Forty pieces of gold....

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by The Underdark Rises, Nov 25, 2013.

  1. Show Spoiler

    The small settlement of rorkshire was a place one could lead a simple existence. Known only for its rich soil and abundant game, the town thrived as a hunting and farming community. Its seclusion meant that its inhabitants often could live reclusive lives, tucked far away from the problems of the world. However peace was an illusion, a deception meant to lure one to a false sense of security. And complacency was oftimes a cunning killer, masquerading as tranquility and serenity. Only to rend asunder the fabrics we hold so dear, birthing the departure of the ghost from the corporeal body.

    The first signs of the storm were hardly noticed, a few deaths alongside of the road. Foolishly the local populace chalked it up as a rogue attack by some wolves or other simple predators. Preferring to believe the lie over the abundantly clear truth. But the attacks did not stop, the bodies continued to pile until the reality of their dire situation dawned on them. The settlement was gripped by fear, as they sent word via horseback to the viper organization. A group of renowned monster hunters, whose members flesh had been warped and souls contorted through a vile swarthy ritual. An ambiguous and elusive practice in which young urchins become forever tainted by foul alchemy and insipid sorcery.

    With what little wealth they could muster, the small village could only hope it would be enough financial gain to warrant a visit. Without word they could only live in a state of fear, as paranoia-the first real symptom of their justified emotion crept over them. Obscuring their eyes from reason and logic, leaving in its place accusations and a distrust for outsiders. Merchants and other wanderers were not shunned, just watched vigilantly. For the first time the famous warm reception of the region had dissipated, giving way to an almost frigidly callous treatment of outsiders.

    With haste the organization (House of Vipers) dispatched a member of their flock, a powerful Matron within the order. A woman known solely as Myriah, the Apparition. A title bestowed upon her due not only to her skills, but the lack of emotion displayed on her visage. For in all of her time within the house, never once had anyone seen her smile. Just the empty picturesque face she often bore greeted them, no matter the news or situation. But it was this trait to remain level headed under stress, coupled with her unparalleled ability to sense the flow of energy that made her the perfect tool for such a job.

    Clad in her leather armor with sections of chainmail that clinged perfectly to her bodice she departed, boots becoming heavy with the dirt and mud of the road. For three days she walked, the abnormal composition of her body requiring little rest, food or water to support her health. No matter how many towns she passed, the reaction was always the same. With eyes of fright they peered at her through stained glass. Locking their doors and shielding their children from the piercing gaze of a golden devil, of a viper. A title her kind inherited due to their abnormally hued and fiery eyes. The one discerning feature that set them apart from the other species of the realm.

    “The simplest stable boy is more likely to receive respect and gratitude, than one of my blood.” She purred, as defiantly golden eyes maintained their current focus. Yet in her words lingered a revelation, a fragment into the battered psyche of the devil. For despite her prowess, despite her unholy and unnatural origin’s. Underneath the armor, vibrant eyes and cold expression. Could be found a beating, human heart. That longed to be loved, appreciated and perhaps accepted. For though the flesh could be changed and destroyed…The mind and heart proved far more resilient.

    On the fourth day she rested for two hours, waking within the damp and dark cave that had been her bed. Stepping through the gaped moss covered jaws of her shelter, her eyes narrowed as they adjusted to the light from the sun. Strands of raven hair swayed in the gentle breeze, as heavy sigh parted from luscious lips. Without further delay she continued, making her way through the rocky valley and woods to the town. That afternoon the locals went about the same routines. Trying to forget for a moment the horrors facing them. But all that changed once she was spotted in the distance by the militia sentries.

    With curious and terrified gaze they watched, as several folk ran about the settlement bearing news of the golden devils appearance. Curiosity overtook them, as entire stores, inns and pubs emptied to watch as she traversed the dirt road of their village. Never before had they seen one of her blood, she appeared human but those burning eyes of gold. There was something eerie about them, foreboding enough to justify in their eyes; the concerned whispers of a few. One of which proved a bit too audible to escape Myriah’s attention.

    “Those eyes…I guess it does take a devil to kill a monster. Or a viper to swallow some vermin.” The man’s words earning a nod from another fellow within the group. “It goes to show you that sometimes it takes a bigger fish, to keep inline the smaller ones.” Abruptly she stopped, giving them both a sharp glare, piercing their very flesh and souls. The color flushed from their skin, as the first to speak stammered, “Not so loud…she might go berserk and kill us!” Without further delay she left the matter be, making her way to the elder’s home, slamming the weather worn wooden door shut behind her.

    One by one they congregated around the barrier, trying their best to eavesdrop on the conversation whilst maintaining some minute degree of stealth. But whatever was said; seemed far too muffled to be understood. Yet still vainly they did persist; in the pursuit of sating their curiosity and hopefully fears.
    #1 The Underdark Rises, Nov 25, 2013
    Last edited by a moderator: Nov 25, 2013
  2. The thing that drove a rumor to spread further and faster than anything else was fear, and nothing caused more fear to simple folk than unexplained deaths. The news of it spread to all settlements nearby, to the villages and even some of the cities off in the distance. What a grand tale for a traveler to tell, the kind that would bring silence to a room that moments ago had been deafeningly loud. And so they told it.

    As time passed it became more and more exaggerated and outrageous, strange ideas of what was killing and why, until it could be heard in an uncountable number of ways. It was wolves, sorcery, undead, and a beast than none had lived to see, everyone told it a different way.

    Kyan knew the way of fearful rumors, knew that what he heard in taverns wasn't truth, but everything starts from something. There were deaths, though the cause remained unknown to him. For someone payed to kill, a visit to this 'Rorkshire' could prove quite profitable.

    He traveled off the roads though not too far, remaining out of sight. If this turned out to be some small group of bandits or something of the like something or someone was going to die. Hopefully someone who carries coin in their pockets.
  3. "You grace us with your presence." The sagged face elderly man spoke. His words weaken by age, his face like a canvas was covered in rigid and defined wrinkles and scars. In truth she admired this human, few of his kind make it to such a ripen old age. War, pestilence, famine, and monsters alike snuffed out the candles of thousands of young souls each day. Yet somehow among this chaotic tempest of probabilities, he flourished and overcome the horrors laid out before his life. "No need for such formality, even now your people gawk at me from the windows, and desperately eavesdrop through whatever means necessary. Be it flaccid or concrete of a method, I can assure you this much is true." She spoke coldly, yet matter of fact like that even the elder could do little to contest her train of thought.

    "Indeed, it is as you say. But I have endured many years, and many such attacks before. I know the importance your kind plays in society. You fulfill a role few can, or rather will. And despite your stern facade can stone cold shell. I can sense within that exoskeleton of lies, a warm and beating kind heart." His words were oddly poised, yet within them stirred a sense of solemnity of truth. With arched brow she admired his deductive skills, for though his eyes were failing him he could deduce much beyond the limitations of most. "What makes you think I am so kind?" She retorted, causing the elder to laugh at her stubbornness.

    "Simple my dear, the money we offered wasn't enough to hire one of your skills. Forty coins of gold, we fell short by at least four hundred. But you invoked your rite, the one in which you do the job for free. Compassion, I sensed it the moment you walked through that door. Despite what others have done to you; despite the horrors you've seen and challenged. Somehow you relied not just on instinct and muscle memory, but your mind and soul as well." Silence stirred between them, lasting but a few brisk moments before they spoke at great length regarding the incidents surrounding the attacks.

    "So twelve dead thus far, all of which were devoured to the point they were hardly recognizable. And all taking place in random hours of the day?" Myriah inquired, as the elders daughter brought out two cups of tea. With a kind wave of her wrist she declined the offer, not having much of an appetite these days. "Yes, leaving little in the way of a pattern." But before he knew it, Myriah responded. "There is a pattern, the lack of one in and of itself is a pattern. I do not expect you to understand; but what you have here isn't your normal dire wolf or monster. You're dealing with a V class; or as we refer to them as a vicarious hunter. A monster who has lived long and happy from the hunt of human prey. A being who now has evolved to the point that in order to maintain it's strength, it must consume several humans a week."

    Distraught stained the aged visage of the village elder, as nearly milky eyes drifted toward the candle light. "Than it is worse than I feared..." He muttered, sensing his disheartened state of mind; the golden witch lied to boost up his hope and moral. "Not really, they are a higher echelon of entity; but nothing I haven't taken down before." The man's ignorance was bless, as both him and his daughter smiled, having faith restored. "I must be off..." She replied, removing herself from her seated position and making her way toward the door. But just as she gently grasped the brass, she paused as from the corner of her eyes she saw the both of them bowing to her.

    "Thank you..." They both whispered, and for the first time in many years she faintly smiled. "Do not thank me...I am a golden witch. A viper whose only purpose is to remedy such situations. But if you feel a need to thank me, it would be best to wait till the job is done." With that being said she open the door, as one of the locals nearly tripped and feel to her feet. Briefly she peered down at the man, before walking around him. Ignoring the awkward stares and gossip as she made her way out of the village borders. Stepping from his home the village elder looked at his people from his battered porch. "She said yes...And she is nothing at all like what I expected." His words birthing a sigh of relief from he people.

    Just as she passed the last sentry she felt her arm being grabbed. Quickly she gave the man a terrifying gaze, causing the militia man to let go of her instantly. "Sorry Viper.If you could would you mind locating a merchant who often frequents these parts. He is bringing much needed supplies. I fear for him, and think he may find himself in peril. He may be an outsider, and these are troubling times. But I wish no gruesome death on any man." Those fiery golden hued eyes calmed down, as a heavy sigh escaped from full lips. "It's never easy." She muttered, before putting distance between her and the settlement.

    Her keen senses and knowledge of tracking made it easy to find the mans trail. Cautiously she followed his steps, keeping an eye on her surroundings as the sky became pinkish. The sound of snapping twigs a rustling brush would grab the mans attention. These obvious signs were done purposely, less she catch the stranger off guard. From the tree line she could be seen, jet black hair, expressive pools of gold. Her body adorned in leather armor fitted just for her, Her defined abdomen and cleavage partially exposed. As patches of chainmail reflected what ambient light there was. Selling their sexuality was important, for one mission they'd have to play a killer or a noble, the next assignment a prostitute or vulnerable damsel.

    "It is unwise to wander the woods alone. Be you armed or not." She purred, her unique eyes giving away her true nature right away. As she calmly looked around the woods. "There are worst things than bandits in these woods. Worst things than wolves or even death." Myriah could tell by the way he was geared; that this man had no intent to turn tail and flee. He had too much invested in this affair to abandon it so easily. Meaning her job may have either gotten easier, or needlessly complicated. Either way some company may prove refreshing for her troubled soul.
  4. "If you're looking for that idiot merchant he's over that way." Kyan waved a hand off to his right, then turned to face the voice that had come from behind him. "And you're 'wandering the woods alone' quite calmly, what makes you think I would fare any worse than you, Viper?"

    A hood shielded his eyes and cast the rest of his face in shadow. His clothes were not that of a rich man, nor were they the clothes of a peasant. They were made for travel, filthy, charred in places, and bloodstained. Only some of the blood was his own. There was a quiver and a shortsword strapped to his back and a bow in his hand.

    "Do you think I'm as weak as the rest of these lot," he gestured in the general direction of the village. "Just because I share the same blood?"
  5. He was a cocky one, though his confidence may have been merited. Those vivid golden eyes of hers had taken note of his callous hands. His fingers use to holding back the string of a bow, while also firmly gripping the rigged hilt of a blade. "I know he is dead, I smelled his carcass miles ago." She spoke, pointing to her little nose. "But it isn't his death that concerns me per say, more so how he died." With that being said she made her way toward the corpse, refusing to touch it as she intently drifted her eyes up and down the body. Aside from being torn apart her keen senses picked up on something few would notice, a serious of tiny legions.

    "Sadly I doubt your strength alone would prove of any real contest to the beast." She purred, her words carrying with them a matter of fact like approach. "What we are dealing with here is not only large, possessing razor sharp claws and fangs. But also a toxic breath that consumes flesh and paralyzes the target if the proper exposure is administered." Like all vipers, Myriah had a well versed comprehension regarding the monsters of our world, and their physiology. A necessary skill if one was to survive within her organization.

    Slowly she rose from her hunched over position, offering him an expressionless gaze. "To make matters worst it is very old, experienced and a vicarious killer. Whose appetite for human flesh extends beyond a bestial need to feed. He killed this man only out of sport." With a wave of her slender wrist she motioned around them. As small strands of flesh and splattered blood stained both fern and bark alike. "By the amount of blood and flesh, as well as the remaining organic material clinging to the corpse, it couldn't of taken more than a single bite. Grant it this is preliminary gathered from the height and estimated weight and body fat percentage of the victim."

    Her dialect would prove strange, almost as much as her cold demeanor and nonchalant way of explaining such a morbid and gruesome scene. "I am not doubting your skills, nor am I foolish enough to rule your strength out due to race alone. But such an entity would be elusive, cunning, terrifying powerful, merciless and most of all unlike anything that stalks the mortal plain. For it is a soul Gobbler." Myriah spoke without deception, her approach as blunt and sly as a club to the face. However sugar coating her thoughts and theories wouldn't do either of them justice.

    Soul Gobblers were mythological creatures, said to sleep within the corpses or subconscious of men. Feeding off of their vices and pain until such a time as they matured. The host would then resemble an egg after cracked, he/she wouldn't survive the process. At least that was what most people claimed; the truth though was far more disheartening.
  6. "It appears those rumors weren't all that exaggerated after all." he muttered to himself. "How does one deal with these 'soul gobblers'? Because by the sound of it getting close enough to even scratch this thing means your dead by this 'toxic breath' you say it has, and money is of no worth to a dead man."

    The corpse was in a fairly gruesome state, near sickening to look at. But he had seen death before, blood had very little effect on him anymore. This venture was turning more dangerous than it seemed profitable, yet it was something new. Killing bandits got old after a while and this seemed interesting.

    He started digging through what remained of the man's clothing, searching his pockets. He didn't have much coin on him, but a bit was more than nothing and he stowed what little he found in a pouch at his belt.
    #6 Tyranes, Nov 26, 2013
    Last edited by a moderator: Nov 27, 2013
  7. How indeed, how could mere weapons pierce the flesh of such a beast? The task of taking down such a monstrosity seemed far more daunting than either party previously envisioned. But in the eyes of Myriah such petty details were of no import. If she had to choose between her life, or removing a blighted evil. She would always; and without hesitation aim for the latter. At least the strange man now understood the gravity of their dire situation. But instead of losing faith, a subtle yet notable fire of resolve ignited in his expressive pools. Resembling more so excitement than fear itself. Perhaps the idea of immortalizing his image was the source of this fire? Perhaps financial game or maybe, just maybe. It was the prospect of breaking away from the same old repetitively bland routine?

    Whatever his motives may be, the passion in those eyes planted a seed within the golden eyed devil. A seed of hope that perhaps together they could find a way. "I suppose by the flickering flames in your eyes; that you do not desire to retreat from your original quest?" She questioned, more so rhetorically already being more than aware of his answer. The concept of looting the dead failed to bode well for the viper, still perhaps the sacrifice of some moral standing was necessary if these two were to somehow work together. A rather presumptuous notion to say the very least.

    "Alone I fear we both will meet such a dreadful fate." She spoke, golden eyes focusing in on the battered corpse. "But together, there may be but a slither of hope." She spoke with a sincere sense of optimism. Ultimately she knew that her words would do little to distract from, let alone sedate his ever growing curiosity. "Those are but the idle bantering of the few drunks who claimed to have seen such a beast. As well as the idle hearsay of scholars and shamans alike. People often claim much; yet more times than often they're full of shit."

    Myriah wasn't one to adorn her words with honey or poetic meaning. Much like her appearance she preferred a less graceful and direct approach to expressing her thoughts or opinions regarding matters. "The answer is simple, we stab it enough times till it dies. I suggest using the pointy end of your blade or arrow." The golden witch smiled, trying her best to mimic humor. "Nothing in this world is immortal; everything rots and perishes. From the stars to the ants on the ground and everything in between. This Soul Gobbler is no different; I can assure you of this much. But in order to confront it we must understand our prey. As well as find a ward against it's aggressive toxin."

    Whatever his thoughts toward her, wouldn't impact the soundness in her words. To face such a creature without a few tricks would not be valiant, rather childish bravado at best. "Not too far from here, there is an old witch. If anyone knows anything about this creature, it would be her. And if anyone can think of a shield against it's breath it would be her as well. I do not prefer to mingle with her kind, despite the whimsical rumors most humans and mer fantasize about regarding my kind." She stated with a shrug, unsure how much this mysterious man understood of her organization and their children.

    "Shall we be off? Shelter, even amongst a witch would be preferable to wandering these cursed woods on foot at night. And the odds of making it back to town at this late hour seems increasingly unlikely." She concluded, turning her back toward the man.
  8. Vipers, gobblers, and witches. He was starting to wonder what he had gotten himself into. But he wasn't backing out now, no. The addition of a witch just made things all the more interesting and out of the ordinary. Much more exiting than chasing down pathetically idiotic and overly confident bandits that often plagued the roads. Those folk always seemed to forget that no amount of threats and insulting words wouldn't keep an arrow out of their chests.

    The Viper seemed blunt enough to be trusted, at least mostly. At least at the moment there didn't seem much of a purpose in her lying to him, unless she planned to kill him for some reason. But there didn't seem to be much of a point in that either, so for the moment she was almost certainly speaking truth.

    She seemed to know where she was going and he didn't know anything about this witch, so he followed behind, an arrow now nocked on his bowstring. If anything was going to charge out of the trees trying to kill him he wanted to be able to shoot it at least once.
  9. With brush rustling beneath their stride, the two unsuspecting heroes pushed deeper into the heart of the woods. A ghastly fog now hovering inches from the grand, as their visibility became halved in half. The once serene song of the birds had been replaced by an eerie silence. The entire woods itself seemed petrified, trapped in a state of perpetual torpor brought about by unbridled fear. Myriah had a sense of deja vu as they continued their journey; a sight seldom linked to the awakening of an ill omen or curse. But just as hope seemed lost, and the sun retreated behind the veil of the horizon. A flickering scone could be seen, it's orange hued glow hazed by the ever rising fog.

    "It would be best to stay your weapon." She forewarned, undoubtedly whatever mad crow called this abode home was paranoid. Especially considering the number of witch hunts and the monster within these parts. Almond shaped eyes narrowed, as their defiant golden gaze penetrated the influence of the fog. She could see the small house, overgrown with vines and outfitted with a wooden fence to keep out unwanted visitors. If it wasn't for the silhouette of a body near a candles flame, she would of mistaken the weather worn building as abandon.

    Cautiously she approached the fence, waving for the man to join her as she scaled the four foot barrier with relative ease. Just as she cleared the fence, the door of the home creaked open. Standing at it's threshold, under the lips of the homes jaw was a young woman. Wearing a black robe and ivory white mask. "The snakes told me of your arrival to these parts Viper." She hissed, it was no secret that golden devils sometimes hunted witches. However this crow understood that this one in particular harbored her no ill intents.

    "Pardon our trespassing, we have come..." But before the raven lock abomination could finish her thoughts; the witch interrupted. "I know damn well why you're here. Both you and the archer. But do not fret young children; we have a common enemy and thus a common link. Do not dolly for long, if the beast senses you both my ward will only delay our death." Myriah's eyes taking note of the salt on the grass, forming some sort of magical glyph. It's energy faint, yet it's design and every contour perfectly executed. The skills necessary to construct such a large and efficient nearly undetectable barrier was well beyond the reach of most witches.

    "Shall we?" The viper turned to her unlikely ally, unsure of how he'd respond to the recent events. But not wishing to test their host words and become another victim to the creature, she started off toward the door without much delay. Once inside she took in the dusty and damp home of the witch. The building was sparsely lit, the dim candle lights only providing enough illumination toi navigate the claustrophobic den of the witch.

    "I would offer you something to drink, but I don't like your kind Viper. Nor am I fond of superstitious humans who often stand in the way of progress." The walls were covered in various charms and numbers, dialects written in various dead language beyond the grasp of most. Save for the greatest scholars in the land..."But I will offer you both a seat while we speak." She concluded, her hand motioning for them to take it easy for a bit.
  10. He followed after, scaling the fence and cautiously making his way into the dimly lit place.

    "Well, you certainly have a pleasant home now don't you." he muttered, sitting as the witch had said to do.

    He didn't understand the ways of witches, monsters, and things of the like, there was little reason that he would. It wasn't that he didn't believe in such things, but he preferred a more simple way of doing things. Chopping someone's head off seemed to be a much more straightforward way of doing things, much easier than witchcraft. But it seemed that this witch was the best chance currently available to dealing with this soul gobbler, and he'd rather witchcraft than death.

    This particular witch, though, seemed more insulting than anything else at the moment. Not that he minded much, he'd rather be told a blunt truth than a lie, but being called a 'young child' and a 'superstitious human who gets in the way of progress' did little in the ways of making him want to listen to her word, even if he knew that he had to to get anywhere besides the world of the dead.
  11. The witch caught his sly comment regarding her humble abode, but cared not to waste the energy in humoring him with a response. She did not expect one such as himself to understand the dangers that come with her vocation. Myriah knew it was unwise to trust one of her "profession" however the circumstances of their arrival didn't permit the inevitable avoidance of their interaction. If the two were to survive; they'd have to lower their standards and morals and open their minds to new and perhaps unwanted possibilities. The witch could sense the inner disposition stirring within the viper, a testament that spoke positively of her own innate powers of observations. Seeing how golden devils were renowned for the unwavering bearing and facades.

    "If we remain silent for much longer the bones of the dead may just rattle, if not to shatter this eerie spell." The owner of the home spoke, not caring much for their delay. As much as Myriah wanted to refute and deny the soundness in her sarcastic words, she knew she couldn't.

    "Sorry about that, I'm not use to such company." Her words striking the witch of the woods as humorous, enough so to merit a chuckle.

    "Did I say something funny?" The viper questioned, unsure of what she found so delightfully humorous.

    "The company of a witch is indeed rarely sought after; and whenever it is it is seldom done without unusual external influences inspiring it." She so rightly pointed out.

    "You both may despise my kind, but you're here out of necessity and business...not pleasure." She pointed out the obvious.

    "You seek a way to ward off the soul gobbler's corrosive breath no? I may know of a way to thwart is theoretically speaking of course." Her words causing a disturbed arch of Myriah's brows.

    "Theoretically?" She muttered with a heavy sigh.

    "I have yet to test my remedy. And sadly I don't have the necessary ingredients either." She replied matter of fact life, eyeing the man who accompanied this viper.

    "For a human you seek unusual company. Perhaps you aren't as close minded and spiteful as I originally thought archer."

    Her words meant to compliment the human; though coming more off as an underhanded slap across his face. A side effect birthed from her reclusive lifestyle no doubt. "On paper it should work; so I suppose you two can be my guinea pigs as it were. A rare moss is the only missing ingredient. Luckily a reclusive alchemist who specializes in golem and flesh manipulation holds a fine specimen. But due to a misunderstanding..I doubt he'd be willing to part with it if you bring up my name." Rather than question; Myriah thought it best to simply accept her wordage.

    "Not far from here, about a mile to the west you'll find a waterfall. Behind it will be a cave with a series of tunnels. Follows the glowing fungus and you'll stumble into his lab."

    "I assume he won't part with it easily?" The ever observant Myriah pointed out the unfortunate truth surrounding the work obsessive alchemist.

    "Indeed. But if you bring me this moss I will provide you with a shield to survive the creature strongest weapon." The rules of their alliance seemed fair enough. But with the sun setting and the fog, the viper doubted very much that they could set out tonight. Sensing this the witched promptly extended an offer.

    "It would be suicide to leave tonight, you both may stay here to sunrise. I promise I won't bite...or turn either of you into a newt." She laughed, finding a sick sense of humor in the foolish stereotypes most bestowed so graciously on her kind. Despite this her words seemed sincere enough, after all she wouldn't cross them until she saw the results from her experiments. A fact that even Myriah was aware of.

    "What say you?" The viper spoke turning her head toward the man who accompanied her. Curious what his thoughts on the matter may be?
  12. "I say that you two know more about these things than I do. I came to stick a few arrows in something and that's what I'm best at. I'll leave the more complicated things to those who best understand them."

    He found the corner of the room that was most shrouded in shadow and settled on the ground with his sword in hand. No one could come up behind him if he had a wall at his back. If the witch was going to try to do something to him he wanted at least a chance to lop her head off before her witchcraft did whatever it does.

    "One more thing. This things can be killed without magic as long as you don’t die yourself, right? It can bleed to death? If you run a stick of metal through it enough times it'll die?"

    He made himself as comfortable as he could be in the corner as he awaited an answer. Here at least they couldn’t sneak up on him. Not only might the witch kill him but the Viper as well. He didn't necessarily think that she would, but she was a Viper and he didn't know how much she trusted him. For all he knew she had brought him all this way just to wait until he slept to make it easier to end his life, not that he thought it was likely. He could never be too cautious.
    #12 Tyranes, Dec 2, 2013
    Last edited by a moderator: Dec 2, 2013
  13. The witch found this man to be amusing, exercising caution often proved wise. But in this circumstance it could burn potential bridges. The beast they hunted was no mere animal. In order to dispatch it they'd need not just strength, but no small measure of luck as well. All her life, the viper was use to such treatment. No matter the people, culture, religion or government she wandered into. They always treated her with great disdain and kept her at arms reach. Though her eyes may be monstrous, her origins unnatural. These feral golden eyes and her abominable beating heart could still shed tears of sorrow.

    Though she strove to keep her emotions at bay, no amount of will could refuse them the right from lingering on her intimidating visage. "Everything dies, and everything lives. This creature is no exception. Stab it enough times and it'll perish to the dust from which it was formed. Nothing, no matter it's origins can defy this universal truth." She spoke softly, the witch chuckling at the display. Admiring her broken voice and weak words. "It seems us witches and you vipers aren't so different. In the end we're just tools to be used whenever society deems necessary, and then instantly thrown out like garbage afterwards."

    As much as She'd love to deny the witches words, the golden eye devil found herself unable to do so. For though the truth may be cruel, distasteful and depressing. It's gravity and weight are unable to be denounced so lightly. "I suppose..." She replied, making her way to the corner. Crawling up into a ball on the frigid wooden floor far from the light and warmth of the candles. "I need to sleep. If just for a moment..." She whispered, trying to rest her weary eyes. The witch cackling as she peered out the window of her home, and into the night.

    "I wonder if monsters can dream..." She whispered, audible enough for the male to hear. Her words undoubtedly aimed toward the now resting viper.
  14. He pulled his hood lower over his face, resting his head on one arm. No matter if the tales told of witches were full truth or not, if many were like this one they weren't completely wrong. This creature was cold and cruel, and he wouldn't mind if they were all burned, buried, hung, or otherwise disposed of. Nor would he mind making a bit of coin rounding them up for such a purpose, if he wasn't killed himself by their strange ways. There was no telling how much of what was said was truth and how much was lie.

    He woke thinking he was falling but couldn't remember why. The lingering feelings of anger and fear still hung in his mind from some dream he couldn't remember. His hand was sore from gripping the sword tightly. It was almost but not quite light out. He sheathed his sword and pulled a few arrows from his quiver, tending to the feathers. There was no point in trying to sleep any longer. He was slightly surprised that the witch hadn't done anything evil as he slept, as far as he could tell at least, and not surprised but still pleased that the Viper hadn't either. The arm that had been under his head for the length of the night had lost all feeling and he muttered angrily under his breath.

    "Well, at least I'm not dead. Yet." he mumbled to himself. He had to hope that he could still say that a week from now.
    #14 Tyranes, Dec 8, 2013
    Last edited by a moderator: Dec 18, 2013