Owner	Pose
Corben Kelly	Corben spends a lot of time in Chelsea. The artist in him just can't stay away. Sometimes he's just wandering, looking at murals and taking in the colors. Other times he's just sitting and watching people go by. But there are other times still when he's actually adding his own flare to the artwork in this part of town. He typically chooses the tenement buildings, the ones forgotten. The crumbling, but infested homes to people too poor to live anywhere else. Tonight is one of those nights. He's dressed all in black, his white hair covered with a black knit beanie. He's wearing a belt of his own design that holds spray paint cans and other 'tools of the trade'. He's currently dangling precariously with one foot and one hand on a fire escape as he stretches out to finish the piece he's been working on. It's a landscape, not something he does often, but this building needed a bright spot. It's a bright, very colorful and rather abstract depiction of a sunrise over a dark forest. It's always darkest before the dawn.
Loki	Something is observing Corben. One large eye, low to the ground, just underneath a car. It's been around here and there, though staying out of sight at first. Drawn to the mark of corruption attached to Corben's bracelet, the entity has finally zeroed in on that it is Corben that has it, and not other passerby in the general area. But now, there's opportunity. And it isn't subtle about it. With small black bat wings (far smaller than the body), it darts out and with a wet 'SPAK' noise, lands to Corben's left, on the fire escape right next to his wrist holding the metal. It is... a strange looking thing. About one foot in length, it looks mostly like a fat black and ochre colored slug with wings. It has a mushy 'face' of one big eyeball, an eye like a goat with yellow and brown. "Kkkkkkkkh!" the demoning slugbat says in greeting, with a friendly wiggle of wings. "A master! You have the mark. Hi. Have question, I do," scrapes the slug creature. The tone is friendly, hopeful, and squishy. The mouth has now shown up, as well: a circle, like a lamprey.
Corben Kelly	Startled, Corben almost loses his footing. In fact, he does and the paint can he's currently using goes falling to the ground. He manages to catch himself with those mad parkour skills of his and swing back up onto the safety of the fire escape landing he was one previously. At least the near fall got his wrist away from that thing. "The /fuck/?" he asks of no one. "Damn, too much wormword in that last..." He shakes his head, squeezes his eyes shut and opens them again. Nope, didn't work, it's still there. "Alright, I'll bite," he mumbles. He's still not sure that he's not talking to himself and he has no clue what 'the mark' might be. "...what questions?"
Loki	The creature observes all of this, with what could be skepticism. Masters don't often fall down or react in such a startled way. Though, reading it's little lamprey-teethed face might be a challenge in and of itself, really. It looks over the painting then, the eye turning and evaluating the paint. But then the wings tuck in, and it scoots out along the fire escape to see more of Corben fully. It's clearly fearless, or expecting friendship, to where it isn't hiding or being aggressive. At least, not according to /it/. "Where is next ritual site? I got left behind," it queries, miserably.
Corben Kelly	Next ritual site? Corben doesn't ask the question aloud, but he's sure thinking it. Sometimes he may not come across as the smartest, but he's not dumb. It takes just a few moments to connect the dots. Demon thing, wrist, shiny bracelet, hoarded house of hell. "Fuck me," is muttered under his breath. He really has to fight the urge to rip his new shiny off and toss it down to follow the spray can of paint. "Well, which site were you at last?" He tries really hard to have an air of authority about him. "Were you not paying attention? How did you manage to get left behind? Maybe you don't deserve to be at the next ritual." He actually feels a little bad for the ugly critter. That doesn't mean Corben doesn't have a hand at the ready on another can to use as a makeshift, yet colorful, spray weapon if need be. It'd be a little like mace, right?
Loki	If this master fucks itself a lot, the small demonling doesn't argue about it or seem to react much to that part. Mostly, though, it takes it like it is /bothering/ Corben, and squishes flat like a weird snotty slug-pancake. "Have helped on two. Last one right here. Nearby, close. I am very good at ritual," assures the slug. It rolls over, then, onto what may be its back, and the abdomen ripples in a manner suggesting submissiveness. "Was distracted, shiny outside," it says, as if that were a fine excuse and reason. "Not deserving... maybe." It considers that, then, laying there. "....is master sending me back to hell?" it asks, slowly. It may be unclear about what answer it hopes to hear.
Corben Kelly	"No, we're not finished with what we need to do," Corben snaps. What is it they need to do? Hell if he knows, but he's trying to roll with it. "If you're such a good servant that's so good at rituals, then you'll be able to tell me how you do it." He really tries to relay that as not a question, but like a teacher asking a student how to do a math problem the student claims to know. "I'm sure you know the steps involved if you're such an expert." Is he shaking? On the inside maybe, but he's hiding it well. It's that mouth, that lamprey looking mouth. His ribs still ache from the last time he came across a bigger version of something with a mouth like that.
Loki	There's a long pause, as the demon studies. It may feel like maybe it's getting suspicious. It is watching Corben, for tells, maybe. Or its thinking about how to answer the question, what gives the most points. "Is trick question," decides the demon, then, feeling very very clever. "Depends on which leader it is; is different ritual." It un-deflates and perks up, swelling out part of the abdomen in pride. "Next one is Ank'galah, it is her turn. Yes, I know my ritual, see. Devotion to Ank'galah!" it says, with a half-jump-flap. "No more hell. No more!" it chants happily, expectantly.
Corben Kelly	Corben quickly flips through his mental occult roledex. Ank'galah. Nope, no entry for that one. "Who was your last leader?!" he demands to know. "Which one was so clumsy as to lose one of its minions?" He knows he's probably on borrowed time here. He figures it won't be long before the damned thing either flies away or grows to the size of a bus and eats him. "You were in the house, the one where those puny humans managed to get inside? To mess with our work? Answer my questions now, before I do send you back." He grips the spray can a little tighter.
Loki	Oh noooo, new-master wants old master name. Shit. "...green-shirt. Ugly hair, not bald enough." Shiiiit. "Don't know name," it grovels unhappily, frustrated. But oh! "What is new-master name? Will remember it." Probably. Maybe. But it gets more excited, and therefore the information tumbles a little easier as it tries to distract new-master from what it DOESN'T know. "Yes! Bad human tried to mess with work. Made dead, squish. Then MORE come. I gather shiny things in place where the car is. Everyone leaves, more humans come in. I hid. But I found new-master with bracelet. Does new-master want the shinies I saved?"
Corben Kelly	"In the realm of the mortals, I go by Corben. That is all you need to know," he spits angrily. Damned if he's not starting to feel /really/ bad for the pitiful little thing. He finds himself wishing he could set it free. Maybe if he gives the thing one of his socks? "Yes I want them! I can't leave them with something as incompetent as you!" Even as he says the words, he wants to take them back. This little thing is just doing what it's been told to by 'masters' it obviously fears. In place where car is? Garage. An idea flits through his mind. Another part of his mind warns, 'don't do it'. For now, he doesn't. Instead he just holds out a hand, impatiently waiting for the shinies. It might be a whole lot less insanity inducing to try to get a read on those later than to touch Mr. SlugBugBat thing.
Loki	The slugbeast looks at Corben's hand. And misunderstands. "Will show the way!" It agrees, and launches itself into Corben's palm. It feels just about like what one would expect: a raw liver. It's cold and slimy, and slowly pulsing. It 'shows' direction by immediately starting to LEAN to the left and forward on Corben's fingers. "But don't want seen, sneaky-eyes." And with that, it fades out, slowly, vanishing from visual sight, but it's still VERY there in his hand. It wants to steer him back towards the house where the ritual happened.
Corben Kelly	Corben has never been more grateful for his fashion choices that include fingerless leather gloves. Doesn't stop those bare fingers from feeling. He fights the urge to fling it away like once would raw, rotten liver. If that thing is expecting him to be able to levitate himself down from the fire escape, that isn't happening. But what he will do, is shift into his raven form. It's a smooth, almost instant, transformation. It means that his paint belt falls to the ground because he can only transform small items he's wearing on his person. he's wearing on his person. It also means that he drops the little demon thing. He glides gracefully to the ground in the alley beside the building and transforms back to hold his hand up and out once again. He's already feeling the dizziness, the light headed feeling that precedes the headache that comes with shifting too often and too fast. "Now show me."
Loki	The shapeshifting confuses the demonling, but it doesn't react poorly. It immediately starts to fly, so it doesn't fall anywhere. It observes the situation, and then finally slides down to resume position on Corben's hand. "Dis way, Mr. Corbs," declares the still-mostly invisible demon. It's not entirely gone: there's a ghastly edge of it as it lands, and then it resumes being fully invisible. So it seems when it moves, or transfers, it loses focus and appears. The trek is fairly long, almost all the way back to the place. The demon will lead Corben to a dumpster, and indicate it. Not inside, but under. It drops to the ground with a glide. Underneath, is a weird array of treasures. Mostly small things. Two metal-handle paintbrushes, twelve various pieces of odd and end jewelry, a plastic rinestone cat-toy, a mix of three doorknobs... and a 9mm handgun, and a PILE of ammo for it, all loose.
Corben Kelly	Much to the dismay of Pup, who's ALWAYS with Corben, the stupid punk actually follows the little demon thing. Now it's turned more into a personal curiosity that he just can't stop. He stoops down, nearly laying on the ground, to get a look under the dumpster. Once he's fished out everything he can, he straightens and shoves the stuff into his pockets. Now that he's aware of the bracelet being a demon magnet, he's pretty certain he's shining like a beacon to them now. "Now, you must return to the place where I hide among the humans with me so I can keep an eye on you until the next ritual." Did he really invite a demon slug thing to a party at his home? "But you must remain invisible."
Loki	"Next ritual is now though. We are missing it? On purpose?" The demon asks, concerned. It also was 'helpful' in getting the items out from under the dumpster. It stored maybe half of the gun ammo inside it, by guzzling it down in yum-yum bites. Which may suggest where all of those items HAD BEEN in order for the creature to have moved them outside to this spot. Inside the slug-demon, since it clearly has no hands. "Can sense it. For sure, yes. Electric air," the demon laments, with what sounds like a serious case of FOMO.
Corben Kelly	Gross. He's going to have to pour bleach or something into his pockets now. He really hopes the thing didn't poop them out. "Yes, we are missing it." Again he uses that snappy forceful tone. "You have to earn your rightful place in the next one." The feeling of the gun in his pocket, the weight of it, makes him a little sick to his stomach. He doesn't like the things. But then he has a different idea. "Earn your space, follow the electric and find the site on your own, you worthle," no he can't finish that, "and prove your worth to me..." "What are you /doing/, lad? Trying to get yourself killed or worse?!" Pup's been mostly quiet to this point but now he's getting pissy and annoyed.
Loki	Is vomit better than poop? Questionable, with this creature. It may be the same substance, depending on what it eats or doesn't eat. Maybe it eats pain. "Cannot find it. Asked you. Because cannot. Is only warlock familiar," mopes the slug, choosing instead to inch over and flop on Corben's shoe if he allows it. Sort of used to being kicked and punished, potentially, it seems. It orients a little, towards a general area of where Pup is, pausing. It doesn't say anything about it, but seems to be 'looking' with that big peeking eye it has, visible now since it moved about. "Just don't send me back. Will be destroyed, for disobey," it asks kindly, finally, looking back to Corben again. It's trying to play nice, to avoid whatever fate. "Can wait for the next ritual, then? Yes, good helper, see."
Corben Kelly	"Don't do it, lad," warns Pup. But damned if he's going to listen. "Then you come with me." Seems he's taking a demon home for a party after all. "You will do as I say until I can consult with /my/ master as to what should be done with you." Corben is hoping that the threat of calling in the Big Guns might keep the little thing in check. He's not fooling himself though. He knows he's in way over his head here. But what else can he do but take it home until he can get in touch with the help he needs to deal with it.
Loki	"Okay, new-master Corbs," agrees the demonling. It stays by Corben's foot, then, agreeable. "Am named Kib'kir." Kib'kir wiggles there. "Now can speak my name, and summon later if I am lost. Do not want to be lost." The slug creature tilts its head-area, with that huge single eyeball, and lolls it around 'pleasantly'. "We will do amazing ritual. All of the money and trinkets for you. Big pile. You can make throne!" encourages Kib'kir.
Corben Kelly	Corben scrubs his hands over his scruffy face and looks down at the little thing. "Follow me," he orders before he makes that quick shift to raven form. Three times in less than an hour and shifting back once home, he's going to have a magical hangover tomorrow. But that's the last thing on his mind as he flaps and glides his way through the dark skies over New York city wondering if Kib'Kir is potty trained.