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Post by Kaelan Avallochson on Mar 20, 2014 2:03:44 GMT
The sun was on the brink of the world. The shadows were long, and the stars were just peeping out from the cover of the night, claiming their places in the sky. Lights from homes shone brightly out onto the darkening streets of Midgardborg as happy laughter filled the air. Mothers called their children in for the night, but two young men, the source of the happy sound, meandered through the streets. One spoke fervently and passionately and great gestures punctuated his words. The other was smiling, his eyes alight with amusement. “—and so there we were, ready to jump off the cliff with the swarm of piranha racing towards us—“ Kaelan laughed once more as Gethin went on with his preposterous story about some dream he had had. Gethin no doubt was making it up on the spot like usual. The Tiro always had some tale to spin, and if he didn’t, he just made it up and didn’t care how outlandish it sounded. ”But I thought that they were in the river below us.”“No, no, no.” The ginger-haired man waved it away. “Kaelan, don’t you remember? They weren’t in the river. They were flying about in great packs, ready to eat anything that came in view. Now where was I?” “We’re on a cliff about to jump off.”“Oh! Right, right. So there we are, ready to jump off the cliff into a dangerous river far below that was teeming with piranha.” Kaelan rolled his eyes and let out a faked sigh. Gethin always did that. It was a slightly infuriating habit of his, but it was ridiculously funny at times. Gethin grinned at him and continued on. “And then we jump! Down, down, down! And just as we’re about to hit the water, everything disappears! Whoosh!” His arms went wide and he nearly smacked Kaelan who had stepped out of the way. “And then,” his voice went quiet and he hunched over slightly, “we find ourselves standing in a great fog. It’s so thick we have to wade through it. Think of… molasses. That thick! So here we are wading through white molasses, the fog, not actual molasses, when we hear a growl off to the side. You shout something, but I can’t make it out. And then you’re gone! You had the nerve to just up and leave me!” ”Sorry?”“Yeah, you better be. Any who,” Gethin continued, “I’m all alone now, shoutin’ for you. You don’t answer o’ course and now I gotta go lookin’ for you.” The night was deepening; the bright reds, oranges, and golds that had lit up sky only minutes ago had faded to a dull bronze. That too would be gone in a matter moments when night finally had her way and completely pushed the day from her domain. That was the cycle of things. There was always the bright side: the good, the happiness, the things that made life worth living, and then there was the bad side: the pains, the troubles, the hardships. These two things always come and go. There’d be a part in one’s life where everything is upbeat and happy, and then the next, one’s down in the dumps and at the end of one’s rope. But then everything would turn good again. Kaelan didn’t really understand it. If there was good and if there was evil, which one won in the end? Without one you can’t have the other. Was the struggle of life really so meaningless? There had to be some purpose to life. In the tales and stories the hero always won, but it was never as simple as that. A sudden snap in Kaelan’s ear made him jump. Gethin was staring at him with disapproving eyes and his hand was poised by Kaelan’s ear to snap his fingers once more if need be. “Kaelan,” he said, “you’re not listening again.” Kaelan gave an apologetic smile and put his hands up. ”Sorry, sorry. What were you saying?”Gethin gave an exasperated sigh and launched back into his story. “I’d finally found you, covered in this goopy mass…” What was the point of life? To live, have offspring, and die like animals? There had to be more than that. There had to be a reason why people, thinking, feeling human beings were placed on this piece of dirt known as Earth. Maybe he’d find it one day, but that wasn’t too likely with the fact that he was a Drakonrhedi and would be for the rest of his life, and they didn’t exactly give years of leave to someone to go find some obscure answer to some obscure question that didn’t really mean anything to anyone else. Pay attention, Kaelan, or else Gethin may smack you or something when he realizes you’re not listening again. Kaelan placed his attention back on the Tiro just in time to laugh at an absurd comment Gethin had made. He readjusted the quiver on his back, and smiled, wondering where Gethin would go with the story next.
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Post by Dainn Haskett Vindalfr on Mar 21, 2014 12:36:35 GMT
"'Oranges and lemons, say the bells of St.Clements.'"
The day was dying. The vivid colours of sunset spilled out across the sky like a tumbled paint can. Today had been warm and bright, but now the suggestion of rain lurked in the horizon. The air was beginning to bubble with humidity, hot and wet. Soon, the clouds would blanket the sky, and the rain would inevitably fall. Another day. Another night of toiling.
"'You owe me five farthings, say the bells of Saint Martins.'"
Dainn had taken to sleeping through the long, uneventful hours of the day. While Midgardborg bustled with routine activity, Dainn was holed up in an abandoned hovel on the outer rims of the city, where the paintwork peeled from the houses and the beams crumbled under the weight of being neglected for so long. He nestled himself like a fox between the damp rags and the worn bed posts, hidden behind boarded windows and unheard by passing folk. While not entirely glamorous standings, his chosen area of rest was secluded, peaceful and inconspicuous - he could happily lodge there.
The house was also dark, and Dainn was a person who sheltered away himself from the harsh hues of the day. Light was a bother for him; it added unwanted glare onto his work and made his life just a teensy bit more complicated. True, it was possible to work around, but the darkness was so much more favourable. The night was kind to him, like a mistress who doted upon him. When the evening began to creep on, he emerged and threw himself into her embrace.
"'When will you pay me, say the bells of Old Bailey.'"
The Shuck was keeping himself to the gloom of the alleyways, trotting down endless labyrinths of cobblestones paths. He traversed through winding streets and near impassable gaps in between the houses that were built so close to one another they were near on top of their neighbour. But these were all familiar routes for Dainn. Like a rat hobbling through the sewers, so did he know his way through the urban maze.
His paws fell silent against the cracked streets, hardly even breaking the silence when he padded through murky puddles. The only sound emanating from his being was the cracked tune and the rasped breaths panting from his open muzzle, tongue dripping and hanging freely. The air tasted bitter, but refreshing.
Dainn was near shaking with the excitement of his night ahead. Potential was everywhere, the city gorged itself upon it. And Dainn would be the one to pierce its bloated belly and suck on the wound. The shadows stretched their fingers towards him, even in the empty streets, merging themselves with the darkness of the alleyways. They longed for him, begged for him, worshiped the ground he strode across. Dainn relished such a welcome. How this city had missed him!
"'When I grow rich, say the bells of Shoreditch.'"
He came to a halt at the mouth of an alleyway, standing straight and erect on all four paws. Dainn raised his snout to that colourful sky above, ever turning darker and inhaled the aroma of the world. He could feel the heat on the wind. There was going to be a storm tonight. Suddenly, from down the street, the sound of voices dissolved the silence. Dainn's ears pricked and he snapped his head down to locate the source of such a rude disruption and-
My, my, my. What have we here?
Coming down the street were two young men. One of whom Dainn recognized. He never forgot a face, after all.
Find me once, shame on you. Find me twice, shame on me for not killing you the first time.
A scathing remark from his inner critic, but an honest one nonetheless. Dainn positively loathed loosing a catch. Truth be told, such an occasion rarely occurred, which made him all the more resentful when it did. Somehow, this Tiro had managed to evade his grasp, but tonight wasn't going to be so fortunate for him. Oh no, The Shuck would make sure of that. The cogs in his brain began to judder into motion, twisting and turning and conjuring up different games for him with- Kaelan wasn't it?
“Kaelan, you’re not listening again.”
The fur on Dainn's neck bristled with anticipation. Kaelan had a friend, the one spouting mindless nonsense. Something about a dream, but Dainn couldn't be too certain. It didn't matter, the plans were already being sketched in his head. As the duo passed him, unaware of his presence, Dainn made a mental note of his surroundings. The street was empty save the three souls and quickly darkening under the encroaching shadow of dusk. There were a few shops in the street; a high-brow dress shop, a shoe-maker's, a jewelers and a butcher's shop. All dark behind the windows as the owners had retired for the evening. It was quiet. Well, almost quiet.
“I’d finally found you, covered in this goopy mass…”
Such unneeded prattle! Dainn couldn't work under such conditions. No. The noise was infuriating, and the source was barricading his prime target. But it was of no real concern anyway; Dainn could easily craft the situation to his own liking. The two Drakonrhedi passed a little way down the street, about ten metres or so, before he slunk out behind them, the shadows kissing his feet as he walked. The boy was continuing with his inconsequential chatter, masking the soft steps of Dainn's paws.
For a while, he matched their speed, keeping a reasonable distance behind him. It was the calm before the storm, the tense wait before the race began, the baited breath before the hunt. A countdown began inside Dainn's mind. He licked his lips, tail swishing gently in the warm breeze. Paws began to quicken on the cobblestones. The breath came from his muzzle hard and rapid. His teeth caught a glint of the vanishing light. Close now, getting closer. Somewhere, way off in the distance, a loud groan of thunder rumbled.
"'When will that be, say the bells of Stepney.'"
Dainn surged forward with sudden speed. His pace was strong, purposeful, determined. He leapt, front legs outstretched, jagged claws poised. Time seemed to suspend itself for a moment, but Dainn savoured it, drowning himself in the brief ecstasy of a sucessful jump. He sailed through the air like an arrow, and hit his target with such accuracy and such force that both were bowled over with the blow, but Dainn's teeth had sunk deep, keeping him effectively latched on.
They tumbled together briefly for a moment, both coming to an abrupt halt when Dainn slammed all four paws down, standing above the Tiro, with two feet one side, two feet the other. The boy was struggling, unable to make any noise -thank the gods- but slamming his flailing fists against Dainn's taught body. "Sleep now." The sentence came out muffled, too much skin in Dainn's mouth for him to be heard clearly. Crimson was beginning to drip. Dainn's teeth pressed against the carotid artery, feeling it struggle under the pressure. The boy bleated, hands trying to swat against Dainn's muzzle. A sound not far off a soft, sympathetic hum breathed past Dainn's damp lips before it was cut off by a sudden crunch. Dainn's teeth came together. Scarlet burst forth, spraying all nearby like a tidal wave.
The boy beneath him twitched for a few moments more, before falling limp, eyes still wide. Dainn gently released the Tiro, softly placing his head upon the red cobblestones with a loving countenance, nuzzling the open wound that continued to spit and splatter. His muzzle was drenched by this point, blood mixing with saliva that dripped as he raised his head. He locked eyes with Kaelan, relishing the greeting.
In that moment he shifted, now standing on two feet again, feeling the warm liquid bathing his mouth and his neck, seeping down onto his clothing, joining previous stains. He smiled at Kaelan, a soft smile to match his relaxed expression. "I thought he'd never shut up." he began, voice oozing with something that wasn't quite amusement, "But now, Kaelan, to you." He took a step forward, careful to not hit the slumped Tiro beneath him as he passed over, "You're looking well. A little pale, but well. Working hard or hardly working?"
Tags: Kaelan Avallochson Inspiration: there was none this suck oh god i'll get better promise i mean seriously looked how rushed that kill was Notes: I actually felt kinda bad for killing Gethin. He seemed sweet. /2soppy4dainn
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Post by Kaelan Avallochson on Mar 22, 2014 2:37:04 GMT
Thunder rumbled in the distance. A storm was coming. Kaelan lifted his head slightly to smell the air. He couldn’t really make out the refreshing scent of the imminent rain, but he could feel the warm breeze that was starting to pick up. The smell of rain was never as strong here as it was back at home. There you could always smell it coming long before the first drops began to fall. He missed home sometimes. Missed the peacefulness, the solid ground under his feet, the smell of fresh grass, and the trees—barely saw trees any more. Missed his family too. But, despite everything he missed, he was glad he had come and joined the Drakonrhedi. He had opportunities he’d never have otherwise. He was learning how to fight, how to use magic, runes, and everything else. He was making something of himself; he was going to save lives. Even if he wasn’t going to be applauded or clapped on the back for what he’d done, Kaelan would still do it. It wasn’t about the praise; it was about the fact that he had made a difference. Gethin was still talking, about what, Kaelan couldn’t say. He smiled anyway and tried to listen again. “Everything was reeling. Rocks falling down on top of us as the ground shook. And then everything went bla-“ Something rammed itself into Gethin knocking them both to the ground. ”Gethin!” They tumbled for a moment and when they stopped, the dog on top, Kaelen felt his blood drain from his face before it ran cold. That dog, the thing that had its teeth firmly latched onto Gethin’s neck, was familiar. He knew who it was. It was that man, the killer, the Shuck. Meeting him once was bad enough and Kaelan didn’t think it would happen again. But here they were, the thing killing a friend before his very eyes. The second time was worse, much worse. Kaelan removed the bow from his back as quickly as he could while Gethin beat at the dog that had him thoroughly pinned down. Blood was already flowing from his neck and in a matter of moments, Kaelan knew, that it would go from a dribble to waterfall of crimson if he wasn’t fast enough. The Shuck said something, but it was too muffled for Kaelan to make out. Gethin cried out as he tried to remove the thing from his neck. The sickening sound of the dog’s teeth scything into Gethin’s neck sent a tremor down Kaelan’s spine. But what horrified him more was the silence that followed. Blood spewed from the fatal wound as his friend twitched in the final throes of death. He was beyond saving now, but Kaelan still had a chance at life. His bow was strung and his fingers were pulling an arrow from his quiver as the Shuck set Gethin’s head down upon the cobblestone. The dog lifted its bloody muzzle and locked eyes with him. Kaelan’s eyes narrowed, and fear seized him, but he swept it away. He needed to be clear-headed and couldn’t allow his emotions to take control if he was to survive this meeting. He had to survive. He was going to survive. If he didn’t, well, he wasn’t going to go down without a fight. The Tiro took a number of steps back, eyes locked on the dog and its kill. He needed some room; the Shuck was too close for him to take more than one shot. But at this distance, it would be rather difficult to avoid an arrow streaking your way. Or, so Kaelan hoped. After all, the Shuck could have a number of tricks up his sleeve that he didn’t know about. The Shuck shifted into his human form and smiled that easy smile of his. Blood dripped from his mouth, coating his already stained clothes even more. Kaelan smiled back, his own thin-lipped and tight. The Shuck though, had made a mistake. He had made himself a bigger target for Kaelan, and the Tiro was not about to miss. "I thought he'd never shut up." Now is when I wished he wouldn’t. It’s too quiet. He’s dead because of you. "But now, Kaelan, to you.” The Shuck stepped over Gethin’s still warm and blood dripping body. “You're looking well. A little pale, but well. Working hard or hardly working?" Kaelan didn’t respond as he nocked the arrow to the string and in one swift motion had the string pulled back to his ear. The last time they had met, he had hesitated, he hadn’t shot. Maybe if he had, he wouldn’t be in this situation. Maybe if he had, others wouldn’t be dead. That time the Shuck had gotten away unscathed, but this time, Kaelan wasn’t going to hesitate. Kaelan was not going to miss. If he did, there was no going back. He’d be as good as dead, and that he couldn’t allow to happen. The arrow fled the string, humming as it raced toward the man. Without a moment’s hesitation, Kaelan simultaneously took several more steps back and fitted another arrow to the string. The second arrow followed quickly on the heels of the first, before Kaelan turned and fled, reaching for his third arrow. He stopped after a few seconds and whipped around, ready to meet the Shuck if he had, possibly, avoided the arrows. There was still that chance, and Kaelan wasn’t about to be caught with his back to the enemy. Tags: Dainn Haskett VindalfrInspiration: The wonderfulness called Pandora. Notes: I kind of liked him too. Ah well. --- Table by Wild
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Post by Dainn Haskett Vindalfr on Mar 22, 2014 16:13:35 GMT
The red was warm on Dainn's face, but soon it would dry and cake on his skin, and the encroaching rain would wash it away. The surges of temptation pulsated through his body, the urge to slice and devour the young Tiro beneath him becoming almost unbearable. He wasn't starving, but oh- how he longed for fresh meat! Still warm, soft flesh, ready for the feast.
Alas, circumstance withheld his appetite and dripping teeth.
The unscathed Tiro - Kaelan - had doubled back, his lips pressed hard into a firm smile that spoke of no friendly welcome or pleasant countenance, but Dainn took no offense. There was fear there, tucked deep away in the boy's eyes and Dainn latched onto it like a moth to flame. He sought for it, relishing in such terror, despite the brave facade of this young Drakonrhedi. How noble. But how rude of him not to acknowledge Dainn's greeting!
The Shuck put a hand to chest, the blood caught on his clothing now dampening his outrstretched palm, "What? No hello? No friendly greeting? No handshake? You welcome me with such baited breath? Why, little Kaelan, I'm rather offended you could be so cold." His eyes told of hurt, but the beginnings of a smirk betrayed his pretense, "You're not angry with me are you?" The poised bow in Kaelan's hands was sort of a dead giveaway, but Dainn enjoyed his games.
Another crack of thunder bellowed in the distance, louder this time.
Dainn tilted his head like a dejected puppy, lips pursed in mock-sadness. "Come now, Kaelan, we'll be having less of such brashness now. First you give me the silent treatment, and now you aim such a pathetic instrument at my person." He sucked in a sudden inhale of breath through his bared, clenched teeth, "Ouch. No manners, you Drakonrhedi." His eyes darkened, "You're all the same."
Of course, the reason Dainn's loathing ran much deeper than ill etiquette. But the cause for such hatred was so deeply buried within his subconscious that surfacing it was difficult. History was agonizing, and was kept where it belonged - in the past. Dainn had come so far, drenched himself so deep in scarlet that there was no point in simply doing it for revenge sake, like some petty thug. No. In his own acceptance of what he had done, he was freed. His sins were not a hindrance, but another notch in his curriculum vitae.
With a sudden 'ping', Kaelan's fingers released the arrow and it cascaded through the air, seeking its target upon Dainn's chest. But the Shuck was poised to evade, and he do with a sudden twist of his torso as the arrow skimmed past his ribcage, so close that Dainn could feel the force in which it passed him. He turned just as the sharpened point sailed downwards and hit the cobblestones with a gentle clatter, coming to rest in a puddle of sewage water.
Dainn clicked his neck, giving a smug but indignant "Hmph." as he adjusted his collar. Kaelan was braced for a fight, and the Shuck would endeavor to match his requirements. Of course, it would be so much easier to simply ambush the boy and snap his neck in two, or stick his already-fired arrow through his chest. Fights required so much more effort, but they weren't out of Dainn's capability, just as long as they provided some sort of entertainment for him.
As he turned to face the Tiro again, the boy withdrew his fingers and a second arrow came hurtling through the air at unquestionable speed. Dainn was caught off guard, and decided it easier just to meet the damn thing halfway rather than expend more energy performing fancy evading techniques. The arrow made contact, hitting Dainn square in the shoulder, piercing the clothes and the skin and nestling itself within tissue. Dainn only just managed to keep his balance for slipping at the sudden hit, but his lips pulled back to emit a harsh hiss of pain which quickly bubbled into a snarl. Once he regained his composure, he locked eyes with Kaelan, who paused only for a moment to make sure his arrow had made contact, before turning to flee.
Damned cowardly brat, at least finish the job.
Dainn's eyes were ablaze but his face was darkened by shadow, mouth hanging open slightly to allow hot pants of breath to pass through his lips. A hand suddenly flew up the protruding arrow that hung from his shoulder and gripped the wood tight. Drawing in a deep breath and keep his eyes on the fleeing Kaelan, he yanked hard and twisted the point with a brutal jerking motion, freeing the arrow from its hold, crimson dribbling from the small hole in his skin. He tossed the object aside, and raised his head to address the Tiro, "Where are you going, Kaelan?" he called, voice shaking with anger that tried to mask itself as light concern, "We're only just getting started!"
With that, Dainn advanced, heavy boots hitting the cobblestones with loud, determined thuds. In this current form, speed wasn't his best ally. The Shuck state was better built for sprinting, but the sudden drive of bloody lust twined with burning rage fueled Dainn's pace, quickly carrying him through the street, shortening the distance between him and Kaelan. The chase couldn't of lasted more than a few seconds because the Tiro suddenly came to an abrupt halt, whirling around to hold up his bow to confront Dainn. He was ready to strike again, but the street was coming to an end, so the boy was becoming increasingly trapped anyway. He had no choice to but to hold firm.
Dainn, on the other hand, wasn't about to be easily intimidated by a boy and such a crude weapon. Sure, he'd managed to hit successfully before, but Dainn was prepared to meet another blow. He was running with such force now that he doubted one sharpened stick could stagger him. Wound him, possibly, but not hinder his advancement.
When he was a metre away from the boy, and it looked as if he was gearing himself up to tackle the Tiro head on, Dainn side-stepped at the last moment and lurched forward and twisted his body so that he came to sudden halt behind Kaelan. He paused only for a moment to give a small, elated "Boo.", lips curling in excitement. An arm suddenly came up and snaked itself around the boy's neck, not hard enough to strangle, but firm enough to hopefully keep the Tiro in place. Dainn's free hand came up to tightly hold the other in place, wrapping Kaelan in a harsh embrace. A soft, but juddered chuckle slithered past Dainn's lips, "I would of made it quicker for you," he began in a whisper, "-had you not made such a precise hit. But now," His voice dropped low, dripping with something much darker, "-I'm not feeling so generous."
Tags: Kaelan Avallochson Notes: permission to throw kaelan into a window? like the window to a butcher's shop or something, otherwise i'm not too sure how dainn can get all...slicey slicey like we talked about. /winkwink
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Post by Kaelan Avallochson on Mar 25, 2014 0:33:25 GMT
If he had wanted a hello, he should have gone back to his prison where the guards would have given him such a greeting. And then the world would be rid of such a menace. But the question is: why hadn’t they killed this man when they had the chance? Then he wouldn’t be stalking the streets picking off Drakonrhedi when he wanted and Kaelan wouldn’t be his next victim. But this wasn’t the time for playing the blame game. No, this was the time to make sure that he wouldn’t become the Shuck’s next victim. The thunder rumbled, much closer this time. No doubt the clouds were making their way across the barely lit sky, obscuring the stars, causing the night to become even darker. All too soon they’d be able to see the bright flashes of lightning that would rent the sky and feel the rain upon their skin. Or perhaps for him blood sooner than the falling water. His first arrow had missed, just barely skimming across the Shuck’s torso. His second hadn’t missed, but had lodged itself into the man’s shoulder. The Shuck had hissed in pain, but it quickly turned into a snarl of anger. Good, so he’d drawn some blood, proving that the man could be wounded. Pathetic instrument, hm? But what were the repercussions from that shot going to be? Nothing pleasant if the man caught up to him. "Where are you going, Kaelan? We're only just getting started!" The man’s voice shook with barely concealed anger. He tried to pass it off as something else, but it didn’t work. Maybe the man would be blinded by his rage, and maybe Kaelan could find some chink and expose it, using it to his advantage. Maybe it would be all for naught. Maybe he would die here anyway. Kaelan mentally shook the thought from his head. No, he couldn’t think like that. Going in with that mindset would indeed get him killed. And that was the last thing he wanted to happen. The Shuck’s steps pounded loudly behind him. In this form the man wasn’t quiet at all. No need to be when one’s already shown oneself to the prey. All one needed now was speed, not stealth. The Shuck was close, very close, and Kaelan let his fingers slip from the string. The man at the same moment twisted to the side, effectively avoiding the arrow that whizzed by. Kaelan tried to move to prevent him from getting at his back, but he was too slow. "Boo." ”Damn it,” Kaelan hissed under his breath. If only he’d been faster. If only. The man’s arm snaked around the Tiro’s neck and Kaelan tensed as he felt the tight hold at his throat. The man’s other arm came up to effectively lock Kaelan in place. Laughter, harsh and grating, sounded loud in his ear. Kaelan’s lips went up in a silent snarl. Damn it. Damn it all. "I would of made it quicker for you, had you not made such a precise hit. But now, I’m not feeling so generous." No, of course not. Why would you? You’re a man who kills for fun and likes to see you’re victims suffer. You probably would have taken your time anyway.Kaelan was resigned now to the fact that this was where he was going to die. But, he wasn’t going to let the Shuck away that easily. No, he was going to fight to the bitter end and give the man something to never forget him. Let him fume at the fact that I harmed him, that I landed blows when no one else could. And I’m just a pathetic little Tiro.Kaelan moved slightly to be out of his stance, before he forced himself to relax. ”Fine.” He let bow fall from his right hand. It clattered loudly as it hit the cobblestone at his feet, and he raised his right hand to the Shuck’s forearm at his neck and gripped it tightly. ”If that’s the way you want it.”Quick as a flash, Kaelan’s left hand went down to his hip and his fingers closed around the hilt of the dirk that rested there. Removing it from the sheath, Kaelan whipped it across his body and stabbed behind him. He felt it sink into the man torso at his back and nearly gave himself a satisfied smile. Shouldn’t have stood to close. Too bad for you. Kaelan twisted the dirk before he pulled it out, the blade now dark and slick with blood. Bringing it up, he plunged it into the man’s forearm, the one he was holding. ”But a reminder first. Don’t want you forgetting me after all.” His words were steady and harsh, laced with contempt. Kaelan couldn’t feel the fear anymore. No, rather a sort of calm had flooded his veins. He removed the dirk before he stabbed again, sinking it higher up into the man’s arm. So be it. Let me die now.Tags: Dainn Haskett VindalfrInspiration: Pandora Notes: Permission granted. I kind of figured that it was going to happen. --- Table by Wild
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Post by Dainn Haskett Vindalfr on Mar 25, 2014 18:25:53 GMT
Dainn felt the boy tense his muscles under his grasp. He tightened his own, arm coiling around the Tiro's neck in a firm, unrelenting grip. Kaelan was but a rabbit caught in a snare, and the end would come soon enough. Dainn would've loved to have seen the boy wriggle helplessly, kicking and thrashing and bleating like a sacrificial lamb. But he stay relatively silent, body locked in a poised stance. Was he accepting his death?
How...boring.
Something between a snarl and a hiss escaped through Dainn's clenched teeth, his mouth only mere centimeters away from the boy's ears. Why aren't you struggling? Dainn took in a deep inhale through his nose, as if trying to smell the aroma of fear emanating from the smaller being in front of him. Let me hear you screams. He licked his lips hungrily. Show me.
”Fine.”
Dainn raised a curious eyebrow, lips peeling upwards to reveal a line of glimmering white teeth. He heard the Tiro's bow clatter against the cobblestones, the silence-shattering sound speaking loudly of defeat and acceptance.
””If that’s the way you want it.”
Dainn's brow furrowed in the space of a split second. That's the tone of threa-
Suddenly all thoughts were cut dead as a piercing force penetrated his back, skimming past his shoulder blades and sinking deep into tissue. Dainn threw his head back and let out a choked cry, eyes wide as the shock hit him first before any pain was registered. He wasn't able to back away, lest he wanted to push himself further onto Kaelan's blade, which had already sunk pretty deep, so he remained relatively stock still. In the blinding pain that followed, Dainn's hands had gone from merely supporting his arms in place, to tightly clenching themselves into Kaelan's uniform, trying to sink some pain back into his opponent. He teeth clenched hard together, preventing any more loud cries to explode from his throat, instead revealing his distress through strained hisses.
Still....this...was...nothing!
It was as if someone lit a fire behind Dainn's pupils, the rage in his eyes now blazing brighter than before. Being stabbed was something he wasn't a stranger too; a good few number of times he'd fallen victim to such treatment during his incarceration, whether through means of torture or in prison riots. But his experience didn't immunize him against the pain, as hard as he tried to bite through it. He was panting irregular breaths now, the air coming hot and heavy from his mouth, laced slightly with the makings of a growl.
The blade was suddenly removed from his back, causing Dainn to jerk his head slightly and emit a slightly strangled gasp of relief. He felt the warm stream of liquid dribble down his back, dampening his clothes, but such things were irrelevant. No. This Tiro was still his prime focus. Let him continue his desperate attempts at escape, there was no way-
The blade pierced into his arm. Dainn tossed his head again like a panic-stricken horse, breaking all sense of calm and composure as he felt scarlet burst from the opening in his arm.
”But a reminder first. Don’t want you forgetting me after all.”
The dirk was retrieved but Kaelan's sent it plummeting back in again, this time slightly higher up. Determined not to give Kaelan the satisfaction of hearing him cry out once more, Dainn silenced himself by plunging his teeth into the Tiro's exposed neck, muffling his pained protests into the warm flesh under the boy's ears. He gleefully felt the skin struggle against his pressing canines, hungry to feel the life of the Drakonrhedi beneath him seep into his awaiting mouth.
As he bit down hard, Dainn's mind went into overload as different ways to punish Kaelan filled his brain with possibilities. Suddenly he remembered the butcher's shop to his right, and all the marvelous instruments used for cutting meat hanging proudly in the shop window, just begging to be used. Just as his eyes fell on the establishment, a sudden flash of light shattered the darkening street and the devices in the window glinted in the sudden brightness. Moments later, the expected loud rumble of thunder sounded nearby.
But oh...Dainn didn't have a key, did he? What a bother. It was a good thing he was a resourceful man.
Releasing his jaw's grip on Kaelen's neck, he brought both arms around the boy and suddenly hoisted him high into the air, despite the flaring of pain in his injured limbs. He could tend to those later; the rage bubbling away in his gut was as good as any painkiller. He took a couple of staggered steps towards the butcher's window, the newly added weight and his wounds making any sort of movement increasingly difficult. He came to a stop a meter away from the window, feet standing shoulder-width apart in order to stabilize himself. His lips creased into a shaky grin, watching himself in the smeared reflection of the window. An unsteady hand came up to grip Kaelan's cheeks in between his fingers, giving them a playfully brutal squeeze.
"What do you see, Kaelan?" came Dainn's low question, his voice spitting the Tiro's name like venomous acid. Before the boy could reply, Dainn gave him a violent shake, "I said; WHAT. DO. YOU. SEE?" His voice was loud in the boy's air, saliva spraying his mouth and hitting the Tiro's still wet neck. Before he could respond even to that, Dainn reached up with his hand and cruelly placed it over Kaelan's eyes, preventing him from seeing anything. His voice lowered back down to a whisper, "I'll tell you what you can see." He leaned in extra close, lips almost touching the Tiro's earlobe, "My 'reminder'."
At this, he suddenly launched the boy's body from his own, pushing him forcefully into the air with both hands, ignoring the painful protest from his sliced arm. The Tiro was a slight boy, true, but Dainn had projected him with such a frenzied force that it was hopefully enough to shatter the window in front.
Another bright explosion of lighting pierced the darkness.
Tags: Kaelan Avallochson Notes: sorry this kinda sucks also it's super rushed but yeah have incredilble hulk!dainn wheeeeeee SMACKDOWN
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Post by Kaelan Avallochson on Mar 26, 2014 23:07:42 GMT
The man cried out and Kaelan couldn’t help but feel the satisfaction that came with it. He could hear the Shuck’s laboured breaths in his ear, but he wasn’t about to feel sorry for him. With a jerk of his hand, Kaelan twisted the dirk that was still in the man’s arm. All of a sudden he felt a sharp pressure that quickly turned into pain at his neck. A small gasp of surprise left his lips. The crap?The Shuck had his teeth in Kaelan’s neck and was biting down hard. Kaelan was thankful that the man was in his human form and not his animal. If he had been, Kaelan would probably be dead with a hole in his neck like Gethin. His grip tightened on the handle of the dirk and he pulled it out none too gently. Lightning flashed overhead and the thunder crashed several seconds later. The pressure at his neck removed itself and the Shuck’s arms wrapped around him a moment later, keeping him in place. Kaelan’s feet left the cobblestone as the man roughly picked him up. He dangled there helplessly, unable to move. The Shuck began to walk, taking stumbling steps toward one of the stores. Damn it. Now what?Kaelan found out a moment later. The Shuck stopped and stared at the reflection of the window, grinning at himself. His hand came up grapping Kaelan’s cheeks. The Tiro jerked his head away from the man’s hand. "What do you see, Kaelan?" His name on the man’s tongue came out like acid, burning and hateful. Well one thing’s for certain- His breath hissed as he took a abrupt inhale as the Shuck gave him a violent shake. "I said; WHAT. DO. YOU. SEE?" Kaelan flinched at the sudden loudness of the man’s voice. I’ve definitely made him furious. The man’s spittle splattered onto Kaelan and the Tiro’s lips went up in a snarl. A hand was placed over his eyes, blocking everything from view. "I'll tell you what you can see," the Shuck whispered in his ear. "My 'reminder'." Oh-He let out a shocked yelp as he suddenly went flying through the air. Kaelan hit the window and it shattered. He landed hard, a distinct crack coming from the quiver; the dirk clattered at it skidded away from his now open hand, and the glass pieces tinkling as they tumbled to the ground. Kaelan scrambled to his feet, ignoring the lacerations and bits of glass that hadn't been stopped by his clothing and now decorated his skin, blood welling up in the cuts. Lightning flashed, casting a long shadow of the Shuck on the ground. Metal glinted at the top of the window; there were knives and the like hanging there. His brow furrowed. Why would the man toss him in here? There wasn’t going to be an easy escape that’s for sure. Kaelan cast a quick glanced around and felt his heart plummet. The place was a butcher shop. A butcher shop. Damn it.Another glint on the ground several feet away caught his eye. Kaelan moved quickly, the glass crunching under his feet, and scooped up the dirk, before he retreated into the shop and into the darkness. He hoped that he’d be able to slip pass the Shuck when the man would no doubt come in after him. If he couldn’t then he was done for. There was no other way of escape. Sure he was prepared for the man to kill him, but it didn’t mean that he wanted to die. If there was a chance he could make it out alive, then he would take it. Kaelan continued backing up, praying to the gods that he would make it out of this and for the darkness to keep him covered. He could feel his heart pounding and his blood rushing. He was nervous, and he had the right to be, but now he had to make sure that he could keep calm when the man attacked. Keep calm, strike fast, and get out. Tags: Dainn Haskett VindalfrInspiration: Pandora still Notes: This is rather short. Sorry 'bout that. --- Table by Wild
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Post by Dainn Haskett Vindalfr on Mar 27, 2014 17:28:42 GMT
The force in which the tossed Kaelen hit the window caused the glass to shatter immediately upon contact, the sound of an almighty crash breaking the silence as tiny shards littered the ground at Dainn's feet. He stood there for a moment, listening to the noises of the tiro scrambling helplessly in the darkness. Dainn's pants came hot and heavy, filling the night air with shaky, irregular breaths. His energy had withered slightly from both the sudden excursion and from the weeping cuts in his skin. But he paid no heed to either; there were far more important issues at hand here. His prey had scurried into the darkness, and it fell on his shoulders to hunt him out.
And the mouse runs into his hole.
He took a few, slow strides forward and stepped over the broken skeleton of the window pane, boots catching against loose fragments of glass and sending them tinkling against the floor. The world outside was illuminated by a flash of lighting once more, followed by the loyal crashing of thunder close at its heels. Rain was beginning to patter against the cobblestones, but Dainn could not feel it by this point. How glorious the water would've felt against his broken skin - how refreshing! But alas, such a luxury would have to wait. The sudden brightness had allowed Dainn to lock sight on Kaelan, who was backing up further into the bowels of the shop. In a moment however, the fortunate visibility was snatched away, plunging the shop into darkness once more, and allowing the fleeing tiro to mask himself under shadow. Dainn licked his lips and came to a halt, blocking the only available exit. The boy was somewhere directly in front of him, he could sense it.
"Kaelan," Dainn's voice began, now suddenly soft and gentle, like how one sounds when lovingly scolding a naughty child, "-perhaps we both off on the wrong foot." While he was speaking, his hand reached forward and made contact with the handle of a cleaver, wedged firmly into the wooden surface of a nearby table, "We're not so different, you and I." His hand gripped the instrument, "Drakonrhedi, vikings, 'criminally insane convicts'-" He gestured the symbol for a quote with his free hand, "-we're all the same, you know." With a firm wriggle, he wedged the cleaver free and brought it slowly to his side, "Come on out and play with me."
With a gentle, gliding motion, he brought the cleaver up to his lips, and extended a long, pink tongue to lick the edge of the device. The blade was caked in dried blood, pig's blood no less, and pretty soon, it would drip with an even sweeter scarlet. Dainn's other senses were also having a field trip; the shop was awash with a grotesque aroma of scents; his own blood, the blood of animal's past butchered and -of course- Kaelan's blood. The boy had been cut significantly well, and it was with the scent of that outpouring crimson that Dainn was able to better hone his attention to the hiding tiro.
Silence descended on the shop, but the world beyond played host to the noises of gently rumbling thunder and the building orchestra of the rainfall. Soon, the crescendo would come, but Dainn could amuse himself in the meantime.
"Oranges and lemons, say the bells of St.Clements.'"
The Shuck's voice was soft, quiet, lulling, filling the silence of the not-quite-empty shop. He began to advance slowly, his footsteps heavy and pressing.
"You owe me five farthings, say the bells of St.Martins.'"
His grip tightened around the cleaver, his nails digging into the wooden handle. The floorboards creaked under his weight. The boy was less than two meters away now.
"When will you pay me, say the bells of Old Bailey.'"
The smell of Kaelan hit his nostrils. He was close now. So terribly close. It was that all-too-familiar smell of blood, that smell of fear. So thick and dense but so wonderful it was like honey. Dainn allowed his senses to get drunk from the aroma.
"'When I grow rich, say the bells of Shoreditch."
Dainn came to a halt. The boy was directly beneath him. A soft sound escaped Dainn's lips as the corners of his mouth tugged upwards. It was a smile that spoke of pity, but it was all a pretense, as it was a smile bred from the Shuck's inward excitement.
"'And here comes a candle to light you to bed.'"
Suddenly then, Dainn's hand shot forward and seized in his clenched fist a handful of Kaelan's hair, his knuckles pressing hard into the boy's scalp. Shame, I'd been aiming for his neck. Another strike of lighting revealed the world, coupled with the immediate crash of thunder roaring above them. Dainn had yanked the boy's head back, baring his face upwards. In the brief brightness, they locked eyes with each other, Dainn's ablaze with anticipation and triumph. Just like that, the shop was plunged back into darkness, but Dainn's eyes had become accustomed to the gloom, and -as he sat down on his haunches- he could make out the individual features on Kaelan's face; his eyes, his nose, his mouths, his skin gloriously cut by shards of broken glass. With a sudden and loud 'thwack!', Dainn plunged the cleaver into the floorboards between Kaelan's legs and dragged it slowly back towards him, before jerking the hefty instrument out of the boards and extending it slowly towards Kaelan's face, stopping just at the blade gently touched the tip of the boys' nose. The Shuck was grinning like a wolf in a sheep's pasture. He leaned in close and pulled the cleaver away from the tiro's face, his once lyrical voice now barely coming out as a whisper in the darkness.
"And here comes a chopper to chop off your head.'"
Tags: Kaelan Avallochson Inspiration: cheeky bit of woodkid Notes: i wasn't sure if kaelan was sitting on the floor or not so i took a chance. if he wasn't i'm really super sowwy D:
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Post by Kaelan Avallochson on Mar 29, 2014 2:13:25 GMT
Kaelan could hear the man’s heavy strides as he stepped over the broken window and into the building, glass crunching under his feet. Rain began to pitter- patter softly on the cobblestone outside. It grew louder as the sky opened up. The yellow snakes streaked across the clouds, lighting up everything below. He could see the Shuck’s face clearly, but with the thunder that rolled a moment later it was masked by the darkness. His outline though remained, due to the little light that came in from the broken window. The man was standing in the exit, completely blocking it. Kaelan’s grip on the dirk tightened as he back slowly. His right hand drifted to his hip, making sure that his other dirk was still there. It was. Good. "Kaelan, perhaps we both off on the wrong foot." No, duh. What other foot can you get off on when you facing a murderer? The man’s hand reached out, gripping the handle of a cleaver that had been resting on a table. "We're not so different, you and I." Kaelan wanted to laugh. Not so different? Sure, they both killed. They were both hunters. But Kaelan was killing behemoths, saving people. The Shuck was killing people, definitely not saving them. "Drakonrhedi, vikings, 'criminally insane convicts’, we're all the same, you know. Come on out and play with me." Play? Who wanted to play with “criminally insane convict” that was holding a cleaver and out for blood? Not him. Leave that to someone who was dumb enough and perhaps just as insane as the man standing in front of him. The Tiro’s steps were soft, barely making a noise on the wooden floor as he continued to step back. His breaths were light. He knew how to keep quiet; it was something he liked to practice. Scaring people out of their wits was just bonus. Something hard hit his lower back and he flinched. His right hand went up to the edge and he glanced back. It was a table, a number of knives laying on the wooden top. Kaelan’s eyes went back to the Shuck. Too close. He was too close to move around without being detected. The Tiro crouched, praying that the Shuck would somehow miss him. That though, was highly doubtful. But the man was now in the store father away from the window; the only hitch was that he was still standing directly between Kaelan and the exit. "Oranges and lemons, say the bells of St.Clements.'" The man’s voice was soft, and could have been pleasant to the ears if it had belonged to anyone else. "You owe me five farthings, say the bells of St.Martins.'" A floorboard creaked as he walked. "When will you pay me, say the bells of Old Bailey.'" He was even closer now. There was no way he’d miss Kaelan. "'When I grow rich, say the bells of Shoreditch." He halted, and Kaelan knew he’d been found out. "'And here comes a candle to light you to bed.'" The man’s hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of Kaelan’s hair brutally. He jerked Kaelan’s head back as lightning struck once more and thunder boomed at its heels. Kaelan could see the triumph in the man’s eyes, and he bore his teeth, his grip tightening on the handle of the dirk even more. The Shuck crouched, his hand still firmly grasping his hair. The cleaver in his other hand plunged into the floorboards, before he drew it back toward himself. It then came up the tip lightly touching Kaelan’s nose. The Shuck was grinning madly at him as he pulled the cleaver back and leaned in. "And here comes a chopper to chop off your head.'” Kaelan smiled back coldly. Wrong move. He sunk the dirk into the man’s arm, the one that had a firm grip on his hair, to force him to let go. Darting forward, Kaelan struck again, aiming for the man’s side, before he was up on his feet and bolting to the broken window and to freedom. The lighting flashed and the thunder crashed as the rain poured freely, pounding against the building and the cobblestone. If he could make it out of the building, he’d have a chance. He could lose the man in the streets with the rain and thunder masking his steps, so long as he didn’t meet a dead-end as often as he did. But that was an if, a very big if. But there was still a chance of things going his way. Tags: Dainn Haskett VindalfrInspiration: Uhhh Notes: It's okay, I'm pretty flexible with those types of things. --- Table by Wild
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Post by Dainn Haskett Vindalfr on Mar 30, 2014 0:57:55 GMT
Before Dainn could react to Kaelan's cold smirk, the boy suddenly hurled his blade upwards and pierced the skin of Dainn's forearm, missing vital arteries and tendons but hitting bone and bursting blood vessels. Dainn instantly released his grip on the Tiro's hair and threw he head back to let out a strangled cry, the sound ripping from his voice box as he felt the warm essence of his veins leak down his throbbing arm and dribble onto the floor. Little shit. Half aware that the Drakonrhedi was about to swing again, Dainn snapped his focus back, his arm tensed from the pain and his hand curled into a half-clenched state. He doubled back quickly just as Kaelan swung, the boy's blade missing his stomach by only a few inches. Before he could be stopped, the Tiro lurched forward to escape, his feet crashing hard against the broken shards of the window. Dainn turned just as another brilliant flash of lightning caught the world and suspended it in another momentary glimpse of exposed brightness. His shadow briefly cast itself against the wall, his curled palm looking more like poised claws than anything else.
Dainn was breathing hard, feeling the weight of all his wounds combined, shattering his nerves, pushing all the blood from his body. But he wasn't going down that easily. He'd suffered much worse injuries by common thugs in prison...did this Tiro really think he could scathe the Shuck?
Ah...the Shuck. Perhaps he'd been neglecting a more useful trait to his being.
With the slightly less injured arm holding the cleaver, Dainn tossed it with one swift motion into the air. It soared briefly for a moment, turning, somersaulting, falling, falling, falling, falling then SNAP. The canine jaws of the Shuck caught the handle of device with a brisk, clasping motion, his teeth gripping into the dirtied woodwork of the stem. A heavy, rumbling growl rippled through his furred lips, quivering them, causing saliva to drip freely from his bared maw. The Shuck readied himself for the chase, his paws squared out, paying no heed to soft streams of red blackening his once grey fur, coating them in a wet warmth. There would be time to lick his wounds later, but for now, the Shuck had a much bigger drive.
Suddenly then he propelled himself forward, a piercing snarl shattering the sounds of the rain, melding with the ongoing rumble of overhead thunder. The bare pads of his feet clattered against the scattered shards, slicing the delicate skin, but the Shuck powered forward, gaining speed, leaping with ease over the skeletal remains of the window frame and hitting the wet cobblestones with a light thud.
Kaelan was fast, but he wasn't fast enough.
Gotcha.
The Shuck leaped and soared through the air like a streamline arrow, before barreling full on into Kaelan, bringing them both to the ground with a hard smack, the Shuck making sure the Tiro took his full weight, which albeit wasn't much, but the force in which he'd hit the boy almost doubled his original power and had brought them instantly to a halt. Dropping the cleaver quickly onto Kaelan's back, Dainn shifted into his regular state, both arms pinning each of the Tiro's and straddling the boy's back in between his legs, making it difficult for his prey to wriggle. Dainn was panting, his tongue hanging free and tasting the refreshing coolness of the falling rainwater. A series of low giggles masked themselves with his heavy breathing, his eyes ablaze with triumph and the thrill of a successful hunt.
With a sudden jerking motion, he yanked one of Kaelan's hands behind him, and shuffled his own body so that he trapped the boy's arms under one of his legs, the hard point of his knee digging into the other man's skin. Dainn licked his lips, surveying his prize.
"So, Kaelan." he began, voice dripping with excitement, "You're an archer, aren't you?" He reached for hem of the boy's sleeve, the one belonging to the arm Dainn gripped under his hand. He gripped the material and suddenly yanked back hard with a severe jerking motion, trying to refrain a wince from the protesting stings emanating from his injuries. The material tore with a loud ripping noise, and Dainn tossed the useless shred into a nearby puddle. With Kaelan's arm now exposed to the world, and Dainn took the opportunity to gently caress the boy's bare skin, his once open mouth now shaping to form a soft smile, "I bet you've trained for years, but I also bet you're a natural with a bow." His smile grew, "The Drakonrhedi must welcome such talent." The tone of his voice was congratulatory, but his words dripped with venom.
As he spoke, he leaned forward slightly and gently hovered his bleeding forearm above the top of Kaelan's pinned limb, where his arm met his shoulder. Dainn allowed his wound to freely drip down onto the boy's skin, and moved it upwards slightly as the crimson fell. He made a red, dotted line on the Tiro's upper line, the mark a tailor would make to steady himself so that he could make a precise and well-planned cut to the fabric.
Dainn let out a gentle sound of amusement, pleased with his traced line of scarlet.
Feeling content, he sat back on his haunches, his look of gleeful victory now twisting into something much more somber. "I thought about killing you," he admitted softly, even though it probably wasn't such a big shocker. What he said next though, was a little out of the ordinary for him, "-but I'm not going to, not now." He shook his head, almost sadly, "No. Death is too easy. It's too quick." His brow furrowed, "Drakonrhedi don't deserve quick deaths. After all, isn't that what you're trained for? To live every day with the full knowledge that you could die the most excruciating, agonizing death known to man?" A soft sound not too far off laughter escaped his lips, "I'm simply putting your training to good use."
His grip suddenly tightened on Kaelan's arm and he leaned forward, voice becoming quieter now, "Or rather, I was going to, with you I mean. But then I thought; 'Why kill you? My fun would end so quickly'. Like I said, Kaelan, death is too easy. But living your life in constant pain? Always struggling on? There's the true challenge." His voice was low and it rippled with something much darker, and more sincere than idle threat. Dainn dipped his body down low, lips inches away from the boy's ears, face creased in a vicious scowl, words hissing from his mouth like poison, "I want to make you wish that you had died by my hand this night, Kaelan."
Slowly, Dainn drew himself back and with him, raised the cleaver-wielding hand high above his head, the rainwater pattering against the blade. In that moment, his expression suddenly became soft again, and his lips formed a tender smile, "Once again, you're a real natural with that bow."
There was a sudden and swift whooshing sound, like the sound a whip makes before it hits its mark as the cleaver plunged down through the air and made true but terrible contact with its target. Dainn hit his line perfectly. The sound of meat being split filled with air with a grotesque THWACK as blade sunk deep into Kaelan's arm, breaking muscle, breaking tendons, hitting the white of his bone. Dainn withdrew it suddenly, suspended it for a moment in the air again before sending it back down into the gashed cut, this time hitting the bone with full force and splitting with a piercing crack. Only half broken, Dainn noted with a silent grumble, before pulling back and striking again, this time cleaving the bone in two. The blood was spraying his face in sudden bursts by this point, but Dainn carried on unflinching, rather welcoming the delightful mix of blood and rain his face was being washed in. After a couple more powerful and precise cuts, the arm was hanging on by a few remaining strands of ligaments. Dainn tightened his grip on the nearly severed arm and began to pull and twist and twist and pull, hearing with inward glee as the tissue strained against the force, before snapping one by one and freeing the arm from the limb.
Dainn sat back, satisfied, with an oddly calm smile plastered his face.
Here comes a candle to light you to bed, And here comes a chopper to chop of your head. Chip, chop, chip, chop. The last man's dead.
Tags: Kaelan Avallochson Inspiration: i dunno but oh god dainn you big meanie jeez Notes: ....yeah, we should probably get some reinforcements in for Kaelan right about now ._.
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Post by Kaelan Avallochson on Mar 30, 2014 2:47:29 GMT
He’d made it out. The rain was now hitting his skin and his clothes greedily soaked up the water. It fell in his face, making him blink it away. His feet pounded against the wet cobblestone. But only for a moment. A weight slammed into him from behind, knocking from his feet and onto the hard ground. Kaelan’s breath was forced out of his lungs, and frankly, hitting the ground hurt. He tried to pull in the desperately needed air, but found that he was breathing in water with it. He coughed then spluttered, moving his head so that his cheek was resting on the stone. Water dropped into his eyes and nose as he tried to get out of the man’s grasp, but he was thoroughly pinned. Kaelan gave a hiss of pain as the Shuck jerked his right arm back and pinned it to his back with a leg, his knee digging into his back. "So, Kaelan. You're an archer, aren't you?" He heard the fabric of his sleeve rip, exposing his left arm to the rain. He felt the man’s caress and jerked once more in a vain effort to free himself. Damn it. "I bet you've trained for years, but I also bet you're a natural with a bow. The Drakonrhedi must welcome such talent." Kaelan heard the threat in the man’s voice, and his jaw clenched. Where are you going with this? What are you planning on doing? "I thought about killing you." Of course you did. Wait… Thought? Not- "-but I'm not going to, not now." Kaelan felt the blood drain from his face. Fear was starting to close his throat as it made his heart drop. "No. Death is too easy. It's too quick. Drakonrhedi don't deserve quick deaths. After all, isn't that what you're trained for? To live every day with the full knowledge that you could die the most excruciating, agonizing death known to man? I'm simply putting your training to good use." The man’s hand tightened around his arm, and Kaelan felt his weight shift on his back as he leaned forward. "Or rather, I was going to, with you I mean. But then I thought; 'Why kill you? My fun would end so quickly'. Like I said, Kaelan, death is too easy. But living your life in constant pain? Always struggling on? There's the true challenge." Fear now had its full grip on Kaelan and wasn’t about to let go of him. It made his body tremble. Yes, he was prepared to die. But this? Whatever the man had planned was something he wasn’t prepared for. His breaths came heavy now. What was he going to do? The Shuck leaned down even further causing Kaelan to move his head away from the man’s rather close face. He then hissed in the Tiro’s ear, "I want to make you wish that you had died by my hand this night, Kaelan." The boy pressed his lips together and swallowed hard. "Once again, you're a real natural with that bow." The Shuck had drawn back and was… Kaelan didn’t know what. A sharp pain at his shoulder stopped everything. He heard the noise the blade had made when it connected with his arm, but the only thing that had registered was the pain. He hadn’t made a sound due to the shock, but his lips were now parted in horror. The blade was withdrawn, making him gasp and everything came crashing in. The cleaver came down again, but this time Kaelan screamed as it cut partway through the bone. His body jerked and his muscles seized up. His own blood spattered the ground and hit his face, only to be washed away by the rain. The cleaver came down again, finishing the job the previous blow had started. Another cry left Kaelan’s lips. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t move. He could only feel the pain. Each time the blade came down, hacking away at his arm, a shriek from the Tiro rent the air. His breaths were ragged, his eyes screwed up and his face twisted from the agony. Then suddenly the man was pulling at his arm, and Kaelan’s scream went silent. A suddenly as it started it stopped. His cheek was pressed against the wet cobblestone; uneven breaths escaped his lips as pain lanced through his body. The Shuck was right. He wanted to die. Just lay here and let the rain wash away the blood that kept him alive. The Shuck wasn’t going to kill him, but there probably wasn’t going to be anyone to save him either, and Kaelan was perfectly fine with that. He’d given up. He wanted to die. This was too much. But there was another part of him that wouldn’t let go. No, he’d have to survive. He’d have to show the Shuck that he hadn’t just made it through this, but he was actually living. Spite him, kill him, make him pay. He gave laugh, but it was gone, almost as if it had never happened. Kaelan closed his eyes. No. Death was better than this. Give up. Go on… die already. Tags: Dainn Haskett Vindalfr Cedric VyrrsonNotes: My poor, poor Kaelan. I feel bad, I do, but I don't think you'd grow as much if this hadn't happened. Besides you're clever and will probably come up with some awesome solution. Time for reinforcements! --- Table by Wild
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Post by Cedric Vyrrson on Mar 30, 2014 4:24:12 GMT
There was blood on the wind tonight.
The air was heavy and dark with the rain, dampening his fur and making it stick to him. And yet he flew, paws barely touching the shingles of the rooftops, flying towards the source of the metallic tang suffusing his mouth, seeping in through his nose like the fluid itself slipped across the ground, sanguine ink in the canvas of the world.
His heart was pounding, rushing the same fluid that permeated the night air through his body, life's elixir flowing through him. The night was dark and stormy and blood was on the rise, and--
"Damn, this sounds like the start of a bad horror story," the cat muttered unamusedly to itself as it practically glid across the rooftops.
He skidded to a stop at the end of a roof just as a shriek sliced through the thick air, sharper than a blade in butter.
The Vetr shifted, already pulling the shadows around him as he transformed into his human shape and assessed the situation.
Let it be said that Cedric Vyrrson was not very easy to get truly angry. Under any normal circumstance, his anger was confined to irritation or annoyance, and when he was actually angry it was quickly eliminated through lighting a live behemoth on fire or something of the sort.
But when he saw a recently (and literally) disarmed Tiro pinned by the oh-so-familiar-Shuck wearing a sadistic grin?
"Oh, for fuck's sake," he hissed.
Fortunately, he was well-armed tonight. He'd been intending to police the worst areas of town, and thus had not only brought his gunblades but the rifle that he usually reserved for behemoth hunts. He had intended to use it solely for the scope, to scout out territory in front of him--but apparently that was not to be.
Reaching behind him, he pulled out the rifle and lined up the shot. Shooting with an innocent in the line of fire.
Eye in the scope, staring down his enemy from atop a roof overlooking the sanguine scene. Hands resting on the gun, accustomed to their posts, finger slowly squeezing the trigger.
Similar to shooting into melee. Aim high. Better to miss than to hit the Tiro.
The tiniest adjustment, then the rifle cracked, sending a bullet down in the direction of Dainn's shoulder.
No time.
He leaped from the roof, replacing the gun in its holder as he jumped, landing carefully on the balls of his toes as only a feline could, lightning crackling behind him, his face mirroring the fury of the storm.
Relatively close quarters. Blades may be cumbersome.
But his expertise with them was worth it.
The blades came out without a flourish, but instead a quick draw, shadows swirling up from where they pooled at his feet like the blood at Dainn's and curled around him, dripping from him like the rain that soaked through his coat.
"Catching birds once more, are we, Shuck?" he inquired through bared teeth and with bared blades. "I do say, it's time for this to end. Tiger and wolf, you and me, my friend."
It was a totally inappropriate time for him to rhyme, which was precisely why he couldn't help but spice up his speech with little allusions and perhaps even puns.
However, that did not mean that Cedric was in any way amused.
A quick glance at Kaelan showed him that the Tiro was indeed alive, if currently incapable of much fighting and probably disinclined to any sort of strife for a good amount of time.
"I do hope you realize how impolite it is to disarm someone in such a boorish manner," the Vetr snapped. He arched a brow, the joking nature of his words offset by the fact that his demeanor was completely lacking in any form of amusement, eyes hard and gaze trained on the Shuck.
It might even be said that he was pawsitively furious.
No, shut up, now was not the time for puns. He had a wanted mass murderer on his hands, an armless Tiro, and quite probably a dead body somewhere along the line, and he was thinking about how that man was a dog and he was a cat? It was a terribly trite cliche for conflict, and now was not the time to be relating very stressful, important situations to literature.
A remarkable lack of thought, perhaps, was displayed towards the Tiro himself. Indeed, Cedric had already verified that the boy was alive. But after such a verification, his examination had ceased--perhaps because he already knew for certain that the boy was definitely not alright, nor could he be saved from any trauma at what had happened to him. No, he would be forced to bear the full physical and psychological brunt of the Shuck's torment.
Late, Cedric. Despicably late. You're horrid at being on time.
"Your mother ought to be ashamed," he hissed, stepping forward slowly, blades at the ready and shadows shifting around him angrily. It was hard to resist the temptation to make himself little cat ears of shadow. That would be a most amusing, trite little comparison for the confrontation at hand. "Cats and dogs, Shuck. Killing songbirds will solve exactly zero issues. It's remarkable how inefficient you are, truly."
I would have expected better from someone with so much promise, a voice deep in the back of his mind hissed. A voice that no one, save himself, knew existed, for he feared for his life if anyone understood what went on in the darkened depths of his mind--the terrible atrocities that he could commit. Wanted to, even. The same voice that commanded so many sadistic torments be exerted on the behemoths. The same voice that kept him alive.
"And I will see you burn."
And the same voice that now demanded vengeance.
| Tags: Dainn Haskett Vindalfr, Kaelan AvallochsonInspiration: Assassination, Chaos Unleashed, and Hell's InvitationNotes: I SHIP IT no this'll actually be really interesting because ced is like actually really kind of sadistic? and if you need dainn to die, teapot let me be the first in line to have ced catch him and tie him to a stake and burn him alive also forgive me if i got something incorrect, I blazed through the thread to the last couple posts to make sure I didn't make any assumptions based on what had already happened that Ced wouldn't be able to see/interact with. |
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Post by Dainn Haskett Vindalfr on Mar 30, 2014 18:19:19 GMT
The boy wriggled and bleated like a newly-born lamb, his face damp from rain and coated with the splatters of his own essence. Dainn watched him mewl and shriek, lips curling in satisfaction. To deliver pain was wonderful, but to exact revenge...ecstasy. The smell of his own blood was masked now by the overwhelming aroma of Kaelan's fusing into the air, creeping into his nostrils, wetting his tastebuds. With every terrible smack of the blade, a howl of agony ripped through Kaelan's vocal chords, shattering the orchestra of thunder and rain and heightening the cacophony.
Once the arm was sufficiently detached from the shoulder, the tiro fell silent, the pain seemingly draining too much energy from his veins to allow him to voice his audible complaints. The Shuck's smile dissolved, his face taking on a more serious countenance, but his inward fulfillment lingered. The silence was a mark of acceptance, of defeat, but Dainn had expected as much. Kaelan lay there, panting hard, irregular breaths against the cobblestones. Dainn raised his arm so the blade of the reddened cleaver rested against his shoulder. His brow dipped downwards, as his face twisted to form a look of pity. "I know what that's like, Kaelan." he said, unusually softly. His tone was sincere, and he spoke his words with with truthful meaning, "You want to give up, don't you? You think it's better to die than to carry on." His expression was oddly...un-Dainn-like, but it surfaced from a place that Dainn wasn't sure he even had anymore, a distant recollection, but here it was, voicing itself in utter clarity, "I was there once. A long time ago. And from one to another, it doesn't get easier." At these words, his hand that been gripping the severed arm detached itself and went to gently caress Kaelan's stained cheek with two outstretched fingers, "It'll get worse before it gets better. Trust me."
Before anymore could be said, a sudden crack split the air with one harsh blow and Dainn's shoulder flared up in a sensation that was only registered a few moments later as pain. He let out a choked ululation of agony, his hand instantly dropping the stained cleaver and sending it clattering to the pavement. He went to clutched his shoulder, eyes wide with surprise as his head snapped round to examine the sudden wound. It was the indistinguishable mark of a bullet that -thankfully- hadn't driven itself straight into the tissue, but rather had skimmed the edge and pierced him nonetheless. The force of the hit had ripped a considerable chunk out of Dainn's skin, tearing his clothes with it, causing the blood to run freely from the exposed wound. He was probably going to have to book an appointment with Victor at this rate.
The hole in his flesh welled with red, but Dainn bit through the pain, erratic hisses escaping through his clenched teeth. He whirled round to locate the source of the bullet and-
Oh.
OOOOOOOOOH.
What a funny coincidence.
You're certainly a sight for sore eyes.
The hand that had pulled the trigger belonged to a face he recognised, but then again, it wasn't a man that one could forget so easily. A man whose lips' had ordered Dainn's permanent incarceration, hands that had delivered the final blows to render him defeated, fingers from these hands that had tied the knots and secured the cuffs to carry him behind bars. Gods...he hadn't laid eyes on such features in years. Dainn had theorized that, perhaps in this period his old acquaintance had been killed on some business-related romp. Slaughtered, cut down, disemboweled, Dainn had imagined all. In all honesty, 'fantasized' was perhaps a better word, besides; he'd had all the time in the world to dream up such hopeful possibilities. Then again... Perhaps it was a sign? Perhaps his old friend had decided to be an absolute darling and wait until Dainn had broken free, allowing them to once meet as familiars. How thoughtful of him!
Dainn licked his lips hungrily.
"Catching birds once more, are we, Shuck?"
The enraged snarl that had once creased Dainn's pained face fell suddenly soft, his lips settling into a welcoming grin as the man approached. Always so lyrical, so poetic! The colourful metaphors and similes he'd once heard before were clear in Dainn's memory. He recalled with fondness how this gentleman had spoken similar phrases before. It seemed so long ago now.
"I do say, it's time for this to end. Tiger and wolf, you and me, my friend."
A dark rumbling chuckle left Dainn's mouth, although he doubted anyone but himself registered it. By this point he was standing, back still facing the newcomer but his head turned to lay eyes upon him. Dainn's expression twisted a little with amusement, "Still so cocksure, Vetr Vyrrson." The words drawled slowly from Dainn's mouth, as if he savoured the taste. He turned around to bare his face properly, keeping Kaelan's remaining arm pinned between his legs. Dainn tilted his head to the side as he began to survey the opposite figure, lips pouting in mock-pity, "My god, the years have been awful to you."
"I do hope you realize how impolite it is to disarm someone in such a boorish manner,"
Dainn raised a bemused eyebrow at the accusation, stooping down to pick up the detached arm and waving it around in the air like a used rag, "Oh what, this?" He gestured with his free hand to the severed limb, "You don't like it? Why, you sound so displeased." His voice was filled with pretend hurt, "Then again, you never liked my work, Cedric. I think the meaning of it was always lost on you."
Are you angry, Cedric? Good. Show me that anger. I missed it terribly.
Dainn suddenly flew out his arms (technically three by this point), as if to embrace an old friend. "Not even a hello from you?" He tutted in disappointment and decided to address Cedric's obvious lack of common courtesy, "'Hello, Dainn, how are you?' I'm very good, Cedric, what about you? 'Oh, not too shabby. Shame as usual.'" For this miniature performance, he made sure to establish the different voices by increasing the pitch in his tone when mimicking Cedric. A childish display, but Dainn was experiencing a sudden surge of playfulness. After all, he was oh-so-happy to see his old chum again. He held up the limp arm and waved the severed joint in the air, causing the wrist to flop loosely like some macabre gesture, "Hullo." Dainn said again breezily, just in case Cedric had mistaken his jesting for irritation. Perish the thought.
"Your mother ought to be ashamed,"
Something stirred then deep inside the pit of Dainn's gut, his features immediately darkening. His brow furrowed an inch and his pupils constricted themselves. Something not far off a growl gurgled in the depths in Dainn's throat, but remained unsurfaced. It was better to remain unscathed at Cedric's words, but god knows it was hard. Any mention relating to the past and certainly his family was....difficult to say the least, but usually it was rarely touched upon, so Dainn had no real reason to face it. But at the Vetr's words, a well-kept secret part of his subconscious bubbled, brewing up an agonizing recollection and a memory Dainn had managed to suppress for so long. My mother? My mother was slaughtered by Drakonrhedi negligence. He took a deep breath, body juddering and heaving a little with the weight of having to push such thoughts back down into a once-forgotten chamber.
The shadows were now forming at Cedric's feature. A favoured party trick of his.
"Cats and dogs, Shuck. Killing songbirds will solve exactly zero issues. It's remarkable how inefficient you are, truly."
Dainn tipped his head to side coyly, choosing not to audibly respond to Cedric's earlier comment - for his own sake, at least. Rather, he moved swiftly on. Forget the past. The past is dead. Everything that happens happens for a reason. Dainn scoffed at Cedric's critique, waving a hand in the air as if to wave away the offending comment. He lifted the severed arm to his lips, sniffed it for a brief moment, before latching his teeth onto the exposed stump. Meat was usually harder to bite off when the subject was still alive and wriggling. But once the slab of flesh was effectively cut, the energy was seeped from it and the skin was more complacent to split under protruding teeth. With this in mind, Dainn jerked his head back forcefully, ripping a chunk from the bloodied end and chewing the ripped tissue with savouring hum of approval. Still warm, still tender. As he masticated, he returned his gaze back to Cedric, to address his statement, "Perhaps." he conceded, the word muffled a little with the added volume of meat in his mouth. His expression was one of thought, as he mused over his next reply. This time, he swallowed before he spoke, crimson dribbling over his lips, "It's possible my talents have dwindled in the time I've been away." He extended the third arm forward, as if to point accusingly at Cedric, "But really, if we are playing cats and dogs, Cedric, does this mean I have to kill you nine times over before we can finally be rid of each other?" He shrugged, tongue flicking around his mouth to pry the snagged pieces of skin from in between his teeth, "Dear Cedric, have you really missed my touch that badly?"
"And I will see you burn."
Dainn withdrew the extended lifeless arm and his brow furrowed in confusion and he leaned forward with a grimace, as if he hadn't heard Cedric correctly. He paused for a moment, letting the words sink in before suddenly pulling back and throwing his head back to release a long strain of genuine laughter from his lips. It wasn't a mocking laugh out of sarcasm, or even an sinister cackle, but one that was formed out of sincere and utter amusement. "Oh my gods, Cedric. You're such a delight, you really are." He gestured wiping a tear from his eyes, "Where were such sure words all those years ago? I butchered so many people, killed so many of your comrades and yet-" He paused as he spluttered, "I've never heard that before!" His eyes open wide with delight as a another burst of entertained laughter escaped into his words, "If you couldn't see me burn when you first had the chance, what makes you think you can do it now?"
He gestured to the tiro below him, and with the leg that wasn't pinning the boy's arm in place, gave Kaelan a firm but hard kick into his side. He looked back up at Cedric with an amused eyebrow, "All it takes it one chopped up tiro for you to suddenly grow some balls, eh?"
Tags: Kaelan Avallochson, Cedric Vyrrson Inspiration: none this kinda sucks and is written super badly DON'T LOOK. Notes: dainn u knob
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Post by Kaelan Avallochson on Mar 31, 2014 1:06:42 GMT
"I know what that's like, Kaelan." The softness of his voice surprised Kaelan. "You want to give up, don't you? You think it's better to die than to carry on. I was there once. A long time ago. And from one to another, it doesn't get easier." Where the crap was this coming from? Kaelan flinched away from the gentle touch. "It'll get worse before it gets better. Trust me." A crack sounded and a moment later the cleaver clattered to the ground. The man howled in pain. A moment later Kaelan felt his weight shift. "Catching birds once more, are we, Shuck?" a new unfamiliar voice asked. "I do say, it's time for this to end. Tiger and wolf, you and me, my friend." "Still so cocksure, Vetr Vyrrson." …Vetr? Vyrrson? It took Kaelan a moment to realize who that was. He was a man well-known about the Drakonborg, infamous for quoting Shakespeare at all times, and his bright blue hair was no secret. He was a skilled fighter, in charge of the stalkers if Kaelan remembered correctly. "My god,” the Shuck continued, “the years have been awful to you." "I do hope you realize how impolite it is to disarm someone in such a boorish manner." Impolite? It was definitely more than impolite. "Oh what, this?" The Shuck came into Kaelan’s view as he knelt and picked up the severed arm. His severed arm. The thought was disconcerting. His arm was now in the hands of a murderer. It was… strange. Very, very strange. "Not even a hello from you? 'Hello, Dainn, how are you?' I'm very good, Cedric, what about you? 'Oh, not too shabby. Shame as usual.'" So the Shuck’s name was Dainn. Interesting fact. Something he’d probably not forget. "Your mother ought to be ashamed. Cats and dogs, Shuck. Killing songbirds will solve exactly zero issues. It's remarkable how inefficient you are, truly." Songbirds… Cedric meant him and others who had been victims of Dainn, those who couldn’t really protect themselves from an attack. Kaelan had tried though. He’d gotten in several blows, but it hadn’t been enough. He’d drawn the short straw this time, but the gods had decided to let him live, maybe he should take that as something good. "And I will see you burn." Dainn began to laugh. "Oh my gods, Cedric. You're such a delight, you really are. Where were such sure words all those years ago? I butchered so many people, killed so many of your comrades and yet-" He paused. "I've never heard that before! If you couldn't see me burn when you first had the chance, what makes you think you can do it now?" He then kicked Kaelan in the side. Kaelan’s breath was sharp at the blow and another stab of pain shot through him. "All it takes it one chopped up Tiro for you to suddenly grow some balls, eh?" The Vetr probably wouldn’t take those comments too kindly and Kaelan wouldn’t blame him.
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Post by Cedric Vyrrson on Mar 31, 2014 2:53:43 GMT
"Still so cocksure, Vetr Vyrrson."
Cocksure? One eyebrow raised at the choice of wording. As much as he hated to admit it, especially in the heat of his own fury, he and Dainn had a great deal in common--and it wasn't a good thing.
"My god, the years have been awful to you."
Cedric let out a chuckle, but it wasn't his usual laugh. "How'd prison treat you? Did they paint flowers and smiley faces on your shackles during your vacation there?"
Apparently, the mass murderer who had just severed someone's arm was feeling like being pouty. What a wonderful evening for Vetr Vyrrson. "Oh what, this? You don't like it? Why, you sound so displeased. Then again, you never liked my work, Cedric. I think the meaning of it was always lost on you."
He wanted to respond with "no, I don't like it, you fucktard," but there was a child present. An armless child, but a child nonetheless, and it would do no good to swear anyway.
The madman proceeded to flail the arm about and have a conversation with himself and the severed arm of a young boy.
"'Hello, Dainn, how are you?' I'm very good, Cedric, what about you? 'Oh, not too shabby. Same as usual.'"
The urge to walk over and shake the disembodied hand was rising....
Focus! Focus, Cedric, focus. No distractions. That's the Shuck right there. Act appropriately.
"I would've made one hell of an english professor," he muttered beneath his breath.
"Hullo."
Cedric carefully inhaled, then slowly exhaled, making it look as if he were calming himself. Instead, he was just resisting the desire to wave back.
What a spectacular Vetr you are.
Shut up, he told the voice. You're the reason I light live behemoths on fire. The least you can do is have some respect for the fact that you're rubbing off on me, you little shit.
However, what came up next was fascinating. He was very glad that he didn't miss it--a slight tightening of the jaw, furrowing of the brow, narrowing of the eyes.... it all pointed to the fact that the Shuck did not like his family being brought up in conversation.
A grin spread over Cedric's face. Fine. We're going to play the game? Choose your weapon. I have mine.
"But really, if we are playing cats and dogs, Cedric, does this mean I have to kill you nine times over before we can finally be rid of each other? Dear Cedric, have you really missed my touch that badly?"
Control--!
There was a fine line between angry Cedric and pretending-to-be-angry Cedric. Before, he had crossed it. Now, he was back on the tightrope. And that meant he was in control, and that was all that mattered.
"Don't give me that, you snotty-faced heap of parrot droppings!" he snapped out, voice ringing through the night and echoed by the ominous rumble of thunder immediately after. "Just shut your festering gob, you tit! Your kind makes me puke! You vacuous, coffee-nosed, malodorous pervert!"
"Oh my gods, Cedric. You're such a delight, you really are. Where were such sure words all those years ago? I butchered so many people, killed so many of your comrades and yet- I've never heard that before! If you couldn't see me burn when you first had the chance, what makes you think you can do it now? All it takes it one chopped up tiro for you to suddenly grow some balls, eh?"
"Letting you go with the knowledge you might someday continue your rampage took more balls than you'll ever have," he answered with a shrug. "Of course, you don't realize the true meaning of balls--how could you, when you don't have any yourself? The fact is, regardless..."
His gaze stayed steady, but his attention darted over the situation. The Shuck was on the ground, easily pinned. The meat cleaver was dropped after he'd been shot. The one defense the murderer had now was, well... an arm or three, and any pain he might be able to inflict unarmed on the helpless Tiro.
Speaking of. The Tiro was on the ground, looking none the better. However, Cedric might be able to land enough blows to chase the Shuck away without leaving him able to harm the boy... so long as he moved quickly.
Cedric lunged, blades first, one in a purely offensive, stabbing strike and the other reserved for blocking. One of the better aspects of dual wielding, of course. At the same time, shadows snaked in, attempting to grab the cleaver and send it skittering down an alleyway, far from where Dainn might be able to reach it.
| Tags: Dainn Haskett Vindalfr, Kaelan AvallochsonInspiration: monty python Notes: i hope it was okay that cedric attacked i kinda figured that the point of him coming here but uh i can rewrite it if you'd prefer also i'm sorry it's short but i figured there was probably enough for you to reply to in there |
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