Fantasy Hotel Tussen Vanderheim (Open - Jump in!)

[Kry]

@Malhyanth @poppet


Fyren didn't answer the girl when she spoke at first, only glaring hard at her and then those eyes widening a bit in surprise when she admitted that Rosalind was her ancestor. He had suspected as much, but still. That didn't excuse her from touching these things that belonged to Rosalind! He growled deep in his throat. Then the girl slipped past Wy'Ziot, but the werewolf still managed to be a buffer for her, a shield against the bat. Fyren did not want to harm the werewolf, but he would not hold back if they did begin exchanging blows.


The girl was waving a note around now, and almost but not quite reprimanding the wolf. Fyren shook his head, frowning slightly when Wy'Ziot whimpered in response to the girl's words. His tongue flashed out, licking at his lips a bit, and tasting the droplets of blood there. He could feel it, more wanted to come out, up from his lungs. Punctured by his ribs from the change, because the change couldn't be done properly, couldn't complete properly. His chest burned, and again he shook his head when Wy'Ziot asked if he were responsible. "No, pup. You couldn't hurt me if you even truly wanted to." A hint of arrogance laced that voice. Punctuated by the way he slowly and carefully pronounced the words.


Then the werewolf was taking a piece of paper from the girl and waving it excitedly at him. Fyren glared at Violet and then at the paper, before reaching out to gently place a hand atop Wy'Ziot's head. Fyren would have hated hurting the werewolf, but would not have hesitated if it had become necessary. He reached for the paper with his other hand, hesitated, then quickly brought that hand to his snout as he coughed again. Wincing slightly. Fyren growled at no one in particular this time, and the hand that was gently on Wy'Ziot's head moved to take the letter.


One hand still hiding his mouth, the other brought the note to his eye level to read the words written. Written in that woman's beautiful handwriting, there was no mistake. His lips moved, his guttural voice a whisper that held disbelief as he read aloud what was written. "What was once mine, is now yours. From Rosalind" Those orange eyes widened greatly. He had made a mistake. These items had not been stolen, they had been freely given. The letter was brought to his nose, as he lowered his other hand, and he inhaled deeply.


That scent filled him and surrounded him so completely, and in that moment, he could nearly feel the disappointment she must have surely felt for him right now. "...I..." His body trembled, his chest heaved as he breathed like one on the verge of a panic attack. The look in his wide, orange eyes even seemed rather panicked instead of wild and angry. Those panicked eyes turned to Violet, but it wasn't her he was seeing. "....Rosalind....Forgive me.." Fyren dropped the letter and bolted for the door. The expression on his bestial face as he darted away was confusion, shame, and uncertainty.

 

[Malhyanth]

@Kry @poppet


The werewolf leaned into his friend's reassuring touch tail thumping against the ground. He was concerned his friend was hurting himself with this transformation, something didn't seem wholly right. Bones shuffled back, giving the demon room to investigate the situation, but what he hadn't expected was for the result to be his complete demeanour change. The werewolf reached out to his friend as he warred with his internal voices, but as he rushed out, the werewolf only followed to the door, before sitting, watching the retreating back for as long as he could.


This whole situation seemed completely crazy to the wolf as he sat in the doorway. He looked over his shoulder at the girl. She was so like the mother-figure that had cared for him for so long. Tried to teach him words, but had always failed. He turned and strode to stand before her, looking down at the gentle face he'd seen so many times, but with its minute differences. He sat before her, his eyes focusing carefully on her face, assessing. He reached out carefully, and ran the back of a clawed finger over he cheek, tracing the shape of her face. Her nose, chin, brow, jawline, neck. The girl would not know, but when Rosalind had first taken the young werewolf into her care, a similar ritual for the wolf had occurred then too. Like he was tracing her visage into his mind, not only by sight, but by touch as well.


When he had finished his gentle ministrations, he breathed deep, closing his eyes to differentiate all the smells in the room. Blood was the primary one; the demons tangy, acrid scented blood. Then the demon himself, musty, dank. The canine scent of a werewolf, always around Wy'Ziot, as his own wild smell. Then there were two further ones; the main being the gentle, crisp scent of Rosalind, a playful, floral scent on Wy'ziot's palate. And then this girl, this Violet. The smells were only marginally different, with this girl having a slightly more earthy scent, a more human scent; her time spent with the village. When he had finished his mind mapping, and opened his red eyes and looked at the girl, a hint of a smile touching them, and canine face struggling to show the gentle expression he wanted to share.


"I am sshorry djou 'ad to vitnessh my friend like zhat." The werewolf turned his face from Violet, ears lowering. "My friend, vhen Rosshalind left ussh... it broke 'im too. Our Lord left ussh... and Vyren. 'E issh good. I promisshe djou." The werewolf looked at her hard for a moment, before gently taking her hands in his own, realising how small and dainty she was by how tiny they were in his werewolf palms. He held them tightly as he looked at her with a serious expression. "Know zhissh. I vill alwayssh protect zhe kin of Rosshalind. Vhatever djou need, do not 'esshitate to find me. I am jussht down zhe corridor."


The werewolf released her hands, and stood to his full 8 foot height, before slowly padding out to the corridor. He could follow the scent of his friend to where he had holed up, but first, he needed to change back. He cast one last look over his shoulder to the girl, and gave the equivalent of a wolf smile. Hopefully it didn't look to aggressive, as the face he wore was not really suited to the action, and he padded out, slowly making his way to his own abode. Entering quietly, he started the transformation back to human as soon as the door behind him closed. Pops, cracks and grinding bones filled the room; the occasional grunt of discomfort as his body shrank, fur retreated back into skin, and bones realigned and changed shape. The process was not painless, and as Wy'Ziot came to be stood, pale and


naked within the middle of his room, a sheen of sweat covered his skin, chilling him with the windows still open an a breeze pouring through.


Stretching himself, he moved quickly to his chest of clothes, pulling out a grey zip up hoodie and a pair of brown cut off shorts. He pulled both on, laziness leaving the hoodie open. Wy'Ziot then turned and left his room, shutting the door behind him and scouting both directions of the hall, before following the strong scent of his friend. He needed to find him, and help him.

 

[poppet]

Vibrant eyes watched the exchange between the werewolf and demon. It was clear that they were close, but that wasn't the first thing on her mind. It was the note. Was it really from Rosalind? Soon the demon was calling her Rosalind, and darting from the room. Violet blinked owlishly at the werewolf's back as he watched from the doorway, before bending to pick up the note. She brought it up to see the handwriting. So it had truly been from her ancestor. A smudge of the demon's blood accented the paper now, and she frowned lightly, wondering where he'd run off to. It seemed like he needed medical attention, of... the demon variety. Was that a thing? Well, she was a witch. She supposed she could make something to speed his healing process, though she couldn't be certain since she didn't know what exactly was wrong. Were his injuries serious enough to kill him? Like she should care!


Wy'Ziot approached her and she took her gaze from the letter to the large werewolf. Violet honestly didn't feel an ounce of fear of him. It might have been silly, but his demeanor wasn't bad, and he had protected her. If she really thought about it, she trusted him. She looked up at him curiously as he stared down at her with an expression she couldn't quite read. Was he remembering Rosalind? Did they really look so similar?


When Wy'Ziot reached for her face, she blinked owlishly once again, her cheeks reddening the lightest bit. What was with the beings in this castle and touching people!? But he seemed so genuine. His expression, as inhuman as it was, wasn't one of hostility. It was more reminiscent, possibly with hints of happiness and sadness both. She didn't stop him, only frowning lightly when he apologized for the demon. He was trying to give her some kind of explanation, an excuse for Vyren's behavior. Where had Rosalind gone? Why had that been such a big deal to 'Vyren', as she'd only heard him called thus far.

Still, it wasn't any excuse in her book to go attacking people! Huh? Violet looked down as he took her hands, at the uncanny difference in size, before meeting Wy'Ziot's red gaze. He was promising his protection, of her? She blinked owlishly after him as he released her hands and exited the room. Violet moved to sit on the edge of her bed, staring out into space for a long moment. What on Earth... She had so many questions. Suddenly being thrown into a world like this, or called to it mysteriously, rather. Finding that her ancestor had something to do with, whatever this was... And of course, being attacked by the demon who she'd initially misjudged, obviously.

Violet exhaled deeply and glanced down at the letter. The demon's blood smudged across one corner. She frowned again, almost angry. But the part of Rosalind that lived on within her, was sympathetic. The small girl would make something to help the demon. She supposed it was only right. She moved about then, heading towards the kitchen for herbs, bowls and other things she would need, all the while lost in deep thought over the events since her coming here.

 

[Kayvan]

 
​

Camus Stratford
​

Necromancer
​

Camus is a half-breed necromancer. From a human mother and a necromancer father, Camus shares their both weaknesses and urges but also their strength. He was taught the ways of kindness and compassion from an early age from her mother and the ways of communicating with the dead and (given the proper but rare circumstances) bring them back to life from his father. His powers ranges from bringing dead animals back to life, transferring  souls to other bodies or replacing one with any other soul (plants, animals, humans etc). He can also bring the dead back to life which is only possible at the time of a very rare metaphysical phenomenon repeated once every millennium in which the secret gate between the two worlds opens thus giving all necromancers in the world the chance of transferring a soul into a body. The fact that he is a half-breed gives him the advantage of disguise. Necromancers are known to be abominations in the presence of the divine and therefore they dwell in hiding almost all their lives. Their Red and  fiery eyes is usually the signs of a necromancer which is revealed at full moon thus exposing their identity. Camus is an exception since he is capable of turning them off or on at will.


Like all necromancers, Camus's life is shrouded in mystery. About 200 years old, he lost both of his parents to demon hunters but managed to live through. After a long period of death and vengeance, realizing the futility of his action, Camus sought out other nobler purposes in life inspired by the teaching of his mother. Although he looks very grotesque and uncanny (All necromancers are!) for the past 100 years, he has been in search of a nobler deed, one that stumbled upon his path in a peculiar manner!


----------------=------------------------=---------------------------=----------------------------=


At the door of the hotel stands a man of peculiar interest in the place an its people! His name is Camus and he is a very tall, trench coated man who wears delicate black round glasses. He walks very slowly towards the front door of the hotel while also carrying a medium sized bag with golden string which says his name on it. He gently (out of habit) lifts his right hand up and knocks on the door. Knock knoc...The door slowly opened up revealing a very huge hall way. Camus, still holding his hand up, smiles and sniffs the room. This gives him an idea about the things going on in there and its people. He was smiling because he knew he is at the right place, at the right time!

This place looks even bigger from the inside!
​

A glaring pair of red, fiery eyes appeared which was noticeable even from behind the black glasses adding more malignancy to the smiling pale faced man! And then they disappeared just as fast.
​

@poppet
​

@Malhyanth
​

@Kry
​

 
​

 

[Kry]

@Malhyanth


Fyren had darted off to his own room, the door more or less getting slammed behind him as he had entered. Then that demon would throw himself on the floor, long sharp claws digging into the floor boards and leaving deep gouges as he changed back. It wasn't the first time either, as there was other similar gouges in the floor in places but few and far between. Fyren did not often go 'full demon' and even so, he still hadn't been completely full demon. The transformation had been mostly done, but couldn't quite be completed.


He grit his teeth, trying not to cough again. Lungs punctured by his ribs from the slightly fudged up transformation. It happened every time. All because the warlock that had summoned him so long ago had messed up in the ritual. A mistake that had cost that man his life, but a mistake that had ultimately bound Fyren from being able to leave the mortal realm and slightly bound his true form from him. Only slightly. It only ached all over. It wasn't anything the demon couldn't handle.


Slowly his body shrank back down to it's lean muscled build, and his height being shy of six feet. His wings decreased in size a bit too, and after a couple of minutes, Fyren lay on the floor panting. Curled up and nearly naked, as his clothing just hung off of him in tatters, but his wings were rather limply around him. Covering the important bits at least. His skin was no longer black and orange, it had returned to it's human tint, and those eyes of his were now silver again with rounded pupils.


Fyren inhaled deeply, and coughed hard. Sending a spattering of blood across the floor before he groaned and moved to lay on his back. His wings flat beneath him so it looked almost as if he were laying on a black and orange cloak. Well one that didn't know he had wings might think that. Fyren's chest heaved, and his chest looked oddly bruised, deep and dark, but it seemed to be slowly fading. The scratches that had occurred on his arm when Wy'Ziot had smacked it away was already beginning to heal. For now Fyren didn't care about any of that, the demon just wanted to lay there half naked and unmoving.

 

[Malhyanth]

@Kry


Even in human form, the werewolf was able to follow the musty smell of the bat demon. His red eyes cast about for clues, seeing small smudges of blood here and there, a couple droplets on the floor. He followed them quickly, before far ahead he heard a massive bang and crash. He started jogging, coming to the slashed door of his friend. He knocked, but could hear the pained sounds within. The werewolf, worry tightening every line of his face, knocked louder, and then tried the handle. It turned and opened the door.


Shocked, Wy'Ziot swallowed, concerned. He had always, from that annoying pup that had arrived one day, and started following the demon around, known this door to be locked. He retreated back a few steps as the door swung of its own accord, like someone was opening it for him to show him the scene inside, to get help to his friend. Seeing Fyren on the ground, Wy'Ziot forgot his momentary fear, and dove in, closing the door behind him. "Vy---Vyren, vhat 'appened?" Wy'ziot's voice was gentle, but concerned, and he stammered a little. He collapsed to his knees beside his friend, mouth open, a large hand gently reaching out to palpate the bruises to his friend's thin chest. He winced himself seeing them, feeling the heat radiating from them. "Vyren..." He murmured, retracting his hand when his eye fell on the deep gouge marks from his claws, he turned his face away, shamed at what he had done.


He got up, looking about the room, and finding the ensuite door ajar. Inside, he found a cup and rinsed it, before filling it was icy cold water. He returned to his friend's side, sitting cross legged next to his chest. "Djou're going to 'ate me for zhis, but ve need to get zhat fever down!" Not waiting for a complaint, he placed the cup down, and manhandled the demon so his upper torso and head was in his lap, careful to manoeuvre the wings to a safe position to protect their bones and leather. He gripped the cup, and carefully raised it to his friend's lips.


"Friend, vhat vas zhat all about? I know I said I vanted to 'unt vizh djou, but not 'er, Vyren! Not 'er." The werewolf used the pad of his thumb to wipe any spilt water from his friend's chin. Comforted, as he was, being here with his friend in his lap, knowing he was ok, healing slowly, but alive. A sigh expanded his mostly bare chest, the hoodie still left open, showing the multitude of scars across his chest. Red eyes still couldn't meet the silver ones, concern over his causing his friend damage still sticking in his mind, and making a lump in his throat.

 

[Kry]

@Malhyanth


Fyren didn't pay much attention when the door opened, true though he generally kept his door locked. Only allowing certain few individuals to see inside of his room. At the moment, it didn't seem to matter, as silver orbs found Wy'Ziot peering at him, Fyren wanted to explain himself. Wanted to reach out and lay a hand reassuringly on the werewolf's head, but the demon didn't move. It was just rather nice laying there and just being still. His body would heal, as it always did. This was nothing compared to the state he had been in when he had first arrived here, he had wreaked so much havoc in his full demon form on human villages, and himself. Rosalind had nursed him back to health and taught him to be compassionate.


The demon grunted slightly when Wy'Ziot returned to him with a cup of water, not even realizing the werewolf and momentarily left him. Those silver eyes blinked up at the other as he was lifted a bit and the water brought to his lips. Fyren's wings twitched gently between him and werewolf, but they were fine, delicate but strong things, and Wy'Ziot had been so careful with them. When that water was tilted into his mouth, Fyren drank slowly at first, he could feel the coolness of the liquid traveling down his torso. At first it hurt, but then it felt better. He would drink a bit more, a little bit faster, even going so far as to lift a hand to take that cup.


He didn't grab the cup though, instead he wrapped his fingers around Wy'Ziot's wrist, the grip firm but loose, and Fyren didn't pull or push that wrist in any direction, he merely held on. The claw marks on his own arm from that werewolf seemed to be healing rather nicely, the skin slowly knitting itself back together at a speed that far exceeded any human's healing abilities. The bruises across his chest though were very slowly fading, still healing faster than a mere human, but far to slow for Fyren's tastes.


"Bones?" He questioned lightly when the wolf spoke to him, as if he only just now realized the werewolf was there. Silver eyes blinked as he stared up at the other man's face. "No...we would never hunt Rosalind." His voice was a soft whisper, and a frown touched his lips. "She, that girl, she isn't Rosalind." A little bit of confused marred Fyren's expression, and he lifted his hand from Wy'Ziot's wrist, reaching up to gently cup one of the werewolf's cheeks in his hand. "Why won't you look at me? Is it because I'm so terrible a creature, now that you've seen my true form? Do I frighten you, do I shame you? I am sorry if I do, that was never my intent." Fyren lowered his hand.


He felt a bit stronger now, most of the pain had abated, but the demon still had no desire to move. The warmth radiating from the werewolf didn't help either, it made him want to remain in that man's lap. The warmth was nice. He closed his eyes. "I lost control. I got so angry I lost control, but I can't...I can't hold my form for long, an hour at most. I can't complete the transformation properly." Those eyes opened, and there was sadness in them.

 

[Malhyanth]

@Kry


The werewolf was pleased when the water helped, and he was going to allow the demon to take the cup as his hand raised, but when it gripped his wrist instead, Wy'Ziot frowned a little, confused. Wy'Ziot watched the wounds in Fyren's wrist knitting before his eyes and reached out with his oth of hand to cover the wound from his vision, lifting only when it was a dark graze on his arm rather that four deep gouges. If he'd been in his wolf form still, his ears would be pinned to his head, face tight. Instead, the man seemed more pale that usual, his moth downturned, brow tight.


"I do not zhink djou terrible, nor do djou frighten me." The wolf was shocked when the hand rested against his cheek, and he leaned into it slightly, the animal in him enjoying the touch. To be honest, he was a little annoyed the demon had stormed in, when he'd realised Violet was the one he could smell! He'd been so close to getting belly rubs!! "I do not look because I am shamed I 'urt my friend." The wolf murmured, taking his own hand and placing over Fyren's. "I am sorry, Vyren..."


The wolf brought the demon's hand away from his cheek, and laid it down across his own chest, slightly embarrassed. He patted it, and gently eased himself from beneath the demon, careful of Fyren's wings once more. Once freed, he remained low, crouched beside his friend, reaching out once more, for only a moment, to touch the fading bruises with a caring hand. He snatched himself back, again, struggling to look at his friend. "Vyren, I vill seek zhe girl, make sure she is safe." He placed a hand against the demon's forehead, before he stood. "Rest, zhen find me vhen djou are vell." The werewolf smiled, crookedly, and stepped back quickly, leaving the room. He started down the corridors after closing the door behind him, rubbing his face before pressing his forehead against the wood. The corridors seemed claustrophobic to the wolf. He headed for the staircase, and the open air.

 

[Kayvan]

Camus stepped inside the hotel, the door automatically got slowly closed just they way it was opened up. Camus sensed the presence of someone nearby but he did not sense its presence when he scanned the building. A zombie like figure Appeared from one of the hallways. Camus politely removed his hat! "Dear madam may I....". As the figure got closer, he realized the zombie figure is actually a soulless doll which he did not sense earlier because of the lack of a soul. The doll simply took his baggage and and headed for the stairs without responding or saying anything. "Most amusing!" Camus said! "I will study their mechanism as soon as I have the chance!" and started following the doll servant upstairs. As they were moving upstairs, Judging from the noises coming from there and his own initial scan of the building, there were indeed a lot of activity in this hotel. The doll stopped at one of the doors at that floor, which she unlocked, left the baggage in the room and left without a single word.


Without wasting any time, Camus opened his bag and removed a very ominous looking device. One could have observed the entire mechanism of the machine by looking carefully at the turning of the gears here and there in countless numbers and various shapes. A line of 7 different very small levers at the bottom of the device allowed Camus to calibrate it as pleased. The gears on the device, started turning in a much higher speed after that. And then, suddenly, Camus could sense the flow of air around him getting slower and slower. And it wasn't just the air around but nearly all motions within the hotel were slowed down, and then suddenly everything started moving backwards! The maid entered again and took the baggage and left, the door was shut and locked afterwards. Every instance in time were replayed except himself! But then, the clock made some serious noises and started shaking. An small explosion occurred within the mechanism which made some of the gears to pop out broken or melted partially. Frustration was apparent in his face. "hmm, Rosalind's substitute is doing just fine in reviving the energies here, but it is not happening fast enough. It's time that we have a chat my child!" Camus's eyes turned red again while it transferred a piece of that thought bubble into the Violet's sprite!


@poppet

 

[Kry]

@Malhyanth


The tiniest of smiles touched Fyren's lips when Wy'Ziot reassured the demon that he was not frightened of him nor was he terrible. Fyren felt like he was a terrible creature though, he had lost himself to a blind rage, all because Rosalind's scent came from the girl's room and she had been wearing one of Rosalind's dresses. The smile had faded from his lips, only being there for a few moments, at the werewolf's next words. The wolf felt bad for hurting Fyren. The demon's body had tensed slightly, then relaxed. "I barely felt a thing..No matter how hard you try, no matter what you think, Wy'Ziot you cannot hurt me. Draw my blood yes, but hurt? Never." His words were sincere, and there was a hint of arrogance in his voice as he spoke those words.


His hand was being brought down to rest over his own chest, and his silver eyes never left the werewolf, the sadness and other emotions in his eyes slowly fading away. Those wings twitched the slightest bit as Wy'Ziot removed himself carefully from the demon, and once more, Fyren gave the wolf a tiny smile. Watching as the wolf crouched next to him, to gently touch those bruises for a moment, but then Wy'Ziot was pulling away. His actions making it seem to Fyren like the wolf still blamed himself for the harm the demon had gone through. "My ribs often stab my lungs when I change, this.." He gently touched his own bruises. "It definitely had nothing to do with you, this was my own doing."


When he felt Wy'Ziot's hand on his forehead, those silver eyes closed for a moment. Enjoying the touch, though even enjoying the company and these little touches, had Fyren been in better condition he would have acted annoyed and swatted that hand away. For now, he didn't move, not much at least. It was nice just laying there. Though Fyren wished there was more he could say to better reassure the wolf, perhaps later he would tell Wy'Ziot things about him that only Rosalind and Vanderheim knew. Why the change had harmed him so badly. For now, his eyes open, he just watched the werewolf exit the room.

 

[poppet]

She had arrived in the kitchen without issue. A maid worked here and there in the large room, and a tall man with green tinged skin worked at the stove. His back was turned to her, but she could clearly see that he was of a different race from those she'd met here already. He was almost seven feet tall with a sturdy and muscular build, after all, most more civilized ogres were. He was obviously the chef here. Violet wondered if she shouldn't just sneak back out of the kitchen, but as she did, he turned his head the slightest bit to pin deep black eyes on her. She didn't move for a long moment, but suddenly he laughed. It was a loud belly laugh, and he turned, leaning against the counter with a ladle in hand.

"It's been quite a time since a human was admitted to this castle," he said in a deep and booming, yet amused voice. The edges of his lips were turned up in a curious smile, and he watched her with reminiscent eyes. "Are you hungry?" he finally asked with a broad smile. Violet blinked almost owlishly. He was friendly. Really friendly, and loud. She shook her head, just as her stomach growled, betraying her. The ogre laughed another loud belly laugh. "Just a minute," he said, moving about the kitchen. Violet moved to sit on a stool near a counter island as she watched him putting foods together on a plate. When he set the dish in front of her, he leaned on the counter across from the girl, smiling. "They call me Brute," he said proudly, though it wasn't his real name. "You ever get hungry, just come and see me, 'kay?"

Violet couldn't help but smile as the scents from the plate lifted up to her nose. "Thanks a lot," she said, returning his contagious smile. "I'm Violet." She took a few bites of the food while he went back to cooking. "Brute," she started, "I actually came to see if I could borrow some things; some herbs and bowls." She explained that the demon Vyren had been injured when he turned into a fox, bat, thing and that she was going to make something to help him feel better. Brute turned his gaze on her for a brief moment, "He did, did he?" was all Brute said. How long had it been since the demon had done such a thing? The ogre shook his head and laughed again. "His name is Fyren, and the wolf is Wy'Ziot." She'd obviously been hearing the names in Bones' thick accent. "My kitchen is your kitchen little flower," he added in response to her need to borrow things.

When she was finished and had collected her materials, she headed back towards her room. As she walked down a long dimly lit corridor, she felt as if someone was there. Had someone spoken to her? She turned to view the hall where she had come from, but no one was there. Suddenly a sharp pain in her head caused her to drop her herbs and bowls. Violet stumbled to lean against the wall with a shoulder as she held her head in her hands. She squeezed her eyes closed and waited for the vision to come. They always came like this. After a moment she saw the crystal. It was the crystal she'd seen when she first laid eyes on this place. Before, she'd seen it beautifully glowing as it hovered in the center of a large room. Now, as the glow had faded and the castle began to crumble, there was someone standing just on the other side of it.

As the vision faded and she leaned against the wall clutching her head in pain, she wondered who the person had been. And where was this crystal? Did anyone else even know about it?

 

[Kry]

Fyren had watched Wy'Ziot exit his room, the wolf had seemed so concerned for his well being. Concerned and afraid that he'd been the one to hurt Fyren, the demon appreciated that concern but it had saddened him a little as well. To see such distress on his friend's face, Fyren had not liked causing that expression at all, but for now there was little he could do about it. The door had closed behind Wy'Ziot, and Fyren's silver eyed gaze lingered on that door for a long while. Not really expecting anyone else to come through, but he was just contemplating the state the werewolf was in emotionally. He had caused that distress.


The demon inhaled deeply, and immediately regretted the action, as burning pain shot through him from his chest. It burned and pulsed over him, but it only lasted a couple of seconds. He fought the urge to cough, and rolled slightly over onto his side, his back to the closed door, those large wings twitching slightly. Fyren ran his hands over his chest, he was healing, definitely healing. He would be fine in an hour or so, and then he would shower and change clothes. He grit his teeth a bit.


How could he face that girl now? Chosen by Rosalind herself to inherit those belongings and he had lashed out in anger and with hatred. That was not how a compassionate gentleman acted, Rosalind had taught him better than that. If she could see him now, she would probably be so disappointed in him. His hands on his chest curled into tight fists, his nails scraping and biting into the flesh of his chest as he did so. Not quite on purpose, not quite on accident. That body of his was tense and he closed his eyes. Comforted by the knowledge that Rosalind would have forgiven him this error, but still unsure of how he could approach Violet now.


Surely that human girl would scream and flee from him now if he entered the same room as her. Normally that wouldn't have mattered, but her resemblance to Rosalind and the fact that things had been clearly set aside for her from Rosalind made things different. They made things vastly different, this girl was a descendant of Rosalind's line. His eyes opened and he rolled again, returning to laying on his back, his arms flopping out to his sides as his wings twitched a bit and his silver eyes stared up at the raftered ceiling.


His room was sparse, each wall lined with a bookshelves, full of his own personal books that he had collected in his life, two other doors. One to the closet and the other to his personal bathroom. It was a small bathroom, but Fyren liked it. There were some cushions layed about here and there, comfortable ones he would often sit on when reading his books. Though mostly he read the library books inside the library. There was no bed, just an odd nest made up in one corner of the rafters.


Fyren closed his eyes and began dozing. He would heal faster if he let himself rest, but it was hard for him to fall completely into a restful sleep, as for no reason at all, the demon began to wonder if Lord Vanderheim would have gotten upset at him over this incident.

 

[Malhyanth]

@poppet


Wy'Ziot had headed downstairs promptly after Fyren had told him he was ok. He was casting about frantically for the girl. He'd missed her in the kitchen, but hadn't thought to disturb the staff, and the staff hadn't really bothered with the frantic wolf. After all, who knew what weird thoughts went through a werewolf's head this close to a new moon? Even though he was mostly always in control of his changes, the werewolf known as Bones, like all born into their curse, was still affected by the waxing and waning of the moon. It was their body clock, a most ancient pull on their system, and what was less known from history was a new moon had just as much power as a full one! In fact, for Wy'Ziot, who's sole memory of his Tribe from his young days was he had stolen the light of the moon into his fur, so was he born on the new moon, he has been regarded with suspicion and distrust. His scars were his own to bare for a life of suspicions and wolf sorcery.


The wolf had also missed the entrance of the new guest, but as he came back to the foyer, the cloying smell of whatever had entered the property made him stop dead, and shiver. His dreadlocks swayed around him, capturing the scent and hugging it's gross texture to his face. The werewolf gagged. It had a hint of human scent, but there was something about this smell he didn't trust at all. Had he still been in his wolf form, his hackles would have raised, his lip curled. In his human form, though the feeling still prickled his shoulders, and his lip still curled on slightly sharpened teeth, it did not have the same visual affect. He strode to the desk, and inspected the sign in book, but no name had been written. He snarled, cursing the mindless dolls. They were becoming sloppy!! Something needed to be done about them!!


The clatter that resounded from above had the werewolf throw himself down onto all fours. Beneath his pale skin, a shimmer, a roll of something just beneath, would only be perceptible to someone that knew what this wild man was. Still practically half dressed, Bones remained on all fours as he slowly made his way to the bottom step of the arching staircase. He narrowed his red eyes, trying to identify the thing he could see pressed up against the wall above in the hallway just beyond the balcony. His nose worked, but all he could smell was the new guest. He grumbled, and quickly took the steps two at at time, his stance low, his naked feet silently padding now he was in hunt mode. As he reached the top, his demeanour changed when that dress, and the comforting floral smell of Rosalind swept around him, and Bones noticed, too, the dried and fresh herbs and bowls strewn at the girl's feet.


"Miss Violet?" His voice was tentative as he stepped forwards, still hunkered a little, and he stooped once beside her to pick up her items. He gathered them together, and placed them on the window sill down from where the girl had collapsed against the wall. He returned to her side, and gently placed a hand against her shoulder taking her weight away from the cold wall and into his chest, to give her support and reassurance for whatever had happened. Was it because of the earlier events? He felt bad, now, for teasing her as he had. She hadn't deserved it. "Miss Violet, are djou alright? Djou 'ad me startled zhere. I vent full ninja downstairs vhen I 'eard djour items drop!" He gave a nervous chuckle as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.


"My room is just 'ere. Do djou need to sit? Vyren, 'e is ok. I checked on 'im. 'E 'as some sort of inability to shift completely, 'e says. Causes great pain. Do djou zhink djour tonic can 'elp 'im?" Wy'ziot's pale, worried face smiled down at the girl as he kept her propped up, waiting for her to say she was ready to move. He realised, suddenly, she may not feel comfortable pressed against his bare chest, as he had still failed to zip up his jacket top. He gasped, and stepped to the side a little, still supporting her with his arms. "Apologies, Miss Violet. Vyren vill 'ave my face if 'e knew I'd done zhat!" He nervously laughed again, checking the corridors for his friend.

 

[poppet]

A voice that sounded far away called to Violet. She hadn't realized it had been Wy'Ziot so close, until he collected her things. She'd begun to lower her hands from her head as he pulled her to his chest. But as her face rest against his bare skin, her eyes widened. When he wrapped that arm around her and spoke of his room, her cheeks began to burn. The werewolf certainly had no personal space boundaries! He moved to zip his jacket and Violet cast her eyes away from him, cheeks red as roses. She put distance between them quickly and cleared her throat, ignoring the last fading stabs of that familiar vision headache. "I'm fine," she said quickly pressing wrinkles from her dress.

She moved to pluck the things from the window ledge. "These will undoubtedly help," she said with a light frown, thinking about this 'inability to shift completely'. She couldn't say she had an ounce of experience with something like that. Keeping her eyes averted from the werewolf now as the red lingered in her cheeks, Violet requested Wy'Ziot's assistance. "Would you mind taking me to Fyren's room?" she asked kindly. The herbs would do best consumed, and it would only take a moment to mash and mix them with the other ingredients. She tended to favor making them into teas, but it would take longer, though would taste better. She didn't care quite so much about the flavor for that demon though. He didn't deserve her sympathy anyway, she was only doing this because it was the right thing to do. Something in her couldn't just let someone suffer. That had been a part of Rosalind, too. Plus, if he died, she might not learn as much about Rosalind. Violet sighed.

As they walked, Violet kept her gaze averted and she fumbled almost awkwardly with the bowls and herbs. "So," she started, "Thanks for protecting me earlier. I know you don't really know me, and that you didn't have to do that." She finally glanced sideways at the werewolf, recalling him in his wolf form. There was so much about these beings and this world that she couldn't even dream of ever knowing, and her very own ancestor had known them all. It was unbelievable.

 

[Malhyanth]

@poppet


((Sorry for the delay, for some reason I'm not being informed of posts here!!))


Wy'ziot saw her blush and returned it himself, realising what she had thought as he'd offered his room! He hadn't meant it like that at all, and his jaws worked to try and state this. He had comfortable chairs, pillows and cushions, and she had seemed dizzy! He also held certain herbs inside that he stuffed into his creations to give them pleasant scents once they were all dried. When she changed the subject, his blush crept up Bones' neck, and he lowered  his eyes to his empty hands. He listened and looked about, but when she said she wanted to be taken to Fyren's room, all colour drained from the wolf, and he looked at her with large, incredulous eyes.


"I cannot!" Wy'Ziot gasped, pulling his jacket about himself, hiding some of his naked chest from her view. "Vyren' room


is 'is sanctum. I am not allowed vizhin it's valls, and vhen I checked on 'im, it vas only because zhe door vas open. I closed it as I left, I cannot reopen it!" Bones seemed to physically start sweating at the prospect of opening Fyren's door. He ran a hand through his dreads, and his eyes were wide and fearful. Fyren was a scary opponent, but as the girl started walking towards the way he had come, and across to the other wing of the building, and Fyren's laid, Wy'Ziot followed like a lost and forlorn puppy.


He remained in silence for a moment, only directing with a wave of a hand whenever they needed to turn. At her mention of keeping her safe, his cheeks coloured again a little. "It vas nozhing. If I am 'onest, I zhink it vas my vault. I drew attention to zhe fact djou smelt of our Lady." He drew in a deep sigh, scenting Rosalind all around himself, but now, with time passed, the scent was mingled with that of the more earthy girl, and her village scents. He could discern the two now, and realised that previously, he had clearly chosen not to acknowledge the information he had picked up. "I live to serve, and to protect, zhe Vander'eim name. Zhat extends to zhe family of Rosalind." A chuckled escaped the werewolf as he remembered himself, a mere pup, stood before Vanderheim, and swearing his alliegance to the Hotel, and to Rosalind. Where had that time gone?


The werewolf looked across at the girl, slowing significantly as they neared the Demon's room. A canine whine escaped him as he looked at the closed door, but he puffed out his chest, and stood behind the girl. "I vill protect djou. I promised."

 

[poppet]

She'd ignored Wy'Ziot's oppositions almost entirely, refusing to take no for an answer. It wasn't that she was that bent on helping the demon, but she wanted to learn more about her ancestor, and this hotel, from both Fyren and Wy'Ziot. She wondered briefly about the scent of the belongings inside the chest. Had this pair spent so much time so closely to Rosalind that they could still remember her scent? She was brought out of her thoughts when Wy'Ziot whined, glancing at him before turning to face the door they stood before.


For a moment, her resolve faltered. Why did he have to say he'd protect her like that? It only served to make her uneasy and second guess coming at all. But after a long moment, she took a deep breath and nodded. With a take-no-prisoners attitude and look of determination, she flung the door to Fyren's room open before hauling inside without waiting for an invitation, a go-away, or even waiting for a reaction. "Listen up," she said in a loud and falsely confident tone, "I'm going to make you a tonic and you're going to tell me about...", but her voice trailed off. Violet looked around the strange room. There wasn't a bed at all, and it sort of looked like a small library.

 

[Kry]

@Malhyanth @poppet


When the door opened, Fyren turned to look. Eyes widening and a myriad of emotions dancing across his face when Violet burst in. He had half thought Wy'Ziot had returned, for which the werewolf would have been asked to leave upon the second entry, but it was the girl. Fyren was on his feet in mere seconds, and then dropping to his knees. One hand clutching his chest, and the other covering his lips as he coughed up blood rather violently from that fast movement. He was healing, just not quickly. His wings twitched, flaring out behind him as if he were about to fly away.


Silver orbs looking past Violet to the werewolf, a questioning look. Why had he shown the girl to his room? Why had he brought her here? Then those eyes fell to the girl again as she looked around his room, clearly surprised by it's furnishings, or rather lack of. Fyren stood slowly, lowering his hands. "I would ask you to leave this room immediately." She had mentioned a tonic, and something about telling her something. His brow furrowed slightly. "Whatever concoction you desire to make can surely be made elsewhere and delivered to me by one of the maids." His words came out a bit slowly, it was painful to speak. Each movement of his chest to breath or speak sent pulses of pain through him.


"Wy'Ziot, remove this girl and yourself from my room at once." His tone was demanding, or as demanding as he could sound right now. Earlier had been fine when Wy'Ziot barged in, mostly because Fyren had wanted the company. Had wanted to make sure the werewolf was alright, and make sure that the werewolf didn't hate him for acting out. Those wings fluttered for a moment, and Fyren glanced up at his high ceiling and rafters, he could make it up to his nest. However, he didn't see how that could help get this girl out of his room, if anything it would make her stay longer to try and argue him down.


The demon was frowning deeply. Her tonic might help, there was other damage from his failed attempt at shifting, but the only damage that wasn't easily hid was to his chest and lungs. The bruising across his chest was a bit smaller now, but it still looked bad. Fyren grit his teeth and took a step back, also thinking it was only fair that she barge in here so strongly. After all, he had invaded her room a little bit ago. This was different though, his room was full of secret knowledge kept in those books, and there were even secret artifacts scattered about hidden under the cushions that littered the floor. Some were in his nest.


The demon glanced at his book shelves then to Violet. "If you are to remain in my room for this, then you will follow my rules. You will not touch my books and you will not sit upon my cushions." He moved a hand to gesture to the myriad of fluffy, comfortable looking cushions on the floor. All were in shades of black or orange, some were black and orange. The books, there were hundreds upon hundreds of them, some written in strange languages but some were written in human languages as well. A culmination of research on how he could break the spell that bound him so securely to the mortal realm, so most of the books were about summoning, and traveling to different realms. There were some books that had nothing to do with either subjects, but were still related in some way.


These were the books he had gathered in his long lifetime, and they had not helped him at all. However in the wrong hands they could be used against the demon, spells to bind him to the caster's service and various things like that. Fyren moved towards her now, slowly and carefully. "Also you are not allowed to venture any further into my room." His wings had settled against his back, just twitching every now and then, and he slowly lowered himself to sit on the floor with a sigh of almost relief. The sigh ached, but so had standing, sitting was better and laying down would have been even better.

 

[poppet]

She brought her once confident but now quizzical gaze to the demon when he spoke and it turned to a frown. "I'm not going anywhere," she said, turning up her nose to look down it defiantly. "The faster you use it the faster you'll stop coughing up blood," she said matter of factly. She even turned that stern gaze onto Wy'Ziot, as if to dare him to remove her at the demon's orders. Though obviously he could and there wouldn't be anything she could actually do about it, if he really wanted to.


Violet brought that stern gaze back to Fyren to blink owlishly at his change of heart, cold as it may have been. Violet might have rolled her eyes, but she understood. He didn't like her and didn't want her touching his things. As much as it might have annoyed her, it sort of hurt her feelings, too. Either way, she was glad she could stay. Now she had a chance to ask him and Wy'Ziot about Rosalind, if the werewolf did decide not to be turned away.

She sat in front of Fyren and placed her utensils and herbs accordingly. She began to mix, mash and stir, concentrating minimally as this was second nature. "It'll only take a minute," she said, keeping her eyes on the mixture. While close, Violet kept a cautious distance. Arms length, one might guess. "It tastes better as a tea," she explained, "But it also takes longer." She sprinkled a strong smelling herb into the mixture and continued mashing, only glancing up at the demon for a brief moment. "I wanted you two to tell me about Rosalind," she said, not yet sure if they'd even want to.

 

[Malhyanth]

@poppet @Kry


The brazen way the girl approached the matter of getting into the room had Wy'Ziot leaning against the door frame, but the roar of his friend made him stay there, eyes wide, the prickly feeling of where his hackles would rise running circles across his shoulders. He went to grab the girl and run, terrified of Fyren losing it again, but when she reprimanded the demon, Bones stopped dead, and sank into a comfortable crouch just on the threshold. He could feel his wolf wanting to push through, to protect the girl, but he kept the beast pushed down, trying to comfort it by wrapping an arm around his chest, holding on to the opposite shoulder and leaning his cheek against the back of the hand.


He watched intently, muscles tense, ready to leap into action. As the demon acquiesced to her demands, the werewolf found his jaw nearly hitting the ground. Just like that, the girl has taken control of the situation, and was now using her pestle and mortar swiftly, almost with as much speed and strength as any fantastical creature here in the Hotel. He kept an eye on Fyren, from  his safe, crouched place on the barrier between safety and possible danger, on the threshold of corridor and Fyren's abode. The girl was chattering, and Wy'ziot's wolf was starting to relax until she spoke of Rosalind. Had his ears been wolfen, they would have shot up, as his head did now, and he stared at Fyren, unable to find words. When he tried, all that came out was a wolf-growl. The beast inside was so on edge and close to the surface, Bones was almost choking on it. He grabbed at his throat, and coughed, hitting himself in the head with his palm, as if to frighten the wolf back down. The creature rolled under his skin, parts of his arms bulging a little, before forming back to the tense musculature of the man. His eyes flashed from human to wolf and back.


Breathing hard, the wolf settled onto his backside, wrapping both arms around his own torso, looking to his demon friend with eyes that pleaded he behave and help Wy'Ziot relax this wolf. He leant back against the wall in the corridor, looking into the room, a sheen of sweat covering his forehead. He shook his head, as if to clear a fogginess, and his dreads clanged and jangled together. "Djou owe it to talk." Was all he managed to gasp out as he sat, pressing his head against the cold plaster of the corridor wall. Raising his hands, thumbs out, he pressed hard into his temples.

 

[Kry]

@Malhyanth @poppet


Fyren watched Violet, wrinkling his nose a bit at the scent of the strong smelling herb, occasionally he glanced at the werewolf in his doorway. Wy'Ziot didn't seem to inclined to leave the girl there alone and Fyren could understand why considering his earlier out burst. Then the girl was asking about Rosalind, and Fyren's silver eyes flashed black then orange before going back to silver as they landed on Violet. His brow furrowed, his body tensed and a hand went to grip his chest for reasons not related to the botched shifting. His breath seemed to catch in his throat as a tightness gripped his heart. It had been so long, and yet just thinking of it felt so fresh.


His gaze jumped to Wy'Ziot, to plead for help and saw the werewolf's expression changing as well. No doubt experiencing something close to what Fyren was going through at the moment. He watched intently, his brow furrowed, but once Wy'Ziot had seemed to regain control over himself, the demon's attention returned to the girl. His hand still rested over his heart, a pressure seemed to be weighing down on him, and he was shaking his head slowly. Fyren's lips were pursed together until they formed a very thin line.


Then that werewolf was telling him that he owed it to talk. Fyren was on his feet in moments, the movement fast, sending a pulse of pain through him. Making him cough up more blood and stagger a bit, as he refused to drop to his knees. His eyes had gone from silver to orange, the round pupils changing to slits as he glared at the werewolf, then that glare moved to Violet. Fyren stared at the human hard. "Get out of my room." His voice had taken on a very dangerous tone and his arms moved to cross over his chest, just as he turned his back to them.


Fighting the urge to let the anger consume him again, he would not attack the descendant of Rosalind again, but he was having a hard time keeping his anger in check. It had been so long since he'd last been this upset, and the demon fully expected the two of them to leave him be. His wings twitched and flitted behind him in irritation, another coughing spell came over him. Not quite as bad as before. He was healing, he could feel it, but slowly and he had no doubt that whatever Violet had been mixing would have helped, but he didn't want it anymore. Fyren just wanted to be alone.

 

[poppet]

Oblivious to the pair's discomfort, Violet finished the concoction and set it down between them. Just as she did, Fyren stood so quickly that Violet actually drew back, wincing as if expecting another attack. Her heart jumped, but he was only telling her to get out of his room. Violet frowned deeply, regaining her own nerve as she began to feel angry again. She stood then. "No," she said, staring at the demon's back. Poor Wy'Ziot. It would save him an awful lot of anxiety if she'd have just left.

"Why are you like this?" she demanded to know. "In one moment you're kind and then next you're attacking me or being rude. What have I ever done to you to make you hate me so much?" Her voice had started off angry, but had turned more sad towards the end. "If you hadn't forgotten, I was called here. I didn't want to be here, and I certainly feel I deserve to know about my own bloodline." She'd struck her own nerve at the mention of not wanting to be here. Her voice shook. She really did hate this place. She missed her village, were people didn't attack her and actually treated her kindly.


While Violet had intended on staying, tears filled her eyes and she turned, hastily leaving the room. She passed by Wy'Ziot without looking at him as she rubbed at her eyes. Likely, this place didn't matter anyway. Her ancestor was long gone. It didn't matter what she was called here for, she was going home. Violet began to run. She ran through the castle and out the large front doors, not bothering to close them behind her. She ran down the stone steps, chipped with the castle unable to upkeep itself any longer, and into the mist, disappearing into the forest.

 

[Malhyanth]

@Kry


The werewolf struggled to his feet, feeling wounded by the demons reaction. He was hunched around his chest, like the demon had physically punched into his chest and squeezed his heart. His eyes were sharp with emotional pain, his face set in a stoic, flat expression. As the girl pushed past him and out the room away from them, the werewolf shook his head, his lip lifting slightly with a snarl, and he, too, turned his back on the demon.


Bones' bare feet padded slowly, and the further he got from the demon, the better he felt. The sun was still rising, and yet so much had already happened! The werewolf had intended to get out and start clearing the grounds, and as his feet carried him into his room, he made good the promise. Pulling off the open hooded jacket, he left. Clothes were so inhibitive, but trousers might be good if the girl soon returned, seeking him out. He knew he hadn't seen the last of her today. As he opened the door to his room to leave, he thought a moment, and went to his desk, picking up hid bone machete, which had dangled from his belt when he'd first arrived. He couldn't clean, but he could tend to the gardens.


He descended the steps, seeing a maid stood by the open door, almost in s confused way. Wy'Ziot sighed. Their magic truly seemed to be waning, as she stood there, confused by the task she should be carrying out. He brushed past her, knocking her back to reality, and as she bowed to his as he left, she closed the door. It was like a broken record; sometimes you needed to jog the table to get out the rut. Bare chested on the steps of the castle, Wy'Ziot looked about. The rose gardens that spread out ahead were his first calling, and he skipped down the steps.


Using his machete, he swiftly started to dead head the bushes, also using the sharp blade to cut back stray branches that didn't fit the aesthetic. It was sharp, bloody work, the sharp thorns piercing even his tough, calloused hands. The work steadied his mind, though, and the sun on his bare skin was like a tonic all its own. He was one with nature, so it only made sense spending time out of doors steadied him. It was so claustrophobic, even in such a grand hotel. He needed to remember to keep an eye out for lavender and wild basil, the natural pesticides to be hung in the corners of rooms to discourage the spiders.


"Tsaaaaa... zhis place... zhese people. 'Ow zhey play vizh zhere emotions." The werewolf mused to himself, wiping sweat from his brow. As he finished each bush, he used his bare feet to scuff up the earth around the base of each plant, to prepare for mulching. Last he'd been here, he'd set up a composting heap for the kitchen staff. Hopefully they'd continued to use it. The pale werewolf turned his head up, to look at the Hotel, wondering what the demon was doing.

 

[Kry]

The girl left his room, upset, and the wolf went soon after. Fyren let out a sigh of relief with a slight cough, the demon moved across the room and closed his door. Making certain it was locked this time, then those wings of his lifted him into the air towards the rafters. He landed on his knees in his nest of a bed, those wings curling around him protectively as his arms wrapped around his torso. Fyren just wanted to be left alone, left alone and maybe even sleep. He would heal faster if he slept for awhile. Hopefully the door to his room would remain locked as he slept so no one else could barge in.


The demon knew he should keep better control of himself, he knew that as a descendant of Rosalind, that girl had a right to know things. That knowledge did not make things any easier for Fyren. He already disliked that girl for sharing a resemblance to Rosalind, though he knew that he shouldn't let that dictate how he acted around her. It was just so difficult. Fyren definitely felt bad for the way he had treated Wy'Ziot, the werewolf did not deserve the demon's anger at all. He would apologize, but later. Right now he just wanted to heal.


Fyren shifted about in his nest high in the rafters of his room, getting in to a comfortable position. He sat with his long legs stretched out before him, his wings wrapped around his torso and his back leaning against one wall of the nest. He tilted his head back slightly and closed his eyes, taking in a slow, careful but deep breath and exhaling it just as carefully after holding it for a few seconds. He needed to clear his head.

 

[Shi no toki 2]

 Asveth Morzuid
The guardian demon of hell Asveth aided Vanderhiem in the creation of the castle,just over 500 years ago.Asveth first came to the world in search of a new purpose as he had finally found someone to replace him as the gaurdian Demon of hell.Asveth was well known throughout hell as being on of the oldest and most powerful Demons in hell.Being born only a few Hundred years after hell had been brought into existence,it had immediately been his duty to guard hell.He was spectacular  at his job,since no one who tried to escape or enter hell had ever made it past.After a few Milliena of gaurding hell he got bored of the job as few could give him good fight and created/found a replacement for himself.He traveled to the world of Mortals were he met the Vampire known as Vanderheim.
​

Young Vanderheim was a man of charisma and quickly he and Asveth became friends.A few years after their meeting the Castle was brought into existence by Vanderheim,with only the slightest of help from Asveth.Asveth during the creation of the castle informed Vander that he wished flor an entire floor to himself.Vanderheim happily agreed and created a floor underneath the castle which would house the ancient Demon.Once the castle was completed Asveth fell into a light slumber of a few hundred years.Now he has reawakened and is not awfully fond of the state of the castle.
​

Asveth in Human form
​

View attachment 252446
​

 
​

Asveth in Demonic Form
​

​

 
​

Extra
​

Silence and serious Asveth is a Demon who  demands respect from all those around him.He is a Man of few words preferring to let his actions to speak for him.Asveth unlike most ancient  Demons who all somehow have manners he is not dignified,doing as he likes when he pleases.However Like all ancient Demons Asveth is absurdly powerful and greatly enjoys the pleasures of battle.He is immensly proud of his battle prowress but is not arrogant about it.He constantly strives to improve himself and wishes to one day take the throne of hell from Lord lucifer.Asveth knows the immense amount of responsibilty that comes from being lord of hell,and does not want one of his own bretheren to suffer under it unaided.As he himself had taken the throne for a few hundred years when lucifer was poisened.Asveth is one of the most powerful demons in existance coming up as 18th place.He is capable of controlling leser demons,Manipulating soul,Manipulating darkness and is capble of capable of Telekenises.Being a demon he has a powerful body with extreme senses.His aura causes many to fall as they lose all hope but he's a nice guy.
​

 
​

 

[Shi no toki 2]

He slowly opened his eyes,the dusty and dark sealing Greating them as they opened fully.He stood up quickly,and like a deer caught in headlights he looked confusigly at his surronding.A frown slowly appered on his face,he was not pleased with what he was seeing.The little brat of a vampire seems to be getting sloppy.


He stretched a bit,sighing in relief as his bones snapped and popped.Im asleep for a few hundred years and this place already looks like its ancient.He shook his head slightly as he gazed around the room once More .It was a large room,predominately black colored with golden runes and markings here and there.There was a black king sized bed which he was currently standing next to.Apart from that there were few decorations in the room.The only other things that were in his room being his masive sword and a mirror.He walked towards the mirror and stood infront of it gazing at his reflection.Gazing back at him was tall and powerfully built man with grey eyes and white hair,wearing only his underwear.Muscles could be seen rippling like water with every move he made.He snapped his finger and watched as same slothes apperead from the shadows.He immediately took them and put them on .Walking to large door that was the exit of the room he gave his room a short glance before his eyes glowed and the dust  and cobwebs floated into a ball of dirt,which seemed to fall into the shadows.As he finally left his room he spook in a commanding voice Clean the room and kill those damned spiders.


If one was to walk back into his room they would see the shadows moving as if they had minds of their own.Spiders fell from the sealing and where dragged into the shadows.


Asveth walked for a bit passing many doors and rooms before he came face to face to a wall.He grinned slighlty as his hands seemed to pass through the wall.A clicking sound could be heard before the wall pulled itself apart giving way into a room  that had a spiral staircase in the middle of it.He walked to the stairs before beginning to walk up the stairs.As he did walk up he released a bit of his aura and shouted "Vander you seem to be getting sloppy!"His aura was meant to shock the vampire and make him worried,it was meant as a joke.But only vander would now it was a joke,sadly vander wasn't here and the rest of the inhabitants were forced to endure the horrifying aura that filled the air.It was an aura that brought weaker demons to their knees and caused the strong ones to tremble.Outside his aura caused many of the wild and crazy demons to start to roar and howl into the night,fearful of whatever being could hold that kind of aura.His shout could be heard from deep within the castle,many would wonder who this being was.