Those Who Are Unworthy... (OPEN)[COMPLETED]

The slums... it smelled of trash, alcohol and cheap cologne. But it was sufficient to fit the Nephilim's current intentions. Khariel Ravenlock arrived in Jump City that night, but any signs of demonic shades were relatively clear for the main areas of the city. 'She's been busy.' he thought to himself as he figured such a war-torn city would have more signatures of such demons. There were plenty of different presences around that he had sensed, however. They would be attended to later.

Back to those intentions. Khariel was casually pacing through the clusters of lean-tos and garbage fires, intently listening to the thoughts of the humans who gazed upon his dark, armoured appearance.

'Who the hell is that guy?'

'Yeash... it's one of those costumed freaks...'

'That dude's giving me the creeps...'

He had had enough of their mocking internal voices. As he drew his longsword, he decided that it was time to silence them. He executed his movements slowly, bringing his sword in front of him and turning the blade towards the ground. "Be silent." he murmured, and a dark, shadowy mist was exhaled from the hilt of the blade. The mist split off into three different smaller tendrils which then shot towards several of the residents at a blinding speed. It wasn't long before the voices of them, internal and external, fell silent.

"He's a monster! He just killed them without a reason! Let's get out of here!"

"You will not escape!" Khariel shouted, thrusting his hand out in the direction of the would-be escapees. Dark tendrils shot out from his palm, meeting each of the humans in the back with a piercing force. The now lifeless bodies of the attempted escapees fell to the ground.

"None of them were worthy. All were scum. This is expected of the human race.' he mused internally, sheathing his sword for the moment. He needed to get rid of the bodies, obviously. Shooting out both hands and dropping his jaw, tendrils of shadow manifested from his mouth and hands to consume the corpses.

Khariel noticed the girl who had fallen at his feet. He withdrew the tendrils and straightened up, wiping his mouth. Her false death throes were obvious and Khariel looked on with sudden interest as her wound closed up. 'This girl... is not human.' he muttered internally, 'Perhaps... she is worthy.'

"My, my. It appears I have stumbled across a cuckoo among the hatchlings." he voiced, crimson eyes glancing about the girl, trying to identify what she was. "That is of course, the only logical reason why one would willingly hang about such lowlifes as humans."

He swiftly brought his hand down to offer to help her up. "However, is such an allusion parallel to a creature such as yourself? What might you be, if I dare ask?"

"Indeed." he replied after her stumble step. He inclined his head slightly. "I suppose I should introduce myself then. I am Khariel Ravenlock, the last of the true Nephilim."

He took a step towards her. "Tell me, Isabel Harkness... what do you think of the human race? Do you have any qualms with their existence on this earth?"

Khariel raised an eyebrow at Isabel's response. Hatred was a strong emotion in general, but in this girl it seemed dominant. This was something, Khariel deduced, he could put to good use.

"So the emotion of hatred runs strong in you. This is not a bad thing, Isabel Harkness. Hatred has always been fuel for extraordinary events in history. I can help you harness that hate, if you would let me."

He strode towards one of the bodies. "Obviously you have already seen the subject of my hatred. It is directed towards humanity as a whole, very similar to yourself. However, do you have a specific reason to hate humanity?"

He clenched his hand into a fist at the body as shadowy tendrils manifested to continue to pierce and consume the evidence of murder. "Hatred without conviction has no path, and therefore it often dissipates after little time." he dispelled the shadow as the body became unidentifiable. He then turned to another lifeless body, and as he shot out his hand and tensed, the body rose from the ground. "Hatred with purpose, however, has done great things to the world. It has brought the world to its knees on many accounts." he brought his hand into a fist and a series of loud cracks could be heard from the corpse. He released it, and it dropped back to the ground in a slump. "I'm sure you understand?"

Khariel listened to her answer intently. She didn't exactly sound irrational, and according to her circumstances, all of her questions were valid points. 'So, she hates because she looks for answers and cannot find them...' he thought. She was in the perfect position to strike a deal.

"So you're looking for answers, then. Your hatred is a product of lack of knowing. But in knowing the truth, how do you know you won't stir up even more hatred?" He walked over to where she was looking at the corpse.

"I can make you a deal. I'll help you find the answers you seek, but in return, you must help me with something as well." he looked over to her, waiting for a response.

"Ah..." Khariel paused. What he was going to propose was not boring in the slightest, not in the long run. But should he give her the whole truth, or only give her a part? "In return for my assistance, I would like you to find a certain someone for me. Having just arrived in the city, I admit it's layout is not something I know as well as someone who has been here for longer. I need you to bring this person to me... alive, and unharmed if possible. However if she resists, don't hesitate to get a little rough."

He reached out with shadow tendrils to destroy the corpse in front of them. "She is a strong opponent, and I don't doubt she's gained some renown in the city already. If it comes down to it, don't hesitate to subdue her."

He withdrew the tendrils once the corpse had been destroyed. "So that is my proposition. Interested?"

Khariel nodded. "Her name is Kristen Opprotune. She defines herself as a Nephilim like myself, however her physical appearance is like night and day to mine." He smirked slightly at Isabel's imitation. Her powers seemed similar to his own. "She's about a foot shorter than myself, but she's still taller than the average human female. The last time I saw her, she was wearing a white tunic with silver plate armour... and matching shoulder-pads with a cyan-grey tint. Metal leg-guards, sweats and gladiator style boots."

Khariel summoned his shadowy wings as they hummed a purple aura and glinted harsh fragments of gold. "She'll have wings like these, except they won't be the same colour. They'll be cyan, and they'll stand out on the night sky."

He desummoned the wings, now deciding to address information needed to help Isabel."Is that a sufficient amount of information? What do I need to know to be able to help you find the answers to your questions, Isabel Harkness?"

Khariel raised his eyebrows at the rhetorical question of the size of his sister's chest, but dismissed it as Isabel had. When she had said she had no idea where to start with her answers and said they might as well start with finding Kristen, Khariel nodded. "Very well. We'll start looking tomorrow night. She hunts at night, so we can find her about the city, most likely then. Meet me downtown atop the tallest skyscraper at two hours prior to midnight." Without another word, Khariel summoned his dark wings again and took off into the dying night sky.