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[Lo'campo]

54th Sunberth Winter 515 A.V "How are you doing tonight Mr.Campo?" A gentle smile given by the waitress of the Drunken fish. Dawn on him it did not, how many times he had walked through the doors of the building greeting the same woman. It had to be a large number seeing that she knew his name, let alone the fact that she called him Mister. He gave a small smile in response, letting her know that he noticed her presence. It wasn't long before the woman approached his table, cup of water in hand, taking a seat so they may discuss what ever nonsense that had been going on since his last appearance. "Nothing much has changed since last time, there was one guy that vomited all over the place, I got stuck with the duty of cleaning it up. Gosh I hate working at this place, but miza keeps the world spinning right? Things aren't even that bad since I've started. Yea there are the occasional brutes that find their way here, but ever since you've been coming around, they usually don't come back. Guess you're some kind of protector." The comment made him chuckle inside. It flattered him that she thought of him as a protector, knowing not the reason that those that caught his attention never returned to the establishment. The question formed in his mind. Would she still look at me as a protector if she knew the truth? The sound of a voice called her back to her duties, a nod of the head signaling their farewells until the met once more. "Shyke" She didn't have any victims for him tonight. He would have to do things the old fashion way, taking a sip from his piss water that actually tasted better this time around, or was it that he had just gotten used to it's usual retching taste. Never less, his legs stretched out under the table, he relaxed watching the scene as sailors, gang members, and common folk alike pleasure themselves with spirits and ale. "Aye, another mug of yer best ale! Hurry you wench or i'll bend ya over me knee and spank ya backside!" The conjoined jeer of those around the man had confirmed that this would be tonight's victim. The man was a being that he had never seen before, standing tall, erect, bearing four arms. A quick look and sniff to his cup of water to be sure that it was not tainted. Drunk or not, he focused on his task at hand, studying his victim before he plans his form of attack. The four armed man stood tall, broad, muscles showing that he was no stranger to a fight. He hoped the man would make things challenging. The Akalak began to bore of taking down his victims with the ease of stealing candy from infants. He stood to approach the man in an attempt to get the man alone, to which the four arms tired of the tavern and walked through the door. Not wanting to lose his target, Lo'campo followed keeping distance not to make himself obvious.

[Stalk]

The sky was dark, Leth's silvery glow was blocked by thick clouds giving the evening an almost palpable darkness. The wind that sometimes swept across the docks was unseasonally absent and as a resulting quit contrasted with the noise coming from the tavern that the Zith lurked near. He looked up into the dark depths above and smiled to himself. It was a good night for hunting after all.

He was leaning against the wall of an alleyway opposite the drunken fish. It was an establishment he was familiar with as a foreigner blended in more at the docks than anywhere else. Tonight however he was in the vicinity for business not pleasure. As usual he had collected a scrap of paper from the hidden location on which a description of the individual that he was to track was written and what information was needed from them. The unfortunate prey tonight was a peculiar four armed man with golden skin and a haughty gait. Stalk vaguely remembered learning the name of the mans race however it had proved unpronounceable for him and as a result was quickly forgotten.

Besides prey was prey regardless of race. Or how many arms they had.

He readjusted the long cloak that was draped around him pulling agitatedly at its corners. He resented wearing it but it did its job of covering his wings, which were uncomfortably wrapped around the front of his body. His keen eyes had no problem seeing through the gloom and were trained on the door of the tavern waiting for the man to leave. He had followed him to the establishment several bells before and was growing tired of waiting.

"I don care wa you say Frank the whore's n' here are cheap and liberal n' some are alf appealing". The slurred words cut through the night and Stalk sunk back into the shadows of the ally lifting the hood of his dark cloak up over his head as two already stumbling patrons approached the fish.

Almost half a bell after the pair had stumbled through the doors of the establishment his mark finally sauntered out and into the street. He had clearly had a skinful and steadied himself before heading left past the allyway in which the Zith lurked.

Stalk smiled. The hunt was on.

He let the four armed meat on legs get a good way down the dockside before exiting the back of the ally. He was on the dockside with the sea on his right and building to his left. He knew that the street the man walked on was a straight line for a goodly way. Placing his feet carefully he stalked along the docks until he cut up the fifth ally on his left. He crouched low and stopped at the far mouth of the dirty smelly alleyway. He peered right and was pleased to the the man still stumbling along the path towards the quay were ships were moored.

Before he turned to continue his pursuit the noise of footsteps alerted him to a presence further back down the path off to the left. He took a quick look before moving back into the shadowy protection of the ally.

A large blue meat on legs was also walking up the path baring the focused gaze of a predator set upon his quarry. It seemed that the man had attracted more than just his attention. However if this new hunter thought he was going to get his prey he needed to think again.

[Lo'campo]

A five step pace he kept behind the man, assuring that he would not be noticed. The slight breeze of the night playing with the tail of his robes. He knew not of what destination the unlucky fellow was headed to. He only hoped that they would arrive soon, his blade craving the taste of blood. The two turned down a dark alley with little to no light from the moonlight. His eyes already adjusted to the quick change of lighting, giving him a sense of night vision. He continued after the man, waiting for the perfect time to strike. Fingers slowly moving across the hilt of his dagger. A few people stumble by, drunks, probably blind and stupid from all the ale and now lost. A shake of his head at the those that passed by. He would have been more than happy to take their lives if they were sober enough, and he didn't already have a person already in the process of being his next victim. Becoming more anxious with every step after the man, he tried to calm himself down. He needed not bring any attention to himself- thought to late as one of his feet slammed into a tower of crates, knocking them down with a thunderous crash that well enough caught the attention of the four armed man. Before he could thing of a quick lie, the man burst into a sprint around the corner of the alley. Shyke. Kicking the crates out of the way, Lo'campo gave chase down the alley not wanting to lose his target. The man obviously didn't know where he was going, as they repeatedly ran in a circle through the alleyways. He struggled to keep up with the man, chest heaving up and down, his heart felt as if it were about to explode from his chest. He wasn't a runner, fighting did not require a person to know how to run, then it would be called a retreat. His run slowed to a jog, attempting to catch his breath. He had lost the man who dipped behind another corner. Which way did he go? Another sound of crates being moved gave him a sense of where the man could be. Moving quickly, which wasn't quick at all, he turned down an alley backtracking the way which they had originally come. The tip of his lakan glimmered in the moonlight as his back hugged the wall. He didn't want to run out and be seen again. He didn't want to run after the bastard. He would wait before moving, catch the sap by surprise. His heart continued to beat at a high rate, he focused. Taking deep breaths and releasing slowly, clearing his mind, reclaiming his peace. He needed not be tense when attacking, it would give room for mistakes. This needed to be swift, clean. He would hit the man with enough force to render him unconscious. Afterwards he would carry him to the forests where the real fun would began. Standing up from the wall, he moved to approach his prey.