a little past his ears and extends down and goes over his right eyebrow in a diagonal fashion. Fairly skinny and pale. 5'10''. Emerald green eyes. He wears a three piece suit that contains of a white undershirt with a dark red and blue striped tie, a black single breasted jacket with a notched lapel, and black pants that extend a little past the the start of his brown boots when he goes out. He has a scar on his right arm that begins at his elbow and ends midway to the hand.
Bio:After his parents were killed in a house fire when he was four, he grew up in an orphanage. He greatly enjoyed talking with the other children and learned a lot through them, when he was seven he was adopted into a new family. his adoptive parents gave him excellent education and he went through his adolescent years without a problem. But his inability to work well under pressure has caused his grades to falter. He almost didn't get his high school diploma because of it. He recently moved out of his parents house and currently works as an entertainer in a local night club.
Other:

(i made this entirely on improv)

(I guess I should do an example or starter post or something.)

His vision was blocked by a pair of elbows dressed in black tuxedo sleeves, causing some of his writing to be smudged. When he looked up all he could see was that same grin, that same hat and the same messed up black hair. Her eyelids were half closed, keeping her deep blue eyes from being fully exposed. When he turned his head up he couldn’t help but have an annoyed look on his face.
‘Ever get told that having your elbows on a table or working surface was rude?” He said. All she did was lift one arm and with one finger, tilted his purple hooded head back down again.
‘Table, yes, working surface I have never heard.’ Even though this sounded rather resistant she complied anyway, standing up straight and proper. He chose to ignore and just continue working.

CS:
Name: William Ytterbyr
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Personality: William Ytterbyr, the common rabble, average person you would see on the street. He speaks with a slightly low-tone, echo-y voice, never raising it unless very angry. He is a calm person despite him having a slightly troubled past, as he says.
Appearance: Height of five feet, seven inches, this is unconfirmed, as it seems he either is shorter or taller each time you meet him. Skinny, build. He has soft, olive-colored skin, appearing to be of Hispanic descent. William's eyes are a soft brown, his hair is the same color, which is short and naturally curled, feeling like a clean carpet if you run your hand over it. William tends to wear either a blue and white stripped polo shirt, or a green and black polo shirt. He matches either one with a dark grey pair of pants, usually either jeans or semi-formal pants. His shoes are always the same, a white, red, and black pair of "jumps", as he calls them.
Bio: William Ytterbyr usually refuses to talk about his past, however, if you are to manage to get him to tell you his life story, he will give you the same one he gives everyone else; "I was raised in the South, I didn't have good grades in school, my parents didn't care too much, I got into too many fights, I went to jail, now I'm where I am now." Despite him being this closed, he lives a normal life and works a normal job as a clerk at a local retail store.
Other:

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Upon hearing the light patter of rain against the roof, Fang rose his head from his desk, where he had been sleeping, or more resting, for the past three hours. This was probably the most sleep he'd get today. He heard his audio clock spout out in a robotic voice; "It is now THREE, FOURTY-TWO, A.M." Fang stood up, stretching a bit. "Wonderful, half the day began already." He said to himself, slowly pushing the chair he was sitting on back with his left foot. Fang slowly turned, grabbing onto the desk as he turned, and began to make his way forward, which was a challenge he basically had to face everyday, due to being blind. As he walked, he kicked aside a small piece of metal by accident, which rolled under a completely unused bed, which was collecting dust.

The only sounds going through out the room was the light tapping of a pen lifting off and then down again on a piece of paper, and the soft ticking of an old clock. A man sits at his desk, piles of neatly organized papers surrounding him. From time to time he puts his pen down on the desk and looks over the papers, only to put them back and begin writing again.
'Do you really need to work this much?' A voice said to him, repeating what had been said many times. He never bothered to even turn his head and face her.
'It’s completely different this time, now it’s upon my own request.’ He could hear a frustrated huff escape from her.
'Bah, you’re no fun. Always over working, how do you even function?' She said, this soon followed after with a chuckle. '‘Suppose I would know better than most.'
'Shut up.'

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Two eyes stare intently at each other. One pair looks back and forth from the game of chess laid before them and then to his opponents eyes. The other pair just looks into his rivals eyes. A hand reaches out and makes the first move. His playmate’s only response is to slouch farther in his chair, his head hanging limply.
This game wasn’t very fun.
The card on the first pair of eyes is fixed, no need to be sloppy.

"Jeez, look at the time. I better get home soon." A young man thought as he looked at the time on his phone.

"I still have to buy groceries too. I wonder if anything is open this late"

He began to drive around his local town looking for a convenience store, all the ones he saw had their lights turned off and "Closed" signs set up.

"Fucking wonderful... Now I gotta wait until tomorrow, or today technically. I wonder if there is a 24/7 fast food place around."

Another car came screeching around the corner, scraping up against the front end of the young man's car, and keeps going.

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Fang yawned as he opened up a refrigerator, which was stocked with water and various foods such as ham, lettuce, tuna, tomato, cheese, apples, leek, and bread. He reached in, grabbing an apple, and closed the fridge. He took a small bite before returning back to the desk he had been sleeping on to resume whatever meaningless work he had attempted to accomplish the night before.

The man lowered his windshield and yelled out "WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM? DID YOU GET YOU LICENSE FROM A CRACKER JACK BOX?"

Two women sit together having tea, neither talking. The area wasn’t exactly pleasant, it was a tad dark, any opening covered by felt curtains. They were in a wagon of some sorts, one for living, all of it made out of wood. One of the two women put their cup down on the wooden table, resting it nicely on the small plate. Her hostess tilts her head to the right, blue eyes not blinking. One of the strands of her hair moved with her head, going in front of her face.
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A man carrying four bags-two in each hand-struts down the street. By his side is woman with golden locks of hair, her lips slightly pouting at the sudden experience she just endured.
“Did you really need that many fucking shoes? And scarves. God damn those scarves.” She said, her eyes leering at the man. As he raised the bags up to his shoulder he looked at her.
“Girl, really? Do you know how many times I break the straps off of my flip flops? I mean honey, I love breaking straps but these aren’t the ones I’m lookin’ for.”
“Oh my god."

Although the car's driver was clearly out of earshot, the vehicle slowed to a stop. Smoke went into the air as the back tires spun and the car turned, then slowly rode up the the young man's car. The driver side window rolled down, revealing a well dressed man who looked to be in his late fifties, grey hair and a full, grey beard. He looked at the other man, bright and vibrant blue eyes locking.
"Pardon me sir, but could you repeat that?" He asked in a light tone of voice.

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There were multiple bangs on the wall of Fang's residence. He quickly jumped up from the desk, he wasn't expecting visitors.
"Who is it?" He called out, waiting for a response, which was nothing. "Who is it?" He called again, which was replied by the wall being banged on again. Fang sighed and approached the door, unhinging the lock and slowly opening it. An outside force swung it open and Fang was shoved back violently, he collided into an engine block suspended by a holder. Multiple heavy footsteps entered the residence, one of them got close to Fang and a hand forced him to the ground.
"Grab everything important and get out before that thing shows up again!" The person who was holding Fang down commanded to whoever else was involved in this.
"Oh God what is going on?!" Fang asked in fear, to be replied with by a hit to the back of the head. "Ah! What the heck man?"
"Keep shut or I'll tear that tongue from your mouth!" The person threatened.

“Mr.Chirpy? You’re ba-back early.” The bird responded happily with a chirp. He then started to climb the sleeves of his owner, wings flapping on occasion to keep his balance.
They were sitting in a tree, a rather large one at that. It towered over the other ones in the forest, the thick trunk certainly took up a large amount of space. No concern was showed sitting on the branches, they were strong, wide and sturdy.

He rolled down his window again and took a long look at this new person.

"Dude why is an old man like you going 90mph and ramming into me?"

"I was unaware that fifty-seven was now considered "old" by the general public nowadays." The man replied. "Perhaps we forget that ever happened, as we seem to have began on the wrong foot. You are...?"

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One of the people had apparently found something important. "I found it!" He exclaimed. The guy who was holding down Fang stood up and yelled at the rest to move. Despite nobody being outside or near the exit door, it suddenly slammed shut and latched closed.
"Oh shit it's here!" One of the people inside yelled. One of the other people had begin to talk but was cut-off.
"What the fuck did he just disappear?"

"You certainly look old."

"But shouldn't you say your name before asking for someone else's?"

That was the last letter. He let out a sigh of relief and sat back in his chair, snapping his fingers. Snoozer and some other bats appeared on his desk. Each of them were given one of the letters, holding them in their feet. He sent them on their way.
“You done?” She cooed. He turned his head slightly, though not enough to face her.
“Yes.”
(Fang gets braille of course.)

"My name is irrelevant, but I believe yours is required. If you truly wish for a name, my closer friends call me Doctor, as is my job." The man replied. The man wildly looked around, before turning back to the other. "I do apologize for the inconvenience I have caused you, but I must go." He said.
He then stepped on the gas pedal and sped off. In the distance, opposite of where Doctor's car was driving, there was a faint glow.

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One by one, the people inside began to disappear, and whatever they were carrying from Fang's residence hit the floor, until there was one left. Something had apparently happened, because what sounded like a series of bangs exploded through the building until it was silenced. The silence was broken by lone footsteps, approaching to where Fang was.
"I have always warned you to never open the door unless you are expecting guests." The man said.
Fang slowly got up, turning to the direction of the voice. "Well I didn't exactly know why until now. Thanks for helping me Anon."
"There is no need to thank me, I am only doing my job." Anon replied. The person's full "name" was Anonymous, but the ones who knew him would call him Anon for short.

"My name is required and yet, he drives off without it?"

He rolled up the driver side window and proceeded to drive toward a gas station, he was almost out of gas.

Everything was very chilled, much to her liking. Icicles hung off the roof, some of them slowly dripping. A body lay in the middle of the room. She moved towards it, her body swishing in rhythm with her tail. Once she was close enough she held the head up with one hand. Her tongue flicked against the cold flesh. Almost lovingly did she drag her claw against the chest, gently and slowly pressing it in. Blood trickled straight down, eventually hitting the floor.
Life was good.

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As she was contemplating new choices for rivals a bat flew into her game room, the flapping of it’s wings being a dead give away. It dropped the item onto the table and sat up upon the top of a bookshelf. She picked it up; an envelope with the name “Jay” written on it.

There was a light smack on the outside wall. Anonymous quickly turned to face the sound before going out the front door to check. A bat holding a curled up letter in it's feet. Anonymous assumed this could be for him, as the bat had not flown away like a scared rabbit with wings yet. He lightly grabbed the letter, unfurling it and reading the contents.
"If you would pardon me one moment..." Anonymous said to the bat, although still looking at the letter. He returned inside and read text written outloud to Fang, awaiting for his opinion on it.
"I seriously don't want to get involved in anything like that because half the things they are talking about, don't exactly involve something I'd like to be part of." Fang said.
"This is, however, important, if it includes the realms. I'll make sure to it that you don't get involved, as it seems you have gotten one as well. I will see to what is happening. Try not to get yourself in trouble." Anonymous said to Fang before heading back out the door. Despite him not even touching the paper with any writing tool, the word "Yes" was sketched roughly onto the paper and handed back to the bat.
"Safe travels winged creature." Anonymous said as he spontaneously disappeared.

The claw moved to the left, still punctured into the skin. A nice bleeding slit was formed, she pulled her finger out slowly, the blood sticking to the claw. Her head lowered towards the wound and allowed her tongue to enter. As she began to taste the blood her tongue massaged the sides of the flesh, some of her teeth lightly scratching off some skin. She took one bite and savoured the fresh meal. Just as she was about to sink her teeth for the next one a bat appeared, eyes closed and flying drowsily. It dropped an envelope down beside her. She cut it straight across the top with her claw and pulled out the paper, only pulling it up more to see the next sentence. When she reached the end scratched a ‘Yes’ in the paper with her claws. As she held the paper out the bat took it and flew away.

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After reading the note she reached over for her quill and ink bottle. Dipping the quill twice in the ink she began writing her acceptance on the bottom. The bat flew down from the bookshelf and took the paper when she put down her quill. It became crumpled from the pressure of its feet.

Sebastian pulled into an old gas station, it looked like it was about to fall apart at the seams.

"Why is such a run down place in the middle of town?" He thought to himself as he opened the driver side door and getting out.

He took the gas pump out and began to fill up the car's tank.

"Shit... Gas is four dollars here? Just my luck."