Description: Assured now of the importance of the cities after his bout against Aranha, Nightwolf continues to follow the whispers of the spirits and roams Metro City. There he finds more clues as to what has the leylines in an uproar. A cat-kin darkstalker by the name of Felicia is having some issues with the locals. Could this encounter mean something or is Nightwolf being lead by pointless cat calls?
Prowling through dark corridors away from the prying eyes of humans, with naught but dim lights and moonlight rays to guide him, is not an uncommon form for the Sin Eater known as Nightwolf. Evil spirits and demons love to prey on mortals, and there is no bigger concentration of mortals than in big cities, where the decadent and sinful await to be feasted upon by the demonic forces of Outworld.
Given his appearance, Nightwolf seldom roams the streets in his human form, where his visible face tattoos and dead eyes would attract unwanted attention from the locals and the authorities. When under the cover of the night, the shaman has device a more subtle method of roaming the streets, one that allows him to slip right past unaware citizens.
Tapping into his spirit totem, Nightwolf's guise turns into that of a wolf. It is a small wolf too, nearly coyote in looks, sufficient to look like any common street hound to anyone but one sufficiently knowledge in the lupine field. It is in this disguise that Nightwolf slips through dark alleys, undisturbed by the homeless, the gang bangers and any common citizen that happens to frequent these loathsome parts of the city.
Ever since his first dabble into the underground fighting and his fight against the capoerista Aranha, Nightwolf has taken a newfound interest in these cities that he normally avoids unless there is some actual demon hunting to be done here. The spirits have been in constant turmoil, urging him to continue his search in this particularly metropolis. And so Nightwolf heeds the call of the ancients, moving about the darkness, senses on high alert, looking for that which he seeks and he cannot find. He guess he'll know it when he sees it.
Meanwhile, in the backroom of a theater hall, there is a heated argument taking place. Well, more like a heated tossing out.
"Oh hey, no see, they'll love me! Totally, see!" Felicia did her best pose as she was being backed out toward the emergency exit of the very back near the dressing rooms. It would appear her acting pitch hasn't been taken well.
"No cats and no freaks!" the man yells, before she's summarily finding herself tumbling out and into the wet, cold and lonely alley behind the place. A moment later the door slams open again, though it's just them tossing her trench coat out ontop of her before it slams shut again.
She lays there for a bit, on her back, as if not having the will to pull herself up again for a time, her long poofy blue mass of hair sorta pooled around her on the alley floor. It's only when she hears what might have been nails of a dog on the concrete when she pulls herself up, actually using her back to roll herself back and then hop up onto her feet in one swift motion, pulling her jacket up around her.
Greenish blue eyes search in the darkness for what she thought she'd heard.
A commotion. Now we're getting somewhere.
Attracted by the concentration of dark energy forming behind a theater, Nightwolf took a sharp turned and went around a large building in order to investigate the disturbance. He could smell them in the air, negative emotions all around him, fear, confusion, hatred, ignorance. All emotions that are native to big cities such as this, though he seldom found them in this large quantity. Something was happening, and it might just be what he's supposed to be looking for.
He's not disappointed. Seeing a bouncer throw out a hopeful actress out the backdoor is equally not uncommon in cities like this, but Nightwolf doesn't even need his shaman training to know that something is amiss with this picture. The woman being thrown out by the burly man, her features, they are clearly different from that of a normal person. Not only does she feel different, as if she were more animal than human, but she has feline parts about her too, those claw like hands and those feet. This must be what the spirits told him to find in the city.
Just because he found his objective does not necessarily mean that Nightwolf knows what to do about it.
Even though the woman seems harmless, if sad, pitiable even, there on the ground by her lonesome, dejected and cold, Nightwolf knows better than to immediately assume someone is friendly.
When Felicia becomes aware of his presence, the wolf walks out of the shadows and allows himself to be seen. There he merely stands, still in wolf form, locking eyes with Felicia.
It is a test, really. Nightwolf wants to see how will Felicia react when seeing a wolf. If she were to attack him or show any evil about her, then it'll make Nightwolf's mission quite clear.
Felicia stood up to her full height, around 6 foot something, a lot taller than she usually did as she pulled the trench coat back around her shoulders and lightly pulled it closed over her front, though still leaving a fair bit of skin and catty cleavage on display. If she had shoes, they weren't thrown out with her, as she's simply standing there in human-like clawed, white furred feet, the cat woman peering down at the wolf, likely surprised to see it. "Didn't know you guys came in this far, sorry boy I don't have any beggin' strips," she huffed and straightened her coat, searching around in the pockets, likely wondering what /she/ was going to be doing tonight for dinner. She seemed to be intently searching for something.
"Damnit, think they stole the last few dollars I had in there," of course, Felicia didn't have a job, yet--but that didn't mean she didn't know how to get people to toss money at her. Surprisingly easy even given her status as a darkstalker. She just had to do it where there were no cops or too many people that might be freaked out by it. Her tail lilts around as it pokes out from behind her under the hem of the jacket, a jacket that might have come from a thrift store likely, but hey, it made do.
"So what's your story there, rover? Why you lookin' at me like that?" Fel was likely curious as to why the wolf was simply standing there looking at her, by this point.
It's surprising what you learn from someone when you just stand there and let them do all the talking.
The shaman turned wolf merely stood there as Felicia gathered her bearings, lifting herself back to her feet and adjusting her jacket. That she could tell the difference between a wolf and a wild dog already told Nightwolf volumes of who this person really was.
Another benefit of being a wolf in the midst of people is that they'll start talking to themselves thinking that there is no one to hear them. Felicia's woes about having her money stolen do not go unheard, as her general grimace of what she was going to eat. Nightwolf could read the signs, the slight bending, the worry on the eyes, the touching of the stomach, all subtle signs of a person being hungry. This told Nightwolf quite a number of things;
If Felicia recognized him as a wolf then that means she's been out in the wilds before.
That she's worried about money means that she lives by human rules, and if needs money to eat, then it probably means she doesn't eat human flesh like Outworld monsters might do.
This woman wasn't evil. That became apparent when she finally turned to look at him directly and asked a question. The shaman decided it was high time he revealed himself.
"I could ask you the same thing." The wolf actually spoke back. Energy swirled around him and where the wolf once stood now was a tall muscled man with war paint, an inch or so smaller than Felicia but quite thicker. He was wearing what looked like traditional Apache clothing, buck skin, moccasins, bandanna with feathers et all.
"Having a rough night, cat-kin?"
"Eeek!" Felicia jumped back a little as the wolf suddenly transformed into a man right in front of her. More than meets the eye, it's Native Americans in disguise! Felicia quickly recovered from that shock and stood there, pointing a reddish pink nailed white furry finger at him. "H-hey, are you a darkstalker too?" she asked, apparently finding it a decent idea to ask questions at this rate, seeing as he's not tried to make a move on her yet. "If this is about any fish that went missing I know /nothing/ about it," Felicia crossed her arms over her front. Though as she looks away there might be a little guilty look there.
"Rough night? Ehh, you know, show business," she grinned goofily and pointed lazily to the door she'd been ejected from, apparently no one had come out or peeked out to check if she was still there. Likely businesses expected darkstalkers and the like to be bad for business, but these folks just didn't seem to care. "So, uh, what do I call you? Sitting Wolf? I'm Felicia by the way," she didn't give any last name. Cats didn't need any!
If Nightwolf was amused by Felicia's reaction he did not show it, the Apache brave merely stood still, thumbs tucked into his belt whilst his dead eyes watched Felicia's movements closely. Words can be manipulated, but it was much harder to disguise body movement, and of that Felicia was showing plenty. She could have said nothing at all and Nightwolf would have known her true nature right away.
He shook his head at the question though. "I am not a Darkstalker. My name is Nightwolf and I am a Sin Eater, a Demon Hunter if you will." Uh oh, that could spell trouble for Felicia, although the shaman apparently foresaw that and raised his palm to motion for the excitable cat-girl to stay calm. "But I have no quarrel with you, cat-kin. I do not sense much evil from you." Because Nightwolf did sense /some/. He has never encountered a person that was truly devoid of sin, or someone who had no good in their soul at all, at least human wise. Thankfully, there was no such thing as black and white for the Apache brave, there were only degrees of guilt. That Felicia had some within her didn't make her evil, just a normal person to the shaman's eyes.
Stealing some fish certainly didn't warrant Nightwolf doing a Banishment on Felicia as far as he was concerned.
He moved closer, glancing at the direction where Felicia was pointing and where she got thrown out, also pointedly ignoring the jab at his heritage, he was used to those jokes and didn't think any of them. "Hm." The shaman considered, realizing that the building was a theater and Felicia was apparently trying to perform there.
"I take it they did not approve of your nature, Felicia." Nightwolf is a pretty insightful person and he can put two and two together. It's not hard to figure out that the people in the theater might not be too keen on letting a Darkstalker in there, let alone perform.
"So... where's the guy dressed as the cop and the biker?" Felicia frowned a little and looked around suspiciously, then looking back to Nighty. "Sin eater, huh? so do you eat monsters then?" she likely did feel just a tad intimidated by that, but she didn't seem to be freaking out thinking he was going to kill her or anything. Native Americans as villains was so 50 years ago, right? Though she had seen quite a few western shows on TV, likely lounging about as a cat, in front of the television, as cats do.
"Muuch? Don't sense much? I was raised by a nun for chrissakes!" she all but sputters, her voice cracking a little, though watching the man as he stepped closer. "Woah, hold on there Hiawatha," she put her hands out, then blinked. "Weelll, they kinda don't take kindly to my kind around here, so I was thinking of relocating to a much more highly lucrative acting role... uh, somewhere else," she relented, putting on an air of eccentric showmanship for just a second, before it sort of just falls apart.
"So no, not really," she shrugged, doing up the front of her jacket, at least so if she was seen someone wouldn't instantly see her as a DS.
"In a sense, yes." Nightwolf responded simply to Felicia's inquiry about him eating monsters, realizing more and more about her as she continued to talk. It was almost like reading a book, which was both refreshing and overwhelming for Nightwolf. He enjoyed when someone had no problems revealing their true intentions, but Felicia suffered from a case of too much honesty. The shaman actually understood the YMCA reference and though he showed no signs of being offended, he clearly rolled his eyes and shook his head. How immature, thought Nightwolf. This catgirl was more of an actress than she let on, her mind was clearly heavily influenced by all things seen in TV. She saw life with trope vision. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, it was just a little annoying for the stone faced Nightwolf who ignored those kind of things. I know how it feels to be an outcast. You have my sympathy, even if it does not mean much.
"No one is truly free from evil." Continued the Apache, though he stopped when Felicia put her hands out, feeling her apprehension by his presence. He couldn't help looking intimidating with the tats and the dead eyes. "For when there is nothing but survival, can you truly believe in sin?" Nightwolf knew that Felicia had done everything she could to survive, and even she had to admit, some of the things she might have done were probably questionable.
Pearls of wisdom aside, the Apache was definitely paying attention to Felicia's plight, she was clearly having problems adjusting. Problems that were not her fault. When she finished her dramatic retelling of her story, Nightwolf nods in understanding and closes his eyes briefly.
"I know how it feels to be an outcast." He says. "You have my sympathy, even if it does not mean much."
One way or another, Nightwolf was a problem fixer, and he felt compelled to help Felicia even if being an agent was not really his forte. If he didn't do something.. the who would?
"I see much suffering within you, Felicia. Are all these hardships really worth becoming an actress? What would you gain from following that path?"
"Sure I am, I'd never hurt a fly, well, maybe a few mice, but you know..." Felicia muttered, shrugging a little, peering closer at the indian man and actually getting a little bit closer now herself. "Well... yes, actually, I was taught that was a bad thing growing up," Felicia looked at Nightwolf. "Maybe what I was taught was a little different than what you were, course, that's possible," she smiled a little, waving it off. "Long as you don't try to wear me like a coat I won't you, alright...?" she peered at him, perhaps searching for recognition in those strange cataract eyes of his. Was he blind...? He didn't act like he was.
"No, it means plenty, thank you," she patted down the front of her coat, even while speaking. Was there a half-eaten hershey bar in there perhaps--there was, she peeled back the tinfoil and nibbled at it. "So you're a monster hunter, huh?" she asked, voice a little muffled by food. "Do you sniff 'em out in wolf form there all the time?"
Unlike Felicia, Nightwolf didn't back away or tried to stop her when she moved closer. It was difficult to tell why as he was clearly not the trusting type and he didn't believe her story about totally harmless either, but he didn't perceive her as an enemy either. Guess it was for Felicia to decide, although it may be a cultural thing and Nightwolf just had a different understanding of personal space.
"There are a lot of things that we are taught as we grow up, and yet, we do them anyway, don't we, Felicia?" Nightwolf stared with his knowing dead eyes, even though it was difficult to tell where he was looking due to him not having any pupils, but he was clearly staring at the girl. His stare could be interpreted as a creepy one, because just as he didn't back away from someone getting too close, Nightwolf didn't seem to think any of holding eye contact for a prolonged amount of time. He'd be pretty amazing at a staring contest, that's for sure.
"Unless of course your nuns approved of your fish stealing ways." Yeah, Nightwolf didn't entirely believe Felicia's claim of innocence earlier either.
But, he wasn't here to judge here. In fact, he was just starting to understand why he was here.
"As I said, I have no quarrel with you." The shaman continued when Felicia warned him against wearing her like a jacket. He walked past her and looked around thoughtfully for a moment, considering some things. "In fact, I think I may be here to help you."
"I am more than simply a monster hunter. I am charged with maintaining the balance in this world and doing so not always means the vanquishing of evil. Sometimes, I only need to prevent from it ever happening."
He tilted his head in a dog like fashion, regarding Felicia curiously. "If I were to find you an audience with someone who would be receptive of your desires to become an actress.. what would you do?"
"I... guess? I just don't like to hurt people, I'm not one of the bad darkstalkers," Felicia of course meant that there were good darkstalkers as well as bad ones. She peered over at the indian medicine man again. "What? hell no, she'd make me say ten hail marys and our fathers," Felicia grinned, she shook her head. "But my mom's dead now, so I'll have to say them on my own later," she shrugged, walking closer as if she meant to move past him like they were on the sidewalk. "That's good, I don't think you'd fit my style very much anyway," she smiled with a wink at him, hearing his mention of not wanting to fight with her, or wear eachother like cannibals.
"An audience, huh? I think I might take you up on that, I'll think it over, okay? Meanwhile you should stay safe, all kinds of weirdos around," says the barefoot cat lady in a trench coat, of course. Those nails of hers went 'tap tap tap' as she walked away as well, though she seemed capable of muffling the sound.
Log created on 16:18:56 11/06/2014 by Nightwolf, and last modified on 20:11:15 11/06/2014.