Once a grand cathedral dedicated to the Holy Triumvirate, all that remains now are ruins ever since the religion was rejected strongly in 1823. While the religion is back in favor, the cathedral was never restored. (+3 Defense, +2 Offense)

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Shuffled Papers and Spilled Coffee (Self)

Postby Baconwizard » 09/10/2014 7:18 PM

The caverns echoed with the noise of hundreds and hundreds of workers bustling about in their cubicles–or rather, their homes, given that none of the demon underlings ever went anywhere else. The intricate carvings in the walls that towered over this productive assembly watched on as papers were recorded, filed, stamped, approved, shifted around, archived, and then lost in the cracks of this ever-shifting bureaucracy. From their vantage point from up high, the carvings were able to observe the inner workings of the establishment as it should be: a perfectly working clock that never stopped for any event, major or minor. The bureaucracy was meant to endure. All of the underlings, whether flying or feral or fiendish or friendly (a rare species), had a certain cynical pride in their attitude to the rest of demonkind. No matter the chaos that ran rampant in the hell outside the Caverns of Archives and Records, no matter the strange goings-on in the human world, no matter which angel was picking a fight that day, each underling would have the same bland expression, the same dry tone, and ask for the proper paperwork, for no one really cared about the goings on beyond those carved walls. All every underling wanted was for their work to be done properly, and for the crazy demoniacs outside to fill out their darn paperwork!
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To you I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world.
To you, I shall be unique in all the world....

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Re: Shuffled Papers and Spilled Coffee (Self)

Postby Baconwizard » 09/10/2014 7:35 PM

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"Honestly!" Tripp fumed to himself, carrying a stack of files in his arms. His wings flapped as he wove through the busy hallway, dodging the other creatures that were clogging up the hallway. He paid passerby no attention–which was as much as they were giving him–for his mind was directing all of its energies towards hating a certain demon who was causing him hours of extra work and a massive headache. "Would it be that hard to fill out an exit permit?! They exist for a reason; they're not just for you to ignore! Next thing you know, no one will be filling out their forms, then it'll be chaos, and absolutely nothing will get done! The nerve of these people..."

Muttering to himself, Tripp flew above the heads of the larger demons until he made it to his nice, out of the way abode. The front of his cubicle was blank, just the way he liked it. No frivolous stickers or welcome signs or silly comics would ever mar the face of his office! Tripp cast a dirty look at his next-door-neighbor, who had plastered their cubicle with "inspirational sayings," and had even put a welcome mat in front. That was a hazard to passerby, in Tripp's opinion. Tripp sighed, then fluttered down to plop the stack of files at his desk, then collapsed in his chair, rubbing his eyes. At least his closer neighbors weren't as irritating. Tripp didn't know them that well, but they kept to themselves, and that was how Tripp liked it. It was good to stay professional in the workplace. Besides the occasional strange humming sounds that would come from the cubicle to his right, Tripp hardly ever noticed his neighbors.

Which was just the way he liked it. Tripp had no need of interference or distractions in his work. All he wanted was to be left alone in a quiet space. He had no idea how the demons outside the caverns could stand it. Tripp stared at the files of exit permits for him to review, and let out a long sigh. What he really didn't understand was why, out of all places, demons loved the human world so much.
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To you I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world.
To you, I shall be unique in all the world....

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Re: Shuffled Papers and Spilled Coffee (Self)

Postby Baconwizard » 09/13/2014 3:07 PM

Tripp sighed, leaning forward in his chair and stretching his wings out. He sighed, looking at the pile of paperwork in front of him, then rubbed his tired eyes with the palm of his hands. Exit permits to confirm, reviewing lists of items taken in between worlds, logs of who possessed what, tallies of souls corrupted... So much paperwork! All for the sake of some snotty low-life humans! Demons just couldn't be contented causing a ruckus in their own land, they had to go and mess up other worlds as well! How was Tripp supposed to regulate this? It must be a form of punishment.

There was a grunt from the entrance of the cubicle, and Tripp turned around in his seat to see his hulking supervisor glowering at him from his single eye. Startled, Tripp had to take a moment to arrange his face into something resembling a smile, his mouth twitching. "Ah... Mr. Uggman. What can I do for you?"

Uggman grunted, and tossed a file at Tripp, who gasped as he fumbled with the papers, trying not to let them fall. "Assignment for you. Work on it now. Get it done fast. Or else." His boss glared at Tripp, his meaty hands flexing with the threat, and Tripp swallowed with difficulty, his throat catching. "R-right."

Tripp waited until Uggman had stomped off, before looking at the file, wondering what on earth it could be. The word PRIORITY was stamped on it in an ominous red color–the color of the denied stamps Tripp used on files, or the color on the note Tripp had been handed when he was transferred to his current department. A slow feeling of dread crept up on him, snaking up his spine and making his hands shake. Nothing ever good came from that color.
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To you I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world.
To you, I shall be unique in all the world....

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Re: Shuffled Papers and Spilled Coffee (Self)

Postby Baconwizard » 09/14/2014 8:44 PM

After Tripp had recovered himself from his supervisor's abrupt visit (as much as he hated to say it, those relaxation techniques his next-door-neighbor had taught him were helpful), Tripp finally picked up his new assignment. It certainly couldn't be that bad. Tripp's job wasn't monumental, or anything relating to monumental. He processed files–rather quickly, he may add. He wrote reports on demons who didn't file exit permits, reports that were sent away to be filed somewhere far away from his small cubicle. Occasionally, yes, there were instances where Tripp had to do "real investigating," if it could be called that, to find out if the demon was engaging in "forbidden behavior," like bringing back contraband from the human world, like soft drinks or Pixy Stix. Tripp shuddered, remembering when that had been an underground fad. So much powdered sugar everywhere... Tripp cleared his throat, emerging from his reverie. The assignment must be about some demon who smuggled in something big, like that one demon years back who was caught with a washing machine. From the heft of the file, it must have been perpetrated by someone higher up on the echelon.

He let out the breath he had been holding, then opened the file. Almost immediately, he slammed it shut, emitting a startled cry. Tripp stared at his blank wall, his mind spinning with confusion. Carefully, as if he was afraid it was going to bite him, Tripp opened the file and stared at the picture on the profile with a growing horror. He knew that face. Any demon who was anyone knew that face. It was just his luck that this file had found its way to Tripp's desk.
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To you I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world.
To you, I shall be unique in all the world....

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Re: Shuffled Papers and Spilled Coffee (Self)

Postby Baconwizard » 09/14/2014 9:12 PM

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Samael hummed to himself as he strolled down the dark streets, completely relaxed in the crowds of monstrous demons. It was a little strange, he had to admit, to be among such vile and repulsive creatures after spending so long among those bland, identical human faces. Truly, absence does make the heart grow fonder. Samael smiled widely at an ogre that lumbered by, its stone-colored skin covered in moss and scum. He walked along, crowds parting before him, his shoes making a clacking noise on the obsidian cobblestones. Samael's eyes flicked around at the horde of demons bustling through the shops and streets, though none seemed to jostle into him, or even crowd him as he walked through the traffic. Even the demons who didn't recognize him could tell by his aura that Samael was not to be trifled with. He smiled to himself, putting his hands in his pockets and whistled out a few notes. That is what humans did, right? Whistle a happy tune.

Still whistling a few off-key notes, Samael pulled out a scrap of paper from his pocket and looked at the name scribbled on it, ignoring the flecks of blood spattered across it. That investigator had been quite forthcoming with the information, once they realized their situation. It was their fault for going through his stash of Pixy Stixs. Well, that wasn't all the investigator had found. But it was bad luck, or bad timing, for both Samael and the little investigator that they had dropped off a report at the customs office. Samael hated that place. Always wanting to know where he was, and what he was doing. It was just the higher-ups way of playing with their little pawns. Samael certainly wasn't a pawn. He had his own schemes, schemes that he didn't want the higher-ups getting their grubby paws all over. Not yet, anyway.

Thankfully, anything resembling order was always slow to react in the demon world. If this was the human world, those people called police would have probably been all over Samael's home. As far as Samael could tell, information regarding his behavior was still being processed in the fly trap called Archives and Records. Which just means fewer loose ends for Samael to take care off. Samael stared down at the words scribbled on the piece of paper. Customs records, Tripp Trappington. Samael whistled out one long, low note, his violet eyes glittering with real amusement.
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To you I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world.
To you, I shall be unique in all the world....

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Re: Shuffled Papers and Spilled Coffee (Self)

Postby Baconwizard » 09/23/2014 6:37 PM

Suddenly, Tripp's cubicle seemed much less like a haven from chaos, but rather a tight, confined box with a ticking bomb inside. And Tripp was the one with the detonator key. And no matter what Tripp did, the bomb would blow up in his face. So the key wasn't really any good, after all. Tripp shook his head so violently his large, batty ears flapped, trying to derail his morbid thoughts. He still had time. Maybe he could throw the file in the river, maybe transfer to another department that wasn't as dangerous to his health. Tripp shivered at the thought of having to investigate such a well known (well known to be murderous) demon; there would be no doubt that Samael would come after Tripp, to clear up loose ends. Tripp nodded to himself, and grabbed the file. First to destroy the evidence.
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To you I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world.
To you, I shall be unique in all the world....

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Re: Shuffled Papers and Spilled Coffee (Self)

Postby Baconwizard » 09/24/2014 10:52 PM

Maybe Samael wouldn't come after Tripp after all. Maybe this whole affair would be a misunderstanding. Tripp certainly hadn't read too much into the details in Samael's quite hefty file. Maybe the powerful, volatile, trigger-happy demon would just leave Tripp with a warning, and that'll be that. Maybe... Tripp let out a long sigh, "Yeah, right. Get a hold of yourself, Trappington..." Thinking realistically, Tripp didn't stand a chance. His demonic aura was so weak, Tripp could barely stay in the human world; he had no hope against a being like Samael. So Tripp would run. Maybe hide out for a few days, transfer departments. Of course, first things first, Tripp had to get rid of the incriminating file. Tripps wings increased pace, and he sped through the streets, headed towards the river.
Image
To you I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world.
To you, I shall be unique in all the world....

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Re: Shuffled Papers and Spilled Coffee (Self)

Postby Baconwizard » 09/28/2014 5:47 PM

Samael was waiting on the bridge, staring down at the murky water slipping under him, when he heard the rapid, fluttering beat of wings approaching. His smile slowly crept across his face, showing bright, gleaming teeth in a predatory grin. Right on time. Samael straightened up and turned to look at the new arrival, a harried looking bat floating a few feet above the ground. A brown file was clutched in the bat's––Tripp Trappington's––claws. Samael could see the look of horror seep into Tripp's brown eyes, and a small chuckle bubbled out of his chest unbidden. "Come now, Trappington, don't look so frightened. I'm only here to talk."
Image
To you I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world.
To you, I shall be unique in all the world....

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