By The Horns (Ba'alzamon, open)

[dudedude2211]

The hunters were catching up to him. He had to go faster, but the New York streets and sidewalks were crowded with humans and cars, and it was hard to tell if any of them were hunters. If he flew, it would attract more hunters, and that was the last thing he needed.
'Why the hell are they so persistent?' the young daemon mentally asked himself. They were getting closer, and he finally decided that staying on foot would get him killed, so he ran into an alley, pushed his wings through the slits in the back of his jacket, and took to the air.
He had finally lost them, but they would most likely tell more hunters about him and be back with reinforcements. He had killed about fifty of them, after all, excluding the many times he had snuck up behind them and slit their throats.

Ba'alzamon had been walking along the outskirts of the city wondering how to sneak in. He needed food and water both, and there was a voice telling him not to simply walk in to the town. The voice amazingly spoke in his mind in the exact same way his friend Stilia always did when she chided him. He ha paused and watched several humans run past, loaded down with a variety of weaponry and gear. They where chasing after something but Ba'alzamon had not seen what it had been.

Following after the hunters, trying to be as stealthy as a nine foot tall, jet black Ungrith'tar with almost three and a half foot horns could be. He edged along, following the hunters then watched as a winged shape took off flying away from them all. Frowning, the Ungrith'tar didn't like how several of these hunters pulled out high powered rifles and began following the path of the flying being. He growled, a deep bass rumbling that began in his chest and thrummed out, almost shaking their hearts physically. Lowering his head and training his horns he stamped his hooved feet with gunshot like cracks then charged at the men bellowing. They all turned and dove out of the way just in time. All except one, who so intent upon the flying being turned to late. A blackened tip caught the male in the chest, and the gleaming white horn burrowed through his chest as it lifted it from the ground. Roaring again, Ba'alzamon tossed the man off his horn and through the air like a sack or weightless flour, his form smashing through the windshield of a parked vehicle. The rest if the men scattered and ran for their lives.

[dudedude2211]

He saw what had happened below, and landed in the alley that he had taken off from. He walked up to the Ungrith'tar, unsure of what to say. He wasn't sure whether to thank him, flee the scene, or to just stand there.
His solution? None of the above.

"So I see I'm not the only non-human in this city." was what he said instead.
He had shed most of the arrogance he showed in India in a near-death experience. Now he was still self-confident, but knew to never underestimate an enemy. And more importantly, now he knew to never overestimate himself.
'This one is familiar... I'm pretty sure he was in India.' he thought to himself.


After the group of hunters fled the scene, they reported back to the person who had hired them. They were hunters mercs, who had amongst them a traitorous daemoness who had been forced to join, and a lot of Shifters.

Ba'alzamon snorted in annoyance as the cowardly boy reappeared, flying back down now he had chased all the males away. He looked at the boy am recognized him. It was that same annoying young daemon from India who had constantly gotten in his and Ko'oro's way while they where trying to bring the other Ungrith'tar honor and back in to his clan.

"There are always more then just you young male. Plenty if supernatural beings hide in plain sight as it is one of the few ways to make it in the human world anymore. Myself being an exception clearly." He chuckled, thinking of his friend Stilia Medusa who always chided him on his refusal to hide or learn shape shifting abilities. The male didn't believe in that sort of thing. He was proud of who and what he was and absolutely refused to hide it from anybody. If humans choose to hunt him for that, he would deal with that when it happened. So far he had scared them all senseless enough to keep hunters away from himself.

[dudedude2211]

[btw, the aforementioned near death experience was not in the spirit path.]



"Yeah... I know that I'm not the only one." he replied to what the Ungrith'tar said.
"But the majority of them tend to live in well hidden areas. Not many people—human or not— see the ones that do."

He had grown to respect the Ungrith'tar, and stopped calling them minoraurs or man-bulls. They were a race deserving of respect, as well as positove recognition. Although their tribal ways seemed strange to some, it had once occured to Nakashi that it was better for some people to act as a unit, and to avoid reminders of modern technology. He, however, survived on his own, most of the time sleeping and finding food in forests. He had started to like forests as places to live, but had never even thought of staying in one place. He was nomadic at heart, always traveling from one place to the other. In the few cases that he couldn't fly, he had a car hidden somewhere in Chicago, a Chevrolet Corvette C6 Z06 Guldstrand. He had inherited it from his father, who had been dead for a while. He would shapeshift to appear to be a four-foor 10 seventeen year old, and people had believed the change. If he was asked to show a license, he had a fake one for the fake identity. It was almost as fun as flying, and currently he actually had his Guldstrand in a garage in the city he was in. He had 'borrowed' someone's identity, and stolen their license and money in private. Luckily, the eighteen year old happened to be just a small bit taller than Nakashi, meaning he could shift into the man's image.

(I know. He was simply thinking about it)

Ba'alzamon snorted, shaking his head. He was a proud being, and never understood the need to hide oneself. He walked about in broad daylight, in cities and out though he mostly preferred to stay away from the cities. All the steel and concrete was...cold to him. He especially hated how it felt beneath his hooves. He simply just preferred the wilds.

He looked at the little being and nodded. "Well, you should steer clear of that lot. In point of fact, you should steer clear of most groups. It seems you have a knack for getting in trouble. Whether it be your heritage or personality, it is going to bring about a rather nasty early demise for you sir." He stamped his hoof on the concrete to emphasize his point. Having the face of a bull severally limited his range of emotions on display to other races he had found, so he had began punctuating and adding body motion and things so they could understand better.