Full of Hate, Don't you Love how I Break?

[Dissinger]

(Closed)

He walked down the alleyways quickly. His hood up and his gaze forward as he moved swiftly. He wasn't supposed to be in Radasanth, but he had come anyways as a shortcut to the mainland. As he sighed he saw his breath form into a foggy mist, before the air chilled it and made it fade away. His robes kept him warm, and so long as the hood was up, no one could see under them, a boon if he ever found one.

He moved into one of the back alleys in the hopes of a shortcut as a bit of light flashed. He stopped frowning as he looked around for a source. Seeing none he sighed as he continued his satchel slung over his shoulder resolutely. Exiting the alley proved to be a simple task as he began to hit the open streets again. As he finally reached the empty street he smiled as he walked down it heading for the ports, hopefully for a late night ship to Antioch.

As he moved down the street he sighed once more, creating the fog of life, only to watch it extinguish rather coldly against his own skin. He pushed on before he stopped for a moment, something feeling off. A pair of eyes seemed upon him now as he stopped. Looking around the street seemed bare of any life, and so he frowned. Narrowing his eyes he scanned the street once more before he began to move.

He moved again his hands slipping within the folds of his robes to his daggers as he felt the paranoia once more creep up his neck. Moving slowly he remained alert for anything as he couldn't shrug off the feeling. Closing his eyes he tried to focus on his hearing to find the stalker, only to grow frustrated quickly when he could make out no sound. Opening them again he hurried down the street as he tried to make it for the boat.

Something was off tonight, and rather than invite danger into his company, he was going to play it safe.

[Slayer of the Rot]

Dan Lagh'ratham never really did like the day.

In the day, there were too many prying eyes. The light of the sun made the nobles think they glowed, which made them even cockier. During the afternoons, there was a guard stationed on almost every street corner, and he had to keep his activities to the Down Here as he called it. It was better known, of course, as the slums, a place where the penniless and the destitute crawled to, a place where reality was harsh and bland and monotonous. Every week, another family seemed to vanish from the Down Here, always unmistakably the slayer's handiwork, but where one died, another two shuffled into their living spaces.

The night was more his thing.

For one, all the little painted up, black garbed gothic teen kids came out to walk the city and smoke cigarettes and drink coffee in the diners and recite shitty poetry in smoky jazz houses. They were among his favorite victims, the type to curse out their parents and take everything for granted and cut themselves to releikve the hells of the thier cushy, city lives. They never seemed to be very ready to be cut when it was another man with the knife and they were taped down to a dirty rusted chair in some shithole building downtown. When the shadows crawled across the city, the businessmen held their breifcases tighter than usual and stepped from a leisurely walk to a swift jog, the merchants swelling in their expensive silks from too many chicken legs hurriedly packed up shop and locked their doors. The CAF might be making a campaign to take back their streets from the recent encroach of thieves and murderers, but the night was still his.

In the shadows of the alleyways, cracked cobblestones littered with a light sprinkling of sheafs or crumbled balls of paper, his hands, head, and the breast and collar of his white shirt seemed to float in the air with cheshirian quality, the black of his suit blending in well. A nimbus of thin gray smoke trailed him, slowly dissapatting in the chill night air even as he produced another jet of the smoke past the glowing cigarette set in his scowling lips. A pair of dark glasses sat on his nose, hiding his hazel eyes, within which swirled a tumultous storm of madness. When that big, blind eye rose in it's deep, deep blue kingdom, Dan Lagh'ratham walked the streets of all of Radasanth.

Though tonight, unsettling as it was, the moon didn't look so blind. It was almost a shade of red, maybe a burgundy if he was going to get complex. While it could have meant other things, he simply interpreted that the killing was going to be good tonight.

He stepped out of the alley, and into a pool of yellow, sulphurous light. He stood in plain view as he couldn't have during the day, smoking slowly, eyes turned up to the sky, and to the stars, and it wasn't until the cigarette was little more than a burning stub that he heard the sounds he was waiting for. Footsteps of a rushing traveller, daring to brave the demons hunting the streets. His head turned slowly, staring down the hurrying traveller, smoke rolling lazily from his mouth as he flicked the coffin nail far out into the street, small sparks leaping upo from the ember as though in protest.

"Well, good evening," he said in good humor, as he summoned the Rotslayer into hand, it's wide, heavy blade shining dully under the light. He smiled, and bounded forward to the traveler, lifting the sword up from across his shoulders, down and forward in a vertical slash, eager to spill some blood.

[Dissinger]

Well, good evening...

Deep down those words triggered something within him. Stirring up the emotional well Seth had entered. As he began to mutter his rote reply he found himself stopping, as if he was missing something. He stuffed it down stopping himself from pondering the riddle as he continued moving. He couldn't afford to be nice today, and he couldn't afford much else at all. Delays would only further complicate the matter, and as he moved his eyes never left before him.

The words thundered in his mind again as he heard the footsteps. With the fluid grace of a Lavinian Thief he slid out from under the assault before the robe elegantly fluttered to the ground, with daggers drawn. The result revealed the Lavinian Thief to all as he frowned looking at Dan fully taking in the man before he spat, "Couldn't leave well enough alone could we? Figures you'd try to stab me in the back..."

The daggers twirled as he moved slowly in a circle around the demon his gaze never leaving him as he studied him. Something seemed a bit off on Dan. He didn't hold the sane look he normally did. The gruff exterior that belied the man of justice was gone, and in its place a clean shaven and a sense of insanity now took hold in its place. He snorted as he drank in enough before he said, "So, when did you decide justice didn't pay enough?"

His paranoia had been tripped and any mercy he would have given the man was gone with the cowardly act from the usually nobler warrior. It was Seth's pride being hit when he wasn't even given the courtesy of facing his killer, but merely expected to die. It was an act the real Dan never would have done. Even when they were prisoners in Haidia, Dan had tried to keep honor at the forefront.

And so his next words seemed heavier as he said, "Well, I got time to kill there Danno, so lets dance..."

[Letho]

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