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Post by Dainn Haskett Vindalfr on Mar 4, 2014 23:11:33 GMT
The Shuck was happy to be home. The Shuck was more than happy to be home. The Shuck was thrilled to be home. Quite ecstatic really. In these grotesque winding streets and hollow houses there was so much...excitement for him, so much energy. The Shuck was alive with it. Alive with potential. Brimming with creativity. The bars had been broken, the cages were stripped apart and he was free. He was home. After so many years nothing looked out of place, it was like he'd never even left.
The Tiro was hung with care. His head was held up in place perfectly by ropes that were tied from the top of the guttering and down round his neck, snaking, overlapping, biting. His head was resting against the stone wall of the house, his matted hair tumbled down the back of his head as his face was visibly bared in the moonlight. The eyes of the Tiro were closed, his mouth hanging open slightly. He looked...peaceful, like he was sleeping. His arms were outstretched, embracing the world from his raised vantage point. They too, were tied. His legs were allowed to dangle freely, and at times were often rocking gently as a breeze came through.
There was a dripping sound.
It echoed loudly.
He was raised at least two meters off the ground, allowing a gentle swinging motion. The ropes were creaking with the movement whenever it occurred. The Tiro's shadow that cast itself in the light of the almost-full moon was distorted slightly, thanks to it's owner position. Nevertheless, delicate actions had been taken to assured he looked nothing but perfection. Coupled with the sounds of the ropes and the dripping, he looked...
The Shuck released a long exhale.
...beautiful, really. The way his head hung, the way the wind caught his body and especially the way he so suited the colour red. It really did go well with his uniform. True, the colour had gone everywhere; the walls, the floor, a nearby bench and indeed, on The Shuck too. But in the end, it all helped to make the canvas look that much more splendid.
Dainn was standing a few feet back, hands in his pockets, head raised, face in a calm, musing expression. He had to be careful now; he had a nasty habit of not knowing when to leave a perfect painting be, the temptation to add more and more was overwhelming him, but sometimes you just had to step back, pat yourself on the back and say 'Yes. I did a good job today.'
Still...it felt like something wasn't right, or that something was missing.
It couldn't of been how the meat was cut. The reason the Tiro's head hung back so much was because the gash on his neck was so wide and so gaping, Dainn had nearly accidentally cleaved the entire thing off. That would've been a disaster. No...as it was, the neck looked fine. More than fine. Perfect. The slice across the belly? No, that was impeccable; Dainn had gone through a lot of trouble and put in a lot to make sure what was hidden beneath the Tiro's stained uniform was exactly how he'd envisioned.
What was missing?
Dainn had stood there for ten minutes, wiping his hands on a soiled napkin, trying to work out what wasn't there but needed to be there. He couldn't leave his work until he'd figured out what it was. He made a clicking sound with his tongue, ideas being expelled from his mind more quickly than they had appeared. His eyes went searching; he couldn't leave the area, so whatever he needed had to be in his vicinity and close to-
Ah.
Perfect.
On a nearby wall hung a poster. Dainn sidled up to it, "Good evening, handsome." he cooed to the sketched portrait that glared back at him with the softest of smiles. The words of the poster were in bold, grand writing, and Dainn read them with a quiet, soft voice, "'Caution - do not under any circumstances approach this man' yada yada yada 'extremely dangerous' yada yada yada 'report immediately to nearest guard or Drakonr'- Perfect." In a swift motion, he snatched the poster and ripped it from the wall, the sound of crumbled paper shattering the silence.
Slowly but purposefully, he strode back to his masterpiece, carefully ripping desired parts of the poster, humming the tune to 'Oranges and Lemons' as he worked. An old favourite of his. Once he'd torn around the sections he wanted, he grabbed a nearby crate that had obviously been used to unload goods from an airship, as it was light enough for him to carry. Carrying the box, he plonked it down underneath the hanging legs of the suspended young man and climbed on top, heavy boots thudding against the wood. In his left hand, he held the image of his sketched counterpart, and they both mirrored each other's expression. Dainn raised his hand and slipped it underneath the Tiro's uniform so that he was now touching the skin of the boy's stomach. He felt warm still, and wet. The noises of grotesque squelching as Dainn maneuvered the picture into the correct place were drowned out by the sound of his tune, now emerging from his lips and a whistle.
Once he was satisfied, Dainn withdrew his now red hand, dismounted the box and stood back. Almost there. Almost. Just one...more...thing.
In the pool of crimson liquid that had materialized underneath the hanging figure, Dainn lowered himself to drop the shred of poster that was in his right hand.
The word 'Drakonrhedi' quickly turned red and sunk to the bottom of the puddle.
Now it was completely and utterly perfect.
All Dainn had to do was removed the crate and find a suitable spot for himself. He disposed the box (which now had faints flecks of red on the top) in a nearby alleyway and slipped into the darkness. For a while, the street was still, quiet, peaceful. The only sounds were constant 'drip drip dripping' and the occasional straining creak of ropes.
After a couple of minutes, movement on the roof opposite the suspended Tiro.
Dainn had reemerged on the slates, hidden behind a protruding chimney breast, looking down at the street below and - of course - his handiwork. It looked even better from this angle.
The Shuck was thrilled to be home.
Tags: any drakonrhedi i guess. I DUNNO JOIN DA PARTAI,
Notes: So yeah I turns out I quite like writing for crazy bastards.
warning for gore? probably should've put that at the beginning.
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Post by Kaelan Avallochson on Mar 5, 2014 1:04:42 GMT
    Darkness filled the streets; its tendrils weaving in and out between the buildings, filling and covering all in its path. It went on, broken only by the pinpricks of light that came from the heavens and a stray lamp or two that glowed brightly that it forced it to shy away from it otherwise unbroken path. The shops of the Plaza had long since closed by their keepers, and the noise of the city long since died out as people went to the comfort of their homes. The stillness filled the air, enveloping everything and everyone in its grasp. Kaelan walked on, his steps quiet, as if he was trying not to disturb the hush that seemed so loud in his ears. A breeze swept through the street, ruffling his hair and finding its way to exposed flesh. He brought his light jacket closer about his body before he shifted the quiver on his shoulder into a more comfortable position. A bow was strapped to his back as well, but it wasn’t his usual longbow, seeing as that would be a hindrance in the streets. No, this was a perfect size for an outing in the great floating city. He should have been back at the inn hours ago, but had gotten lost in the maze of buildings. It was rather easy to get lost in this place. There were so many dead-ends and turnabouts that made one lose one’s bearings, and when that happened there was nothing to do but keep going until one found something that was recognizable. In the darkness, Kaelan had realized how much harder that was, but he had found the right street (he hoped) and would be able to make the rest of his way back to the inn. A sudden wall rose up before him and he let out a quiet sigh. Nope, this wasn’t where he had wanted to go. Turning around, he doubled back on himself and took a right down a street he had passed earlier. Kaelan shifted, hoping that he’d be able to get a better sense of everything in his leopard form. His paws padded noiselessly on the hard ground. Everything seemed to grow brighter as his eyes took in the little light and used it to his advantage. A plethora of sounds assaulted his ears that he hadn’t been able to hear before. A mouse scampered along the base of the wall before it disappeared as he passed and he could hear the drip, drip, drip of water. But it was what he smelled that made him stop cold in his tracks. The heavy metallic odor of blood permeated the air, making him wish he hadn’t shifted as he nearly gagged. This much blood could only mean one thing: someone or something had been killed. Kaelan took a few tentative steps forward, knowing that he’d have to investigate even though his fluttering heart was telling him different. He lifted his nose slightly and began to follow the scent slowly, wishing that it was just some trick and would fade away in a moment. But it didn’t, and he kept going. The drip, drip, drip grew louder as he turned a corner. His eyes widened and he could feel the blood drain from his face. There, hanging a number of yards away, was a young man. A gash had opened his abdomen and another adorned his neck, both weeping scarlet. A breeze picked up, making the young man sway and more droplets fall to the growing pool beneathe the unfortunate’s feet. Blood spattered the walls, the ground, and everything about the hanging man. Kaelan felt himself tremble as he took a hesitant step to the wall opposite the hanging body and began his slow approach. Shifting out of his form, he stay pressed against the wall before his lips parted in horror before they curled in disgust. The murdered was a Tiro. Kaelan had seen him on the deck of the Drakonborg a number of times. He didn’t know his name, in fact he didn’t know much about him, but the fact that someone would go and murder a member of the Drakonrhedi stunned Kaelan. Were they being targeted for some reason? He knew that there were people who despised the Drakonrhedi, but would they go as far as killing them? The gruesome picture in front of him told him that yes, they would, if it had been them who had killed this Tiro. If not, he had no idea who would or why. For a moment longer his eyes were locked on the hanging body that had been mutilated by some unknown person. What if that was him hanging there dead? What if he had been the poor soul instead of the unfortunate passerby? Who would miss him? Who would even care? Who would miss this particular Tiro? Kaelan wouldn’t. Kaean didn’t know him except by sight. But this, this would forever be burned into his head. He just hoped it wouldn’t plague him and he’d be able to brush it away. Kaelan took a step back. There was nothing to be done now, nothing but find the inn. For in finding the inn, he would find other Drakonrhedi who would actually know what to do. He shifted back to his animal form, his ears twitching to pick up any other sound but the dribbling blood. He started to move away, relief washing over him as he turned his back on the sight. His heart was still fluttering in his chest as he took several steps before he stopped once more as something occurred to him. The blood. It wasn’t dried. It still flowed freely. This had happened not long ago. The murderer could still be around. Kaelan swiped his tongue nervously over his lips. No, the murderer was long gone. After all, who would stay at the scene of the crime when there was a chance of being discovered? There was nothing to be afraid of. Kaelan continued on. Tags: Dainn Haskett VindalfrInspiration: This lovely table Wild made me, and your awesome charrie. Notes: Tralalala. --- Table made by Wild!
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Post by Kai Raske on Mar 7, 2014 14:34:45 GMT
  The Drakonrhedi was actually quite invested in the night. He was technically a medic, but he was still a Drakonrhedi. He knew his way around weapons, plus he had a wonderful Vivian flying overhead to make sure everything was all right. This night was rather atypical for Kai: there was not often running across the walls that surrounded the city, scouting the interior perimeter for anything that could be happening. The Vanguard often had a handful of Drakonrhedi around Midgardborg, some in the city proper, others checking to make sure nothing went awry. However, Kai was most definitely not in the Vanguard, but he was more than happy to tag along with the little escapade. He also knew that a handful of Stalkers were in the city, but they were almost always hidden from everyone but each other. Right in the moment, however, there was a sudden change in her behavior. The change was subtle, but the bristle of attention reminded Kai that this was not just a playful time to goof around; this was an actual mission. The distant sounds of family and love and laughter was all he should need to keep himself happy. Delve into the sounds, live in them. A family cooking dinner. Or was that two families in two different houses? Their loud talking was penetrating the house. Perhaps fighting, but Kai wanted to think of it as a joyful evening, far from the horrors that lie in the real world. A couple of friends still enjoying the cool evening weather, drinking the remains of their drinks and watching the stars for a moment before lamenting their history and lives in the ever-peaceful night. The distant sounds of loud children, running through the back alleyways and what seemed to be a "catch me if you can" type of game. The children brought Kai from a thoughtful place to a slightly more present, cheerful place. The laughter was mixed in with all of the other sounds that were so terribly quiet, but it was still quite distinct if one was willing to take the time to follow its path back home. A distant humming in the background as a man enjoyed himself on a quiet evening night, the humming wasn't necessarily quick, but it was lively. An artist? Musician? Perhaps simply a man happy with life. The echoing drip of water was... Not water. Too thick. Oil paints, probably. So he was a painter. Curiously, Kai cast a thought to the children of the city: how many of them, right now, were aware of the Drakonrhedi that guarded them? How many of them were aware of the Hrafnung that were the silent angels of the city? How many of them were aware of the world that lie beyond? Too many, too few. Oh, the delicacies with children. But there was a new sound to be heard! The sound was organic though. A butcher perhaps? Not a thought Kai particularly enjoyed, but he would spare a thought to it; he enjoyed meat just as much as the next viking. Where was it coming from? The same place as the oil painter? That was... Odd. The dripping was too fast. Paint doesn't drip. It ruins the painting. The pieces clicked in Kai one by one. His body figured it out a second before he did, as he was already jumping off the wall to run across the roofs of the line of houses. Most Drakonrhedi typically would either mount their drake or just navigate the city, but as there was a type of subtlety to be had, and there was a very annoying lack of direction that Kai innately had, roofs were the easiest way to go. He was close. Thirty seconds or so of navigating the sloped, slippery gauntlet. On the ground, it would probably take about the same amount of time (less than that if you were good at running), but Kai felt the risk of falling was less than the risk of getting horrendously lost. Rescue was supposed to come in at the perfect time, not two hours late. There. Kai found it. The smell of blood was in the air, if diluted. There was a body hanging, horrifically mutilated. The abdomen seemed particularly mutilated. Kai had no time to spare thoughts of the man, as there was another, living man in front of the body. If he was the killer... Well, Kai certainly hoped he wasn't. With a grunt, the man jumped from the roof and hid the ground with a thud. After a brief moment, he popped back up and raised an eyebrow at the much younger man in front of him. "I'm going to assume you're not the killer. Tiros don't typically kill Tiros is such... Horrific manners."He had never met either of them, but from the dealings he had on the Drakonborg, he'd definitely seen the two around. A shame one of them was dead, but certainly good that the other wasn't. "Name and rank, please? Iduneus Kai Raske here. Medic... Though that won't be helping him."Tags: Athuraadd Fallonkreath Kaelan AvallochsonInspiration: Xochipilli Notes: so i foreshadowed the past in my post. i am so good at this. (In all seriousness, terribly, terribly sorry about the delay!) Table made by Wildsky. |
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Post by Dainn Haskett Vindalfr on Mar 7, 2014 20:59:27 GMT
The smell of his work had reached Dainn's nostrils; that thick, intoxicating scent of death. It was like wafting a pot of vanilla under his nose, Dainn could feel his senses getting drunk off the smell. He was taking long, slow breaths now, engulfing the aroma, eyes closed in ecstasy.
How he'd missed this.
Everyone had a different scent according to Dainn, but like a fruit, sometimes you had to slice it open to fully appreciate it. This young Tiro, suspended beautifully in the stillness of the night, smelt sweet, almost sugary. However, with a slight melancholy, Dainn realised that -in time- this still Drakonrhedi would satisfy him no longer. The scent would grow boring. The painting would become bland. So much effort spent for too little a payment. But right now, he was thoroughly content. When the excitement of his current masterpiece rotted away, he would hunt again. The city was his playground.
Dainn hunted for different reasons of course; he didn't just limit himself to expending all his talents on idle shows of creativity, although it was incredibly enjoyable. No, others factors came into it too. One such factor that was beginning to hatch deep inside his gut was-
His stomach gave a soft grumble.
Dainn raised a curious eyebrow and pursed his lips in thought.
That's right...he hadn't eaten since his last prison meal, although such a title was hardly deserving of nothing but a plate beholding one single, crusty bread roll, something which had long since been ingested anyway. His stomach was empty and gurgling for attention, and Dainn would endeavor to satisfy it. The city wasn't just his playground, but it was now his pantry as well. His crisp eyes scoured the rooftops for any sign of life. The meat had to be fresh; Dainn wouldn't lower himself to be a common scavenger, picking off the sustenance from some other person's efforts. No, he was far too proud for such a thing. Besides, he was more than capable and willing to find his own-
The Shuck smelt the boy before he saw him.
The scent came on the slight puff of breeze as it rolled in, briefly masking the aroma of the hanging Tiro. But this smell was a little more curious; it was definitely male, Dainn was sure of it, but entangled among the other tendrils of scents was one that Dainn recognised as...fur? Not dog fur or rat fur, something feline. But big.
A small, coy smile strained Dainn's lips with the faintest of touches.
Someone shifted.
True enough, moments later, a leopard slunk slowly into his line of vision, approaching cautiously as (Dainn realised with mental exaltation) he too gazed upon the splattered canvas. Dainn lowered his head, eyes darkening with the shadow of his lowered face as his smile slowly began to increase. Come on, kitty, show me who you really are. The leopard paused briefly, and then shifted into a young man, but not just any young man, as Dainn gleefully came to discover.
Another Drakonrhedi.
Dainn nearly salivated. He took another deep inhale through his nose, the skin on his neck tightening over his muscles as Dainn reveled in the scent of this newcomer. He was a slight young man, not much meat on his bones at all, almost scrawny. But Dainn was an opportunist, and this young man's fearful stance made him so much more appealing. Dainn couldn't see his face at this point; the young man had pressed himself up against the opposite wall to his fallen comrade and Dainn didn't dare risk coming to the edge of his rooftop just to peer down upon him, lest his encroaching shadow gave his position away.
But still...
It was so tempting, and it would be so easy. He could just drop down and have the young man hacked in less than a few minutes. How marvelous it would be, thought Dainn, to have the image of one hanging Tiro and then have his ally lying but a few feet away, picked clean. Dainn would get his perfect painting, his stomach would be filled. Everybody wins.
Well, almost everybody.
Suddenly the sound of footsteps fast approaching from behind broke all his focus on sudden feats of ambush and Dainn quickly flattened his body against the chimney breasts, assimilating himself into the shadow. A figure lurched past and -oh my gods it was another Drakonrhedi perfect - came to stop at the edge of the roof, his sight seemingly baring down upon the scene below. The breath hitched in Dainn's throat, going silent, but a dark grin creased his face as he watched. It was another young man, although he looked slightly older than the other, so he must've been ranked higher than a Tiro, Dainn suspected. Wonderful, Dainn mused, a bit more of a challenge this time. But just as quickly as he arrived, the Drakonrhedi jumped down, hitting the ground with a soft thud. Dainn advanced forward slightly, boots slowly creaking against the slate-work.
One new Drakonrhedi was good enough, but two was even better. There was fun to be had here, and Dainn was sure to lap up every single bit of it. As he walked, he shifted, boots and hands turning into large, black paws. His muzzle hung open and dripped saliva, smile remaining even now, although it was more of a mental grin than an aesthetic one. Neverthless, his rubber-lined canine lips were pulled up, teeth long and jagged, catching the blurred light of the moon. In this form, illusions played an important part of his image and he was so used to performing such tricks they were conjured immediately whenever he shifted, out of habit. His eyes grew into large, white saucers, of which appearance he'd borrowed some inspiration from the moon, enjoying the way they reflected light so brilliantly and effectively. His two upper canines grew thicker and began to mould themselves in a way that made them look more like pincers than teeth. Of course, Dainn could perform more tricks to add to his appearance, but on an empty stomach, that proved a little more difficult, but his current state was desirable enough.
This was the Shuck.
Just then, the voice of the older Drakonrhedi shattered the blissful silence.
"I'm going to assume you're not the killer. Tiros don't typically kill Tiros is such... Horrific manners."
Dainn nearly laughed at such a ridiculous suggestion; as if a Tiro was capable of pulling of such magnificent work. Dainn's technique was unique, unmatched and perfect. Far beyond the skill of what a Drakonrhedi -let alone a Tiro- could achieve. Such a concept was laughable. But Dainn manage to restrain a chuckle, instead choosing to run a long, wet tongue over the top layer of his bared teeth. He stood stock still with his front paws on the edge of the roof, back end raised slightly with the slope. His eyes shone so brightly that his teeth reflected some of the light, hazily glowing themselves, if only faint.Tags: Kaelan Avallochson, Kai Raske
Notes: /defiantly the only one without a table
Also, I have a horrible feeling this post if riddled with typos, if it is and this post sucks I'm I'M SOWWY. |
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Post by Kaelan Avallochson on Mar 9, 2014 0:44:06 GMT
He’d almost missed it. The scent of blood nearly masked the smell of someone else. A man, Kaelan could tell, the murderer most likely. It was fresh, but gave an unpleasant tang to the air. He lifted his nose, singling it out from the other odors, before he glanced back at the body. Turning, he took a small step and paused. The person was close, but there was too much blood to really be able to tell where the source was. He should leave while he could. If the man was close, then maybe he already knew Kaelan was there. Maybe he was planning on committing another murder: Kaelan’s. The Tiro wasn’t too keen on that idea. He’d like to be able to keep his life, thank you very much. Kaelan looked back at the body, anger more than fear coursed through his veins this time. Who could do such a thing? Who could kill another human being in such cold blood? He understood killing someone in defense or if the person deserved to die. But this? This was neither. This was someone’s idea of a game, someone’s enjoyment of killing. It was a show. A warning, perhaps, and if the killer wasn’t stopped, it would probably happen again. Kaelan’s ear’s flicked back suddenly as footsteps interrupted his thoughts. The person was moving fast and in his direction, up and behind. The Tiro shifted, facing the roof behind him as his hands went to his waist for his dirks. A shadow appeared on the edge of the roof. The person examined the scene below him before he dropped with a thud to the ground. The man was a Drakonrhedi. Good. Kaelan released his grip on the dirks and let his hands hang by his sides. "I'm going to assume you're not the killer. Tiros don't typically kill Tiros is such... Horrific manners." Waitwhat? Did he just seriously say that? Had the Iduneus actually thought that Kaelan had murdered that Tiro? Oh yeah, because he totally looked like a murderer. Kaelan’s eyes narrow slightly, and something harsh rose to lips. He bit it back at the last second, thinking better of it. This was not his place to say something like that. There was still a killer to be caught. "Name and rank, please? Iduneus Kai Raske here. Medic... Though that won't be helping him." No duh. So glad you could see that. “Kaelan Avallochson. Tiro. It’d be rather apparent if I was killer, wouldn’t you agree?”He’d be covered in blood after all. Something like that was not easy to miss. Besides, he’d not be able to kill in cold blood. Someone else may be able to, but he never would. The day he did would be the day he was no longer himself. Kaelan shifted back to his animal form, much preferring it at the moment. The Iduneus’ smell washed over him, but it couldn’t cover the sharp odor of iron that permeated the air. (He felt as if he’d have to wash more than once to get rid of the smell later.) The scent of the other man was still there, but hidden under the others. Kaelan picked it out once more but realized that it was getting stronger. Was the person coming back? Why was that? A movement up on the roof that the Iduneus, Kai, had jumped down from caught his attention. It was a dog, on odd looking dog. Kaelan felt his hackles rise, half from fear, and half from anger. The scent was coming from this thing. It was the killer. Kaelan bore his teeth, his eyes locked on the thing. It probably wasn’t a good idea, but there was no avoiding this now. The thing may end up pursuing them and hunting them down anyway. He just hoped it wouldn’t. Kaelan shifted once more. If there was going to be a fight, he was much better in his human form than his animal, and he could actually fire his bow. He removed the bow from his back and strung it quickly; his left hand ready to pull an arrow from the quiver if the need arose. |
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Post by Kai Raske on Mar 9, 2014 22:32:04 GMT
"Kaelan Avallochson. Tiro. It'd be rather apparent apparent if I was the killer, wouldn't you agree?"Kai let a small sigh out and shook his head. "Not in the slightest. Illusions can work wonders on the horrors that happen. I have no idea what you can do, so you could easily be the killer, hiding a dagger at your side, ready for me to turn my back." But the voice that came from the man was not the voice that he heard earlier, and luckily for him, illusions were pretty bad at covering up sounds. Kaelan seemed to sense something, and Kai raised a brow, looking towards the area that the leopard was looking. Kai quickly slipped the dagger out, though it seemed rather lackluster as it was. The killer was probably smart. If not, then they would be able to escape easily, the killer most likely no match for the power of two Drakonrhedi. But this... This slain Tiro was so artfully decorated, though Kai loathed to say that. This was more than just a killer, wasn't it? This was someone who killed this Tiro with a horrific purpose. Whether that purpose was the lust for death that controlled them, or the horrific commands of someone above them, Kai had no idea. But regardless, there was a type of caution he and Kaelan needed to take. The man who caused this was... Well, let's just say that there wasn't too much that. "I'm gonna go take a look at the body... Shout or say something or throw your knife if whatever you saw makes a move. Or if I'm about to die. Whatever works." Of course, Vivian was close by too. Probably close enough for whoever killed the man to hear the quiet flapping of wings or (if she was stupid enough) her attempts to walk quietly across the roofs. Viv, you're not -nearly- as light as I am, Kai thought to himself with a bit of smirk. To everyone else, he seemed to be smiling ridiculously as he approached the body. Perhaps not his best move, but it would have to do regardless. After all, he desperately hoped that Kaelan didn't think he was the killer. That would be messy. The slice on the neck was more than enough to kill him. Easily past the the carotid arteries, so that would definitely kill him by itself. Since Kai was no examiner, he had no idea as to how long the body had been dead, nor if the cut was postmortem or antemortem. Judging by body temperature... Not too long. He was still warm. The clothing looked tampered with as well, but Kai didn't feel too comfortable dealing with that. He needed his hands free to fight effectively, not stuck in a dead body with someone's bloody over them. "Too bad I'm just a cat in my animal form. A leopard would be pretty handy if a fight came to it, eh?" Tags: Athuraadd Fallonkreath Kaelan AvallochsonInspiration: Dream Theater - A Dramatic Turn of Events Notes: so. have a short, bad post where kai continues to not care about dead bodies. Table made by Wildsky. |
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Post by Dainn Haskett Vindalfr on Mar 9, 2014 23:56:07 GMT
Somewhere, deep in the bowels of the city, a clock chimed midnight.
Dainn felt the reverberations of the gongs in his feet, in his fingers, inside his chest. Loud, pressing and signifying the start of Dainn's grand arrival. His release. His glorious rebirth of Midgardborg, painted in his own image.
It was all his own to create.
"'The Sandman's coming in his train of cars, with moonbeam windows and with wheels of stars.'" he cooed to himself to the slow beat of the clock chimes, voice low and bristling with excitement. Dainn had a twisted love for nursery rhymes; they were the window to a distant past clouded with hazy memories he wasn't sure were really true. It didn't matter. The past was irrelevant. It signified nothing. Dainn had more pressing issues to concern himself with; this hanging Tiro, in all his glory, was just the beautiful beginning.
It appeared however, that The Shuck had finally attracted some attention onto his being. The new Tiro, now introduced as Kaelen, had his now-feline eyes trained on him, teeth bared. Dainn looked deep into those eyes; they were brimming with rage, but there was fear too. Bottled within. So delicious, Dainn could just drink it. In his own shifted self, he matched the Tiro's bared teeth, but his lips were more pulled into a curled, wolfish grin. What cause had he to be angry? Or threatened? He was elated, and he thought it rude not to show how happy he was.
Then again, he was content that the effect of the Shuck had sunk in (even if the other Drakonrhedi had been too dim to spot him) and so he changed back, now sitting on his haunches, arms relaxed and resting on his knees. The smile remained. The Tiro had changed too, and presently his bow was poised and ready.
The last few chimes of the clock were sounding. A breeze rolled in. The sound of creaking ropes filled the silence.
"I'm gonna go take a look at the body... Shout or say something or throw your knife if whatever you saw makes a move. Or if I'm about to die. Whatever works."
Dainn held his eye contact with the Tiro, mind quickly working over the potential possibilities he could create with this young man. As the Ideneus went to examine his suspended comrade, Dainn slowly lifted a bony finger to his mouth, lips curling to emit a harsh but fairly quiet 'sssh' sound towards the Tiro. He knew full well the young fool would probably give him away anyway...party pooper. Once his finger had left his lips, he licked them slowly, and once again his stomach groaned for attention.
All in good time.
All this waiting, all this baited breath Dainn knew -deep down- was just the calm before the storm, the rise before the crescendo. But Dainn had enough of calm, and suspended wait. The time had come for his reveal. He was the actor in the wings, but now it was his moment to tread the boards.
"Too bad I'm just a cat in my animal form. A leopard would be pretty handy if a fight came to it, eh?"
Dainn lifted his head, the lazy light of a nearby streetlamp catching his dark eyes, making them glint under a fallen tumble of black hair that Dainn couldn't be bothered to bat away. He cleared his throat, licked his top lip once more and spoke like one does when they greet an old friend, "Ideneus Kai Raske," he began, accentuating every sharp consonant with a violent click of his tongue, "I am incredibly insulted, hurt even, that you think I have come all this way, spent all this time waiting for a fight." He gave a sharp tilt of his neck, to deliberately click it into place, "A fight would suggest I seek one-on-one combat. And combat suggest there's going to be a struggle." His smile turned a little sombre, almost patronizing, "But there isn't going to be a struggle. Not in the end."
His glinting eyes flicked up to the body of the Tiro the other Drakonrhedi was inspecting, "Rather beautiful, wouldn't you both agree?" He ran two fingers across his own neck, matching the slicing movement performed on the suspended boy, "That's how they cut pigs in abattoirs, you know. It's the most humane way, and the quickest too." In truth, the treatment this Tiro had received had not been quick, and it certainly hadn't been humane. But what sort of artist would he be if he revealed his methods? They could live in ignorant bliss, for a few moments longer, "Oh, how he kicked and protested. Such an unholy noise! But after a while, he accepted it gracefully. And, out of the bottom of my heart," He placed a hand on his chest, head bowed in appreciation, "I can not thank him enough."
After a couple of moments, he raised his head, gaze locked onto Raske, "Don't you remember me, Ideneus? Do you not recognise my face?" He frowned, almost looking hurt, "You must have heard of the Shuck, surely. Come now, don't be shy."
Tags: Kai Raske, Kaelan Avallochson
Inspiration: this creepy shit obviously argh
Notes: hide yo kids hide yo wife |
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Post by Kvrai the Silverblooded on Mar 10, 2014 2:02:57 GMT
 Kvrai the Silverblooded |
Xii had picked up large traces of blood in the air long before even Kvrai smelt it.
When bored, her OAI performed a rather annoying yet necessary service: checking the air for different scents. While "trouble" technically had no smell, there were certainly things that heralded an interesting time, such as a ridiculously large amount of blood. She proceeded not without caution, footsteps silent in the darkness of the night.
"Mistress, that's got to be at least one dead person. Down that way... no, wrong way... second on your right... no--oh, rooftop? Alright. Sounds good."
The Silverblooded stopped in front of a building right beside the confrontation, yet still hidden from its players.
"By the way, my money's on the killer still being around."
"You don't earn a salary, Xii."
"Kaelan Avallochson. Tiro. It'd be rather apparent apparent if I was the killer, wouldn't you agree?" came a voice from around the corner.
"Mistress, you've encountered that Tiro before. When you met the Vetr Talithe Anyadottir."
Ahh, yes, that was right. Kvrai couldn't remember whether she'd received his name there or not. She couldn't be bothered to remember every single silly little thing, that was Xii's job. The OAI also could have identified him using his voice. Xii was good that way.
Either way. She shifted into a rather inconspicuous moth form (in correlation with the form of her disguise, Iduneus Aria Kaiedottir) and fluttered up to the roof, crawling across to assess the situation from her perch.
"Not in the slightest. Illusions can work wonders on the horrors that happen. I have no idea what you can do, so you could easily be the killer, hiding a dagger at your side, ready for me to turn my back," replied the other, presumably another Drakonrhedi. Not a fool, apparently. At least, not from what she'd seen. Humans were good at being foolish.
She peered down into the alleyway.
That Tiro is excruciatingly dead.
"I'm gonna go take a look at the body... Shout or say something or throw your knife if whatever you saw makes a move. Or if I'm about to die. Whatever works."
Yes, that blonde one didn't seem especially foolish.
"Except for the fact that what appeared to be a large, infected canine approaching is actually a rather off-key man."
"Too bad I'm just a cat in my animal form. A leopard would be pretty handy if a fight came to it, eh?"
"Xii, either go full narrator or don't bother."
"Is that an order, Silverblood?"
"It always is. I'm going to shift out soon."
"Ideneus Kai Raske, I am incredibly insulted, hurt even, that you think I have come all this way, spent all this time waiting for a fight. A fight would suggest I seek one-on-one combat. And combat suggest there's going to be a struggle. But there isn't going to be a struggle. Not in the end."
"About 200% sure that he's the killer, ma'am."
"That's impossible, Xii."
"That's hyperbole, Mistress."
"Rather beautiful, wouldn't you both agree? That's how they cut pigs in abattoirs, you know. It's the most humane way, and the quickest too. Oh, how he kicked and protested. Such an unholy noise! But after a while, he accepted it gracefully. And, out of the bottom of my heart, I can not thank him enough."
"Beautiful? Maybe. He could've done a better job with quite a bit there."
"Ouch. Scathing critique from Lady Kvrai."
"Don't you remember me, Ideneus? Do you not recognise my face? You must have heard of the Shuck, surely. Come now, don't be shy."
Kvrai shifted then, arms crossing and eyebrow raising as she transformed into her Drakonrhedi persona. After all, the Promethaen needed this organization at full strength more than they needed one madman's happiness, so she would pretend to be on their side for this particular encounter.
"Really? You're the Shuck? Well. They really did a bit of a touch-up on your poster, then. I was expecting someone much more elegant."
She tossed her head, squaring her stance. Although she had no ranged weapons on her besides throwing daggers, two thin blades hung from her side.
"And you call that a work of art? Sir, you may be the best of your kind, but you are still an amateur."
"Kvrai..."
"Shut up, I'm having fun."
"Look, Mr. Shuckmeister. You're still using materials from outside the body. Why bother when nature provides you all you need? I don't think intestines are strong enough to hang someone from, but, say, muscle fiber probably is. Sure, it may not be the neatest substance out there to obtain. But from all this-" she gestured at the red-splattered area around the body "-cleanliness is not your primary concern."
I can bring the death of planets. Your little sketch here is nothing.
She cast a glance at the other two "fellow" Drakonrhedi. Hopefully Kaelan would recognize her and understand her to be on their side.
"You're right about the no struggle, though. Life is little more than a candle, a louse under a thumbnail. So easily ended."
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Post by Kaelan Avallochson on Mar 19, 2014 2:03:29 GMT
A bell somewhere in the city rang out, heralding the end of the old day and the beginning of a new one. The dog’s lips moved with the chimes, murmuring something that Kaelan could barely make out. Something to do with a sandman? The dog finally noticed Kaelan and mirrored him, baring his teeth in a grin. He shifted into a dark-haired man after a moment, keeping that smile on his face. Kaelan did not doubt that this man was the killer. Satisfaction at the scene in front of him oozed from the man’s being and it was enough for Kaelan. The last few notes of the bell died out. Another midnight gone. What would the new day bring? More death like that Tiro’s, or something else? "I'm gonna go take a look at the body... Shout or say something or throw your knife if whatever you saw makes a move. Or if I'm about to die. Whatever works." Had he not seen this thing crouching there? Well that’s fantastic. The Tiro kept his eyes locked on the man that still knelt on the roof. He was still angry, but caution had replaced the fear. This was a man not to be trifled with, but a conflict still may erupt and then it was kill or be killed. The man raised a finger to his lips and with a shhh, told him to keep quiet. Kaelan’s eyes narrowed slightly at the action. Like he’d stay quiet just because this man told him to? A man who was probably ready to cut his throat and let him bleed out without a moment’s hesitation? No. Kaelan was no fool.
“Kai-“The sound of a clearing throat interrupted him. "Ideneus Kai Raske, I am incredibly insulted, hurt even, that you think I have come all this way, spent all this time waiting for a fight. A fight would suggest I seek one-on-one combat. And combat suggest there's going to be a struggle. But there isn't going to be a struggle. Not in the end." There never was a struggle in the end. When death came to claim you, it came and you were going to go willingly. "Rather beautiful, wouldn't you both agree?" Definitely not the word Kaelan would use to describe the suspended Tiro ornamented with blood. "That's how they cut pigs in abattoirs, you know. It's the most humane way, and the quickest too. Oh, how he kicked and protested. Such an unholy noise! But after a while, he accepted it gracefully. And, out of the bottom of my heart, I cannot thank him enough." Humane? Slitting a man’s throat humane? How cruel and how twisted. A man who could say something like that was no man at all; he was something to be put away, executed, and forgotten about. Nothing more. "Don't you remember me, Ideneus? Do you not recognise my face? You must have heard of the Shuck, surely. Come now, don't be shy." The Shuck? The man that had escaped not long ago? The serial killer? Well that explained a lot. "Really? You're the Shuck? Well. They really did a bit of a touch-up on your poster, then. I was expecting someone much more elegant." Kaelan looked over at the newcomer. She was an Iduneus. He’d met her before on the deck when he had a conversation with the Vetr Talithe; he hadn’t caught her name though. He hadn’t been expecting another Drakonrhedi to show up. He honestly hadn’t been expecting Kai to show up either, but he was glad they had, or else he’d probably be all strung up nice and pretty like the Tiro hanging behind him. His eyes flicked back to the man now known as the Shuck. "You're right about the no struggle, though. Life is little more than a candle, a louse under a thumbnail. So easily ended." How true was that. Life, so dear and so precious, could be ended with the flick of someone’s wrist, as demonstrated, once again, by the scene behind him. It was easily lost, but not so easily gained. It was like the morning mists, there one moment, and then burned away in another. What would it be like to die? Kaelan wondered. Did the passing hurt? Was there some peace gained while dying? What was it like afterwards? He’d only know when it was his time die, and right now, this wasn’t it. He wanted to live far more than he wanted to find out the answers to his questions. Living was something he wanted to do for quite a bit longer. |
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