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Visiting an old friend...
Trager
Raiding your underwear drawer.
So since coming back, Trager has been poking and prodding at Emelle, trying to get her attention in one form or another. She's notoriously slippery, but finally Trager manages to track her down.
Featuring: @Emelle, @Rashar, Trager and the peanut gallery, @Coryn & @Zaila.
==========================================================
Warning: Tasteful cursing is in this log. I'm not sure if the censor will block it out, but I hope it doesn't. If mild language bothers you, beware!
Trager steps in through the door, an upbeat whistle casually filling the air around him. As he steps inside, he turns around only briefly to shut the door behind him.
There is no door to the north. (Ooops)
Turning around, the whistling stops. With a smile, you say to Emelle, "Hello, friend of mine."
Emelle glances over her shoulder. When she sets eye on you, though, she turns her entire body to face you, her spine straightening. "What do you want?" she asks, her tone clipped. "You have already bought half of my cigarettes this week."
Trager saunters his way into a stool at the end of the room and pulls himself closer to the bar. A resounding "tch" echoes from behind barely parted lips before he speaks: "You're going to bitch about good business?" asks curiously. He awaits an answer by flipping open a sleek ebony cigarette case to choose a cigarette out from within.
"No," Emelle answers. She seems remotely more comfortable with you at a considerable distance from her, and returns to arranging cigarettes on the rack. "But I have asked you three times now what you want, why I keep hearing your voice in my head. You have not given me an answer, still."
Trager's lips purse together tightly and he no sooner snaps the case close once again. Reaching up, he retrieves a thin black cigarette with green banding from behind his ear and brings it to his lips. After a moment, the cigarette is lit, and the familiar scent drifts upwards towards the ceiling, carried by thin tendrils of smoke that eventually disperse. "Is it not enough to just want to see you, Em?" he rumbles out curiously.
Trager waves a hand absently in the air beside him. "Just like old times, aye?"
Now finished with the cigarette rack, Emelle moves on to the humidor, carefully lifting its lid and reaching inside to add a few cigars. "No," she says again. There's an unusual hardness to her voice, an inflection that bears little resemblance to her usual easy, relaxed tone. "I do not think so."
You carefully light a thin black cigarette with green banding.
A shadow double of Trager twitches spasmodically, the folds of its shadow cloak contorting and collapsing in on itself in a nauseating, dry-heaving motion. After half a minute of this has gone on, the shadow double spits out an object dripping in a thin, black liquid.
An ichor-covered shadowy intestine lands on the ground, expelled from the shadow double.
Trager spends an inordinate amount of time exhaling the smoke upwards into the air of the shop. His eye shift backwards towards a shadow double of Trager, a mild look of reproach crossing his features. "Are you quite done?" he asks, sounding vaguely exasperated.
Catching movement out of the corner of her eye, Emelle turns her head toward a shadow double of Trager. "What in the Pit is that?" she asks you.
A shadow double of Trager raises its chin defiantly and wastes no time in flipping you the bird. It brings its arms to cross over its chest, but otherwise makes no sound.
"My shadow," Trager remarks dryly, looking towards Emelle once more. "There have been a few changes," he remarks wryly.
"You mean you are not the same Trager you were before?" Emelle's tone is dry with humorless sarcasm. "I am shocked." She doesn't deign to even look at you, her back to you as she attends to the humidor.
Trager's arms come out on either side of him, an attempt at a disarming visage. "I am not so very different than I was, Emelle," he rumbles out in a light, scolding tone. "Come - at least introduce yourself!" He glances back at a shadow double of Trager, his encouraging smile only barely revealing the profoundly pointed canines within his mouth.
A shadow double of Trager stays where it is for a brief moment, clearly contemplating the request. Finally it shrugs, and makes its way across the shop halfway to meet Emelle.
There's a satisfying snap as Emelle closes the humidor and turns to regard a shadow double of Trager with a critical eye. After a moment of consideration, she replies to you, "I would rather not." Instead, she makes for the opposite end of the counter from you. She keeps to the edge of the room, skirting along the walls like a cornered animal -- the only indication of her discomfort with your presence.
A shadow double of Trager's shoulders visibly droop, and after briefly running one hand through its hair, its hands drop to slip slowly into its pockets.
Trager rolls his eyes in an exasperated sort of way. "What have I done to cause you, in particular, harm lass?" He pushes himself up from his seat at the bar and begins a lazy move across the room towards Emelle. A shadow double of Trager follows closely after, though its movement fail to mimic Trager's own.
"You /left/," Emelle answers, her voice a low warning. "You stood by my side during the war, and after it. Fought to protect a city you raid against, now. I trusted you, Trager." She edges along the counter, an obvious bid to maintain the distance between herself and you. "It would be different if you were lost, maybe. I would understand. But you are not lost." Pausing at the corner of the counter, she locks you with a penetrating, one-eyed stare. "You have chosen to lead them."
Zaila clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she glances between you and Emelle before slinking into whatever shadows of the room she can find and shopping.
The smile that previous crept along Trager's lips slowly begins to fade, each step drawing his features downwards into a tighter, more penetrating visage. "-I- left, Emelle?" rumbles out slowly, a hint of disbelief carrying his words. "-I- betrayed -you-?" No glance is spared for Zaila as he continues to close the distance. "Is that really what you intend to stand beside? You, of all people?"
A shadow double of Trager's steps increase in speed, and begin to move sideways across the shop, shadowing Emelle's movements. Each step brings it closer, as if herding her towards the looming Azudim.
Emelle's gaze sweeps over you in a dismissive sort of glance, her lip curling in a snarl as she utters, "Tch." Caught between you and a shadow double of Trager, she elects to move toward the shadow rather than you.
Since no one pays her any attention, Zaila finds a cozy spot near a corner of the shop to glance through cigarettes while barely concealing her observation of the confrontation.
Trager's lips curl upwards, and whatever good-natured sentiment that previously existed wholly disappears from his features. His pace does not increase as Emelle steps away, instead maintaining a slow, determined gait towards the woman, seemingly unworried by her movements.
A shadow double of Trager flickers briefly, then elongates, sliding rapidly towards Emelle's form. It loses its corporeal figure as it makes contact, dispersing into a mass of thick, roiling darkness that sinuously engulfs her.
A grunt of surprise escapes from the shadowy mass as Emelle makes contact with it, both arms flailing in an attempt to separate herself from it.
A foreign presence erupts in your mind, sending a searing stab of pain across your skull and temporarily rendering your vision black.
Trager's hands come up suddenly, grasping each side of his head as a muffled snarl rips out from the confines of his throat. His eyes glaze over, then clamp shut, but his momentum carries him forward enough to slam jarringly into Emelle's form. An angry, throaty, "Bitch!" can be heard from the roiling mass of bodies as they tip precariously forward, eventually slamming onto the ground beneath the Azudim's weight.
Floaters in every color of the rainbow spatter the back of your eyelids as your mind reels.
Emelle groans as she's dragged to the floor with a sickening thud, the sound of skull on wood, followed by an involuntary whimper. The tangle of shadow and flesh ripples as she struggles to free herself, striking out with whatever limbs she can manage to free from under your weight.
Trager groans loudly, visibly flinching at another unseen blow. His eyes remain clamped tight, a painful grimace written across the man's face. Greedy, scrabbling fingers rip an unclear path up Emelle's body, though ever growing closer to her throat. Senses blown aside, he remains unable to perceive the flailing blows as his grip manages a hold on the collar of Emelle's shirt."
A shadow double of Trager finally drifts away, revealing the pair of bodies amassed on the floor. It regains its shape just a few paces aside, just in time to grant a view of you roughly jerk Emelle upwards off the ground, only to slam her form ruthlessly into the wood a fraction of a second later.
Once her head connects with the floor a second time, Emelle is unable to maintain consciousness. Her body goes slack beneath you, her limbs dropping motionless to the floor in an awkward sprawl.
The presence releases its clamp on your awareness, though residual pain and starry spots continue to ebb through your mind.
Rashar arrives from the north.
Coryn ripples into existence before you.
Trager body shakes with a myriad of uncontrolled emotion: rage, nerves and... something more. His features remain hidden, buried inside the crook of Emelle's neck, with an uncontrolled, nauseating slurping sound echoing out from the pair of bodies.
Coryn says, "You."
Coryn says, "Offa her."
"Hey guys, the big man knocked out the skinny bitch," Zaila comments idly from a dark corner of the shop, pointing to the pile of you and Emelle by the counter.
Rashar doesn't waste so many words - not a one, in fact. He is across the room in a flash, barreling into you with his equally large frame and spitting a steady series of profanities and half-human growls.
Coryn points a gloved finger in Zaila's direction, "Not in the mood. You'll be next." The Knight holds his position, allowing his mentor take the lead.
Trager is nowhere near ready as Rashar's form slams suddenly into his own, the momentum carrying them both across the remaining floor, to crash thunderously into the nearest wall. Caught unaware, the Azudim appears to have lost the battle of momentum.
"The fuck did I do?" Zaila questions Coryn as a twitching snarl tugs at her lips while she keeps her attention primarily upon the fight, calling out after, "Don't die in there, Couldamom. Not sure how to replace you."
A shadow double of Trager ripples into view directly beside Coryn, silently watching the fight without any sign of reaction.
Coryn slowly takes a look over his shoulder at the double, "Welp, need new britches."
Coryn facade of seriousness drops away completely, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Dunno." he shrugs, "You looked odd?"
A shadow double of Trager ripples into view directly beside Coryn, silently watching the fight without any sign of reaction.
"You look odder than me, asshole," Zaila returns to Coryn with a friendly smirk well worked onto her mildly concerned facade.
"It's cuz I'm grey, huh?" Coryn accuses Zaila, returning his attention to the ongoing fight.
Blood flows freely from the twin holes in Emelle's neck as she remains sprawled, unconscious, on the floor. A faint wheezing struggles from her throat in a slow almost-rhythm, her breathing labored.
"It's cuz I'm grey, huh?" Coryn accuses Zaila, returning his attention to the ongoing fight.
"Yeah, what are you going for with those fifty fucking shades?" Zaila asks, sparing only a brief sweep of her gaze over Coryn's form before looking back to the battling duo.
Rashar seems to have forgotten every bit of training he's ever had, devolving into a blur of furious blows leveled one after the other at your body. His face is a mask of fury so visceral he may not even be recognizable, and only the fact that his hands are empty seems to have prevented an immediate bloodbath - beyond what already exists, anyway. "Shit..fuck.. piece. of. shit. leech. bastard," he grunts and growls and spits, along with the blood from his own lip, which seems to have been busted open in the fray.
A dusky lava hound follows Rashar into the room, loping on his own massive, silent paws and skidding to a stop with his frame standing protectively over Emelle's prone form.
Coryn takes in a deep breath and heaves a sigh just as deep, with a brief few moments of silence he comments to Zaila, "Oh, aye. All fifty shades." The Knight then takes a few steps towards Emelle, kneels, and props her up some. "Hey there, gal. Yanno those questions? Yeah, they can wait fer now." he assures, examining the bite. "Oh boy."
Trager soaks blow after blow, lip busting and cheek splitting - all the while a smile plastered across his lips. He accepts each blow, only occasionally shielding himself from the blows from his brother, straddled atop him. "Sh-.. is blee-.. out, bro-.." he managed to gasp out between blows. "Better -.elp her.."
"We can plug those with cigs, probably," Zaila suggests unhelpfully to Coryn, groping at the display at her back, scheming further, "Maybe if we fill one with moss, light it, and stick it in there it'll cauterize it nicely."
"I got somethin' better." Coryn he responds, holding up his right hand, removing the glove. "This is gonna hurt. A lot. Fer the both of us." The hand catches fire and the ashen skin burns away to reveal muscle which seems to temper into iron. Without hesitation, the Knight places the iron hand against the bite.
The acrid smell of burning flesh fills the room as Coryn's hand burns into Emelle's neck. Her head lolls away from him, and then her eye flutters open long enough for her to let out a tortured, rasping moan.
"The fuck you doing to Couldamom, asshole?" Zaila calls out to Coryn with very sudden concern as she is on her feet in an instant, her brows pulled into a deep furrow as she pulls out her whip and takes a few step toward Coryn and Emelle, carefully avoiding the reach of either rumbling man.
Coryn pulls the hand away with bits of flesh clinging and burning against it. With a few flicks, the hand is put out but the iron still remains. "Dhar's bloody, grey balls!" he curses under his breath, pulling he hand into his coat and under his arm. "Shit hurts like nothin' else. Hope you don't die cuz I ain't gonna go 'round with an iron hand for ages fer nothin'."
Rashar's strong fingers twist through your hair, dragging the vampire closer. His lips peel back into a feral snarl - far enough, in fact, that it seems as if the man might be on the verge of his own transformation. Elongated canines are bared and then brought to bear as the Knight leans down and tears a chunk of flesh right off of his brother's cheek. Spitting it out immediately, he /screams/ wordlessly into the face of his battered foe before scrambling back and twisting. Chin dripping ichor, he sees only Coryn standing over Emelle and begins moving in the direction of his student, who he doesn't seem to have recognized. "Mmmmoooovve," he growls.
Coryn shifts some, turning his gaze upon Zaila, "Back, lass. May have one hand, but I'll put you down if I hafta." The Knight then notices the beast headed towards him, and this seems to put the fear of all gods into the Idreth. "Ah, tits." he curses quietly.
Trager's smile abruptly disappears, and a quick, clipped howl escapes his lips. Scrambling up, he clamps a hand to his freely bleeding cheek. He casts one final look towards the trio, and another towards Zaila, before disappearing out the door into the budding morning.
Trager's throaty growl resonates across the land like rolling thunder, "For all of your bluster, little brother, believe me when I say that there is nothing you care for that I can not touch."
Trager's throaty growl resonates across the land like rolling thunder, "Also believe that she was quite the treat."
Rashar's thunderous rumble rips across the land like a tidal wave, "Speak not the word brother to me, filth. You are nothing but an unpleasant memory. You are -nothing- to me."
To be continued....?
Featuring: @Emelle, @Rashar, Trager and the peanut gallery, @Coryn & @Zaila.
==========================================================
Warning: Tasteful cursing is in this log. I'm not sure if the censor will block it out, but I hope it doesn't. If mild language bothers you, beware!
Trager steps in through the door, an upbeat whistle casually filling the air around him. As he steps inside, he turns around only briefly to shut the door behind him.
There is no door to the north. (Ooops)
Turning around, the whistling stops. With a smile, you say to Emelle, "Hello, friend of mine."
Emelle glances over her shoulder. When she sets eye on you, though, she turns her entire body to face you, her spine straightening. "What do you want?" she asks, her tone clipped. "You have already bought half of my cigarettes this week."
Trager saunters his way into a stool at the end of the room and pulls himself closer to the bar. A resounding "tch" echoes from behind barely parted lips before he speaks: "You're going to bitch about good business?" asks curiously. He awaits an answer by flipping open a sleek ebony cigarette case to choose a cigarette out from within.
"No," Emelle answers. She seems remotely more comfortable with you at a considerable distance from her, and returns to arranging cigarettes on the rack. "But I have asked you three times now what you want, why I keep hearing your voice in my head. You have not given me an answer, still."
Trager's lips purse together tightly and he no sooner snaps the case close once again. Reaching up, he retrieves a thin black cigarette with green banding from behind his ear and brings it to his lips. After a moment, the cigarette is lit, and the familiar scent drifts upwards towards the ceiling, carried by thin tendrils of smoke that eventually disperse. "Is it not enough to just want to see you, Em?" he rumbles out curiously.
Trager waves a hand absently in the air beside him. "Just like old times, aye?"
Now finished with the cigarette rack, Emelle moves on to the humidor, carefully lifting its lid and reaching inside to add a few cigars. "No," she says again. There's an unusual hardness to her voice, an inflection that bears little resemblance to her usual easy, relaxed tone. "I do not think so."
You carefully light a thin black cigarette with green banding.
A shadow double of Trager twitches spasmodically, the folds of its shadow cloak contorting and collapsing in on itself in a nauseating, dry-heaving motion. After half a minute of this has gone on, the shadow double spits out an object dripping in a thin, black liquid.
An ichor-covered shadowy intestine lands on the ground, expelled from the shadow double.
Trager spends an inordinate amount of time exhaling the smoke upwards into the air of the shop. His eye shift backwards towards a shadow double of Trager, a mild look of reproach crossing his features. "Are you quite done?" he asks, sounding vaguely exasperated.
Catching movement out of the corner of her eye, Emelle turns her head toward a shadow double of Trager. "What in the Pit is that?" she asks you.
A shadow double of Trager raises its chin defiantly and wastes no time in flipping you the bird. It brings its arms to cross over its chest, but otherwise makes no sound.
"My shadow," Trager remarks dryly, looking towards Emelle once more. "There have been a few changes," he remarks wryly.
"You mean you are not the same Trager you were before?" Emelle's tone is dry with humorless sarcasm. "I am shocked." She doesn't deign to even look at you, her back to you as she attends to the humidor.
Trager's arms come out on either side of him, an attempt at a disarming visage. "I am not so very different than I was, Emelle," he rumbles out in a light, scolding tone. "Come - at least introduce yourself!" He glances back at a shadow double of Trager, his encouraging smile only barely revealing the profoundly pointed canines within his mouth.
A shadow double of Trager stays where it is for a brief moment, clearly contemplating the request. Finally it shrugs, and makes its way across the shop halfway to meet Emelle.
There's a satisfying snap as Emelle closes the humidor and turns to regard a shadow double of Trager with a critical eye. After a moment of consideration, she replies to you, "I would rather not." Instead, she makes for the opposite end of the counter from you. She keeps to the edge of the room, skirting along the walls like a cornered animal -- the only indication of her discomfort with your presence.
A shadow double of Trager's shoulders visibly droop, and after briefly running one hand through its hair, its hands drop to slip slowly into its pockets.
Trager rolls his eyes in an exasperated sort of way. "What have I done to cause you, in particular, harm lass?" He pushes himself up from his seat at the bar and begins a lazy move across the room towards Emelle. A shadow double of Trager follows closely after, though its movement fail to mimic Trager's own.
"You /left/," Emelle answers, her voice a low warning. "You stood by my side during the war, and after it. Fought to protect a city you raid against, now. I trusted you, Trager." She edges along the counter, an obvious bid to maintain the distance between herself and you. "It would be different if you were lost, maybe. I would understand. But you are not lost." Pausing at the corner of the counter, she locks you with a penetrating, one-eyed stare. "You have chosen to lead them."
Zaila clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she glances between you and Emelle before slinking into whatever shadows of the room she can find and shopping.
The smile that previous crept along Trager's lips slowly begins to fade, each step drawing his features downwards into a tighter, more penetrating visage. "-I- left, Emelle?" rumbles out slowly, a hint of disbelief carrying his words. "-I- betrayed -you-?" No glance is spared for Zaila as he continues to close the distance. "Is that really what you intend to stand beside? You, of all people?"
A shadow double of Trager's steps increase in speed, and begin to move sideways across the shop, shadowing Emelle's movements. Each step brings it closer, as if herding her towards the looming Azudim.
Emelle's gaze sweeps over you in a dismissive sort of glance, her lip curling in a snarl as she utters, "Tch." Caught between you and a shadow double of Trager, she elects to move toward the shadow rather than you.
Since no one pays her any attention, Zaila finds a cozy spot near a corner of the shop to glance through cigarettes while barely concealing her observation of the confrontation.
Trager's lips curl upwards, and whatever good-natured sentiment that previously existed wholly disappears from his features. His pace does not increase as Emelle steps away, instead maintaining a slow, determined gait towards the woman, seemingly unworried by her movements.
A shadow double of Trager flickers briefly, then elongates, sliding rapidly towards Emelle's form. It loses its corporeal figure as it makes contact, dispersing into a mass of thick, roiling darkness that sinuously engulfs her.
A grunt of surprise escapes from the shadowy mass as Emelle makes contact with it, both arms flailing in an attempt to separate herself from it.
A foreign presence erupts in your mind, sending a searing stab of pain across your skull and temporarily rendering your vision black.
Trager's hands come up suddenly, grasping each side of his head as a muffled snarl rips out from the confines of his throat. His eyes glaze over, then clamp shut, but his momentum carries him forward enough to slam jarringly into Emelle's form. An angry, throaty, "Bitch!" can be heard from the roiling mass of bodies as they tip precariously forward, eventually slamming onto the ground beneath the Azudim's weight.
Floaters in every color of the rainbow spatter the back of your eyelids as your mind reels.
Emelle groans as she's dragged to the floor with a sickening thud, the sound of skull on wood, followed by an involuntary whimper. The tangle of shadow and flesh ripples as she struggles to free herself, striking out with whatever limbs she can manage to free from under your weight.
Trager groans loudly, visibly flinching at another unseen blow. His eyes remain clamped tight, a painful grimace written across the man's face. Greedy, scrabbling fingers rip an unclear path up Emelle's body, though ever growing closer to her throat. Senses blown aside, he remains unable to perceive the flailing blows as his grip manages a hold on the collar of Emelle's shirt."
A shadow double of Trager finally drifts away, revealing the pair of bodies amassed on the floor. It regains its shape just a few paces aside, just in time to grant a view of you roughly jerk Emelle upwards off the ground, only to slam her form ruthlessly into the wood a fraction of a second later.
Once her head connects with the floor a second time, Emelle is unable to maintain consciousness. Her body goes slack beneath you, her limbs dropping motionless to the floor in an awkward sprawl.
The presence releases its clamp on your awareness, though residual pain and starry spots continue to ebb through your mind.
Rashar arrives from the north.
Coryn ripples into existence before you.
Trager body shakes with a myriad of uncontrolled emotion: rage, nerves and... something more. His features remain hidden, buried inside the crook of Emelle's neck, with an uncontrolled, nauseating slurping sound echoing out from the pair of bodies.
Coryn says, "You."
Coryn says, "Offa her."
"Hey guys, the big man knocked out the skinny bitch," Zaila comments idly from a dark corner of the shop, pointing to the pile of you and Emelle by the counter.
Rashar doesn't waste so many words - not a one, in fact. He is across the room in a flash, barreling into you with his equally large frame and spitting a steady series of profanities and half-human growls.
Coryn points a gloved finger in Zaila's direction, "Not in the mood. You'll be next." The Knight holds his position, allowing his mentor take the lead.
Trager is nowhere near ready as Rashar's form slams suddenly into his own, the momentum carrying them both across the remaining floor, to crash thunderously into the nearest wall. Caught unaware, the Azudim appears to have lost the battle of momentum.
"The fuck did I do?" Zaila questions Coryn as a twitching snarl tugs at her lips while she keeps her attention primarily upon the fight, calling out after, "Don't die in there, Couldamom. Not sure how to replace you."
A shadow double of Trager ripples into view directly beside Coryn, silently watching the fight without any sign of reaction.
Coryn slowly takes a look over his shoulder at the double, "Welp, need new britches."
Coryn facade of seriousness drops away completely, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Dunno." he shrugs, "You looked odd?"
A shadow double of Trager ripples into view directly beside Coryn, silently watching the fight without any sign of reaction.
"You look odder than me, asshole," Zaila returns to Coryn with a friendly smirk well worked onto her mildly concerned facade.
"It's cuz I'm grey, huh?" Coryn accuses Zaila, returning his attention to the ongoing fight.
Blood flows freely from the twin holes in Emelle's neck as she remains sprawled, unconscious, on the floor. A faint wheezing struggles from her throat in a slow almost-rhythm, her breathing labored.
"It's cuz I'm grey, huh?" Coryn accuses Zaila, returning his attention to the ongoing fight.
"Yeah, what are you going for with those fifty fucking shades?" Zaila asks, sparing only a brief sweep of her gaze over Coryn's form before looking back to the battling duo.
Rashar seems to have forgotten every bit of training he's ever had, devolving into a blur of furious blows leveled one after the other at your body. His face is a mask of fury so visceral he may not even be recognizable, and only the fact that his hands are empty seems to have prevented an immediate bloodbath - beyond what already exists, anyway. "Shit..fuck.. piece. of. shit. leech. bastard," he grunts and growls and spits, along with the blood from his own lip, which seems to have been busted open in the fray.
A dusky lava hound follows Rashar into the room, loping on his own massive, silent paws and skidding to a stop with his frame standing protectively over Emelle's prone form.
Coryn takes in a deep breath and heaves a sigh just as deep, with a brief few moments of silence he comments to Zaila, "Oh, aye. All fifty shades." The Knight then takes a few steps towards Emelle, kneels, and props her up some. "Hey there, gal. Yanno those questions? Yeah, they can wait fer now." he assures, examining the bite. "Oh boy."
Trager soaks blow after blow, lip busting and cheek splitting - all the while a smile plastered across his lips. He accepts each blow, only occasionally shielding himself from the blows from his brother, straddled atop him. "Sh-.. is blee-.. out, bro-.." he managed to gasp out between blows. "Better -.elp her.."
"We can plug those with cigs, probably," Zaila suggests unhelpfully to Coryn, groping at the display at her back, scheming further, "Maybe if we fill one with moss, light it, and stick it in there it'll cauterize it nicely."
"I got somethin' better." Coryn he responds, holding up his right hand, removing the glove. "This is gonna hurt. A lot. Fer the both of us." The hand catches fire and the ashen skin burns away to reveal muscle which seems to temper into iron. Without hesitation, the Knight places the iron hand against the bite.
The acrid smell of burning flesh fills the room as Coryn's hand burns into Emelle's neck. Her head lolls away from him, and then her eye flutters open long enough for her to let out a tortured, rasping moan.
"The fuck you doing to Couldamom, asshole?" Zaila calls out to Coryn with very sudden concern as she is on her feet in an instant, her brows pulled into a deep furrow as she pulls out her whip and takes a few step toward Coryn and Emelle, carefully avoiding the reach of either rumbling man.
Coryn pulls the hand away with bits of flesh clinging and burning against it. With a few flicks, the hand is put out but the iron still remains. "Dhar's bloody, grey balls!" he curses under his breath, pulling he hand into his coat and under his arm. "Shit hurts like nothin' else. Hope you don't die cuz I ain't gonna go 'round with an iron hand for ages fer nothin'."
Rashar's strong fingers twist through your hair, dragging the vampire closer. His lips peel back into a feral snarl - far enough, in fact, that it seems as if the man might be on the verge of his own transformation. Elongated canines are bared and then brought to bear as the Knight leans down and tears a chunk of flesh right off of his brother's cheek. Spitting it out immediately, he /screams/ wordlessly into the face of his battered foe before scrambling back and twisting. Chin dripping ichor, he sees only Coryn standing over Emelle and begins moving in the direction of his student, who he doesn't seem to have recognized. "Mmmmoooovve," he growls.
Coryn shifts some, turning his gaze upon Zaila, "Back, lass. May have one hand, but I'll put you down if I hafta." The Knight then notices the beast headed towards him, and this seems to put the fear of all gods into the Idreth. "Ah, tits." he curses quietly.
Trager's smile abruptly disappears, and a quick, clipped howl escapes his lips. Scrambling up, he clamps a hand to his freely bleeding cheek. He casts one final look towards the trio, and another towards Zaila, before disappearing out the door into the budding morning.
Trager's throaty growl resonates across the land like rolling thunder, "For all of your bluster, little brother, believe me when I say that there is nothing you care for that I can not touch."
Trager's throaty growl resonates across the land like rolling thunder, "Also believe that she was quite the treat."
Rashar's thunderous rumble rips across the land like a tidal wave, "Speak not the word brother to me, filth. You are nothing but an unpleasant memory. You are -nothing- to me."
To be continued....?
Indoran'i is back baby. It's go-... Oh.
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Comments
Thanks for letting me hang around and watch after my phasing went kaput after my client failed >.> I enjoyed it a lot, you guys are great!
This was a blast! Special thanks to @Zaila and @Coryn for stopping through and joining in the fun.
"The smell of dusty fur, sweet smoke, waiting and patience, a thing that time cannot kill. The moth that candles won't burn."
Glad I got to see the first part of it, which Rashar wasn't there for.
Awesome job all around.