Along a ridge [Open]

[Psy]

A lone figure made it's way up swiftly up one side of a vast mountain range, his nimble limbs finding purchase in the most difficult of situations as it scaled the steep cliffs of the mountains. Such an act was part of a daily routine for Talvin nowadays. Save for an occassional visit to the Arena, he lived in isolation, his home a cave along one of the ridges on the mountain, whose landscape he had memorised, and would recognize like the back of his hand.

The dunmer's nimble limbs served him well in traversing and scaling the mountain walls, and many of the sheer cliffs which were part of the landscape were scaled with ease. Ever since he won a certain match in the arena, he had found he would be followed wherever he went, and although nobody had made a move on his life just yet, he was certain that they would, as, well, he was making far too much money for some of the Arena officials to just sit by and watch him take their earnings, although he supposed that the fact he had confronted a certain corrupt official, at dagger-point, demanding better pay, had something to do with it too.

Up and up he went, climbing such steep walls no obstacle to him as he hopped, leaped, and climbed up the wall, the ridge where he resided just a few more meters higher. Gradually, the incline became shallower, and he found he could walk on solid ground again, and he jogged slowly to the cave which he resided in, grinning to himself, the bag which he had slung over his shoulder bulging with some hidden catch.

He was still grinning when he rounded the corner to his humble little home, tables overturned and furniture hacked the peices. The grin was swept off his face immediately. He found several weapons missing from their familiar positions in the room, and fact that his room was ransacked meant that the robbers were looking for something. Perhaps a proof of his identity.

He scowled. At least these assasins, if they were even assasins, were clumsy enough to leave destruction in their wake, and slowly, he walked into the room, drawing both his shortswords as he paced around the perimeter of the room, his ears pricked for any sounds or clues that suggested that the thieves were still present. Even if the people had already left wouldn't have made him any less cautious.

There was a high probability of them setting traps around the room, and even more that they were coming back in greater force. Chances were, they would be waiting outside to jump him when he went outside. He sighed. They really underestimated him if they sought to push him down the cliff or something, but that didn't make him any less unhappy about the fact his hiding place was found. There would be no rest until he was dead, even though, technically, he had done nothing illegal.

After three rounds, he turned to head outside, when a sudden noise made his head jerk to the side. The corner of his eye caught movement, and then, suddenly, a shadow passed through the other side of his vision. Suddenly, there was a flurry of movements, and he heard the sound of steel being drawn. He just managed to duck when two steel throwing knives, glinting with some sort of enchantment, flew over his head and exploded on the opposite wall.

Another sound of steel cutting air made him realize that there were others were that came from. He rolled to his side, and leapt to his feet, weapons glinting, the wall behind him, and the ledge in front. He was ready, but again, they were nowhere to be found, and again, only the faint shimmer in the field of his vision and the sound of steel alerted him that more throwing knives were coming.

Dark Brotherhood. To think that they would go this far, and they sent two agents after me.

He scowled. Those cowards only knew how to hide and how to ambush, their armour enchanted to keep them invisible from the naked eye. He was wearing no armour, and only had the small amount of weaponry. Again, throwing knives came from random directions, six of the explosive weapons forcing Talvin to the ground as they exploded above him, the wall above him crumbling.

I take that back. At least three.

He rolled to his feet just before the who wall fell on top of him, and let his eyes wander. They were forcing him closer and closer to the ledge, he noted, but he didn't want to move into a melee distance where the hidden assasins would just skewer him.

D*mn. They've cornered me.

[Willow]

ooc- Oh thank you god. Roleplay.

bic-

It had been several moons since the lycan had last seen Arrucard, Danny the ghost, and that fanatic intent on running tests on Rioku's blood. Rioku had disbanded from the small group headed back to the city with only slight pangs of guilt. She hated playing baby-sitter, and she wasn't going to let some new turned werewolf drag her back into this again. Feeling slightly frustrated and bored, Rioku broke into a swift trot, still in her wolven form. She was running at a brisk pace when she spotted the shadow flicking towards the caves on the mountain ridge, and more curious than alarmed, the lycan turned her path to the cavern. She'd never met the inhabitant, only knew that he stayed alone up here. He was dunmer, like Rioku's leader in the village where she had originated.

The sound of steel blades being drawn from their sheaths caught her attention, and her ears pulled forward. Well, well. Agents, and three of them, no less. Suddenly there was a number of explosions, and she felt the ground quake under her paws. The lycan unsheathed her claws and broke into an urgent canter, and spotted the dunmer on the ledge, cornered by the agents. They were forcing him back, hoping to either get close enough to cut at him or knock him off the ledge; Either way, he was in trouble.

Rioku edged up behind them, and with the speed she had inherited with her 'disease', if one could call it that, she shot forward, leaping with fangs bared to tear at the throat of the closest assassin. Why she was helping this hermit, Rioku had no idea, but there had been lack of excitement in her life since she'd left Arrucard and the others far behind in the forests, directing them towards the city before vanishing back home.

Maybe because he was a fellow loner was the reason why Rioku felt inclined to help him. The assassin let loose a shout, yelling about demons and hell hounds as her teeth lacerated the soft flesh below his jaw. She could taste the sharp, metallic blood that flooded her mouth, and then one of his knives grazed her shoulder, knicking an old wound she had gained long ago from another fight. Hopefully, the dunmer would have the sense to do something about the other two while she kept the third occupied. If he couldn't handle two silly agents, then it wasn't worth her pelt to help him.

If only it was a full moon, she thought. Then I'd be at full strength...But the full moon was for a few days now. The air was cool, and jerking her head up, her maw covered with blood, she looked towards the dunmer, looking nothing more than a rabid beast gone crazed with hunger; But her eyes, a dark brown tinted with silver around the edges, gleamed with intelligence. When the moon was bright, her eyes filmed over with silver-blue, but still, anyone with a brain could see she wasn't a normal wolf. Either the dark elf would take her as a demon and attempt to kill her once he'd finished the agents, or he would see her for what she was, and have sense.

One can hope on that, Rioku mused, watched death glaze the eyes of the assassin. Only then did she notice the blade piercing her shoulder, and the adrenaline of the kill wore down, broken by a wave of pain. She twisted her head awkwardly and seized the knife handle in her jaws, then pulled it out with a blanch. Hell's teeth, she thought, tossing the knife to the ground. The agents, momentarily distracted by her sudden and violent appearance, gawked for a beat, but already one was regaining his senses and turning back to the dunmer.

[Psy]

Talvin was standing his ground on the cliff-edge, cornered by unseen opponents and threatened by invisible blades. Only pure instinct saved him from the next one, as he dove forward towards the wall, another knife whizzing past his head and a warm body under his weight. Instinctively, he drove his hunting knife down, whizzing into what appeared to be nothing.

Splortch

His instincts once again served him correct. Deep crimson spurted out of an unseen wound, the illusion of the armour flickering as the knife peirced both leather and skin, then driving itself even deeper into the assasin's body, and even as he felt his knife finding flesh, he felt cold iron peirce his stomach and drive right through. He grimaced and gritted his teeth as he saw his target. He had managed to get the idiot in the neck, but the assasin had managed to gut Talvin with his own enchanted ebony blade.

"Bunny you popsicles," he heard himself spit out to the already dead assasin, his own blood pouring from the wound in the stomach,"When will you ever juicebox give up!?"

He jerked to the side, sword still in him, and he felt the cold pinprick of iron again, this time on his neck. Blood spurted out of the wound, Talvin narrowly missing getting decapitated, a small scratch on the side of his neck nothing in comparison to his head. From the corner of his eye, he could see a large wolf engaging another assasin.

He had no more time to think about the new relevation when again, he narrowly missed being run through, raising his hunting knife as quickly as he could to block another attempt at his life. The illusion of the Dark Brotherhood was running thin, and already, he could see the dim outline of his opponent - a dunmeri of a small and slight build. The blow jarred his arm, and his stamina was already running low as he felt his senses dimming from the wound in his stomach, tasting blood and bile in his mouth.

Magicka was never his strong suit, but he had dabbled in destruction, and in a last-ditch attempt, blew up a fireball right into his assaliant's face, and sent his hunting knife flying into the smoke. A cry of alarm, then a thud. Talvin looked at the sword that was stuck through him blankly, then, as a reflex movement, pulled it out, the adrenaline of battle gone.

Pain.

He gagged, resisting the urge to vomit out blood, his clothing and the rough,cold stone covered in his own lifeblood. Blinding pain lanced up his limbs, threatening to override his senses in a sea of painful and jarring redness. He coughed, and blood sprayed out of his mouth. He tried to move, but couldn't.

And the ground seemed far too welcoming as his limp body collapsed on the ground in a lifeless heap.


OoC: Oh noes! I didn't just kill him off, did I? Oh well. He doesn't have to be dead. XD

[Willow]

Rioku stepped away from the corpse, and out of the corner of her eye saw a spray of blood, and the dumner collapsed. Gee golly. The werewolf spun and half-ran to his side, leaping over the mangled body of the last assassin. The dumner was bleeding heavily from a gash in his stomach and blood dripped from his lips. Rioku began to shift, the air around her crackling with deep energy as she shifted, and there was a sharp cracking sound as her legs reversed and her head snapped back, looking as if broken.

A moment later, the silver-blue faded from her eyes and they became a dark, warm brown, that at the moment were glazed slightly with pain from her shoulder, but the girl ignored it. She picked up one of the throwing knives and tore at her cloak, cutting off long strips.

"If you die on my now," she muttered to the dumner, "I'll tear your corpse to pieces and eat it, do you want to feed a monster?"

Rioku pulled the front of his shirt, raising him off the ground, gritting her teeth from the strain in her shoulder, tearing the wound there and drawing more blood. She laughed; Kirian was see this as a buffet table. Where the hell was he when she needed him? He could save this dumner in a way Rioku never could, and it would be much faster, although probably more painful; She'd heard blooding a vampire was an extreme experience.

The werewolf tied the cloth tight at his hip, then opened his eye lid with one finger. Glazed, but he wasn't dead, yet, Rioku thought gratefully. "Small commission for tearing up my shoulder," Rioku grunted, and took a flask of water, upending it on Talvin's face and rinsing away the blood. The werewolf kept a number of flasks and packets of herbs and potions in her bag, and now Rioku pulled out another bottle of water, uncorked it with her teeth, and shook a packet of crimson powder into the flask. It hissed, turning a shade of fiery orange-red.

Maybe he'll choke on it. If he's any kind of conscious, he'll swallow, Rioku thought, forcing his mouth open and dumping the contents of the bottle into his mouth. Some of it poured back out, but after making a choked sound in his throat, it went down. A breeze tossed the scents of blood everywhere, and Rioku wrinkled her nose, looking up at the sky. All she could do now was wait.

It would probably be a few hours before the dumner regained consciousness, if at all, and Rioku made a desicion; She'd haul the dark elf back to the remains of his house and go for a hunt. Healing him up and then eating him out of hunger would be a waste of time. It was nearly a whole hour before Rioku found anything worth catching, an ancient deer about to drop dead anyway. It'd be tough, but the werewolf could take the remains of the deer back to the dumner for when he woke up. Grinning in hungry anticipation, Rioku fell forward on all fours at the wolf. The rapid shifting was wearing away her energy, but it'd be worth it.

She stalked the buck through the woods for ten minutes, and when it slowed to tear at the leaves of a shriveled bush, the large canine lunged with another explosive snarl, eyes blazing white silver and pale blue. Blood filled her mouth as she tore at it's jugular vein, and it gave a low groan, arching it's back in an attempt to throw her off. The wolf dropped to the ground, then sprang up, barreling into the buck and using her weight to knock it to the ground. It worked.

Cruel, that's what she was. Rioku seized it's neck in her powerful jaws and jerked back, and there was a loud crack as it's neck snapped. It's night-dark eyes glazed and the bleating faded. Hungrily, the wolf tore into it, tearing off a thick piece anf feeling the energy return to her.

Rioku saved a flank to drag back up to the hermit's lair, and when she returned, it'd been nearly three hours. If he was going to make it, he'd be awake, but not necessarily mobile, by the time she returned. The wolf broke into a trot and left the flank outside the house before stepping inside the remins of the house; He was still where she had left him, against the wall. The blood had stopped flowing, and for the moment, that was all she cared about; That and whether he was still breathing or not.

[Lan]

((Mind the cursing you two.))

[Psy]

OoC: I'm sorry 'bout the harsh language, but 'bunny you popsicles'? . Even I would't know what that line would mean if I did't write that myself. If you're going to edit it please edit it with something that makes sense. DX. Geh, well, I s'pose I enjoy using a bit more colourful language in my literature. XD


Mist clouded his vision, murky darkness surrounding him on all sides, nothingness for miles around. He saw nothing. He felt nothing. He was nothing. And the world around him, therefore, was of no relevance to him, and it didn't seem strange to him at the time that he seemed not to question the return to his roots; to nothingness. The void. Heaven. And Hell. There was no light. Only darkness. There was no fear. Only acceptance.

Serenity.

Peace.

Satisfaction.

Revelation.

Then there came denial. The devil. The demon. The anarchist that threatened to ruin the peaceful end to his life. To ruin the peaceful end of his life. The end of my life. Panic. What the heck am I thinking? What the heck am I doing here? Where the heck am I?! What the heck happened!?.

Reality came flooding back as a torrent.

The wound was not healed. The cut on his neck was still there. As was the jolting pain that returned with a vengeance, paraylzing him. Scrambling his thoughts. Making him a vulnerable target. Making him a vulnerable target to the assasins. He was taking short and rapid breaths. He jerked his head with an intention to survey the surroundings, but only succeeded in allowing another wave of pain to invade his body.

Slowly, he ordered his thoughts. He had killed one of the assasins, and maybe a second, but what had happened to the third? Was there even a third? He could vaguely remember a large canine creature who seemed to be engaged in battle. No longer was he lying on a blood-soaked rock face. Somebody had bandaged his wounds, he noticed, and cleaned him. He cast his eyes around the familiar, yet oddly not, room. Familiar items of furniture overturned and strongboxes hacked to peices and pillaged. Outside remained the bodies of the Dark Brotherhood. He sighed. At least they hadn't appeared to find the trapdoor.

He lay still for several moments. Judging by the lighting, it would be almost dusk, but Talvin couldn't make sure, his body propped up against a wall in a position was wasn't exactly comfortable. He was suprised that he hadn't slid onto the floor or something. He tried to steady his breaths, but just attempting to move his stomach slightly was laborous and painful, let alone taking deep breaths.

He waited for several moments longer when a large, vaguely wolf-shaped shadow was cast into the room. His heart skipped a beat, and he tensed. Talvin gritted his teeth, and felt around him for a weapon, momentarily disregarding the wound in his stomach, and how it protested at it's mistreatment. He forced himself to look up, and there stood a massive beast. Staring back at him with intelligent eyes.

The same one which I saw earlier.
I have no chance.

"Easy," he croaked," Easy."

[Lan]

((When I edit cursing, I generally put in crazy words so you notice that it has been edited and can go back and edit in a better word for yourself.))

[Willow]

ooc- Lol, I'll keep mine down. Egh, i forget this site doesn't allow swears, a lot of my others do and I get confused. Sorry Lan.

bic-

Rioku stood in what had once been the doorway of the Dunmer's home, the half-light of dusk filtering around her form, making her appear as more shadow than actual figure. Her eyes flickered in the light of a lantern she had lit at one corner of the house. He was awake, all right, and in better condition than Rioku had expected to find him. His voice was raspy and hoarse, but he'd had his throat badly torn, what had Rioku expected?

The dunmer watched her warily, one hand scrabbling at the ground for a weapon of some kind, and Rioku curled her lip in a half-growl, more of a warning than anything, then took a few steps forward until he could get a better look at her. At four feet high, just at the shoulder, she topped him in his sitting position. He spoke quietly, like he was talking to the town mutt who'd gotten a little angry, and silently, she scoffed at him. Rioku was no dog. She was nearly two hundred pounds of speed and power, with jaws strong enough to snap his arm in half. The wolf flicked one white ear at his voice, then pressed both back along her skull, the dark fur along her spine bristling. Then, Rioku remembered that unlike her, this one wasn't used to the signs beasts used to communicate with each other, that she was probably making him nervous. And unlike her, he would probably be more comfortable with her in her human shape. Rioku gave the wolf equivalent of a sigh and sat down on her haunches, black-tipped tail curled around her right leg.

Her slitted eyes flashed like white-silver, and after a beat, she began to shift, tilted her head back at an impossible angle. The change came rapidly, the fur slithering away into tanned skin, and her nose and mouth split and fell back into an elfin-shaped face. Her dark brown locks of hair framed the hostile expression, and she let her new hands rested on her knees, letting the last few changes take place.

The silver and blue faded, leaving a deep chocolate color in their place, almost black irises. The constant changing was hell on her shoulder, but what did she care? For a moment, her gaze lingered on the blood running from her shoulder, then it shifted to the dunmer.

"Your assassins are dead," Rioku drawled, eyes locked. He still looked a little glazed in the eyes, but that was to be expected, for another ten minutes or so. Surprisingly, Rioku appeared no more than seventeen or so, her lean shape bearing no resemblence to the wolf she'd recently lived as. Rioku hadn't been human so long for weeks, and it was driving her crazy, but, she thought, I might as well get used to it.

So awkward. How do they walk like this all the time, it's so slow?

The same way you put up with it when you were human, her consciousness chided.

Then. "Bet you didn't expect that," she said coolly, still looking more hostile than she meant too. Rioku couldn't help it. What had this man done to earn himself three, count the bodies, three assassins? Maybe she should have let them but him off. It was only then that Rioku noted that she still had blood on her muzzle...mouth. She took a cloth from the pouch at her hip and wiped her face, the fabric coming away scraped with dried, rust-colored blood and dirt. Then, he shifted slightly, jeez, was he still looking for a weapon? Her attention snapped back to him, and she growled, forgetting she was human for a beat.

"Stop moving, you'll tear the bandages," she scolded, glaring at him. Rioku knew in this shape, that if he chose to come at her, he would probably win if she couldn't get a transformation in time. After all, even in his humanoid body, he'd managed to take down two of the brother hood, one of them before Rioku had even arrived. She could still taste the blood of the third on her tongue, mixed with the taste of venison and it's blood. Rioku would take care of the bodies later, maybe make a meal of one and burn the other two, or feed them to the foxes on the other side of the ridge...After all, they were scum, they didn't deserve a proper burial.

Rioku reached under her cloak and drew a knife from it's sheath, a good, well-balanced throwing knife with a deadly shape edge and point, double-edged to kill even if the throw was scarcely off. She was in point-blank range of the dunmer, there was no way to miss. The werewolf chewed her bottom lip, then threw.

It thudded into what was left of the wall behind him, and hung there. Rioku stared coldly at him.

"If you think I'm still here to kill you, I'm not gonna let you fight unarmed. Take it. Here's a bit of advice though." Rioku raised a hand to the center of her skull, right between the eyes. "Hit me right here, I die quick, and there isn't a lot of blood to clean up. Hit me in the throat, it'll make a mess." She shrugged, as if to say, 'Although that's not my problem'. It might have seemed mad to give a nervous, injured man a weapon when he'd seen you tear a brotherhood agent to pieces and when you were a werewolf, but Rioku, frankly, didn't care if she died. That was just one thing to scratch off, and she'd rather go out fighting than anything.