Evil: No more heros!

[Fen]

(The evil side gathering thread. Post your character's currrent status and why they feel the need to find help in defeating their enemy. NOTE: Your character that is paired up with another character (IE: your nemesis) do not have to have current story with one another to post here. That can come later. )

The world was quite peaceful, disregarding the usual problems. Hunger, war, and crime.

Many righteous people and creatures had taken up arms by themselves to help make it so. And it had been a great success. The one's who didn't care for the system and how it worked for them. The law breakers. Psychopaths. Demonic entities. All of them had been driven back. Held at bay. Or imprisoned. Normal people could live their lives in relative safety and peace of mind knowing that someone was there to save them, if not right the wrongs that were done against them.

This had caused a change in the people who were the usual transgressors of the normal living citizen. A whisper of words spoken in the darkest and deepest corners of the criminal underground. Maddening gibberish that came as inspiration to the mentally unstable. And a dark command from some unknown reaches of hell.

Every message no matter the source all spoke of one thing.

Getting rid of these savors. Once and for all. Together as one.

Many would find the idea folly. Others too grandeur to achieve. But a few would hear it, and begin searching for others that heard its call. 

[Mikkaddo]

Deep in the back end of some gods forsaken bar, on the edges of one of the few remaining warzones was a place called The Pit. This bar was known for having deals of all kinds go down, but the most powerful deals were for mercenaries. If you wanted someone dead, here's where you would come for it.

There were only a few groups for hire now though, as even the business of death dealing had become surprisingly organized, and the wolf sometimes wondered about that, but no matter, a facade was a facade, however powerless it might be. So he entered the bar, large case swinging on one arm. He made his way to the back, past the prostitutes and drug dealers, the drinkers and tweakers and people who were either unconscious or dead, to a room guarded by two very large lizards with even larger rifles. He smiled at them, and pulled out a small white card, the lizard on the left frowning at the bloodstains on it.

He looked to his partner, then pushed the door open and the wolf stepped through, a very dark room was on the other side, darker than the smoke covered night outside. This room was dark from the lack of proper lighting though, only one light was present, with a large shade over it directing it down. There was a desk directly under the light, and a man siting behind it, who blew a plume of smoke into the light and waited in silence for The Wolf to say his piece. Instead, The Wolf simply dumped the case on his desk and opened it.

"The fuck is this shit?" said the man behind the desk, pulling a large cigar form his lips as he did. Inside were 4 heads, severed at the neck and none too fresh. The Wolf grinned and said "four of your lieutenants . . . next time you try to kill me, I suggest you don't fail at it. Now . . . I'm not a completely unforgiving soul . . . so I'll look past it for a favor." The man behind the desk dropped his cigar looking the wolf up and down. "What  . . . what do you want BR?"

The Wolf smiled and then laughed as he fell into a seat across from the desk. "BR? you can't even say it all the way? what it takes too much time? whatever . . . I want to know where this came from." He took out a large envelope and opened it, inside was a letter, brief but to the point, someone claiming to be a powerful lord, with machinations of glory at dethroning the apparent messiahs that had "saved the world" from how it had been. The man pulled the letter closer, and then laughed deeply. "Yeah, I can tell you . . . some joke shop, ain't NO ONE can pull that shit off alone." BR gave a long sigh and pulled the letter back, re-inserting it into the envelope and putting it away in his long black coat. "I don't think you read as well as you think. It doesn't say whoever it is wants to do this on their own . . . it's an open invitation . . . and I want to RSVP." He looked past the small area of the light above him, piercing into the darkness behind it. "Now . . . one more time, where . . . do I find the person who wrote that letter?" His facade was going to fall away tonight, but it wouldn't matter. He wasn't planning on leaving anyone in the bar alive.

[Fen]

In a slum district of city, specifically in a hotel that was infamous for its drug dealings and prostitution, there was a room rented out for a man who no one really wanted to question. Not because of drugs or sex, but by how he looked alone. Coated in something that most people suspected was someone elses blood, but sporting quite a bit of cash that others suspected came from the same person that had bled all over the canine. Being draped in only a filthy blanket and nothing more he looked rather poor. The beggar was given his room and his privacy. No questions asked.

He stayed in his room, keeping quiet and asking for little more then water. The piping in the building long having been destroyed or sold off by earlier tenants. He would hire anyone walking by his door to fetch this. Keeping the door between them as he'd mumble off the request and offer a generous payment for these deliveries. No one knew the man outside of a crack in the door, and the commanding growl he gave. And no one had entered the room. And no one gave any interest except in grabbing the canine water for some free money when he asked.

This went on for a month, till one day someone approached the door. Asking for the tenant who lived in that room to accept a delivery. The delivery boy, who was no more then 17 by the looks of it, was snatched into the room. For the first time sounds left this room, and nothing pleasant could be said about these sounds.

It would be another day before the door opened again. The canine no wearing the clothing of the delivery boy, and holding a letter. He looked much cleaner then when he was first seen. Fur smoothed out in place of the clotted blood that he was seen with before.

"Would be best to find out who sent me this." He would say, voice low and monotone. A big smile on his face, but he didn't look happy even with that toothy grin. Adjusting his clothing a bit, he'd place the letter in the jacket he had acquired and walk out the front door unceremoniously. Those that had peeked into the room that he left would quickly turn away in disgust.

The windows had been boarded up, walls had been cleaned and looked as good as they had in years. The roof even had been cleared of muck and mold. But the floor had been coated in what was mostly blood, but the smell and discoloration said it was more then that. It would later be told that the walls had been cleaned by animal saliva, and that the floor was covered in two people's blood and vomit. The teen that had entered the room was also found after a crew came in later that day to clean up the place.

He had been scalped, and the bone on the top of his head had been used as a note pad. Depicting the things the canine had done to the teen. Who at the end of the notes, was depicted to have been 'enlightened'. Other bodily injuries had been inflicted onto the young man. A lot of which would explain why he was sitting in the bathtub when found. The teen would be admitted to a psychiatric hospital. Where he would remain for the rest of his life. Often in a padded room and tied to the center of it. Straight jacketed and prevented from repeating the actions that were listed in etchings in his skull. The teen repeating something that the canine had taught him. The words echoing through the hall leading to his room whenever the teen was awake.

The canine however, would make his way to the location listed in the letter. Enjoying the ride on the train he had boarded a few hours after leaving the hotel. Repeating a soft mantra to himself as the time passed. Most leaving him be, and a few catching the words he spoke as he sat by himself.

"A state of perfection, immersed in filth."