Almund is a thriving township with a dark side. With houses made from the wooden bodies of decommissioned ships, there are many opportunities here, coupled with many dangers.
"Disgusting, isn't it Drake?" the cloaked Avriel spoke as he walked through Almund, talking to the crow that sat nicely on his shoulder. Of course, he didn't expect a response from the bird, it was merely there to talk to and at times fight. While Drake was in no way a combatant bird, the Blight had bigger plans for the creature. One Crow would not be enough for the man, not for what he had planned. But as of right now Drake was the only pet the Avriel needed. After all, he wasn't a good conversationalist, but the bird could listen - and Draven rarely had someone to talk to.
"Humans gather here, sit and eat, fuck and sleep - all in this small town. It almost makes me sick" he rasped with a sharp and vicious voice, deep green eyes looking out at the men and women around him. While Almund was more to the mans liking than most other places, it was still more populated than he would like. Draven couldn't explain what it was, but something about most of the people around filled him with hate. Sighing lightly in to the evening light, he turned and walked towards a small alleyway, resting against the wall in it.
A loud caw left the mouth of the Crow, a smirk creeping on to the Avriels face. "Agreed" he muttered, no care if anyone could hear him talking to a bird. Whatever Drake said, he was certain that it was something that the Blight would agree with. It wouldn't be far-fetched to imagine that the bird was speaking poorly of the people around. After all, with the time it spent with Draven, some cynicism would have to have been picked up.
Lowering his cloak for a few trills, Draven let the air blow over his feathers again. While the outfit wasn't uncomfortable, the man had to admit to hating the need to hide his appearance from those that didn't look too close. Even some people would notice, but something about the use of clothes made the outfit seem more friendly. Under the cloak, however, was the same rag that was always worn. Perhaps men and women assumed the Blight was a slave? That thought made the man scoff. As if he could be enslaved.
Glancing back for a trill, Draven saw a silhouette approach, a smirk on his face. Perhaps he could have some fun on this trial.
“There you are,” Navyri prowled along the rooftop, feathers prickling in delight. Her wings were still very sore, aching against her back as she edged along the awning with animalistic focus. The hot rays of the suns poured over her feathers, beads of sweat building along the small of her back under the weight of plumage. Gripping the stone edge, she watched the figure weave between the crowds, looking over his shoulder. Lifting up, she ran and jumped to the next rooftop, lowering herself once more before creeping along.
“Run, run, as fast as you can,” she whispered, flashes of Curio’s visions playing in her mind as he soared through the skies monitoring the guards and what streets they were on. Her opening was clear. She lightened her footsteps, and then looked down, cursing under her breath at a second cloaked figure she hadn’t been expecting. He was muttering to himself, a bird on his shoulder. She furrowed her brow, words dying as she said them, “If I can’t have you, nobody can.”
Navyri didn’t always see others with avian friends and leaned forward, but her original target was moving quickly, still glancing over his shoulder. He clearly didn’t know where she was and hadn’t seen the other man just yet. He still clutched the box. It was time.
Like an angel of death, she descended.
Jumping from the rooftop, she pounced upon the target, her leather boots slamming upon his shoulders and back as her wings expanded to lighten her fall and darken out the sun. Shadows hide her features, nearly morphing her face and its pleasure as her victim slammed face first into a piss stained wall. The box skidded across the cobblestone.
She drew her tamo dagger and before he could even move, she rammed the heel of her palm against his jaw and lifted the blade. Violently she brought it down. Once in the neck. Twice in the chest. The metal scrapped against his rib cage, the vibrations ravaged her arm. Stupid. Son. Of. A. Bitch. Blood sprayed and pooled, coating her arms.
The body stopped moving, and her head snapped upwards, blue eyes glowing in the darkness. They pinned themselves on the bird man, staring at his cloak and the peeking of rags beneath the fabric. A beggar? And of course… the face. The wings… What an ugly Avriel. Easy.
White wings pulled back, closing with a satisfying ache and with a sucking sound, the Naer yanked her blade free from the fresh corpse. Her face devoid of emotion, she cocked her head, eyeing this man’s body language and stepped forward, blade still drawn. Time to get rid of the witness.
She began to close the distance.
word count: 474
"At last. It has been too long since I have walked the face of this world. Too long have I been locked there, awaiting my champion to release me. My champion... This is you, daughter of Audrae. You have, whether knowingly or not, released me from my self imprisonment, and are here to fulfill the destiny I have seen written in the tapestry of nature. You, daughter of Audrae's daughter, will be my foothold in this world." - Belaera to The Nightingale, after the 600 arc imprisonment
As the strange figure approached, Draven noticed the dagger in her hands, glimmering in the darkness of the alley. What had started as a smirk became an audible chuckle, the hideous beast looking to the evidently womanly figure as she came closer. "Pretty little dagger for a pretty little girl. You plan on killing someone with that?" he said, audible enough that anyone around the edges of the alley could hear him, his voice slithering through the small street and making it's way in to the ears of a few around.
"Such nice wings, too" he started, looking over her white wings before moving his own a little as if to display them. The figure had already seen his form in almost all of its nightmare-inducing glory, why not show off just a little? After all, the girl was blessed to be in the presence of the Blight for however long her life lasted. Some died within five minutes of seeing that face, and most never saw the face at all. Death was the mans art, and he was renowned for making some of the most beautiful pictures Idalos had ever seen. Every death, after all, would send a message.
I'm coming for you, Edasha. First the mortals, then you.
As the shadow came close enough, Draven waited patiently, his talons in front of him and his back stood up straight. Horrific wings spread across the alley while dark, pestilent eyes glared over the women. This man was, to most, a disease. A plague on their towns, a monster that would take their family and slaughter them mercilessly. Any that had seen him knew his name, and some that hadn't heard of it. While not many spoke of him, the few victims he let live would speak his name for the rest of eternity.
"Well, little girl. Now it is just us, and the street knows what might happen down this alleyway. While I doubt many would miss me, let me ask you this."
Blades: Angle Your Blade to Pierce a Rib Cage
Blades: Expect Vibrations when Stabbing
Blades: How to Cut a Throat
Acrobatics: How to Gauge your Landing
Unarmed Combat: How to Tackle From Above
Stealth: Get Rid of Witnesses
Loot....................
None
Consequence......
None
Renown..............
None
Experience...........
15
Hm. It seems like it could have been an interesting thread. Lack of inspiriation though almost guarentees it would have been rough, so probably better it ended before it began. At last there are points!
