<strong>Name</strong>: Ayr Fairfang<br/><strong>Location</strong>: Main Room<br/><strong>Tagging</strong>: None<br/><br/>--------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/>"Oh for the love of..." The white gold canine archon slammed the table, the interuption had cost the holy roller a lovely woman. He'd known Marc from his days back with The Light, and in a place like this you didn't advertise angelic nature. Still cockblocked by violence for the fifth time in a week was enough to irritate and enrage any being with a libito.<br/>Thus he rose from his table, still clad in his black evening leathers ones that showed entirely too much flesh, and hugged one to many curve to be decent, his wings unfurled, drawing his heavy revolver from the holster strapped to his inner thigh, a little too close to his manhood for the bouncer to search.<br/>"Fuck You, and YOU and YOU" he yelled at the Necromancer and the vampires. Dropping his peaceful romantic mask to reveal the snarling holy beast beneath.<br/>The world seemed in slow motion as the first shot chambered, the hammer fell, and the chemicals burned, sending the silver slug sailing across the room into the vampire's knee blowing the muscle and bone into the chair behind it Silver setting the wound on fire, and the vampire's leg with it.<br/>The second round caught it as it fell, the high calibur blowing the undead creature's internals and spine out it's back, again, setting it ablaze. If one had to slay the dead, overkill usually came with the job.<br/><br/>The other leapt for him, the only being actually attacking, and from the look, a serious threat. It never made it across the room, two more rounds slamming into it in mid air, blowing the creature's leg and arm off. When it came down in a lazy arc Ayr greeted it with a chair to the head.<br/>He looked around to the rest of the new hires as he rammed the chair down impaling the vampire throguh the head "don't just stand there showing off KILL THEM!"