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Post by Septimus Aelius Priscus on Oct 4, 2013 8:58:40 GMT
A grunting sound filled the air as a figure pushed off from building ledge to building ledge as he scaled what appeared to be a fifteen story building. Below him, with piercing, hunger filled eyes, were a pack of feral werewolves. Septimus had been sloppy and allowed his scent to travel farther then it should have without it being masked. The one trip he decided to take into this accursed place while traveling light and he had forgotten the masking gel in one of the pouches he removed from his robe's extra tethers. He would mentally kick his own ass later for this, he thought, as he reached the top of the the building, rolling forward as soon as his feet touched the ground. Pieces of roof behind him shot into the air as one of the werewolves punctured through the roof, apparently having followed him from one floor below. Four more of his kin appeared from the same route that Septimus took. They stood before the assassin, heaving heavily as their tongues hung from their mouths, half tasting the air, half keeping them hydrated. They had him outnumbered, and now they had him cornered on a roof. Septimus took a few steps back, moving toward the ledge behind him as the creatures began to move in on him in a half circle, making sure his only escape route would be to jump to his death. The lead wolf, the obvious alpha, chuckled loudly before speaking in a husky, almost forced voice. "Three days, human. That is how long you have had us chasing you and those valuables that you stole from us. You have cost me and my men a lot more trouble then your life is worth. Now, you will hand over the claw, as well as the gems that you stole. Then we will enjoy a nice soup with you as the main ingredient." At that, his pack snickered loudly, moving even closer. Septimus kept his eyes on each of the werewolves, scanning over each of them, waiting for any hint of movement that gave away an attack. "It's been a while since someone was stupid enough to steal from us and think they could get away. You left your scent all over the place and then to let us follow you all the way up here, where you can't escape? That was such a naive move on your part, my friend. One that will now prove to be your last." The Alpha lunged forward, the others keeping the formation as their leader moved on the prey.
Septimus chuckled as the wolf-being lunged at him. Dim Hollow was truly turning out to be a work out for him, mind and body. There was a twitch in his eye, his laughter ceasing as the Alpha was now upon him. Septimus extended his fingers, the metal from his battle-gloves scraping against each other. As he did so, he swung his hands behind his back, leaning forward as he shifted all of weight toward the Alpha, aiming his forehead toward the face of his opponent. Septimus thrusted a foot into the ground with one of his legs as the werewolf swung at him and as he did so, he continued swinging his arms forward, the claws extending as if to clamp onto the back of the wolf's head, his arms picking up speed and power. This moved him toward the wolf faster then hthe wolf could swing, his head colliding with the beast's face. The werewolf stumbled back two steps, and Septimus took another step forward to stead himself. He smirked as he followed through with his counter-attack, his arms finally coming together, although instead of being at the back of the werewolf's head, the beast had stumbled into the path of the claws. The spike-tipped, armor-plated fingers of the Roman Assassin punctured through the skull of the Alpha, who now stood face to face with Septimus, looking at him with dull blank eyes. Kicking off the body, he pulled his hands away, the sound of cracking bone filling the suddenly hushed scene. The other wolves looked at Septimus with wide eyes for a moment as he landed a few feet away, his hand moving to his over his shoulder as he removed his Hasta from it's leather restraints on his back. He then turned to face them just as the Alpha fell to the ground. "Wow.. You guys are nothing like the guards of the Werewolf Court, they easily outclass you lot. And you called me naive? You're nothing but a pack of puppies. Amateur's in a field you barely understand." Septimus spoke strongly and fiercely, sizing up the rest of the wolves, who took a few steps back but did not flee as they looked from Septimus, to their fallen leader, then back to Septimus. They could see the Alpha's blood still dripping from the man's fingertips, staining the shaft of the spear as he gripped it.
Smirking, Septimus puckering his lips, twice making a smacking sound. "Here poochie." he taunted. That was all that was needed as two of the wolves lunged forward from either side of him. Thankfully, Septimus was able to move a few feet away from the ledge, the wolves breaking their perimeter around him when their leader fell. As they closed in on him, Septimus chose the one closest to him, waiting for the wolf to make a step that could be thrown off balance. 'Remember.. Aim for the gut, only three inches, when he coughs, look for another.' Septimus thought to himself, phrases his old masters taught him throughout his youth coming to mind. Whirling the spear horizontally over his head once, he made a vertical slash down, aiming for the chest of the werewolf on his left, a blow that would cut from the left shoulder to the right hip. Before the spear could touch the wolf, and before the beast could decide which direction to jump to avoid, Septimus used his left hand, which was positioned on the lower end of the shaft on the spear, to change the direction of the spear's slash. He gripped and pushed hard at the shaft, causing the spear to suddenly change directions, now slashing from the right shoulder to the left hip. The sudden movement of the spear surprised the wolf and the blow fell true, the wolf letting loose a final howl before Septimus moved on. He brought the spear around and over his shoulder, rolling the spear along his neck before letting it slide to one hand so he could lash the spear out in a quick, whip-like attack. This attack too succeeded, the bladed slicing through the neck of the second werewolf, who gripped his neck before falling to his knees, then finally to his face. He exhaled one last time as Septimus slammed the metal butt end of the spear into the ground, the point of the weapon digging into the ground and holding it up momentarily as his hands crossed his body, his left hand reaching into a pouch on his right hip and his right hand doing the same to his left hip. He quickly pulled his hands from the pouches, his arms uncrossing as he swung his arms back. In each hand was a plumbata, the Roman darts barely visible in the darkness of the Deadlands. As he swung his arms back down, his hands crossed again, the plumbatae leaving his grip and launching toward their targets. Twin howls filled the night as the last two of the mighty night creatures were struck between the eyes by the long razor-sharp blades embedded in the darts. As the spear began to lean and fall, Septimus took hold of it's shaft, spinning it over his head once, a lot of the gore on the blade flying off, before he slid it back into it's restraints on his back. He looked down at the carnage in front of him, or at least what he could see. It was always so dark, it usually took him an entire week to fully adjust to the darkness of this world during his visits. He sighed, shaking his head as he called out into the dark.
"Malus, I am done playing with the filth of this region. Come, let us return to the Santuary, my hasta needs to be cleaned and sharpened." He spoke out, but to no one, or so it seemed. His voice carrying out into the darkness with an authority he knew would be heard.
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Post by Malus on Oct 4, 2013 15:49:46 GMT
Malus Nightrstrike moved like a wraith through the building which Septimus had been scaling the extremity of. His gaseous body had blended in with the darkness of the broken down building; the only tell-tale signs of his presence being the wings which brushed and tore through the wallpaper of the forgotten tower. His heightened predatory senses had picked up on the smaller band of werewolves making their way up through the bowels of the building in the hope they could launch an ambush upon Septimus whilst the Alpha was taking the main force against the Assassin.
Malus’ bladed sections of his wings glinted with almost dark malice as the reflected the moonlight which shined through. Moonlight didn’t affect the pure white energy which Septimus had bound him with, only other sources of light like lamps and torches; something which was rarely used in the Dim Hollow for fear of attracting attention. His leathery wings didn’t reflect the light and as he closed in on the werewolves who had just clambered up through a ruptured ceiling to the floor above, he sucked upon the darkness surrounding the building. His movement increased and he shot up the ceiling, his form quivering in the excitement of being able to open up the bellies of these feral creatures. He came up behind the one which attempted to lollop quietly along, hissing in its ear as he carved through the wolf’s back with one harsh thrust, the pointed section of the blade protruding from its front.
The other wolf continued onwards, grasping the frame of a doorway and swung itself round. Malus hissed silently to himself, hearing the fall of the alpha just a floor above them and acted quickly. He slid through the space that the wolf had taken, getting the distinct feeling that the wolf knew he was being hunted. Malus moved one bladed wing in front of the other, orienting the blade so that it was positioned across his form diagonally. The other was pulled back and he forced himself off the wall, making it creak. As the wolf was scrambling to climb through the window and up towards the floor which would place him behind the Assassin, Malus moved and wound his form around the back of the creature, slicing through the forearms and removing the ability for him to grasp the wall and pull himself up. Malus smirked to himself as he heard the howl rise from the creature as it plummeted to its demise down below, thudding to the ground with a rather satisfactory smear of blood.
Rising up from the window of the floor which he had removed the annoying puppy from, he rammed his claws into the ledge where Septimus had stood only moments before as the two howls rose up from where the Assassin had plugged the last remaining wolves and Malus clambered effortlessly onto the ledge, murmuring in his gravel-like tone. The words seemed to almost be like the darkness had been given a voice; lightly rumbling from within his throat as the pure white searchlight illuminated the Assassin from the diamond shaped slits within his face. Blood dripped continuously from his blades, creating a miniature crimson puddle upon the ledge.
“Your games cause me much trouble with the Demon Court, should they find out...”
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Post by Septimus Aelius Priscus on Oct 4, 2013 18:27:20 GMT
Septimus turned to face the gaseous being. He couldn't help but think to the first time he had met Malus, and how, if not for the gems that were in one of his pouches, the being would return to his mindless rampages of murder. Not that it was a bad thing, but uncontrolled, it unbalanced the already frail control the courts managed to muster over the Badlands. He was a threat to the very world of Dim Hollow, and both Malus and Septimus knew and enjoyed this knowledge. Although they took contracts from the courts on occasion, the Dim Hollow Assassin's Guild were ran by their own laws and punishments, and no court would dare intervene, least they become a target of the assassins themselves. Septimus smirked then, his eyes squinting slightly as the slits of the creature's eyes shown brightly upon his own.
"I doubt you will have any trouble with your court after such an incident. These wolves seem to be part of one of the wild packs of these lands. They happened across artifact that I found worthy to our cause, the Claw of Fiefdom. With this, the area around the Sanctuary should be free from many of the other bands of werewolves that hunt in our territory. Upon smelling this claw, they will know it's origin and respect the location and those who house it. It's a pretty neat little trinket. I only found out it's purpose after I took it from and they spoke of it's purpose one night while they camped." Septimus rolled a long werewolf claw between his fingers, raising it up so that Malus could see it as well. Inscribed upon the bone were different runes, each symbolizing a different pack of werewolves that ravaged the Badlands. He stopped rolling it, catching it between his pointer finger and his thumb. "Seeing as how the werewolves have been the only creatures to so far come close to finding out the location of the Sanctuary, I believe this will show results immediately. The lives of this pack were needed to be sure the safety and longevity of our cause. Their sacrifice will not be forgotten, but their foolishness will be remembered and shown to the other packs that dare to cross blades with us again.
He took a step forward, moving toward the edge again. He looked out toward the horizon as the sounds of thunder sounded int he distance. The last thing he wanted was to be caught out in the wet and cold in this barren place. He looked down, noticing a smaller building which he did not notice before not far from where his ledge was. "I shall see you at the bottom." He called out the Malus before taking a step forward, his his other foot to push off at the ledge, causing his form to lunge off the ledge. He curled his body and somersaulted in the air once, his body coming closer to the other building. Before he connected with it, he thrusted a foot out, the sole of his foot connecting with the concrete of the building and launching him downward, toward a piece of the building he was originally on. He continued to do this, jumping from one building to the other until he finally reached the bottom. As his feet touched the ground, Septimus looked up at the roof tops once more, then glanced at the ground, noticing the body of diced werewolf on the ground. He shook his head, knowing the killing technique used to end the being's life. He shook his head slightly, thinking to himself. 'Malus, you truly are one savage beast.' Another exciting day that he had not asked for, but the chance to test his thief abilities against creatures that were specialized to sniff enemies out was something he could not pass up, and his reward was worth it. He began to walk in the direction of the Sanctuary, though it was many miles away. Thankfully, the storm was to his back and slowly approaching. They would arrive at the Sanctuary just before the storm reached them.
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Post by Malus on Oct 5, 2013 0:59:27 GMT
“I have no need for such 'trinkets'.”
Malus would have frowned if he had an actual face amidst the swirling gas, yet his eye slits merely narrowedslightly. He glanced past Septimus as he neared the ledge, casting his illuminating vision down over the bodies of the Alpha wolf and then over the followers within this pack. He continued to listen to Septimus even as his form seemed to meander and sway closer to the dead forms. He would help to further leave a message, the sound of him sharpening his blades off one another as he took each hovering step closer to the now deceased pack leader. He had shown little interest in the claw since stating his lack of need or requirement for such items. Both him and Septimus knew all he needed was a direction to go and to have a fresh set of blades with which to do his Master’s bidding.
“So we were chased across these Deadlands for a claw?”
He moved one wing end to raise the chin of the Alpha slightly, just so that he could grasp a better look at the deceased visage. He smirked to himself, eyes scanning over the canines which jutted from the upper and lower lips. Using his other wing, he carefully raised the wing until he could feel the strain within his shoulders before he brought the wing down firmly upon the neck. He’d sharpened his blades recently, just enough that it would be able to pass straight through the cartilage which strengthened this species’ throat and gizzard. The head came free from the body, blood dribbling from the severed flesh and Malus raised it so he could watch the blood as it dripped down; almost with some mild fascination. Something this big had been felled so easily and with all this life-force, you’d imagine it would have handled the Assassin easily.
As he turned, he would once again have frowned at seeing the lightning within the distance. Lightning meant fires if around anything flammable. Fires meant a source of light which would mean Malus would need to take extra care. A growl ripped from his throat as he silently cursed the Assassin for scarring him with that damn gem. It certainly hindered him from being able to thrive within any sources of light; yet it meant he was freely sanctioned to kill. Malus certainly could not argue with that. He frowned and jumped from the ledge, spreading his wings so that he soared like a bullet downwards to the ground. He had the head of the Alpha clutched to his gaseous torso, masking it almost with his continually swirling body. Once he reached the ground, he looked towards where Septimus had already begun walking, his form hovering slightly over the ground now as he made his way after him; complete with “trinket”.
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Post by Septimus Aelius Priscus on Oct 8, 2013 3:04:30 GMT
"You are too serious too much of the time, my friend. Although, that is a side of you I trust. Yes, this claw was why we were chased, or rather, it is what allowed us to finish off the remainder of the troubles surrounding our new Sanctuary. If I allowed you to simply wipe them out as you saw fit, there would not have been much left of them to send a message." His eyes drifted toward the direction of the Alpha's head. "Well, at least we will have our first real trophy for the new recruits to observe. Make sure to give it a presentable appearance once we return." Septimus began to pick up his pace, not wanting to be caught in the storm. It was one of the few times those who inhabited the Badlands were able to acquire water, and they would be out in the thousands. He was not worried about the numbers, but having so many watching eyes finding out the location of the Sanctuary was far from something he wished to see happen. After another hour of walking, the rain was even closer, but Septimus could see the location of the entrance. After checking the location over twice, he did so once more, and after this task, he finally walked over to the entrance. Upon the stone was Egyptian hieroglyphic eye. He pushed the eye in, the floor beneath his feet then sliding inward, being pulled by a chain. Once locking into place, three flights of stairs began to slide from the wall directly under Septimus, which would allow himself and Malus to descend into the depths of the Sanctuary. He looked back toward Malus, smirking slightly. He was unable to hold back the fact that he was impressed with the hidden entrance to the Dim Hollow Assassins Guild Sanctuary. It had taken many smuggled slaves from the city of Anubis to complete the structure. Those from the Badlands were too wild to be tamed to work as slaves, so this was the best they could do with such little coin at the moment. This was the start of this newly founded guild, one that would rival the almighty rule of the shadows that the Tech Assassins Guild held over time. Just as before he could turn, he felt a drop of water fall onto his head. "At least we made it." (OOC: Entrance Example - ) |
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Post by Claw Greyman on Oct 8, 2013 3:31:26 GMT
The emptiness of the Badlands was looked upon as a burden by some, but as time went on Claw began to gain comfort in it. Although it meant living on the cusp of starvation, the current situation was still far better than life as a slave.. working his fingers until they were literally bleeding. The young man’s bare feet were stomping through the sandy dunes of Dim Hollow weakly, but never ceased moving. For that was the life of a Rogue. Constant movement, or death. That was the way these blood stained lands worked, and that’s how life here would always be. However, something stopped Greyman in his tracks. The booming of thunder, and it was close too. Without warning, the pale human removed his camo cap to look up at the pitch black sky. Though impossible to see any signs of rain, it didn’t stop him from trying.
Although the main source of Claw’s stresses since escape have been food, water was an even bigger concern. The second his mind reminded himself of the thirst-quenching liquid… he craved it. As his head gazed up at the darkened heavens, the albino mumbled a prayer to gods that were long deceased. “Please… let the rain fall on this day…” As Claw let words escape from his lips, he could hear his own hoarse tone. His body tricking himself into desiring the sky water more every everlasting second that dragged on. It consumed him, and literally lost sight of all else. He dropped the sum of all his belongings, and shouted up to the invisible storming clouds in a desperate roar. Then, all of a sudden heavy drops began to collide with the sand all around him. “YES!” Claw erupted, “Bless me with these gifts great Darkness!!! So that I may offer more sacrifices of blood in your name.” For a moment, Greyman lost himself in the raining water with his head falling back, and his mouth laid open catching stray droplets. It was almost as if it was breathing life back into him.
Without much more time to waste, Claw started ripping through his things! Finally he came upon an aging blue tarp, exactly what he’d been looking for! It was small, and crude… but it would work. When set up properly with his cantine, the shred of fabric worked as a makeshift funnel! Catching even more of the life preservation for him. Unknown to him though, was what lied beneath the ground he was standing on now. Only a short trek away was what appeared to be some kind of outpost in the desert. Except it was different from the others. Empty, and without even entrance. Claw didn’t even think anything of it, figuring that they must have sealed the doors to keep out looters. Greedy bastards. Not like there was a whole horde of folks out here roaming the Badlands like he has been. Without much worry for the moment, the white-haired albino chose this place to set up a temporary camp. For the time being anyway. His ragged, and starved body could use the rest. Not to mention a bath whilst all this water was just out here in the open.
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Post by Malus on Oct 8, 2013 15:43:35 GMT
“You have made my very existence a serious matter, Assassin. Perhaps the next time, more blood shall be spilt for a greater message than tonights.”
Malus shot the words back towards his friend, reminding him that the reason Malus was cautious even when violent was due to the fact that should anyone produce a light source he’d be out of existence for several days. Then who would have Septimus’ back in this dark and chaotic place? For the majority of the time, Malus had felt like a chained animal – bound to serve, with only the occasional reward of multiple homicides to keep himself sated and tamed. Were it not for this bound light source within his head, he’d most likely have led a more free life. Either way, he hovered across the ground alongside Septimus, having frown to acclimatise to his company. He didn’t really have much choice otherwise. His eyes scanned the road in front of them, casting everything in a rather eerie glow with the searchlight gaze. So far, none of the regular creatures had begun their rounds; scrambling through this desolated land in search for food and water. As he sniffed at the air, his voice rumbled a single word to Septimus before his gaze caught the first droplets falling from the sky.
“Rain.”
This simple factor seemed to relax Malus as his brain went through the logic that any lightning which caused fires would be quickly extinguished through the falling water. This visibly reflected from his form as his wings slumped slightly when the entrance to the Sanctuary was nearby. He was still vigilant, but the murderous side of him had been lowered, guard dropped for now. His gaseous hand still grasping the Alpha’s severed head, carrying it, remained doing so as he heard the clicking and whirring of the mechanism designed to open the concealed entrance to the Sanctuary do its task. Malus had been adamant that if Septimus was going to set up a guild headquarters in Dim Hollow, that the interior was to be “Malus-friendly”. This meant no lights which could exacerbate the pure white light within Malus’ gaseous head, whilst still allowing Septimus to continue his work and reading whilst inside.
Malus looked down the gloom of the stairwell with a slight tilt of his head before he’d been about to follow. Then, he heard the cry from the darkness and shot his searchlight gaze toward Septimus now, the slits in his eyes narrowing. Like any creature, Malus’ hackles began to rise, in the form of his bladed wings and he waited for Septimus’ order. The grasp Malus had upon their ‘trophy’ tightened and simply watched the Assassin for his response to what had been heard. He figured to himself that it was merely someone of the night exclaiming the relief that water had finally come to this desolated and foreboding land; but the more vigilant side of him found that the cry was too close for comfort – and must be silenced before it could reveal their location.
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Post by Septimus Aelius Priscus on Oct 8, 2013 17:16:15 GMT
"What kind of Master would I be if I did not always keep you practiced in the most dire of conditions. It is the only to keep those who possess the skills needed for an art suh as ours in their prime. Do you not agree, dear Malus?" He chuckled once more as he raised his hand above his head, the droplets ceasing to attack his face as he turned and took the first two steps. Altogether, the rain stopped as he vanished into the darkness, the walls lit only by two small magma pools that heated half of the Sanctuary. The toxic fumes were filtered out before the heat was ventilated throughout the base. The warmth quickly took over Septimus, causing him to miss the Sun from his own time. He had spent too much time away from Rome, and the Roman Assassins Guild would surly grow suspicious of his absence, even if he was their chief. He barely took three more steps before he was taken away from his thoughts by a loud sound of thunder and quickening of the rain's downpour. This would not have stopped his decent, save for the yelling that did not sound too far away from the distance.
This worried Septimus a bit. There had not been a recruit who could yet survive the combined trials Septimus and Malus were able to concoct, so the Santuary should be empty, so the yelling had to be coming from outside. He turned as he felt Malus' gaze fall upon him, the being a few steps above him. Although he was a skilled assassin his speed in this terrain was not faster then that of his shadowy counterpart and knew Malus would get there quicker. He let loose a sigh, realizing that he had been a bit too careless after their defeat over the wolves, and in his arrogance, he had allowed someone to slip within the vicinity of the Sanctuary. He could scold himself once again for letting such a small thing slip by him. He raised his head as jerked it in the direction of the sound, signaling the other chief to investigate the source of the noise. He would follow shortly after, but not before making sure the entrance was fully concealed.
Septimus rose up the steps until he was standing on the barren ground again. Turning around, He pushed again at the eye, turning it in different directions as he entered a sort of code, the door slamming shut with an audible boom, which was covered by a loud clap of thunder. He sighed once more, trying to figure out what the noise could have been and a quick and silent way to dispose of it before other beings began to come out of their shelters to find water. 'I wonder what sort of creature would dare be out before the rains even arrived. That sound came as soon as the rain appeared. What wretched soul will these tourtred lands cast our way now?' he thought to himself as he dashed toward the sound, his hand at the hilt of his gladius.
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Post by Claw Greyman on Oct 10, 2013 0:38:05 GMT
As the rain continued to gravitate back to the earth, the lost slave chose to live it up while he could. His pale skin was caked with dirt in some places, and spatters of other people’s blood in others. Both washed off nicely in the downpour though, and with it the gruesome memories of those fallen in the badlands. Claw’s head hung low now, and his hair easily soaked up the falling water. By now his entire body was slick with moisture, and wasted no time in stripping his leather canteen of it’s jerry-rigged funnel. He had an undying thirst to quench, just like any wild animal would. Finally his mind would be able to move on from it. Almost at once, the starving human slammed his entire bottle of rain water, without even savoring it’s taste. There was no use in such things, since frankly… this liquid was basically the rankest of rank. Still though, Greyman’s gut wouldn’t turn an inch from it. Not in his condition.
With a rabid shake of his head, a flurry of water droplets exploded off of his form, and began to unzip his now drenched hoodie. After the removal of his tattered jacket, he began to lather up his body with the free sky water as long as he could. Although showers in this area were heavy, there were usually very sporadic. A rainstorm would literally pour gallon upon gallon all at once like it was now, and then suddenly cease… and move on. Claw could feel the pace of the rain slowing, and desperately tried to take advantage of it. With his guard completely down, the young albino was making a good effort of even cleaning at the undersides of his dirty fingernails. Then, as if all at once the fat drops ceased gracing their presence with the ground, and Claw stood there to watch it happen. The last glimmer of hope might as well have just extinguished itself right there before his eyes, because at that moment the human was starting to lose it.
“Noo…” Claw murmured, and simultaneously balled his hands into fists. “No, let this blessing continue to fall upon my head…” With storm still raging over head, his attention was focused solely on the sky for the moment. It was as if this lowly slave was trying to challenge the god’s to a foul staring contest. A look of building rage consumed the man’s facial features, and his nostrils angrily flared in unison. “How dare you strip me of this, as well as the loving SUN!” The albino screamed again, and quickly scrambled downward for the hilt of his claymore. With an undirected hatred, and deep-rooted deprivation in his heart Claw began to wildly beat the wet sand beneath his feet. Everyday in the Badlands has been a manifestation of his own personal hell, and was starting to chip away at the man’s sanity. In his blind rage, Claw had undoubtly given away his position. That was something he wasn’t concerning himself with though, it’s not like he had the training to be considering such things. His focus was just making it through another night of living in the darkened wasteland.
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Post by Malus on Oct 10, 2013 13:59:14 GMT
The gaseous predator needed no command or order for what he was about to do. The speed at which he moved through the darkness was like a hot knife through butter; practically gliding his way towards the source. He closed his slits, denying his prey any chance of foresight to his arrival. If this intruder was well-trained, then the last thing they would want is to give them the upper hand. Besides, Malus knew these lands like the back of his wing. With his eyes closed, he raised one wing to brush aside a set of branches which looked like they could have done with better care, whilst the other propelled him onwards. He could smell the creature through the rain now. It was interesting really, the rain that is; Malus had come to learn the unique scent and tension within the air just before its arrival and also once it had passed. The only difference now would be whether this creature’s life-force would be added to the pools upon the ground, creating another “reminder” to people. Septimus would most likely still give the order on whether or not this creature was to be harmed, mostly due to the proximity of the Sanctuary so close, but Malus in the end would most likely arrive there before the Assassin had even begun to run towards the sound; the locking mechanism of the entrance being so intricate.
He emerged just as the rain stopped, shrouding himself in the darkness as he heard the scream of rage from the figure practically bent over in a pool of water. A snarl rose from Malus as he carefully scanned his prey from the distance he was. Using his shrouding ability, he drew closer, enabling only whatever sounds he chose to make to give any inclination as to where he was. When he was within ten feet, he decided he would play a little scare tactic. That should be all that was needed with this one: just a poor unfortunate who was adapting to life within these dead plains. By the look upon the figure’s face, it wouldn’t take much to scare him. Malus hissed first of all before bringing both his wings forward in front of him. Carefully, he began sharpening the blades off one another in such a way that only sparks would have been seen through the shroud he’d covered himself with. The pools of water reflected the sparks and Malus growled towards the person, his voice like darkness personified. He chose to make the words flood all around the creature but ensured the sparks were visible from only his location.
“Drip, drop goes the sound of blood.”
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Post by Amelia Khemse on Oct 10, 2013 23:54:40 GMT
Amelia slowly sunk back into the shadows a the man before her began to yell. Her amber eyes scanned the area around them, surely someone had hear the mans wail. She fixed her eyes back on the small man in front of her. 'I could finish him now...or I could just let the Hollow do its own work. He can't possibly last much longer on his own.' She thought to herself. At that exact moment her head snapped up, sensing a fast approaching presence. A growl was forming in the back of her throat before she cut it off, not wanting to be noticed. 'I hate being interrupted.' Amelia crouched down onto her haunches and put one hand on the ground in-front of her to steady herself. Sniffing the air she couldn't pin point the creature which only added to her irritation. Digging her nails into the dirt she scanned the area slowly, sensing that whatever creature that had been heading toward her prey was out there somewhere.
Her eyes snapped up when she saw the sparks coming from the darkness in-front of the man. 'Ah a shroud is it?' Sniffing the air again she smelled something else on the wind, a second creature heading toward them. Another growl almost escaped her lips as she closed her eyes. Opening them again slowly she noticed there was something unfamiliar about the second creatures smell, something other worldly. 'A foreigner...in Dim Hollow..how interesting.' She thought to herself. Maybe accepting this stupid rogue assassination contract wasn't such a bad deal after all. A smile slowly spread across her face as she decided to see how the scene in-front of her played out before she revealed herself.
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