___[Insert Epic Redeeming RP Title Here]___

Have a character or two or twenty-two that have been tainted, corrupted, or forced into the mental capacity of a clam because of Darky dearest? Well, here they can (hopefully at least) have a chance to be redeemed and reformed into something we can both love and appreciate like the beautiful children they are.

So come one and come all! The setting will I suppose be a favorite of mine from a Piers Anthony series; basically, since forever, magic and technology have advanced side by side, so both exist equally, and there is a balance of sorts. That way, we should be able to support most any character we please.

New Craven was a city much like your new york.. sprawled with streets and towns simular to the sky scrappers of harsh and steel, and the homes of wood and stone, a odd convoluted mix between old timy 18th century homes, and lovely steel new york sky scrapeers... a weird mix, that sorta worked...

Reeve lazily rode through the streets, his growling motorcycle announcing the demon's presence. The bike itself was licked with flames that cast writhing shadows, but did nothing to hurt their obsidian haired master, whose eyes burned and danced like the flames. New Craven would be his new home, and his new hunting ground, if he had a say in it.

Crane, sat in the ally way staring up at a massive and ancient oak, who had grown a testiment of time, his back resting on its massive trunk, as his legs one bent as if to sit inidan style, and the other stretched and propped on one of the trees massive snarled roots, as his blood, stained the oak, trunk roots, and the grass and rocks peeking through those roots, and smiled, blood seeping through the corner of his mouth, as his red eyes watched the shadows of the tree leaves above.

Reeve saw the bleeding man, presumably a masochist from his grin, and drove on. That one would be a goner within a few days without medical attention, so no need to pay any mind.

From the shadows, a very abnormal being watched Crane curiously. The thing had the head of a jackal and stood about eight feet tall, clad in dark robes. His hands, which clutched the long shaft of a scythe that curved into a massive blade above his head that he was leaning against like a walking stick, seemed humanoid, but the fingers ended in claws and were covered in the same fine fur that covered his head. He did not interfere, merely watch the bleeding man under the tree. He could sense the injured person was not close to dying, and was merely curious to see what would happen. He didn't have any pressing matters to deal with, so the ancient, jackal headed being merely watched, and waited.

Crane, smiled, as the ally a cross the street, erupted in bellows, and in flames, and he waited, peacefully there by the tree, now looking straight, at the ally that was chaos, smiling still, wistfully and half gone, as the ally burst forth, a reaper, a very old, and very crazed reaper, who's mind was torment, who soul was calling, who's very being wished for death. Crane could even with the maddened gleam in the other males eyes, could only see his friend, his only friend, and with the passing of this reaper, he Crane Paranoia would be the the oldest of his kind, the oldest male of his kind, and his heart ached for peace. But he sat, with a smile spread acrossed his face, letting the crazed reaper come towards him. All he did was smile, a warm and kind smile, and looked with tender gaze, as he bled their.

And so, Lande still watched. He sensed these were Reapers, but not of the kind he knew. And so, he watched curiously, and waited to see what would come to pass. He would not interfere, unless innocents who's time hadn't yet some were at stake, or if the soul of whoever would pass this day needed guidance to rest. But until he was needed, Lande would only watch. Life, death... it all spun in a cycle, and his job was merely to help it spin as smoothly as possible.

The other reaper charged forward, barreling for Crane, his soul Screaming to any being that could hear to set it free. The sound Defining on deaths races, and it echo'd for anyone who could hear its torment and cries for peace. Charging the Reaper, who blade spat fire wild and horrid, it too cried, cried for its masters soul. As he spured forward to slaughter to maim.

Crane stood still smiling, still with eyes as kind and tender as a loving father, or cherrished friend, as if the other came to vist, he waited, and just as the reaper reached him, he kept that tender gaze and loveing face, as he took the scythe on shaky legs, and Embraced, his friend, with point between them, the blate, biting in smoothly, into the others heart. It was seconds, thats all it took, for the fires to die to nothing, for the man slump against the bleeding Crane, he turned and let the now dead reaper, slump up against the tree. bending on one knee, he put his friends, hands and legs, in a restful position, and still smiling, he closed his friends eyes, as he said softly as his smile now faded, and sadness and pein crept in his gaze " See now old friend, what a lovely place I have chosen for you to rest, how peaceful how pretty this place is.. rest now, oh tattered spirit, for I have found the pleace thats earned your rest." he said, tears mixing with his blood as they ran down cranes face, " the tree, will let you rest." he said, as the tree seemed to let the body of the reaper, slide into it, till all that was their was the tree, and the blade, of the reaper, stickingb etween its roots, forever a grave marker cranes voice shook a bit " prehaps their will come a time, when a young reaper, will find it kind, to let me rest beside an old friend." he said turning, leaving a blood trail, as he began to limp, using his scythe, as a walking staff, as he swayed his heart shattered, him broken in more ways then one, onto the street.. and he hummed the death march, all most heart breakingly sad.

Lande looked on with pity. he was very old himself, and had to end others that he personally knew, but it never got to him. He sighed softly and decided to try and do the injured reaper a favor. Lande moved his scythe so he could see the flat of the blade, and passed his hand over the surface. The image rippled and showed him nearby people, who might meet too soon ends without interference. Surprisingly, he saw Timore in his scythe, and after a pause of considering how safe that option could be, decided on it anyway. Lande wiped the image away and moved to an ally ahead of Crane and summoned the demon princess. He growled at her and swung his scythe, coming dangerously close to hitting her, although never meaning harm, merely a fright.

Timore saw the blade and reacted, hissing and jumping back. She quickly noted her surroundings and became a kuchisake with white hair, a trademark in any form she took, as well as signature, supernaturally bright green eyes that glowed faintly. She stepped out onto the sidewalk, not far from Crane, although she hadn't noticed the reaper yet, paying more attention to the dog headed monster attacking her that she had next to no control over.

Crane stopped moving, clearly now quite ready to take a dirt nap, the great concrete swan dive, in the most epic of pass outs. Standing quite teetering on that dive, he looked about him, all most in a daze, his black attire clearly soaked with his blood.

Lexie bounded skipping with delight coming in contact with crane, wide eyed she squeeled " OMG OMG HE"S SO CUTE.." he said hi pitched. THen started to dance grabbing his arm and tugging it as she gleefully started messing around with pappers she was holdning in her pocket.

Crane proceeded for all his crazy depravaty to do the most sane thing any person would do and stare at her in wide eyed disbalife and mild terror.

Timore looked over at the sound for a brief moment before looking back.... and seeing nothing. The demon lady turned towards the pair, green eyes blazing and her mouth covered by a surgical mask. "What are you doing?" She asked Lexie. "He's hurt. Sir, would you like me to heal you? It may cause some pain, but your wounds will close and heal."

Crane did the only sensible thing to do, and that was make Olympic divers admire his form, grace, and cringe at his lovely swan dive into the concrete.

Lexie Screamed dropping looking at the woman, and run arms flayling, as she kept muttering " HES MINE ALL MINE." not knowing she was actually shouting.

Timore sighed and knealt next to the unconscious man. Still alive for now. She sighed again. No use in letting him bleed out here, and at least initially he didn't seem affected by her Fear aura. Timore teleported Crane to an apartment she called home for now and took off his shirt to gain better access to his injuries, using her magic to heal each wound she found, from the deepest and worst and gradually to the shallower ones. Her magic made it hurt at first, but the pain quickly turned into numbing the area. Once everything was closed up, she bandaged the wounds and propped Crane into a sleeping position on the couch. Timore turned to make something to eat in the kitchen, and potentially something for her guest should he wake.

After some time a Crow perched in the window of this appartment, peering in. Watching with keen eyes.

Crane didn't snore, but did manage to fall off the couch, as he was prone to doing, falling out of beds chairs, coaches you name it, when he passed out. It was just something he did, and he knew why, he was a cuddler after all, and nothing to cuddle, ment caboom.

The Crow in the window chuckled.

Crane looked around the room wondering how he got here and turned his head to glare at the cackling bird.

Timore saw the crow in the window and tried to shoo it away. "Terribly sorry." She apologized to Crane. "You passed out from blood loss, so I took you here to heal and recover. Are you hungry?" She offered.

Crane looked at her shook his head, backed up to the window, and waved, " ah.. Thanks I think... " before leaping out of it, into the street, now which direction was home again, completely sorta lost.

The crow laughed, now perched in a near by tree.

Timore sighed sadly as she watched him go. Figures. She blamed her Aura of Fear for scaring him off, and went about cleaning her tidy house... again.

The crow now landed in the open window, and shifted into a man " Quoth the raven nevermore." he said idly " hello... you know, " he said stretching " you amuse me, every day you tidy this place, but really whats amusing is that reaper below... silly thing, even I a crow shifter can smell and sense his sorrow, guess its why I am drawn to circle... but I do think your my favorite perch." he teased " now I am hungry... got a cracker for the pretty birdy?"

Timore looked over at the shifter. Her brilliant green eyes bore into him, as if she were examining him harshly for something. "Tell me, crow" She said softly, "what is it you fear most? Is it nothing you do matters? Is it that you will die alone and unloved? Is it death itself?"

He Grinned, chuckled softly " I Fear? That's a funny notion, we birds of feathers black, who worn all that see us, of the dark omens we can smell, of the passage of a loved one, of the darkness creeping on them, we the birds who death himself hath touched just once." he grinned " Tell me child... why the Raven's wings are black and yet the Crow, is the one who governs souls... if we so choose, such fickle birds my kind be."

Timore slowly walked towards the trespasser, silent as a grave, her eyes still blazing. If anything, the lights around them dimmed, which made her eyes seem even more unnatural. "You didn't answer my question, crow." She said softly. "Why are you here, and please do not speak in riddles this time. My patience is thin to start with."

He grinned wide, looking down through the window " Ah well, Like the fickle bird I fly... " he smiled a devilish grin " see you around sweet heart." he said brushing his lips across hers, before casually falling through the window, and shifted into the bird, taking flight now, after the still confused reaper.

Crane figured he would just stalk the streets till he bumped into something, though he didn't miss, that a specific bird was back to fallowing him, what did they use to say about crows. He shrugged, after all a bird was a bird, no mater the feather.

Timore took an intake of breath as Draven moved close, and stood rigid in surprise and shock as he kissed her. Her pale face turned a lovely shade of rosy red as she stared after the crow flying away. What... just happened exactly?

Shade ran. She didn't know where to, just away. Some demons had come across her, and she didn't need nor wanted to deal with them at the moment, so she ran. She and Shadow could easily wipe them out, but she was suppose to be lying low, and Shadow was if she had no other options.

The Crow continued to fly fallowing the Reaper and when he stopped he landed in the tree, figuring pity on this poor lost soul was best, he stretched his wings, and flew till he landed on the reapers shoulder staring into the guys eyes with his bird like one, and flying off, guiding souls he mused, living or the dead it didn't matter, and as Crows were fickle creatures, he assumed doing such a task, appeased if nothing else, time.

Crane raised an eye brow but fallowed the crow, as he remembered " those who fallow a crows black wing, is to seek cold deaths sting." he shrugged " I work for him, so maybe he will give me directions."

Shade tripped and fell, and in an instant the demons were on her. Before she could do anything, Shadow appeared and roared, fending off the demons. Shade regained her footing and bolted. She knew Shadow would give her as much time as possible while she ran and found a decent safe place. However, after about ten minutes, she was gasping for breath, and she could feel Shadow was badly hurt. He couldn't help her again until he healed up, which she wouldn't get a chance to help until they were safe in a quiet place for a while. She walked slowly and eventually Shade found a home she thought was abandoned and slipped in, sitting with her back against the door as she caught her breath.