Interest check  is<a class="postlink" href="https://creativefreedomrpg.com/viewtopic.php?f=75&amp;t=8008">here.</a><br/>OoC is<a class="postlink" href="https://creativefreedomrpg.com/viewtopic.php?f=75&amp;t=8008">here.</a><br/><br/><br/><br/>A lone figure scaled the precarious heights of a once-grand building torn asunder, its figure silhouetted against the rising sun. Finding footholds in anything from broken windows to loose bricks, it climbed with purpose and determination, nary a pause taken or mistake made in its journey. The figure reached its destination quickly, pulling itself onto the building's rooftop and darting over to the side opposite from which it climbed. It peered over the edge cautiously, a gloved hand shading its eyes from the sunlight as it scanned its surroundings.<br/><br/>The figure was a man; standing at 6'4", his build was tall and lithe. He wore an unbuttoned, short-sleeved, dark purple jacket over a sleeveless white undershirt, as well as a pair of black jeans, which ended in a white, horizontal stripe at the bottom. Accompanying this was a tan pouch on his side, which he used to carry various objects. On his feet he wore black tennis shoes with a complex white pattern on them, and on his hands were black gloves, the back of which had a rectangular opening. His hair was medium-length and of a deep, rich purple; most of it was tied back into a ponytail, though some strands had come loose from his previous exertion, and now hung freely in front of his face. His eyes were of two separate colors; the right one was that of a shining emerald, while his left was pitch-black, a stark contrast to anyone who noticed.<br/><br/>Evidently satisfied with whatever he saw, he sat on the edge of the building, setting one foot on the roof and letting the other hang off. He let out a sigh, digging through his pouch as he did so. After rummaging around for a minute, he pulled out a package of some sort, ripping off the top of it in one swift motion. He pulled the contents out and stuffed the foil back into the pouch, soon after taking a bite of the pastry he had just unwrapped. He savored the bite, swinging his leg back and forth as he watched his surroundings carefully.<br/><br/>The city before him was but a shadow of it's former self; especially here, in the Residential District, there were signs of destruction everywhere. Buildings were half-collapsed, some naught but a pile of rubble, trees were uprooted and burned, remnants of civilization littered the sidewalks and the walls. There were no bodies, as the demons made sure they were taken care of; what they did with them though, he hesitated to consider. There were various small signs of inhabitants in some places for those who cared to look, but the people who still remained did their best to make themselves scarce, and for good reason.<br/><br/>"Ever since that day.. Heh. Saying things haven't been the same is understatement of the year," he said out loud, his deep voice the only noise to break the otherwise heavy silence. "Now we have demons running around, murdering everyone they come across.. And worst of all, that damn eyesore." With those words, he turned his gaze to the left, directly at the top of a tall tower in the center of the city. Sitting there, perpetual and omnipresent, was the portal to the demonic realm that started all of this.<br/><br/>He sneered at it in disgust, raising from his spot on the roof as he did so. "Well.. No sense hanging around here," he decided with some resignation, walking backwards until he was at the mid-point on the roof.  He quickly stretched his legs out and knelt down for a moment, gathering his thoughts, before breaking out into a full sprint. Once he reached the edge of the roof, he gave himself one final push with his foot, launching himself off the building. The vertical movement from his launch was quickly reversed as he began falling, and he pulled his arms forward in preparation. His target was quickly coming within reach, and he soon found himself grasping the cold iron of a street lamp. His momentum, though drastically reduced, caused him to swing under the bar, at which point he let go, using the rest of the momentum to carry himself through a backflip, and soon after landed on the ground with a soft thud. He recovered from the recoil surprisingly quickly, and afterward found himself walking casually down the street. "You know, I gotta say.. It's pretty wicked that I can do that now," he said with a smirk, as he removed the wrapper from his pouch and deposited it in a trashcan as he walked by.