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[Center]The decrepit fingers of a peculiarly soulful ghoul engineered hypnotizing sounds through the yellowing, cracked keys of a three-legged Bartolomeo Cristofori creation. Its body, tastefully remixed, consisted of fortified bone and hardened spotty leathers similar to the pianist's skin tone. Under the speakeasy's scarlet light, you could barely identify his glowing red corneas sharply surveying the room. Awaiting the arrival of the alluring Ixxa, he was certainly on edge. As a member of the Sarcoen family, this musician's career was a side act. However, he was a true artisan of his craft, never splicing a note when playing in front of the crowd in ecstasy resembling a demonic sugar shack. His name was Vincenzo. A name not necessarily feared, but respected. He had more fans than enemies, though being backed by Ealdorman Sarcoen added a double-edged level of protection.

Despite his role in racketeering, the jazzist was quite low rank but that extra layer of safety as an artist in the wild, Hell Vegas city of Aeternus meant the world to him. Today his job was simple. He was a pair of eyes and with them, he spotted the cherry-skinned snow-blonde woman in a little oroton mesh dress waltz in. Vincenzo played a particular stream of chords that alerted management of her arrival. When Ixxa attempted to sit at the topaz counter of the bar, a large Gargoyle figure obstructed her path with his forearm, directing her to V.I.P. Extremely irked, her heels, which were more like stiletto knives than footwear, pierced the creature's foot before she stomped off. Though in monstrous amounts of pain, the creature bit his stone lips and watched her angry strut into a narrow, winding hallway. Ixxa's heels sliced through the carefully laid velvet pile carpets that decorated the interior filled with blackened bones and claws carrying lambent candles burning violets and puke greens.

Ixxa approached the section brazenly with pursed green lips but before she could get a word out, the raspy but smooth voice of what sounded like a lifelong smoker exclaimed [i]"Remember when we were kids, Ixxa? You had faith in me. What exactly changed between then and now?"[/i] She paused.

The purplish haze that fogged the V.I.P. room cleared, revealing a mauve-suited man lowering his brimmed hat to his chest in an honorary gesture towards the snow-haired succubi. He had small onyx horns on opposing sides of his head pointing north and south that you could barely make out between his matted ashen hair. With one foot resting on his knee, this bizarre man, if you'd consider him one, slouched on the couch whose legs were the actual legs of some very much alive mink beast.

Ixxa stood directly in the center of the room. The walls were illuminated in dim vermillion light, showcasing the multicolored works of imagist art hung somewhat lazily, with many crooked and some even upside down. When examined closely, the boundaries of the section appeared to breathe, aside from the last wall directly behind the man. That one was boundless, plastered in infinite darkness.

"Ealdorman exiled you." The scowl on her face pierced souls, yet the demon opposite her named Parooz frankly replied [i][b]"CGHH-CGH[/b]…Yeah, so?"[/i]

The demon casually flung his hat over his shoulder into the void behind him and began patting the cushion left of him. Ixxa rolled her chartreuse eyes, unfolded her arms, and began to turn around.

[i]"I'm going to pretend I didn't see you, Sepias. Consider that mercy and a warning."[/i]

Before she could depart, rusty gates like a graveyard rose out of violet flames sealing the exit. Spontaneously, a cigar Parooz pulled out under his skull-shaped cufflinks lit with the same flame. He exhaled.

[i]"Things change, Ixxa. I wouldn't come back without a nod from the boss. You and Vileiro's lackadaisical response to the Casino's relocation is, for lack of better words, alarming to Ealdorman. You two may be satisfied basking in earthy riches but he and I know the only thing of any real value down here are [b]souls[/b]."[/i][/center]