The Manor

[Khalxaen]

(Closed.)

Khalxaen glanced up at the sky. It was dark. The demon scratched the back of her head, slightly cursing at the way her stomach growled. She hadn’t had food for a couple of days now. It wasn’t because she lacked the money to buy some. The cause was that she had gotten lost while passing by a huge forest, and for some reason, not even a single animal passed her way. Even plants which bore fruit were scarce and never enough. It was the first time the demon felt so miserable in all the months she had been wandering all over Corone. From these months, she accepted odd jobs from each town she passed by. She still had no real goal. Her agenda changed for every place she stepped foot on. And, to her luck, after getting lost in the huge forest, the first town she arrived at right after was practically a ghost town.

The said town was small. The town’s run-down houses stood miserably. No people were out on the streets, though Khalxaen understood that because it was the dead of the night. But, strangely, sometimes Khalxaen would catch a frightened face peeking out of a window. The demon groaned in frustration, scanning over the place as quickly as she could. She spotted an inn from the other side of the road and started walking—hopefully the food there would be satisfactory. The demon was getting out of this wretched place as soon as she could.

As soon as Khalxaen tried to push the inn’s doors open, she realized that they wouldn’t budge. They were padlocked from the inside. Khalxaen kicked the doors furiously, though it did nothing to help. She was sleepy and hungry, and she had no place to stay in. Frowning, she saw a stable right next to the inn. Sighing, she huffed her shoulders and headed towards it. It wouldn’t be the first time she would have to sleep with animals. At the same time, she mused, ’Being a wanderer’s hard work!’

The stable was dark inside, with only a few lanterns that lighted up the place dimly. It wouldn’t help a human’s eyes at all. Khalxaen, on the other hand, could see clearly in the dark. The horses were already asleep, their stench making the demon crinkle her nose. Khalxaen blinked—there was someone else in there. On the far corner, there stood a man. He had a large coat which looked bulky, as if he was hiding many things inside it. He was muttering something, and Khalxaen wondered if she had been noticed

“…Pointy ears, scarlet eyes,” he muttered under his breath.

Khalxaen stared. ’Guess that means he noticed me.’

He continued muttering other observations, and some words that Khalxaen had never heard before.

When Khalxaen realized she should maybe start speaking, she asked, “Hey, what are you doing here? D’you own this place?”

[Corvus MacCallum]

The bulked up mans voice didn't connect itself in any way that could be concieved as an answer, his tongue twisting and flexing through numerous dialects and rites that pinched upon his brain, words of safety, of purity. As a hunter of the fallen it was never a good idea to leave anything to chance, even a slim waif of a demon like the current red eyed girl could possess the strength to rip a man in twain or befuddle the senses to such a state that he'd never recover... at least not by his own means. Thin lines of dull almost tarnished blue began to seep from the buckled boots of the man, making a small surrounding webwork upon the ground and for now at least, an adequate barrier to lesser demons. One that would allow for polite chit-chat.

"I do not own, nor have ever owned a shoddy horse-box, nor saw fit to own one of the tempermental beasts itself. As for my purpose here, unlike many I am here for a specific opportunity... On the topic of such, are you loyal to your own kind?... I am in need of assistance for this particular job but the... man I contacted has yet to make himself known"

---

The man of Rastans mentioning was, in his own time-frame, a bit of a distance from the stench riddled stable and unknowingly all the happier for it. Happening upon a fresh-water stream in his wanderings Corvus allowed himself a moment of wandering angling. Was a rather simple technique in theory but an absolute bugger if all you had were human reactions, it consisted of simply stalking out a group of fish making their way along the stream... awaiting the inevitable choke-point or lapse in intelligence on the part of the piscine and then snatch it from the waters. The key resource in performing this though was on catching sight and being able to follow the fishies... who were absent strangely. A rather consummate hunter of living creature the Highlander had found it rather strange that all sizable scents appeared to be missing or almost gone entirely thanks to the wind, territory markers were also faded. No real unease to be felt either... oh something was wrong, that was a certainty but despite being as wild as most of the beasts that once inhabited here Corvus wasn't picking up on it, strange that.

Armed like he was and having forgone much of the bandages binding his furred extremities in a crude disguise the Highlander was not adverse to seeing a street empty at his presence, was a bit disheartening he had to admit but they were not to know he was enacting all those fun noble deeds that bards like to sing in the hopes of getting their leg over some farmers daughter. Having a street, hell a village completely empty of pedestrians before he arrived, no that was something he wasn't used to and didn't intend to get comfortable with. A few test pokes of his gloved hand brought the squeaks of worry he had long learned to associate with the defenceless, not to mention the heavy jangling of chains and fat padlocks clinging to the frail wood they were holding closed.

Even the pub was locked up tight, was the clearest signal something was wrong, landlords were often far too enterprising to allow such scared times to not go unsoaked. Too early for a lock-in as well.

Ah well, Rastan's never contacted me for a simple drink.

They'd met at least thrice in the past and not one venture with him had been simple or relaxing... apart from their job to slaughter the evil tree-spirits, turned out to be a bunch of flirty nymphs and the employers a whack of lumberjacks looking for easier work. Some of those lethal meat-shredding teeth in the Highlanders mouth were exposed as he thought on how the tree-hackers qualied and shivered on the Hunters return. Mind back to the present Corvus decided to solve the rendezvous issue by sniffing at the air, it wasn't Rastans natural body odour he was aiming for, no...

Dust... mildew, rotting bookworms. Perfect.

The git was a notorious clean-freak, but only when it came to himself, all clothing and equipment kept that horrible nostril stinging fetid library stench at all times, didn't help that he enjoyed unpleasant scented candles when looking to strain his eye-sight while reading. Following his olfactery senses the Highlander gave a hard shrug of his shoulders, jostling the chain lashed Slammer sword upon his back, along with the roughly sheathed Akashima blade beside it and sidled up to the hidey hole he had deduced the book-worm to be secluded in.

"... man I contacted has yet to make himself known"

A sharp bark ripped through the quiet stable surroundings, thankfully the horses weren't in a fitful enough sleep to rouse. Did however cause all the heavy clasps and buckles holding Rastans many hidden tombs in place that he both jumped in suprise and winced in great pain afterwards as they all came hitting against him. Corvus stepping in after unleashing the sound, quick glance given to the long-earred lass before with a few jerks of the head dislodged the bunched up blazen hide poncho material around his face to reveal it fully.

"Heyup there Rast and, unknown lass... So what's going on?"

"I was about to offer this young demon your job."

The Highlander gave a more thorough look to the young lass beside him, to the lengthy ears and then to the sword at her hip...

Fair enough.

"So what is the caper you had lined up for me anyway?"

"... Well I shall tell you both now that, the mongrel is here. One season ago this small area was ruled over by Lord Felden, only a few weeks however he passed away in undisclosed circumstances just after the arrival of what were introduced as his neice and her husband. The two have since took up residence and in short order have established a full garrison from both the entourage they brought and some hired hands of outlying settlements.

From this village however they send troops in to bring them young men and women, thought of to become enlisted, house-hold servants etc."

"Still sounding somewhat mundane for something you'd be interested in"

"After catching an educated look at the Lady Fritzlin I have established she is of demonic heritage and making use of it, though with little time to pore through my resources her exact branch of demonhood has not been ascertained. There is little doubt her husband in the part they play is also one of her ilk and perhaps some of their closer servants and guards."

Seemed reasonable enough assumptions and ones that didn't really impact much of the mission since even if not demons they were aware of what was happening.

"While this village and the others were never prosperous under Felden they are being strangled to oblivion under this current regime, one way or another it should be changed. This is why I contacted the beastman here."

The Highlanders buckler-clad arm raised with an open palmed greeting towards the lass, he wasn't much for hand-shakes, few people liked the whole dangerous clawed aspect of his mitts.

"I'm Corvus"

"And you young lady."

"He's Rastan. Not a field-work type of guy."

"Now... have you any questions?"

"Oh oh, I do, I do"

At this mocking of Rastans habitual excitement on being offered a new book Corvus then turned fully to face the shorter demon girl.

"What's your name lass?"

[Khalxaen]

It was all too much information to enter Khalxaen’s ears. All she had asked was if the man had owned the stables—though, now that she thought about it, he had no reason to be there in the dead of night, even if it was his property. Of course there was an underlying reason, a stranger reason, and most probably one of fate. The man’s name was Rastan, and Khalxaen had been right about her previous assumption: he was hiding many things under his coat, looking both awkward and strange when he jumped and all of it resounded against his body.

Another man was in the stable now. He was easily about a foot taller than her, making Khalxaen just a tad bit more irritated. The first thought that entered her mind was, ’Really, why does everyone to be so darn huge!? And did he just… uh, bark?’ After a few more seconds of examining the man, she understood better why he made that sound. He looked like a cross between a canine and a human, and Khalxaen couldn’t help but stare at him curiously as he and Rastan exchanged words. Khalxaen’s ears perked when she heard the word ‘job’. That always sounded good. Khalxaen was being included in the conversation, though she wasn’t ever given the time to reply. It seemed unlike her, but she just let them speak, without interruption. It was probably the hunger.

She understood more about the town now, and why it seemed so miserable. Even in the dead of night, you could tell whether a town was miserable. It could be seen in the untouched streets, from the absence of carriage tracks and footsteps in the dirt; you could see it in the frightened expressions of the faces that peered out from the houses.

Earlier on, she was asked if she was loyal to her ‘own kind’. Khalxaen hadn’t understood a word of it first, but now, it was clear. He had been speaking about her demon heritage. Khalxaen wasn’t loyal to her kind, nor was she loyal to any other kind of species in the world. Give her a job, and as long as she wasn’t tasked to kill some innocent child, she’d take it.

She was being spoken to.

“My name’s Khalxaen, and give me a good reason why I should help you out," she quickly shook the beastman's hand, carefully avoiding his claws.

Though, of course, she wanted to take the job. A job like this just oozed of rewards, something she never simply let pass. She wanted to hear it from them, though—what exactly was she going to get from this?

“Because, you know, I love my kind too much. Never want to hurt my kind, we’re an adorable bunch,” Khalxaen almost gagged, but if they couldn’t see through sarcasm like that, they must not be too smart. “But, you see, I’m in need of some food and money… err, mostly food, either of you don’t happen to have a pack of bread right now, do you? So, yeah, if you can give me what I want, I guess I can twist my principles just this once…”

[Corvus MacCallum]

"Rastan?"

"You know I never carry food-stuffs on me. Uncivilized"

The simple half-efforted look Corvus gave to Rastan just spoke great lengths of why he had to be called and the two weren't always travelling buddies, he didn't like those posing as civilized since it only took a denying of at least two simple amnities that would cause them to buckle and break for the feral train of thought. Oh well there was a lass in need and he certainly didn't need much of it... plus rampaging through that manor house would likely mean a larder to plunder, not that he went for fancy stuff but perhaps some honest to goodness potatos and simple veg would be there for the servants supplies. He almost gagged at that thought but Highlanders weren't all wolf and though it pained him so, he had to force some semblence of a balanced diet for peak performance, something a Monster Hunter can't allow to slip from their grasp.

"Cute remarks Khal... lemme see what I've got"

There was a definate note of hesitation that spoke of one of the Wolf-mans flaws in his inability to properly lock names into his mind and while he had obtained the simple sound of Kah, with an L put forth to polish it off as a decent shortening of her name. He had completely forgotten how to get through the second half of it though from the look of irritation upon her face it would probably be presented to him once again. With a shift of his shoulders that brought forth a heavy clanking of metal upon itself the Highlander brought from its perch next to his oh so lethal tools his ragged cloth backpack. Numerous small holes spoke of near-connections and the odd burn mark gave away his more typical and at times preferred role in this world. With the quiet clanks and clicks of his sectioned buckler keeping in steady position he delved within the confines of the garment with his gloved hand, claw-tips marking at so many fangs and teeth ripped from his prey... then something suitable for the situation.

It was still attached to the bone and roughly covered in easily parted cloths, the leg of some deer he ran down a day ago. Unlike most of his meals he had spent the effort to cook and seal the meat, mainly just to keep the knowledge of making fire fresh in his mind and it never hurt to have a little night off from pure wilderness. Small flex of his fingers and flick of the wrist had it revolve near his palm before clutched once more, the bone now presented towards the demon girl like an ivory sword handle.

"She makes a good case though Rastan, I'm hoping you know of something worthwhile in there for me."

"Never took you for the materialistic type."

"... Funny. You know what I mean"

Rastan allowed his shoulders to sink as a great burden of a sigh brought him low and after a small appreciation of his situation and those he was speaking to knew he would have to forgo his own ends just to serve the greater purpose.

"As I said this village and the area was never highly prosperous and from what few rumours are able to escape the Manor much of the wealth there has been squandered on the hiring of the Mercenaries. While it will certainly make up no Kings ransom there is bound to still be a sizable amount of currency or at least goods that can be pawned off to make something of a profit. However Highlander, I have heard no word of any exceptional peice of equipment or hierloom within those walls. Nor have I read of any document that would praise the military might of the Felden house-hold..."

A thin smile crept itself upon his youthful but lined features.

"... I'm sure there's some fancy engraved family rapier or cutlass to acquire."

"Sod that."

He didn't think of the sword styles themselves as weak or unworthy, but they were definately unsuited to his purposes... and he could never stand the pomposity and unneeded features the rich would lavish upon their badly balanced display weapons. Speaking of weaponry... as he offered up that gift of meat he decided to both test her manners, hoping for none and solve his curiousity.

"Travelling rather light for a wanderer. You got any fancy tricks or just know where to poke and cut?"

[Khalxaen]

Khalxaen’s ears perked up again, a common habit the demon did any time she was taken aback or embarrassed. This time, it was a mix of the two. She had her teeth sunk into the meat Corvus had given her, savouring the taste, when he had asked her a question which she assumed meant that he was wondering if she was any good at fighting. Khalxaen stared at him with flashing scarlet eyes, her brows creased into a visible frown.

She stared at him for a while as she chewed on the meat. Khalxaen wasn’t sure if she was supposed to act hostile, which was her instinctive response to almost anything. Before, Corvus had called her ‘Khal’. She had been a bit annoyed, but she let it pass because she just wasn’t in the mood to retaliate. Corvus had given her food—that just made her like him, even just a tad little bit. It also helped that the meat was delicious, even though it wasn’t steaming hot and fresh from a fire, which was how she usually liked it.

“Of course I know more than just pointing and cutting, you imbecile—I mean, uh, Corvus.”

At the same time, she repeated in her mind: ’He gave me food, must be nice. He gave me food.’ Her cheeks were slightly pink. The demon looked embarrassed at the fact that he would judge her based on the fact that she didn’t have a lot on her. One hand on the bone of meat, she used the other to grab the hilt of her sword and unsheathe it. She twirled it and held it before her, showing it to both Rastan and Corvus. As usual, she felt the need to prove herself. Pride always got the best of her.

She took another bite from the meat and grinned at the two men. She said, “Steel sword. I was born to use it, and you’ll find nobody else better. I know a bit of sorcery, too. What do you guys think? I’m perfect for the job, right? It’ll be a sign of gratitude for the food.”

She wasn’t lying—not entirely, anyway. Khalxaen had the tendency to repay people, even for very little things. In addition to that, she felt herself slowly gaining back energy again. That meant she knew she was more than ready and willing to take on a job. Finally, Rastan had spoken about family heirlooms. That usually meant she could sell something for a reasonable amount.

Without really waiting for a reply from the two men, she took the last few bites from the piece of meat and put her sword back in its sheath. Khalxaen threw the bone aside carelessly, hearing it resound against the dirty ground. She gulped what was in her mouth and grinned at them widely for the second time.

“Let’s go, then! C’mon! You mean the manor on the outskirts of town, right?” She made a movement with her hand, gesturing for Corvus to follow her as she walked towards the streets. She had caught a glance of the manor when she had entered the town. Khalxaen didn’t really get a good look at it, but she did assume that the wealthiest of the town lived there, considering it was the most extravagant.

The demon simply assumed Corvus was following her as she walked towards the said location. Khalxaen realized that they hadn’t really devised a plan, and that it would probably be more than dumb to just barge in. She titled her head to look at him, and she asked, “Uh, any plans?”

[Corvus MacCallum]

Corvus had indeed followed behind the short demon girl, mind shifting through past experiances on large buildings, the sort of guards they'd likely have and the defences strapped to them. As such his answer to her question wasn't immediately forth-coming, he did however give her the signal that he was working to develop one by giving a quiet 'hmm' and scratch on the underside of his chin. As is so often the case though while formulating a great scheme of such monumental proportions that it would stablize the entire region, he got to thinking about the lass he'd be sharing this job opportunity with, sarky little bint. Careful to let the smirk tug at the side of his face she currently couldn't see he even allowed a near silent chuckle to slip past his throat. Would be interesting seeing how she'd handle a fight, he rarely got the chance to see a nice speed fighter... demon or not she certainly didn't seem designed for a smashing brawl. Then came the frivilous thoughts, those long ears, he'd met a half-elf before and had to admit he still gave a snicker on thinking back to her reaction when he gave a clawed tap to the tip of one and got her panicing... did the ear of a demon share that same sort of sensitivity, oh well nothing but an idle notion.

"First let's just get to the place, we know things are bad here and people are disappearing, but we should find out just what kind of heavies they've hired, not to mention seeing if the targets are even home."

Didn't take much time at all for them to part from the village itself, so many scared little faces peered through their windows at the two strangers, no doubt panicing about them being some new hired hands to terrorize them, or perhaps they'd rounded up some girl from further afield and the beast-man was escorting her to the manor. The road they walked upon was just scuffed dirt but well used and flat enough from the expert natural tampings of steel-shoed horses, odd tree or so that seemed deliberately planted, help travellers by offering some shade from hefty sunlight or light drizzle. In other words, functional but boring as hell to walk along and while it should have been allowing him time to form up a plan, he was getting distracted along the way as he pondered the procession of short women he'd dealt with... Not just shorter than him, that was fairly common, despite the genders being equal... in a Highlanders mentality anyway... No he was thinking of the other women who were strangely around the same sort of height that was dramatically detached from his own. The firey red-head knight girl who abandoned him in the morning, the half-elf girl that shared his preferance for large weapons and he had even offered to teach to make use of it. Now there was Khal... Khal... Ixion?... that sounded close enough, unlike the other two she seemed quite eager to get into a fight, or at the least excitable with ease.

The manor had been in view for some time, but now finally the air of the place was getting caught on the wind, the minute fragments of dust from the stones that formed it, the waftings of a dining room that had likely been seeing many a banquet. Then something else... familiar and encouraging of a less detailed plan.

"You getting the whiff of that?... there's blood in the air."

It was annoying that so many demonics enjoyed the charade style of life, instilling themselves into positions of power or at the least keeping themselves as human as possible to set a constant trap for whatever they preyed upon, be they desires, blood, dreams or just their own enjoyment of killing. Could even wind up being some countess of the Vampiric bloodlines but Rastan knew his demons, the Highlander was willing to bet on him being right.

Coming into better clarity now were the guards standing by the entrance, none armed with bows but all of them had swords, lances and axes drawn. Leather armour, bit of ringmail visible on those who seemed to be in charge of that little group but... something nagging, itching at the back of Corvus' head, ectchings in the leather on their shoulder.

Oh yea, Brigands.

They might've got their armour second-hand, but really the lot of them looked the part for Brigands that the Highlander had witnessed in a few other areas, none close to here but gold would make men travel any distance. One of them sat sharpening his blade finally bothered to act his part and saw the interlopers heading for them, the customary shouts to the rest of the group for them to start work and then came the yell directed at the Wolf-man and Demon-girl.

"Turn around or be cut down!"

Charming.

Usually guys manning a guard post or entryway would have couple of very distinct and overused lines, mainly consisted of halt or stop, possibly a threat of force and then maybe if they did their job well asking if you had any business here. With these guys however, it seemed obvious that the new owners didn't want uninvited guests... or the guards were hedging for a bribe before being co-operative, they weren't going to get it of course.

"First step of the plan, we cut these guys down."

I'm filling up!

Five more steps, sharp stone by the side.

Slammer... Axe... Katana.

They were starting to form up, drawing level with each other as they found resistence.

Broadsword... Claws... Fangs!

Another set of steady paced steps, keeping the Demon-girl at his side as they approached.

Slammer. Axe. Katana.

The Highlanders arms falling from beneath the poncho, claws flexing as he stared down the brigands.

Pick you up and throw you a million miles.

A moments hesitation washed through the spear-grabbers as they readied their feet.

Broadsword. Claws. Fangs!

Pounding heart-beat in his head, the moment to just let go and allow instinct to take the reigns, to get their torn flesh upon his weapons and their bloody smeared upon his buckler.

I'm full.

Pace increased and he tore towards them, lowering down further as he broke into a solid run. Hand reaching up, clutching the badly wrapped handle of his Slammer, hideous noise of grated metal as he hauled the six foot lump of shaped iron from its hold. Swordsman ran out, trying to earn himself some favour with a quick kill but his confidence shattered as he saw that huge ugly weapon be drawn into the air by a single hand of the Highlander. Muscles tensed in sequence yet all it took was a second, twisting his torso and drawing the sword in from the side, then rocketing upwards as it cleaved through the simple leather armour of the Brigand offered at most a different sound for the cut, but that was wiped out by the noise of the air itself being rended by such a hefty swing. The seperated brigand falling at each side of the still advancing Highlander.

Barging in seemed the option when there was no plan, but for a Monster Hunter dealing with mere men, it worked, completely and utterly.

[Khalxaen]

A playful whistle resounded from Khalxaen’s lips, and she couldn’t help but grin as she watched Corvus. There was no doubt about it, the guy was incredibly strong. It was only at this point that Khalxaen realized he had more than enough weapons on him. The reason why she probably didn’t notice before was because he moved with such ease.

Human blood spilled on the floor, and Khalxaen felt her senses heighten a bit. Her demonic instincts always grew stronger at the scent of blood. Her sword was taken out of its sheathe, and she held it at her side, but she simply stood there and watched Corvus force his way through the men, pushing them aside with efficient attacks. The demon took this time to step back and take a look at the manor. It was a huge gray establishment, but it looked abandoned, as if nobody lived in it. There was moss on the bottom of the walls; the gray paint was degraded; there was shattered glass which was a result of a broken window; the steel frames of the windows were a dark brown rust.

The place where the masters resided was usually by the front, but for this case, Khalxaen could see that the rooms in front were bare. The demons they were after probably chose a location at the back, away from suspicious eyes and giving them the privacy they needed.

As Khalxaen examined the place, she could hear the screams and the yells of the brigands. She shifted her attention back at them and started walking towards them. There were only two brigands left now, and one was on the floor, pointing his sword at them with a furious, determined and hopeless expression. Khalxaen felt a bit sorry for him, and while Corvus was still preoccupied with the other brigand, Khalxaen lunged forward and hit the half-fallen brigand on the back of the head. He gave a gasp and fell completely, unconscious.

“Let’s go,” called out Khalxaen as she kicked the doors open and barged in. The hallway was wide and silent. Nobody was around. There were paintings on the wall, displaying the family who originally lived in the manor. She noticed that one of the paintings was ripped down the middle, and so the man who was in it was indistinguishable.

“You’re cool,” Khalxaen said as she walked forward, twisting her sword in her hands. “I always like rushing into a battle, though everyone keeps telling me off. I think we’ll get along.”

As she walked by a door, she pushed it open and found nothing—an empty room. She sighed and looked further into the hallway. There were many doors, and they were most probably empty, too. But, at the end of the hallway was a large entrance. She made her way towards it, and a ballroom met her, with a grand stairway leading to the second floor.

It was strange—didn’t anyone hear the screams of the guards? Why wasn’t anyone coming after them? There was a chance that the demon who resided in the manor, though hiring humans, hated them, and tried to keep them at a distance as much as possible. Khalxaen had met many demons who had this mentality.

That could be the reason why the rest of the hired troops weren’t there—maybe they were in a room somewhere else, or at the back of the house. It seemed plausible to Khalxaen.

As she wondered about these mysteries, she saw something move at the corner of her eye, at the top of the stairway. She motioned for Corvus to follow, and she made her way towards the second floor. Khalxaen was just about to say something to Corvus when a scream was heard—a young man’s scream. Instinctively, Khalxaen rushed up the stairs, ready to investigate.

[Corvus MacCallum]

The rumbling growl of a Highlander was the last noise any of those Brigands would hear. Second of the Brigands was pinned right to the dirt by the massive six foot lump of iron that masqueraded as a sword, before the next could bring their weapon to bear Corvus had already yanked free the Broadsword sheathed beneath his sectioned buckler, the scarred and mauled blade striking out thrice, each time a great chunk of the opponents chest was split before the Highlander gave a solid back-hand strike with his right arm, the steel buckler and the force it was swung with causing the enemy to both lose conciousness and fracture his jaw. While he sagged to the ground a fellow fighter tried to come from the side of the Highlander, two handed axe brought high... then smashing into the ground behind him as both arms and head seperated from the brigand. In a flash of well maintained weaponry Corvus had drawn his katana and lashed out in the same motion, quickly resheathing his broadsword to allow both hands manipulation rights upon the five foot long foreign blade.

Sudden touch upon the shoulder as an ill-aimed spear blade glanced off his Blazen hide Poncho, its haft sundered in twain as was the owner with one quick blow, the Wolf-man continuing the motion, bringing the sword high up and over as he turned upon his heels in order to face one of the last opponents. One hand parted from the long Akashima blade and clasped upon the handle of the Axe hanging from the back of his belt. With his sword weilding hand the opponents blade was knocked aside before with a solid thunk upon the skull of his enemy the Brigands body lurched and hung off the Axes scarred blade, embedded most of the way into his skull.

With a solid yank Corvus brought his weapon free and set about flicking and wiping the used equipment, along with putting the Brigand he'd carved up out of his misery before following after the demon-girl. With a screech of iron his Slammer was last to be placed upon his form once agin, keeping the highly marked and chipped Axe in his grip, might as well be prepared for something to leap out.

"... I think we'll get along."

"It doesn't fit every situation, but I hunt Dragons, bunch of puffed up tough guys in tight leather aren't something I find worth sneaking past."

The lack of staff was quite worrying, with so many people getting drawn in from the village, not to mention the hired muscle the place should be bustling from just the servants naturally skiving off or making sweeps of the home. He certainly didn't hold much back in the fight either when it came to noise so why was there no lantern swinging Heavies stomping towards them. Didn't feel right though on the bright side it did mean less things to worry about on their path through the rather grand and in the opinion of the Highlander, utterly hideous establishment. Never one for being indoors and certainly didn't see any beauty in architexture, sculpture sure, that looked like stuff, but making a house artistic just seemed a complete waste of time.

Then came the scream which shook his thoughts and added strength to his legs as he followed Khalxaen. Broad double doors smashed aside as they charged through, still nothing though, plenty of objects and furniture, a lot of it in disrepair but nothing living. A growing theme was becoming apparent to the Highlander though, broad ringed chains fixed roughly into the walls here and there along with used cultery and dishes when most would save a single room for eating. It seemed strangely that the occupants had been making use of each room in the manor house one after the other for their own purpose.

Finally came the only room where light seeped beneath the door, for impressive purposes the Highlander allowed his speed to increase, a sheen of white sifting over his exposed fur and hair, a momentary increase of length and the chill of a fierce wind wrapping around his feet. His body brought itself to one side, more speed, his buckler-clad arm bringing itself nearer his shoulder and then wham. In a gust of rushing air the door was smashed apart to reveal what made that scream.

"By the hair on Fenrirs Scroat..."

This was where the Lady of the house had chosen to make most use of her talents, great stretches of dried blood marred the slashed and crispy carpets that tried to display the rooms once fine noble purpose of a bedroom. Upon that four poster bed with its satin sheets and burning brazier hung a young man drenched in his own vital fluid, smeared upon his flesh. Each limb shackled and attached to one of the bannisters, large rents in his flesh from the touch of claws and a constant weeping as his body attempted to deal with the pain. Just behind him, barely visible was another figure, this one supremely soft, curved and to many the shallow man, delectable. The lady of the house in her finest of silken red dresses, the skirt of which tumbled to her feet like a wash of hot sunlight.

"Oh my, such rowdy intruders. I never liked that door much anyhow."

With each word spoken there came untold hundreds of whispered temptations and promises of affection that would sting at any normal mans senses, dull his mind and allow him to believe that such a situation was entirely reasonable. But a Highlanders improved senses could pick up on the poison ladled heavily into each syllable and his will was not a weak ball of clay to be shaped by the will of some hellion no matter her charms. She made to approach them, drawing another scream from the young man as one of her hands swept along his back, peeling the skin from a recent wound further and further from its original resting place. Her every feature and subtle shift of weight upon her form was practised perfection, it took a demons eternal life-span to get so good at ones trade.

From her broadening smile came the hint of sharp fang, a flick of her wrist and delicate coil of her fingers brought forth talons that could sever a mans juggular. Ornate headdress resting on her crown slowly became to display its attachment to her scalp in the form of heavy blackened horns.

"Good thing Rastan wasn't here. He can't handle Succubi."

[Khalxaen]

Khalxaen’s eyes widened when she saw the scene before her. The human lad looked pathetic, hanging like that and practically half-dead from torture. The other demon in the room looked like she was enjoying herself, and Khalxaen couldn’t tell why. She didn’t see the enjoyment. It was scenes like this which made her hate her demon heritage, and as the stench of blood registered in her mind, she remembered her own murderous instincts. The room felt small, and she felt the presence of the others in it completely. Her scarlet eyes squinted, and her lips curled into an uncomfortable frown. Maybe it was good that she felt the need for more bloodshed—she wanted to finish off the other demon.

“She’s a Succubus, huh?” Khalxaen muttered under her breath. She didn’t know much about the creatures of the world, but she did know enough about Succubi. They were demons who entranced men, tricking them and luring them, and then making them go through such unimaginable means.

Khalxaen glanced at Corvus. He seemed unaffected. Was it because he wasn’t a weak human? Nevertheless, it was pretty impressive. Khalxaen looked back at the other demon and saw that she, too, was observing Corvus, except with an aggravated expression. The Succubus was wondering why every word she said, every action she made didn’t seem to draw Corvus. The Succubus grit her teeth, and Khalxaen heard it even with the human’s groaning filling the room.

“Unacceptable,” the Succubus muttered under her breath. She was a proud demon, wanting all to be entranced by her. The Succubus reverted her eyes sharply at Khalxaen, her beautiful face contorted in apparent anger. “And, you… you are a demon. What is your business here? I have no use for you.”

Khalxaen couldn’t help but smirk, which caused the Succubus to get even more aggravated. She approached Khalxaen, standing a foot from her and Corvus, looking at both of them up and down. “A lowly demon,” the Succubus giggled, her voice laced with fake softness. She put up a clawed finger and held Khalxaen’s chin up, staring at her face. “What you say you leave me and your friend here?”

Feeling annoyed, Khalxaen stepped back. She didn’t like being touched, especially by someone who was obviously mocking her. Khalxaen didn’t see the need for any more words. They simply had to put out this Succubus. Her sword was still in her hand, and without thinking twice, she lunged forward, towards the Succubus. A flash of a smirk graced the other demon’s face as she stepped sideways in the blink of an eye, avoiding Khalxaen’s attack.

Irritated, Khalxaen made a side-way step and tried to attack the Succubus again. The other demon raised her hand, and for some reason, Khalxaen was sent skidding backwards by an invisible force. Cursing under her breath, she dug her sword on the wooden floor for balance. She was right next to the wounded human now, the smell of his blood even stronger. She felt her chest pulse powerfully, her senses heightening even more.

She could hear the faint arrival of many men, yelling and laughing. They were coming from outside the manor. Khalxaen had no idea who they were, but she was sure that their numbers would be far greater than the group who had met them by the door.

Khalxaen shot Corvus a panicked expression. “People are coming,” she said quickly. The Succubus looked a bit surprised at this, and looked towards the window. At the short time that the other demon was distracted, Khalxaen made some gestures with her hand and sharp, ice crystals materialized in the air, shooting towards the Succubus. The Succubus gave a shrilled scream, the crystals piercing her limbs and causing her to fall towards the floor.

[Corvus MacCallum]

The entire time the Succubus had bothered to be close and speak to them his lips had curled into an almost feral snarl, while he hunted demons, monsters and anything else, it was only wrong-doers he bothered with. Despite the hellish connotations of their title Demons were not always out to kill and maim or cause intense suffering, some just wanted a life away from the underworlds they were born into or escape the bondage forced upon them by some wizard. This bitch had crossed the line though and considering what all she had set up it was most likely that her partner in this was also demonic, Incubus most likely.

Watching Khal attempt to impale the Succubus was quite interesting for the Highlander, he enjoyed watching combat now and then, deconstructing it, working out what could work for him.

Good balance on the feet, keeps the back good and flexible, knees bent too for absorbing the impacts. Could do with something on the other arm to improve balance, buckler would help it from being just something that flails at the side.

The announcement of others coming towards the manor came as no suprise, but certainly a distasteful one, fighting indoors was not the Highlanders idea of a good time and from the faint clopping of hooves fighting out-doors would be making for some hectic altercations. First things first though, the Succubus was nearly sorted with the ice attack from Khal. Quiet sizzling meeting both sensitive ears of the hunters, her hell-fire innards melting the magical icicles but leaving the vast gashes, skin attempting to knit and fuse as the rest of her form shifted. Ripped and torn from chunks of a carapace forming upon her body the Succubus gathered herself up and jumped near the captured youth, scales of burnt crimson forming along her lower arms, screeches of carved masonry as the talons upon her feet came to rest and grasped to test their strength.

As the pupils of her eyes stretched themselves into hateful slits she brushed the backs of her thin claws along the sobbing youths cheek.

"Another step and I end this cattles life."

Corvus saw fit to test her bluff as he raised her a step, then another, several more in quick sucession. Once more he broke into a run and sought to close the distance, lashing out twice with the Axe, only rending air and not demonic flesh. On the plus side she had been forced to dart and dodge from the captive and was now focussed on avoiding a determined Highlander. A resounding clang rang out through the room, stinging at the exceptional ears of the Wolf-man, claws of the Succubus deflected from his buckler, another swing coming in and then with a quick flex of his wrist the sections snapped shut. Seconds flitted by and then a jerk given by the armoured fore-arm of the Highlander, his other coming in swiftly and then a horrific shriek, the Succubus' voice fracturing into several different pitches and tones as her control upon the human vocal structure shattered at the pain of losing her arm. Another flex given to the Highlanders wrist and the bucklers segments opened up once more, the trapped claws of the Succubus dropping to the floor as did the hand and majority of arm attached, his Axe-blade stinking of the bitches vitae.

Great ridges pushed out from her fore-head and joined with the lines swirling through her horns as the demonic whore unleashed the blast of air that had managed to temporarily deflect Khal. Another shimmer of white spread through the Highlanders hair and fur, temperature around him dropping considerably and the stench of the room being torn from his nostrils by a sudden violent gust. Though hidden by the tightly clutched handle of the Ex-monster hunting axe, the jewel embedded in the palm of his fingerless glove glowed brightly. Suprise seemed to smooth and then draw up the Succubus' visage at the non-reaction given to her attack and rather fittingly it was the last expression she would have as the Axe lashed out once more in a wide-arc. Catching near the armpit of her severed limb he drew it up further, smashing through collar bone and so many taut ligaments, fracturing the scales that spoke of her corruption. Higher up at a sharp angle, it tore free from her body, then sank into her neck, splitting her chin wide apart and with a sudden swift heft removed a vast portion of her head, leaving naught but a flap of skin with an ear attached to falter and slap upon her neck. With the wet splatter of an emptying skull hitting upon the floor Corvus allowed his senses to sharpen, looking upon himself, the fur upon his arms and that messy mane crowning his head were now all of a silvery white hue, the hairs so much longer and swaying in the chill surrounding him. Then all at once it vanished from him leaving him able to hear the derisive words...

"Messy, so very messy."

In the door-way stood Rastan, a light patting of his palm giving something that could almost be believed to be applause.

"... This is a far too opportune moment for you to show up."

"Actually I, stayed back in the main hall for a bit, didn't want to upset the balance of battle after all."

The pounding of hooves was getting closer and with a sigh that caused his harness to jangle its chains the Highlander knew what would need doing. Making use of a curtain upon the bed first he wiped the Axe-blade clean... though some of the hellish fluids remained inside the chips and fissures upon its well worn blade. Then his empty and lethally clawed right hand gripped hard upon the remaining hair of the Succubus' severed head.

"Nice to see you thinking."

"Yea I know, you save the guy, check for others. I get to play bait and kick up another ruckus."

"His wounds are severe but managable, now get going."

Rastan only received a fierce growl from the Highlander as an answer, then as his current weapon found itself hoisted and wrapped back into place beneath the back of his poncho Corvus drew himself towards the helpful Khalxaen. Firm pat to her shoulder hoping that garnered her attention, already making his exit from the room.

"Still got lots to take on lass, fancy another direct approach?"

Flash of a fanged smirk from the Highlanders face, before his mouth and nose were covered by some slack material of his poncho and he exited the bedroom, giving a quick hop to avoid the mass of splinters and wood chunks he had reduced the doorway to.

[Khalxaen]

The demon was forcing herself to breathe through her mouth, not wanting to take in the scent of blood—she was starting to get used to it, really. The way her body reacted to blood was becoming a lot more intense than when she was a kid. She wondered if it had to do something with the fact that she was maturing. Nevertheless, she knew she couldn’t let it be a hindrance all the time, which was why she was teaching herself to get used to breathing through her mouth.

Her shoulders shook a bit in surprise when she felt Corvus’s hand pat it. Khalxaen blinked and nodded at him. A direct approach sounded more than good. She hated planning intricate strategies, which was what most of her previous partners insisted on.

Khalxaen followed Corvus as he made his way towards the wrecked doorway. She stopped for a while to stare at Rastan, looking him straight in the eyes and realizing that he seemed to be evaluating her. The demon felt a tinge of gratitude that he was there to aide for the tortured human. At the same time, Khalxaen wondered who he really was.

“Do you know about your demonic species, young woman?” Rastan’s voice asked her patiently.

“No, not really,” replied Khalxaen on impulse. “And, it’s okay, I don’t really want to know. See ‘ya, old man.”

The demon wasn’t sure if she sounded like she was in a hurry or if she was rude, but Corvus had already left and was most likely a great distance away already. Additionally, Khalxaen really hated anything that had to do with demons, even if it was herself. This was the same reason she liked posing as an elf at times, even though the only similarity she had with them were her ears. At first, she had wanted to know more about whom she really was—but throughout her journey, she realized that she didn’t favour her demonic instincts, and wanted nothing to do with her heritage. She gave Rastan one last curt nod and rushed out of the room, walking swiftly to catch up with Corvus.

“How the heck do you know how to wield all those weapons?” Khalxaen asked rhetorically as she quickened her pace even more. Being the smaller one, her legs were significantly shorter, and of course she had to put in more effort. She started rambling, something which she did when she was excited—they were about to get into a much larger battle, of course. “Reminds me that I keep forgetting to get myself another sword, since my current one is designed for a two-sword style technique. That’s what it told me, anyway. Who knows, might’ve been pulling my leg again.”

Skoteinos was a possessed sword, one that spoke when it felt like it. It had told her in the past that it used to have another sword as a partner to be wielded as a pair, and that Khalxaen was dim not to find another one to be able to use it more efficiently. The demon had remembered the conversation, but didn’t really think much of it. Watching Corvus use up so many weapons made her remember, though.

Khalxaen stepped down the staircase, and glanced around at the rooms they had passed by earlier. One door was ajar, and Khalxaen looked at it quickly, realizing that it wasn’t bare. She knew, or maybe assumed, that it was a room of treasures. She was tempted to barge in and grab as much as she could when she heard the voices and the sounds of the hooves getting louder.

Walking as fast as she could towards the doorway to the outside, she realized that some men had already arrived and were obviously arguing with each other. They spoke in panicked yells. ’They’ve seen the guardsmen.’

“Dead, all dead! Bones are all smashed!”

“Nay, this one’s alive, but the bastard’s unconscious!”

They were arguing about what to do—maybe hide the bodies, maybe the master wouldn’t realize. The master was in a good mood, after all—

“What is going on here!?”

The men’s voices were all muted. Khalxaen assumed that the one who had just yelled was the master. His voice resounded even into the inside of the manor, all throughout the hallway that Khalxaen and Corvus were in. The master started to yell out orders, and Khalxaen knew they had to hurry before the troops rushed inside. It wasn’t a good idea to fight within the manor, the thick walls restricting the proximity. Without thinking twice, Khalxaen rushed out the door, striking the first brigand she found in the chest, causing him to fall back with a pained yell.

As quick as she could, Khalxaen looked around the scene to get a good idea of what her next move should be. There were many human men, maybe around twenty to thirty, all spread out. There was a carriage—there were people in it—women, their mouths gagged with dirty white cloths. Khalxaen’s chest throbbed with anger, remembering the other human that the Succubus had tortured. These ladies were probably abducted for the same fate.

And, behind all the men, near the carriage, was the master. He had the same futures as the Succubus. His eyes were angry, ready to kill. He gave a loud battle cry, and all the other men charged forward, and Khalxaen gave a duck and a vertical swing of her sword, slashing two men across the necks.

[Corvus MacCallum]

"Interesting young woman. Now let's get you fixed."

Another yell from the injured captive but this time much quieter as the educated fingers of Rastan set about sealing the wounds that had been made by demonic intent, this would take some time.

---

The Highlander hadn't just rushed right out, he wanted to make sure Khal was with him before making a slightly speedier egress from the establishment, quite disppointed in many ways he ways by the lack of interesting equipment mostly. The Brigands used typical designs of weaponry, straight blades, modest hilts, dull. The demon-girls on the other hand, a speaking sword, now that was something of a novelty and after a little shudder swept through his shoulders an unpleasant one. His mind had drifted upon the comedic when she stated it had pulled her leg before and couldn't help imagine his Slammer acting much like the hen-pecking house-wives he'd seen many a farmer and peasant give up his life for.

No no don't you dare go swinging me like that, what do you think I am?... some cheap flousy of a dagger!?

"I'm sure finding a companion blade would be quite awkward, either you find one that gets along with it or just do your best to ignore the arguments and bickering from two swords that don't get along."

Did he believe her story about the sword talking?... sure, he'd smashed his way through rock and soil that had taken the form of a dragon. Hacked open a Findren boil-worm that had grown huge from the demonic influence of a womans lost sword and even a vast Slammer not too dissimiliar to his that could be lifted with no real effort by a girl far shorter and much weaker when the enchantments weren't being enacted. His mind did momentarily flit to just how the sword could talk but she'd already stated she was born to use it and simply figured it was some minor demonic soul trapped inside that got vocal.

As they descended through the Manor house the Highlander had a growing dislike of the situation, fighting in-doors was not something he had any good feelings about doing. Walls, arches, door-ways everything was designed around just walking around, not swinging a massive chunk of blood-stained iron through the air, even his katana would find difficulty in getting freedom to flow through bodies. Still he'd thought about the situation and managed to work up a beautifully simple scheme that would get them the fuck out of there along with any defenders and give Rastan the peace needed to fix up the lad and see if any others remained.

Oh goodie.

Corvus couldn't help it, he smirked quite broadly on seeing the new group that had come to challenge them, nearly all of them had obviously been given the lions share of the previous lords gold as plate and chain covered much of their forms. Might be a bit much to simply just slice through but now there'd be the fun blunt-force trauma to go through, the few who weren't dressed up like tarnished knights obviously had the tasks of wrangling the horses and assisting the others in mounting and dismounting, such restrictive guff that armour. Then in stomped the new Lord of the house and Corvus recognized a few too many features from the good lady that now lay in a severed heap back upstairs, Incubus, that he hadn't entirely expected despite it being, quite sensible really... rarely had he heard of them working together.

When Khal made a break for it the Wolf-man was barely a pace behind, once more his gloves jewel surging with light that sent a shimmer throughtout every hair upon his quite warmly sheathed form. The armoured goons unprepared for such a fast assault, not to mention barely able to witness the short girl speed past through their vision slits in the helmets. Several found themselves thrown to the ground by the passing Highlander though his hands never left his sides, no it was the force of air whipping violently around him that caused their momentary impression of a tortoise. Tightening up the toes Corvus set about breaking his speed, passing by the Carriage, many out-lying horses that were lacking their riders, almost by the Demon-girl but he managed to force a few heel-centric steps and come to a halt, about facing to look upon the suddenly rather confused group.

Holding the roughly sliced and slightly bruised head of the demonic whore they'd killed seemed a good way to get their attention, but too many were focussed on getting back up and the Lord of the house was just barking orders. Several fffths managed to squeeze past the Highlanders lips but nothing that made any decent noise and with a sigh he looked down to Khal at her side.

"You know how to whistle?... give us a shrill one."

There it was, the high piercing rush of air through her maw and now they bothered their arses to look upon the duo and most importantly, the little trophy Corvus had carved himself out. While the enemy digested this information and allowed the right amount of anger and indignation to build the Highlander made a few whispered statements to his current partner in danger.

"We smash through the few at the Carriage and take that with us down the road away from here. Don't worry on stopping the horses, we'll sort that out later. Go for the drivers seat, I'll get them from the sides lass."

Handful was the quantity of things the Highlander currently wasn't noticing, of the two biggest were that his fur was still in the grip of the wind, grey and white being his hair and fur colours for now, great long strands that shifted in the gale that surrounded only him. Also missed was the hateful command to attack given by the Incubus to the shiny metal covered Brigands that had accepted his gold. Amusingly though they weren't exactly charging down the horizon to meet with the Wolf-man and Demon-girl, not in that kind of heavy armour and with the duo standing by the loose horses they wouldn't be chasing with much speed... not after this...

"Roawrf!"

As they hurtled towards the armoured mass Corvus unleashed a potent bark of intent upon the already nervous stallions and unsuprisingly they took off, the ones yoked to the carriage, oh they were nervous right now but with blinkers on they had no idea how close the threat was and had been trained to just stay still until the whip was cracked. Only give men were there to be a present threat to their hijack, three for the Highlander.

He had so many choices on killing implements but with so much metal covering his opponents blades seemed a lucky chance than the typical assurance of destruction that they often were. Instead he was aiming for speed, speed and bloodied claws. With a ducked hop the first blow mounted against him smashed against the Iron slammer covering most of his back, his targets own strike deflected by the swift flick out of his buckler and then came the other hand, ignoring pain he rammed his fist upwards and caught the Brigands helmet lip upon his knuckles sending it rocketing back along with his neck. Staggered but not out of it yet brought the armoured Brigand more pain as Corvus rushed to him, clutching at his out-stretched arm with both of those lethally clawed hands and then... a horrendous snap and clank against metal. Armour protected against blows but it did little to help a fighter keep his joints in good condition, with the opponents arm bent at an entirely wrong 90 degrees the Highlander drew further screams out of him by keeping firm hold and twisting it around ripping up cartilege and muscle. He let go just in time for the injured man to pass out from the sheer pain and made a quick hop to once more block an attack from behind with his vast dragon slaying sword.

The next opponent would be a nice relief, no helmet now, acess to the fleshy face and all the vital components trapped within. After witnessing what happened to his fellow when the Wolf-man got close the Brigand was wasting no time in flailing with his sword, paniced and clumsy. The most it managed to connect with was the solid, thick linked chains upon the Highlanders left shoulder that kept his Slammer confined then it was over... His last fleeting moments of clear sense being pin-pricks upon his fore-head that elevated themselves higher and higher on the pain threshold, before his face was literally shredded. It was a hideous way to kill a man since death would take more than a few minutes to actually reach him but these animals had to be aware of what was going on inside, they assisted with the kidnapping of defenceless youths and would hear the screams afterwards.

Always seemed odd in a way that despite fancying himself a hero Corvus was more savage and caused more fear in his opponents than some of the better villains he'd heard in stories, still an advantage was an advantage and it had to be pressed quick. His final opponent for now had already soiled himself inside his armour and while unpleasant it didn't dull the Wolf-mans determination to end his life. Swinging his sword down upon the wind-swept form of the Highlander brought a horrible clang as it impacted upon that so very useful segmented buckler, snapping shut and with a solid yank ripped the weapon free from his opponent. Whimpering and shivering within his armoured carapace it all quickly ended as his own sword edge was guided and then rammed straight through the vision slit of the ever so expensive helmet.

The rest of their opponents were certainly approaching and nearly within reach, but with Khal no doubt sorting her own half of the issue they'd be swept aside by the rushing carriage and gain them some breathing room. More importantly it got these scared lasses out of any hostage equation.

[Khalxaen]

Khalxaen bent one of her knees and planted one of her feet behind her, giving herself a good stance as she stabbed a rushing brigand ruthlessly in the chest. This certain brigand was one of the few who didn’t wear much armour, giving him a disadvantage. He gave a loud scream, and she took her sword back, blood streaming down the blade. Another man was running towards her, arms outstretched upwards and an axe in his hands. Khalxaen quickly stepped aside as he brought the large weapon down, and she felt the pressure of his strength from the wind that swept her hair.

Unfortunately for him, holding such a huge weapon made him slower. Even before he could attack again, Khalxaen swiped the blade of her sword against his neck. She felt the resistance from his bones, and used her strength to decapitate him completely. The demon didn’t really have to go so far, but at the moment, she wanted this. Thinking about the tormented human whom the Succubus dealt with made her angrier than she was supposed to be.

The demon took a quick glance around. More people were coming to crowd them, all screaming loudly. They were mostly rushing towards Corvus, since he was making a bigger scene than her. They also probably deemed him the stronger one, which Khalxaen wilfully accepted. The Incubus was staying in the background, still yelling orders and looking anrgier by the second. His face was becoming scarlet with anger, and Khalxaen smirked at this. The carriage was a few feet away from them, and Khalxaen made a rush for it, ducking under a man’s blade as he swung it at her. It was a close one; she felt it graze against her hair.

The women in the carriage all had wide, fear-stricken eyes. They pleaded at Khalxaen with their expressions. There were two horses in front of the carriage. The two horses were grand in size, as if they were horses from a rich family—probably the family that had owned the manor beforehand. Scars ran through their bodies and their manes were unkempt, showing the lack of care and possible mistreatment that their new owners tended to them with. Both of them were restless, but they didn’t make a run for it.

As Khalxaen climbed up to the driver’s seat, another warrior grabbed her ankle and tried to pull her back down. She yelped, surprised, his strength obviously overpowering her. Growling, she held the side of the carriage tightly for balance, and kicked him squarely in the face with her free foot. He gave a yell and staggered backwards, his face bloodied from her foot. With her hands still on the carriage, Khalxaen hoisted herself up on the driver’s seat.

Corvus was still dealing with the brigands, who were mostly advancing towards him now. There was a fair share who noticed what Khalxaen was up to, and they started to rush towards her. The demon tried shouting Corvus’s name, and it was drowned out by all the yelling. At the corner of her eye, she could see that the Incubus was finally advancing, making its way towards Corvus. Since she couldn’t think of any other way to catch the highlander’s attention, Khalxaen gave another shrill whistle, one as loud as she could. Hopefully, he would recognize that—and probably the others too, but that didn’t matter at this point.

Khalxaen held the reins and quickly put her arms up and smacked them back down. The reins hit the horses, causing them to neigh and start a gallop. She made the carriage go towards Corvus’s direction, causing some brigands to be crushed under the might hooves of the stallions. Coincidentally, that direction was towards the direction of the town. She couldn’t think of any other place to head for. The girl just hoped the townspeople wouldn’t get more involved.

[Corvus MacCallum]

The Highlander had heard both the Demon-girls yelling and the shrill whistle after, it was when the hooves started smashing into the earth that he decided to take stock of the situation however. More than a handful of armoured opponents had circled him, realising one on one was a fools decision, solid clanks and chinks against his form as they swung and thrust with every fibre they could spare, his buckler blocking most, the huge slammer preventing any backstabs. A few nicks and cuts were starting to find their place upon his arms and even marring his immaculate wrecked trousers, the law of averages was a cruel mistress for the agile fighter.

It was around this moment in time, that ever shifting serpent, when Corvus realised he had dropped his little kill trophy just before rushing into combat. Just as Khals driving talents crushed several of his attacks the Highlander made a speedy escape as the ring around him broke, drawing level with the carriage, once more his hair and fur silvering with the effects of his elemental shift. Each stomp of his foot seemed to bring no impact, no strainupon his muscles, again and again his feet landed upon the soil. Hunkering down but still at full speed his hands reached out, scooping up the one-earred and somewhat bruised severed head of the female demon they had ended and then came the tricky bit. The stark black of his hair colour returned just as he parted from the ground, practically pouncing to the side of the Carriage, the girls inside screaming as they saw his clawed hand clutch hold of the door-frame as the Highlander hung upon the side.

As they clattered to an escape the Wolf-man kept his eyes upon the armoured mass well behind them, the Incubus seemed to getting more direct with his intentions, kicking and shoving aside his useless retainers as the unarmoured troops went to catch their errant mounts. Few large, permanent and value ruining scrapes upon the Carriages wooden chassis brought the vastly armed Corvus plonking down beside Khal in the drivers seat. Another loud shriek from the girls within as after not paying enough attention the blade of his slammer rammed through the ceiling. Thankfully it wasnt long enough to cause any unwarranted injuries.

"Nice one Khal, we get these lasses under the villages care and then we can focus on the hellfire bloke and his shoddy shock-troops."

In the brief period of mental quiet he allowed his mind to rest upon Rastan back at the manor tending to the injured lad, but he'll be safe... the Lord of the house seemed far more interested in retrieving the head of his lady to worry about the body. The Highlander was forced to admit, the Succubus was suprisingly nimble for a demon that relies on befuddling the senses and controlling the will of weak men, perhaps her and the most definately demonic man she shared captives with had been stalking around for many a generation.

Despite the panic of the horses when they arrived within the closed up village the carriage finally came to a stuttering, bone jangling halt. Probably more from exhaustion due to malnourishment and mistreatment by the current owners than by Khals rather dedicated pulls upon the reigns, but she'd still put the effort in. With a wet slap upon the drivers seat Corvus plonked the Succubus head right down and hopped off after dislodging his monster slaying blade from the punctured roof of the transport.

"Still coming I see."

They hadn't jumped the border or anything so lengthy, it was more a brief sprint but it gave them time to get rid of the women and focus on the mounted pursuers currently denting the horizon. After their own tackling and then the horses barrage there had to be around twenty left, maybe one or two more but they were just men and easily paniced ones judging from the reactions he spotted on taking down a few of them. The Lord was the bigger issue, considering he went out on the hunt it seemed fair to think him as the more sadistic of the two and likely the more martially gifted. Might be interesting.

[Khalxaen]

Khalxaen watched as the women scampered off towards the houses, their expressions more frightened than before. She could see their tear-stricken faces; she saw one of them trip and get up as frantically as possible, and banging on the nearest door until a villager reluctantly opened it for her. The demon looked around; saw the villagers peeking out of their windows for no less than a second. Khalxaen could tell they were scared by the fact that a battle was obviously going to progress, and at the same time, she wondered if they were going to be blamed or thanked for this.

The brigands were getting close. Khalxaen could hear their footsteps. She glanced towards them, her eyes sharp. The humans looked worthless, terrified and panicking. Amidst them, she could see the Incubus, his face crimson with fury. He was gritting his teeth, his fists clenched.

Khalxaen made a move forward. There was a slightly stinging pain on her arm, and she made a face as she examined it. A cut was visible, probably from one of the attacks of the brigands they had rushed through earlier. The cut was shallow and small, and it shouldn’t have been bothering her in the slightest bit, but Khalxaen observed that there was a slight foreign scent to it. In addition, for such an insignificant cut, there was a lot of blood smeared around it. The demon held her arm up to her nose and sniffed.

’The blood of the Succubus bitch,’ thought Khalxaen. She looked back at the carriage. The head of the Succubus was there. She must have bumped it somehow. Blood was pooling under the Succubus’s head, and Khalxaen could tell that it had the same scent as the blood on her arm. For some reason, staring at the Succubus’s head bothered and irritated Khalxaen. The eyes were half-lidded, forever immortalized in death—the mouth was agape, blood dripping from the side.

The wound on Khalxaen’s arm still stung. That bothered her, too. Khalxaen was starting to get impatient, also by the fact that the Incubus and his brigands were taking too long to arrive. The demon snarled and glared back at them, her fangs piercing into her lips as she tightened her grip around her sword. She wanted to end this, and she wanted to end it now.

She gave another shrill whistle to get Corvus’s attention. “Let’s get this damn thing done, already!”

Focusing on the small army before her, she called upon her sorcery. Spikes of ice materialized around her and lunged towards them, piercing their chests. Some hit the eyes of the brigands, making them scream in pain and fall on their knees. Some fortunate ones were able to block it with their huge weapons, but before they could think of what to do next, Khalxaen was already rushing towards them, blade in hand. She slashed her way through them, hitting them across the necks. Blood spurted from them as they fell towards the ground. For a reason Khalxaen was too preoccupied to analyze, the demon was moving just a bit quicker and adrenaline pumped through her body, making her swings almost too effortless.

The Incubus gave an angry yell as he watched his men fall to the floor, and he cursed at the top of his lungs, pointing his clawed hands towards Khalxaen and Corvus. “Come at me! Come at me right now!”

[Corvus MacCallum]

Slaughter wasn't the most pleasant task to undertake beneath an overcast sky but it was an asbolute requirement for this to happen before the sun rose up. Not for the Incubus running off, it didn't work that way, but merely for a symbolic gesture, that the villagers would have an entirely new day a fresh one that wasn't under the thumb of a monster. All this was delightfully meaningful to those who'd wax poetic or metaphorical... the thought flitted through the Highlanders mind and then vanished from his mentality, there was heroics to be done. Despite her high speed and nimble strikes the demon girl Khal hadn't carved her way through the entirety of the hunting party, or properly put down those she had caught with magic, one or two even managed to only be grazed by her neck-seeking strikes, this was solved by brute force.

From his back came the screeching metal as his Slammer became unfettered, solitary hand gripping it and fighting back the pain splitting through so many fibres of his left arms musculature. Smashing an edge into the dirt and dragging it behind him as step for step the Wolf-man picked up his pace and charged through the path Khal had carved out. One broad sweep severed two as they fell, clutching at their throats and gurgling for at least one clean, oxygen filled breath, a third also ripped apart but life had left that form and no sound was made from the lacerated gullet. Among the demon girls victims one took the blow to the throat and stayed in his current posture, there was no metal around his neck, nor even a helmet, but it certainly didn't bode well as blade dragged across unnatural flesh and left only a grinning bodyguard.

Making use of his claws more than the huge iron lump crudely shaped as an oversized sword, but with the loose ends of the demon girls rampage severed properly he brandished that huge weapon at his side, bringing it around and then recieving a very suprising response from his opponent. While feet were lifted temporarily from the ground and hands reaching for defence, the blade had not swept through the body of his despatched foe, nor was the foe even despatched. Corvus looked into the eyes of his apparently worthy opponent, hellfire burning through those widening pupils, cracks running from those hatefilled sockets as the eyes sunk within. The cracks and rents trailing and criss-crossing themselves over the entirety of the bodyguards visage, skin sloughing off his form, becoming mere whirls of ash as the wind kicked up.

The Highlander gave a quick glance off to Khal who had rushed ahead for the Incubus, in her blood frenzy not even noticing if her kills had been completed. Still after slaying so many it didn't suprise him that she did not notice one surviving, it just went against the established pattern after all. He was happy to deal with the straggler... though his joy did diminish as the very obviously demonic being increased its size as the disguise came away, great streaks of boiling blood siphoned from several victims to keep its form securely hidden giving a cloud of vital steam upon the hellish form. Demons were rather varied in their apperances, some taking the affectations of goats or other similiar beasts, some human in everything but the ears and eyes. This one however looked like something more typical in one of Rastens journals. It's huge head flat and with horns swept back so far it resembled a fattened up axe-head, jaw toothless but jagged all the same to serve the purpose with none of that pesky brushing. From the neck down it was a mass of muscle and power, less sculpted by exercise and more that it ripped free from an infernal mountain and kept the entirely solid nature of its home. No wings at least which suited the Highlander fine he wasn't much for air-work yet, but those hands were something shocking. It's grip upon the Slammer reddening the iron, making it glow and perhaps would reduce a more standard weapon into a malleable mess, not so for a weapon designed to withstand the breath of dragons.

Only one hand of course needed to hold the Slammer and its twin was drawing back, preparing to simply flatten the wolfen warrior and move on to take on the traitor in their oh so diverse race. But while size was gained, speed was somewhat sacrificed, a quick hop to the side twisting the Demons grip upon the slammer and bringing the Hunters body out of the way. Right hand quickly reaching behind him drawing out the scarred and chipped Axe he had dredged out of Findren, two hurried strikes made, one cracking and splitting the infernal skin of the Demons wrist before the second made it shattered completely. The blow had been so forceful the impact resounded through the Wolf-mans arm, wracking his shoulder and sending the Axe hurtling from his grasp to land out of reach and out of mind for now.

It was enough of an injury for the Demon to release the hunters main weapon and clutch at its stump, the Highlander not wasting any of his previous experience in killing things as the heated Slammer rose up high and then came down, lodging itself within much of the demons shoulder, back and neck. It fell to the ground and bellowed in pain it had likely thought incapable of recieving, but it was not the end of it. Wrenching the weapon free Corvus brought it down again... and again, hammering and pummeling the entirety of the demons form, even turning his Slammer so that the roughened up flat was what gave the impacts, sundering the demons form into fragments and an entirely useless heap left to cease it's infernal desires.

... Bit outta breath now...

It hadn't been an entirely one sided affair, the demon had tried to rise multiple times, to strike at the attacker and had even caught the Wolf-man a number of times. Nothing more than blunt force impacts but his right arm was almost completely numb from overstimulation of the pained nerves, hanging limply at his side. Small measure of blood seeping from his temple when a particulary jagged part of the wrist stump had caught him. But the job was finished, the demon was most certainly deceased, or at least incapable of doing more than create a mess. Still he wasn't about to just plant his foot in the chunks and call it a day, he made for the discarded Axe and hurried after Khal.

[Khalxaen]

Her eyesight growing dim with crimson again, Khalxaen plunged the edge of her sword into the stomach of a fallen brigand. She imagined how his innards were being torn up as she twisted and turned her blade—how he felt every last second of his life seep away, and Khalxaen stared down at him. He looked back at the demon, his eyes filled with tears as he begged her to just finish him off, his expression dismal. His blood drenched the surroundings, some splattering to Khalxaen’s face and clothes.

Khalxaen smiled at him, her fangs piercing her lips. She had stopped in the ministrations of her torture, her blade simply immovable in him, not finishing the deed. He was gasping for air now, blood coming out of his mouth—and Khalxaen still wasn’t ending it for him.

’Khalxaen,’ said Skoteinos’s voice in her mind. ’Khalxaen, you are losing yourself.’

At that point, Khalxaen snapped out of it, and she looked at the human. Giving a sigh, the demon took her sword from his body and slashed it across his neck, finally ending his life. She looked at her surroundings and could see that no more humans were alive. The ground was crimson with their blood. Decapitated heads littered the streets. Now, only the boss, the Incubus, was left—

The demon turned around swiftly. The scene that met her eyes caused her to blink in awe. Another demon was present, but it was no more. It was splayed across the ground. Still, the power that it summoned with its slight transformation probably proved useless against Corvus.

The Incubus was yelling at the top of his lungs, his face contorted in anger. His muscles ripped throughout his body. The horns on his head were growing sturdier and longer, the tips curling into edged stones. The black claws on his hands became longer as he, too, transformed to his original form, getting rid of any human appearances. His skin turned dark, and took the form of a thick material as he wielded his rapier and pointed it at the petite demon. Khalxaen smirked and gripped Skoteinos, blood dripping down from its blade.

Khalxaen lunged towards the Incubus, her footwork light and quick. Her eyes were stern and a radiant red, her lips now pursed into a flat, serious line. When she was about a foot away, the Incubus gave a loud growl and swung his blade at her, which she ducked to avoid. Khalxaen gripped her sword and swung it back at him, which he stepped back to evade. His boots hit the ground loudly, scraping dust away. The Incubus’s eyes were on her, staring her down, and to her shock, he suddenly reached out a hand and grabbed her by the neck. The agility of his movements were something she was not able to foresee. He wrapped his strong hand around her, and Khalxaen choked for air. She dropped Skoteinos in the struggle, and she felt her feet being lifted from the ground as she wrapped her hands around his arm, trying to break free.

“You little bitch...” snarled the Incubus, hatred in his voice.

In a quick move, Khalxaen raised her legs and kicked him squarely on the chest in the most powerful attack she could muster. The impact caused him to let go of her as he scampered backwards. Khalxaen felt flatly on her feet and coughed as she grabbed her sword again and lunged towards him. The other demon was just as quick, bringing up his blade and countering hers.

Khalxaen snarled at him, and he growled back at her. Their blades were in a deadlock, either of them not being able to overpower the other. If the bloodlust was pumping through her veins at this very moment, she probably wouldn't have been able to match his strength. Khalxaen grinned, overjoyed at the battle of strength. She looked at the Incubus, and mused at how much she wanted to slit his neck right now, twist his innards and take in the scent of his blood.

[Corvus MacCallum]

The deadlock was broken in a myriad of sensations, for Khal it started as an immense wash of chilled air breaking against her back, seeping through every stand of her hair and cooling the blood trails staining her flesh. Then in both sets of those demonic ears was heard a far more primevil noise than their hellish brethren were capable of, ripping itself free from the Highlanders throat came the howl of his people, it was not tarnished by past conflicts or a posturing bluff of ability, it was nothing more than a true out-burst of that which survived through strength and intelligence. Silver tinged hair as his Wind Shift enacted once more, allowing him enough lift to sail above the petite demonic girl even with that massive slammer gripped in just his left hand.

The Incubus let out a bellow in return and dashed back in the hopes that Khalxaen would stagger forth and wind up clattering with her ally. The winds around Cors feet kicked up once again and pushed him forth far faster than his simple momentum allowed for, the silvery shimmers ending as he was brought closer to the ground, Slammer wielded high and then brought smashing down upon the Incubus, even the quick reactions didn't help as the demon tried to catch the blade on its descent only resulting in the crude but sharp edged Iron mass crashing through the demons palm. Great spurts of black ichor spat forth as the force of the blow and the sheer weight of the weapon kept it ripping through, down through the wrist, past the elbow before breaking into free air and leaving the limb utterly ruined.

The Incubus had thrust out with his blade during this, the weapon sinking straight through the Highlanders right arm, peircing near the shoulder, as the blade poked through it couldn't penetrate the Blazen hide poncho and lifted the garment high as gravity brought Corvus downards onto the weapon. But it didn't cease the attack, the Highlander releasing his Slammer, the great iron weight pounding straight to the dirt, those claws now free as they rushed upwards and grasped at the Incubus' dark plated throat, puncturing through the weak-links in the segments and tearing off great swathes of the inferno raised flesh. Fore-head of the Wolf-man smashing against the bridge of what could pass for the Incubus' nose, ichor seeping from the nostrils almost immediately as a second head-butt fell to the side of the opponents jaw, smashing time and again bringing the Incubus down.

The male varient of the sex-demon had only time to bellow once more before he could feel the Highlanders thick, black, wolfen claws slice right up through the underside of his chin, ram up through muscle, sinew and tongue to catch on the jaw-bone itself and then ripped it free in a shower of vital fluids. Forced to release the sword embedded in his adversaries arm the Incubus staggered back, clutching at his ichor pouring face, more of it still pouring freely from his ripped and cut-up stump of an arm. Then the final blow given as the Highlander pulled free his broadsword, jammed underneath the buckler on his injured right arm, the scarred blade preventing even a momentary flash of light as he drove it straight to the hilt into the Incubus' skull.

That was that then, job done, a sucess. Grunting loudly as he pulled the Incubus' blade from his shoulder and wiped the smeared blood from his temples and saliva from his maw. Panting, whole form lowering and raising with each pounding heart-beat that had wrought him this victory, a single staggered shift of his heel bringing him around to face Khalxaen, trade-mark smirk displayed on bleeding lip.

"Job's a good'un."

[Khalxaen]

Panting and gripping her chest tightly, Khalxaen tried her best to catch up with her breath. The demon focused all her senses back into reality, getting rid of the urge for even more bloodshed. Giving it a few seconds, she waited as her heartbeat slowed down and her head stopped throbbing. When she was close to calm again, she nodded at Corvus and forced a smirk, “Yeah, it’s done. You did good there.”

The Highlander was amazing. Khalxaen had met many frightfully powerful people in her travels, and Corvus was definitely going to the top of the list. He had moved with such strength and confidence, and he made every attack seem so easy, as if his weapons were extended parts of his body. The demon took another glance around at their surroundings—she forbid herself from breathing through her nose, trying to get rid of the memory of the stench of blood—and all she could see were fallen carcasses littering the streets. The townspeople were starting to scramble out of their homes; many seemed relieved, some ladies were on the verge of crying out of sheer happiness. Their ordeal was finally done.

Even as Khalxaen tried to calm herself down back into reality, an unfamiliar and uncomfortable feeling welled up in her—one she couldn’t explain. It was as if there was something foreign in her body, and the shallow cut on her arm was warmly tingling, even though Khalxaen knew it shouldn’t be. She wondered if it had something to do with the blood of the Succubus being mixed in with her own. The demon twisted her arm and blinked, looking at the cut. She could have sworn the foreign blood was actually seeping into her wound. Khalxaen had many unsolved mysteries about her own body, but for now, she simply wanted to get herself clean. She felt stained, defiled, polluted.

And when Khalxaen looked at Corvus one more time, her head throbbed again, and she couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was at the moment. The way he looked after a battle was unnerving to her senses; he looked incredibly strong, with all his weapons on him and the ripple of his muscles, and—

’What the hell...?’ Khalxaen shook her head to bring herself back to reality again. ’What am I, getting that Succubus bitch’s thoughts? I don’t lust after men. Seriously.’

“Dog boy,” for some reason, she couldn’t think straight, couldn’t even remember the Highlander’s name for now. “Where is the old man? Where is our reward? Oh, wait... never mind... I just want to get out of here.”

Khalxaen had remembered that there had been no definite reward offered when they had taken the mission. There had been something mentioned about treasures back in the manor—but that meant having to go back in order to acquire them, and the demon didn’t feel like doing that anymore. The job had been more tiresome that she had expected, and at the moment, she didn’t really have an inkling of want to set foot in the manor again. She wanted to go far away and nurse her wounds, get away from all the dead bodies and the strange new feelings that she didn’t want to entertain. And she could sense the human townspeople getting closer. She knew they were going to do something dumb, like thank her and Corvus for saving them. The demon didn’t need to tell them she did it for the rewards, and she was in no mood to speak to humans who couldn’t even defend themselves.

“I’m going to It was nice working with you,” Khalxaen told Corvus. “We should do it again sometime, if ever we cross paths again.”

[Corvus MacCallum]

Impressive, fantastic, utterly victorious, right now these thoughts were not residing in Cor's head as he gritted his teeth. First came the shakes, it had to happen, there was no way he could grab hold of the sword lodged within his arm and not cause any vibrations, didn't help that the adrenaline was going to start tailing off soon. Could've been worse, that was the main thought going through his head next to relaxing his form, tensing up would just make this more difficult. The first of the congratulating villagers had crested the hill the duo stood upon and froze immediately on seeing the larger of their saviours, chill of the night frosting his breath as it hurtled out in rushed gasps, grip tightening finger by finger upon the blade of the invading sword. Rumbling growl rising up out of his throat as the metal slid from his body and clumphed weakly upon the ground.

He worked pretty quick from that point on, hoisting the blazen-hide poncho up away from the shoulder, tearing at his shirt and pulling free his bandages from the ratty and worn out backpack he'd been hauling since leaving home. Grinding and clacking of metal as he worked it securely under the support harness for carting that immense Slammer.

The Highlander had picked up on Khals words and even her aborted question and he was intending to get round to answering, but one thing at a time, or at least until the blood flow stopped a bit. Hacking and clearing his throat from blood that had seeped in from his temple injury and stepped after the short demon lass.

"Actually I was wondering if you'd fancy immediate travels. Was on my way to hunt down something a bit more gribbly and less spooky, handy partner wouldn't be a bad thing."

Appraising eye gave the corpses a quick look-over and just saw nothing of value, their opponents armour ruined either by the hunters weapons, or the demon shifting and the weapons were rather standard and uninteresting. Not even the expected trappings of assumed nobility. Spent it all away on hiring the mercenaries and luring in their toys no doubt. Sure it was do-gooding and that is his thing, but there was just, no interesting trinket afterwards. But maybe this'd lead to some good word of mouth, the village saved, the demons slaughtered and Rasten might even tell his order about it. Would be nice.

The congratulations were starting to come down upon the two, even as Khal tried to peel off, the crying women, the burly men acting as if they had some part in all this, all of it quite the same as usual but it was still very welcome. No point lording it up though and after stepping up along the demon girls side, Corvus gestured to the West as he decided on the next destination for himself.

No GP wanted.

Ability

Wind Shift: Enchanted Glove allows for Reikos form to change and become elementally joined with the wind, his hair lengthening, taking on a more whitish hue than his usual black and white motif. Right now the Highlander isn't entirely sure of how he can change form or how to sustain it and simply makes do if it shows up. At the moment a single Gust under his instinctive command and allows for one of the following effects.

Added wind to his back allowing his running speed to increase by around half, can be undone by simple bad footing or lack of traction.

Surrounding his lower body the wind can allow him to surge higher than even his dense leg muscles would allow for, boosting the heights of his jumps and more importantly the wind turning as he crests the height of it and forcing him down far faster than gravity alone allows.

[Khalxaen]

Khalxaen thought about it for a while. His offer sounded interesting. But then again, the demon impulsively shook her head and refused his offer. Khalxaen saw that he was gesturing to the west. She said, “I’d love to, but I’m actually on a hurry to get somewhere. To the... East.”

She was lying. For some reason, she just knew that it would be unintelligent of her to accompany Corvus on another task. She felt both sick but stronger at the same time, and in her mind, the ground beneath her was shaking just a tiny bit. Khalxaen felt like she needed rest—and quick. That meant she needed to get away from this crowd of humans who were practically praising at their feet.

“It’s been good, doggy dog boy,” laughed Khalxaen as she tipped an imaginary hat at him in genuine respect. “We should do this again sometime, if ever we cross paths again!”

She flashes him a final grin and stepped away from, heading towards the east. Fatigued, she couldn’t even bother to wait for a reply. She turned his back on him. At this point, she had completely forgotten about the promised reward. Unlikely of her, but she just really needed to get away at this point.

“I’ll be stronger by then, and maybe I won’t look too bad beside such a strong guy like you,” mumbled Khalxaen, half-hoping he couldn’t hear her, since it hurt her pride to admit it.

Skoteinos’s voice said to her, ’Why didn’t you accept the nice boy’s offer, Khalxaen? It seemed like you were developing a little crush there.’

“Shut up,” muttered Khalxaen, her cheeks flushing.


Spoils -

Some of the succubus's skills, like enhanced strength (double?). Maybe undeniable attraction to certain men, though the latter's really not a skill. =p

[Knave]

Story ~ 6/10 This story started and stopped with the intent to wage a battle against a pair of demons. The characters took the stage without much in the way of prior planning, Khalxaen arrived as a wanderer, Corvus on a mission, they were debriefed, and wandered into the den to confront the lions. This has the basic tenets of a story, but felt as though it was simply an excuse to kickass. Kicking ass is fine, but it doesn’t allow for much in the way of depth. I’m glad it continued beyond two or three integral scenes though

Continuity ~ 5 /10 This category relates to the past and its congruence with the presence, both on a personal level, and then at a larger one wherein The World of Althanas! comes to play, building here would have been nice, providing the background that would have made the thread a bit more concrete in terms of where and what is going on.

However, this is for the most part a story that remains very much in the present including minor aspects of character depth. Minor. I realize that Khaxlaen does not care for her heritage, but I as a reader don’t even understand how she came to be in the first place. (Yes, when a mommy and daddy demon love each other very much…) Corvus, your character looks like it’s on the way to being heavily developed; it might have been nice to include a few more past experiences, dialogue dictates character, details make history. Also, try to cite more natural deities to the setting, Fenrier while appropriate for Earth, has no business where there is no Asgard.

Setting ~ 4/10 This was not your strongest category, you tell me the streets are empty, that everyone is a afraid, and I am only reminded a few times that night has fallen. Descriptions overflowed on how much pain could be inflicted on an enemy, this was the focus, but it fell somewhat flat when it came to setting instead doing away with all fashionable ambiguities of character with interludes into their minds. I know where things are.

Creativity ~ 6/10 Khalxaen consistently uses the neck as an off button for human life. Corvus writes as though his character is a demi-god, my own has strength of three and I never considered him able to gouge the throat of a demon with his bare hands. This thread for the most part exists as a minor quest providing spoils and violent entertainment. I cannot commend you on depth, especially when the new power gained doesn’t provide the reason for its awakening. Heck, after one fight scene you walked into the Succubus without much searching. It sounded like a big house.

In terms of defining characters, when the thoughts are presented they flow, and this is a noticeable difference between yourself and Kahl, Corvus. Much props for using the extended metaphor in post five, it seemed a bit off in terms of using the words full and filling to describe the rising tension, but it was still a nice flash of creative light. In the instance it was used though, the action described still came off as being bland.

Character ~ 6 /10 Khalxaen, when you state in simple sequences how your character perceives the world, stating likes, dislikes, reasons, and such, you cause two impressions. One is that, as a reader, I think Khal is rather young and thus simple. The other is that you are still figuring your character out as a writer a piecing together the whole.

Corvus, your character is some kind of animal, and honestly, if it wasn’t for social constraints I… still don’t think he would raise his leg at a tree. I gained two conflicting ideas of this character: A, He was a warrior who had been fighting for so long that brutality was as common place as breathing, but not so compulsory; and B, he was a man who played at being an intellectual as much as anyone does when they think with some complexity. The problem is that they don’t coincide, I could stand this against a Black and White morality, but Corvus is understanding in concept, but still too eager in fact when he has his more lucid moments.

Interaction ~ 3 /10 In the time it took for this thread to be completed we underwent a shift of rubric, and I honestly think that you two did not have the chance to plan for it. The telling interactions were really not between your characters, but with the cardboard brigands…and murder. With the distinction that this section has little do with dialogue, more but less to do with thought. You guys really didn’t leave much to the imagination, or express anything in a particularly physical manner. Aside from violence.

Strategy ~ 4/10 what is there to say here that hasn’t been said else where...quite a bit? If this is the place to talk about thoughts, my main opinions formed from the both of your characters placed a humanity that thought nothing of murdering your brigands, who are in essence straw men, but hardly differentiated from the straw villagers. The assumption is placed that they are willing, paid, afraid, but aren’t really recognized as people. A bit of reflection and better clarification would have done well to reconcile just what it was that made the brigands so easy to kill.

Clarity ~ 6/10 The hanging dialogue was issued with such a strange irregularity that I didn’t know who was talking, another fault of the style, but here more so and I blame the execution. While a sense of fast talking was conveyed, the effect seemed to have carried over to Khaxlean, by simple loss of clarity I think you effected another person out of character.

I haven’t put this into practice, but you may not need to break dialogue up immediately, but only when quotations marks are being used, so a factual report in narration might prove correct, though I am basing this off a single line from Steven king’s The Long walk. For me it provided its own shock, especially when it included was unexpected.

Mechanics ~ 6/10 Corvus, you either relied too heavily on a word processor, or didn’t reread to be grammatically correct. Sentences are a collection of words which convey a meaning, and the less that meaning is understood the more ineffectual and frightening it is, they are needed to prevent sentences from becoming abominations. Also, ellipses imply dramatic breaks in a sentence that continues don’t require a space between words.

Wildcard ~ 6/10 What can I say? I like to a one sided fight, could have been better, but it had its moments.


Final Score!

52

For being the first judgment I've had to break fifty, I bequeath to you in this order the spoils of your victory.

To Corvus, the sum of 1419 EXP is distributed. Declining gold, he shall receive none.

To Khalxean, a reward shall be made of 1201 EXP with the addition of six hundred gold to her coffers.

All abilities are the domain of the Realm of Greeting Moderator, a resource of knowledge far greater than I whose judgement is not only sound but sure. I grant all skills learned, and leave the final decision of these abilities to the ranks of those elite.

Seriously, I'm just the mouth who declares things and hands out points, the judgement of additional abilities should not be requested from myself or any other like me. We are unworthy...

[Silence Sei]

Exp-GP Added.

Khal Leveled. Yay.