Blood by Moonlight (Mok)

by **Wrenmae** on April 9th, 2012, 7:41 pm

The stone was cold against his back, bleeding through his clothes and chilling the skin that lay protected there. Long dagger out, glancing with bright abandon, he waited for Mok to open the door and signal the beginning the rabbit hunt. Their quarry had gone to ground, but in such a shallow burrow. Regrettable, but now the only possibility was to fight tooth and nail for life.

Shroud shivered, pulling Res from deep within him and immolating his unarmed hand with the stuff. It had no feeling to it, only the suggestion of possibility and the static of power. He waited, breath held, mind blank, trying to distance himself from what he had to do, what he would need to do...there was only the then, he and Mok.

The quarry.

Mok made the first move, answered with a stout piece of wood crashing against his crown. As the half blood buckled, Shroud moved, holding out his left hand and triggering the Res he had been gathering for the last few minutes, a blast of wind coupled with Mok's grasping hand knocking the prisoner off his feet to crash against the inside of the house. Shroud leaped over Mok and onto their prize, his long dagger brought back over his head, poised to deliver a final blow.

But the man beneath him was too fast, pushing up with heavy arms and hurling the man off his stomach. Wrenmae rolled across the ground, wincing at the debris of lives last lived in the old place, keeping hold of his dagger. The criminal kicked at Mok, aiming viciously for his head while Shroud got to his feet and approached again. In the dark, everything was wild.

Using a broken chair for leverage, Shroud leaped up and over the flailing arms, driving both his knees down into the wide chest beneath him. There was a groan from the darkness, escaping air and hope. Shroud followed it up by impaling the dagger into his chest. Once, twice, and then those arms reached up again and knocked him aside, smacking his head against the stone. Groggy, Shroud tried to get his baring as the criminal contorted in agony.

He felt the spray of warm blood, tasted its coppery edge.

But the world spun.

And so did he.

by **Mok** on April 11th, 2012, 3:40 am

The gangster had certainly done well bringing Wrenmae along with him. Without backup the encounter could have turned dirty real fast. In fact, Mok's chances for survival would have been near zero if Shroud wasn't there. Tugging on the man's ankles, the myrian felt a blast of air drop the fugative on his ass. Of course that wasn't the end of it though. The half-blood had to eat a few heels to the face before he was in the clear to let go. This wasn't his first brawl though. Clenching his jaws and dropping his chin, he was able to shrug off the blows. Normally, the direct kicks would have left him dazed and confused, however that didn't matter in the darkness of the room. No one could see a thing, it was all about instincts now.

Another seconds or two passed and so did a couple more kicks, but Mok would not let go. Finding a openning in the desperate man's attacks, the myrian opened his jaw and bit down as hard as he possibally could. He wasn't trying to tickle the guy either. Thick blood poured into his mouth and that was his que to pull. There was no howling or words though, just a muffled groan, because at that exact moment Shroud slammed into the man's chest, knocking the wind out of him. That was the gangster cue.

Snapping up, the myrian reached for his blade on the floor. Shroud went flying after successfully stabbing the man a few times. Play time was over though, enough bullshitting. Raising his elbow above his ears, the tip of his blade was pointing directly at the man's heart. In one fluid motion, the myrian stabbed the man in the heart, pushing down slowly. A mist of blood squirted out of the man's chest, wetting Mok's face and body and probally the wall and door too, maybe even Wren.

Spitting a mouthful of blood on the man's face, Mok removed his sword from the carcuss and went to check on his partner, "Good looking Wren," Mok whispered as he helped his comrade sit against the wall, "How you feeling?"

Thats when he realized that he wasn't feeling that great either. He could feel the blood rushing to his head. The blows to the noggin really did a number on him, but it was nothing that a little breather couldn't fix. Sitting down next to Shroud, the myrian whispered again, "Let's take a breather...I rung my bell."

Leaning against bloody wall with his friend, Mok waited for the spinning and heaviness to go away, "Well that was fun eh... I think we have a problem though. How we gonna get the head back? Wasn't planning on being the first one here right. Not that there is much for us to worry about." Thats when he realized something, "Wait...you don't think that begger is going to rat us out or anything? You didn't give him his coin... might have sent another group our way...I say that we find another way outta here," Mok pointed at the other side of the shack, "We can try to knock a hole over there or something, run the other way or something...Waddaya think?"

Red = Myrian
Bold = Common

by **Wrenmae** on May 21st, 2012, 4:10 am

Shroud took a moment to calm himself, breathing and looking around. Taking Mok's gladius, he hacked at the quarry's head until it was loose, panting with the effort of the act. It was exhausting, but the broader blade would work faster than his thinner one. They both took a few moments to rest, reacting, existing, simply experiencing the aftermath.

"We go straight to where his head is needed," Shroud said, spitting blood from his mouth to wet the ground, "We turn it in and we don't look back. The longer we wait the more likely we'll be caught." Mok nodded, too addled to refuse. Up they went, pulling the head along with them along with any valuables taken from the corpse...there were few.

A prisoner never escapes with much.

Down the darkened alleys they flew, two men bound in dark practices with their prize weighing heavily in a rucksack fashioned of the dead mans clothes. The darkness leered at them reached out with fangs to pierce and yet never once touched the hems of their flying cloaks.

Beaten and battered they delivered the head, was paid their blood money...and then made off for camp.

This was the beginning of Shroud's internment with the Crimson Edge...part of him hoped it would not all be so bloody...and yet part of him knew it would be.

by **Archelon** on May 22nd, 2012, 5:10 am

Thread Award

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