Noctambulation or Not? The Mission

[Paganism]

Unforeseen encounters occur all the time, it's something that cant be stopped. That's the reason why they are classified as unforeseen; one's unable to detect what may transpire. A sensation that's endeavour is to hint of conditions that draw near rises up; the explanation with the qualification to give a blurry mental picture/clue however remains a mystery to a degree. The encounter itself could be glorious yet at the same time grasp the unsettling possibility, the contingent transformation into a disastrous environment may very well betide; who's to depict the outcome?

Late one morning (the time around two) a creature housing physical properties that render a 19 year old format is found. He's up to something, this little secret of his kept to himself. His slow rogue like locomotion down an unpaved road would raise question within the minds of those that see him. Who and what is the theme for the undisputed curiosity flowing through the mental spirit found in the heads of organisms whom might be watching. The huntsman could possibly be a hitman who's DNA consists of physics not man; his virtue seems like it, after all his movements are far to flawless. Then again the race of men in this fairly large town called Nocte (KNOCK-tay) Clepix is far outnumbered..

Difficulty is a possibility, who's to spot him? His style in which he moves changes going from what was once a slow stride into full on predator, he seems to be hunting. He's not stalking to sneek up on prey, he's on a mission; the task given to him isn't to deliver a package. Instead he's to deliver death upon a certain individual in paticular. On the left side of him is a beautiful four foot wall made of cement and stone, the large minerals pulled from the earth to add to the mixture of utensils needed for this partition lay within the cement; large smoothed portions stick out on the sides. He's found these types of walls to be helpful in a way his reason soon about to take place. Stopping the sudden halt in movement had been, incapable of being predicted. He's up to something, this mission of his is clearly going to place the male on the other side of the wall where a large house sits.

(The typist for Felix [Fee-lix] Mizaiya [my-zay-yah] is me.)

 

[Racutio]

The sound of the crickets in the mansion's garden would be one of the only sounds to fill the night air, other than a large owl hooting periodically every few minutes high up in one of the trees on the other side of the manse's wall. The pure white crescent moon in the sky would look like a crooked white smile behind a dark silhouetted figure who stands atop the front edge of the roof of the mansion with it's arms crossed and a hood up to conceal itself, whatever it is. The figure would give off no sound, and give off no shadow to be cast down upon the grounds below him. The figure would bend at the knees with it's palms moving to rest on it's knees.

Atop that rooftop, upon a zoom in of his perspective, would be none other than the legendary Rift-Walker, Racutio Envarius. Wearing his black hooded jacket made solely of adolecent black dragonhide, with a hood in the visage of the dragon that once breathed fire on it's foes before it was slain. With a black leather storage belt with several pouches all around the belt at his waist capable of holding all kinds of things inside. His black cargo pants would have protective rectangular rivets, all of which lining up perfectly to cover the knees for both protection from weapons and projectiles, and for fighting in combat, to strike with the knees efficiently and effectively. On his feet would be a pair of skin-tight black and white Nano-tech shoes that act like a ninja's tabi socks, each consecutive toe fitting perfectly inside the high-tech sock-like shoes, and outside the shoes would be white fibers white metallic phalanges and bones on the outside of them, perfectly fitting his feet and looking as if they are his feet. He'd have a pair of gloves just like the shoes on his feet, made of the same material. The gloves veins at the wrist would glow dimly, and not bright enough to be seen. The glow being multi-colored, giving off multiple hues of color, like the ever-changing elements.

Racutio would only reach his right hand up and scratch the back of his head past his hood, making his dark blue hair fall over his dimly glowing carmine red eyes, in the deep crimson shade of blood, with the tinged orange hue of fire at their core. Racutio was giving a contract to protect this mansion with no question, and he knew better. He looked into it and had plenty of questions about the home he could answer himself now. But as it stood right now, the tan-skinned Mar'tallian, and eternally twenty-one year old warrior wanted a job to pass time, and this is how he was going to do it. In the outfit he's in, and at a height of 6'0", with his muscular build, he looks like a dark highly intimidating roof gargoyle on the roof with shadows covering the upper part of his face,making his red eyes glow in the slits of the dragon jacket's head at the eyes dimly, making him the visage of a black dragon. A terrifying sight to behold... Racutio would watch and wait, holding onto the edge of the roof with his left hand, the white metallic bones on the fingertips of the gloves would extend and sharpen at that moment, and Racutio would grip the edge of the roof with his now sharp, claw-like fingertips. His dimly glowing eyes, with their soul resonance, he could see any souls or soul energy in the area. Racutio planned on making short work of this contract. He knew whoever owned this manse was shady. That much was clear. Not many can pay for his kind of protection, which is what made him look into the place even more. Racutio was going to see what kinds of beings and people this structure was to be so thoroughly defended from, and most certainly, why it was in need of being defended.

All of a sudden, there would be a moment of silence...The crickets, the owl, everything would go silent for several minutes before a breeze would pick up and the trees would blow in the wind, creating a hissing rusting sound from the leaves of the trees. With that, Racutio would stand up and step back, disappearing from where he once stood. The sounds would then continue, unabated... As if all on cue. This night was going to one to remember. How much would occur before sunrise is the true question to be asked? Only time will tell...