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Thread: LCC - R1: 50 Shades of Grey VS My Little Homicidal Maniacs

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  1. #11
    Your Flesh, My Canvas
    EXP: 25,718, Level: 6
    Level completed: 82%, EXP required for next level: 1,282
    Level completed: 82%,
    EXP required for next level: 1,282
    GP
    630
    Aurelianus Drak'shal's Avatar

    Name
    Aurelianus Drak'shal
    Age
    27 years old
    Race
    Tiefling
    Gender
    Male
    Hair Color
    Dark red quills
    Eye Color
    Black sclera, with yellow irises and slit pupils
    Build
    5' 9'' 152 lbs
    Job
    Warlock, Soul Broker, Anarchist, Planewalker, Fleshcrafter

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    **"I am not dealing with your theatrical bullshit today!"**

    Madison's shriek pierced Aurelius' ears, making him wince slightly. Pikin' Hell, she 'as some lungs on 'er, he thought, clearing the ringing out of his pointed ears with his fingertip. Then he remembered her sweet screams when they had fought on the Citadel in Radasanth, far to the South. Alright, aye, I already knew that one, he smirked. As the thoughts crossed his mind, Madison struck, lashing out with her throwing knife, and the metal wires coiled round her arms; he'd been on the receiving end of those before, and he could attest to the fact they hurt like a cast-iron bitch. Still, with her daggers held at the end of each, they would open up the violinist chit like a side of beef on a butcher's slab.

    But Aurelianus had his own concerns.

    As the Hellfire died down, Aurelius was not amused to find Logan was standing there, unharmed. How the piking hell he'd managed that, the warlock didn't know, but he wouldn't get away with that again.

    **“What’s the matter, lizard-boy? I guess I still have a few tricks up my -- ,”**

    Keep laughin', berk. I'll 'appily nick you from balls to brains, the half-demon thought, ignoring Logan's little screed. He wasn't in the mood to be pissed around today- he wanted blood, not banter.

    Drawing one of his knives, the tiefling ran his forked tongue over his fangs, gloves still smoking at the edges, the leather dry and starting to crack a little. Well, if 'e don't like the Lash, I'll just 'ave to do this the old-fashioned way, Aurelius mused, flexing his hand round the serrated knife's grip and charging with a growl.

    Even as he ran at the human, Logan was bearing down, getting ready to do something. Aurelianus didn't intend to give him the chance. As soon as he got within range, the warlock lashed out; with the knife in his right hand, he slashed low at Logan, while he lashed out with an Eldritch Blast from his left, the psion trying to ignore the tiefling as he focused. But even as the blade tore into Logan's thigh, and the blast of arcane energy hit him in the chest, the man exploded off his feet, hurtling across the small room in a heartbeat. The force of Logan's take-off staggered Aurelius, knocking him back a few steps, his red quills rustling in the unseen wind. The silver-haired nudist smashed into his also-nude partner, the force of whatever little trick he'd pulled putting them through the inches thick glass.

    The sound of their impact even made the tiefling wince, sniggering at how much that must have hurt the pair. But he was canny enough to know Logan wouldn't have just topped himself and his partner- he had a plan for landing safely.

    Aurelius flicked his serpent-eyes to Madison before running to the broken window, trying to make out the falling pair against the night-time gloom. The wind was screaming in to the top room now, along with the rain of the storm- now at it's fullest. He caught the barest flicker of light reflecting off the naked pair as they fell, illuminated by a lightning bolt and with a vicious chuckle, Aurelius dropped a few of his shurikens down after them. From the top room, some two-thousand feet above the ground, the nasty little projectiles should manage to pick up some decent momentum before landing on his enemies; but the shrieking gale made it unlikely they'd manage to hit. As an after thought, he hammered his hobnailed boot into the already cracked and damaged window, dislodging a few large chunks of the thick glass to go spinning down to the ground far below. He imagined one of them bursting the smug psion's head open like a ripe grapefruit, but the tiefling doubted he was so lucky. Without even realising it, he was once more licking Logan's blood from the edge of his Baatorian blade. The heady, rich flavour filled the half-breed's senses, and he wanted more.

    He strained his golden eyes, trying to spot the couple down below, but it was entirely too far.

    The warlock quickly walked across the circular room, grabbing his coat angrily- he stalked closer to his partner, jabbing a finger at her.

    "That little prick is mine," he snarled at Madison, heading for the stairs, knife still in hand.

    **"I don't care what you have against him, you are not to touch Logan McCloud. I'll deal with him myself."**

    Aurelius stopped dead, turning slowly to look at his partner. His face was completely emotionless, his voice dangerously quiet.

    "What did you say?" he asked, voice a low hiss, his black tongue running along his teeth slowly. His fist tensed around the grip of his knife, his white knuckles cracking under his gloves. He couldn't believe this chit was trying to stand between him and his kill. What the pike does she care!? he fumed, feeling his blood rushing through his veins, his heart-rate getting highrer and higher with every breath.

    **"You can have your way with the hag he's with. But if you so much as hurt my Brother, I'll hang you from the staircase myself.**

    Aurelius' eyes narrowed, slit pupils not wavering from Madison's bright blue eyes. He remembered, with relish, the feeling of them running like molten wax under his hands...

    But, with a deep, ragged breath, Aurelius forced himself to calm. He pointed the serrated weapon in his fist at the chit.

    "I'd watch who you rattle that bone-box at, cutter. Remember what 'appened last time you pissed me off," he spat at her feet, before lowering his weapon, running a hand over his horns, and through his quill-hair.

    "But fine, you want the scrawny little bastard, you can 'ave 'im."

    The torch took yet another rotation, the cracked glass sending myriad reflections around the top-most chamber of the Grande, blinding the tiefling for a moment. With a vicious string of profanities muttered in the Infernal tongue, Aurelius walked up to the rotating lantern. Raising his hand, he sent another explosion of Hellfire against the already damaged mirror, heating it to a bright cherry red in seconds. The moment the fire stopped and the cold wind touched the red-hot glass, it shattered into a thousand shards.

    The folks in the port of Lyridia shared a few moments unease, seeing one of the Grande's beams of light die, the monolithic beacon blinded in one eye.

    Satisfied with his mindless vandalism, Aurelius turned on his heel, starting down the spiral staircase without even glancing at Madison.

    "Let's get this over with," he grunted.
    Last edited by Aurelianus Drak'shal; 01-27-13 at 10:35 AM.
    "My talent's for lying. For sticking the knife in when people least expect it. Then walking away with a smile and a wave before they even realize they're bleeding."
    - John Constantine

    "Self-control is for those who can't control others."
    - Gavin Guile

    "There are two secrets to becoming great. One is never to reveal all that you know."
    - Anon.

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