Dark Creatures Live In The Dark Forest

Christian slowly made his way through the forest. He never traveled on trails and roads, so getting to places was a pain for him. Roads were populated with people, which in his case, was not good. The snow crunched under his feet, and often a time he would trip from suddenly sinking into it. As he progressed, the snow became a bit softer, and he trudged right through it. It was hard for him to walk gracefully, for he was not really used to walking with extra clothes under his armor for warmth. He should be used to it by now, living in the area for all his life, but alas, he wasn't.

The wind tore back the hood on his white cloak, stinging his face. He tries to tie the hood up so it would stay covering his face, but fails. He decides just to screw it, and fight through the pain. His cheeks and ears were a bright shade of red, and they stung whenever wind came into contact with them, which was very often. He couldn't close his eyes to keep the snow out of them, for he needed to be prepared for anything. Anything bad could happen at any time, and when you are wanted in almost the entire world, that risk is about tripled. That was the thing he hated about his job. Sure, he loved to hunt people down and assassinate them, but it came with its dangers. Guards were always on the lookout for him. Just this morning he had to deal with a bounty hunter who was set out against him. People were always trying to kill him; he just had to be faster, stronger, quieter, and deadlier.

As he makes his way through the mass of trees and branches that would claw at his face, the assassin hears a noise. He puts his hand up to his stinging ear, and listens carefully. He could pick up the wind howling and….footsteps. Quickly, he starts to climb a tree to get a better view; that, and just in case it was another bounty hunter or guard. He scans the ground below him, but sees no one.

Christian almost falls out of the tree when a large blast of wind comes into contact with him. "To Hell with this weather," he mutters, his breath appearing as small little puffs of smoke. He looks down at the ground. It was too high to jump. He would get seriously hurt and that was one thing he did not want to happen to him today. He starts sticking his feet out from the branch he was standing on, searching blindly for a lower branch. He finds one, and slowly drops off of the branch he was currently on onto the lower one. After a couple more minutes, he finds another branch and lowers himself onto it. He does this a couple more times, and by ten minutes he had successfully climbed down a tree it took him a minute to climb.
The Elf starts walking again, the snow filling up his boots, freezing his feet. If he was to catch a disease out here he was done for. He comes up to a dead end. The trees were too thick to venture into. This only left one option. The road. He starts to backtrack his steps until he can see the road again. Sighing, he walks through a couple of bushes to get to it. Great, now his chance of getting caught was higher. He starts making his way along the road, looking out for signs of life.

Christian stops dead in his tracks. He heard something behind him, and it was not the wind. He quickly whips around, one arm at his sword on his side. He sees nothing though. After just scanning behind him, he grumbles some words that should not be repeated, and turns around. Walking again, he starts to think about what he was doing. Was it really worth it to come this far to kill a person? No, but it is worth the money.

As he is walking, Christian passes only two people who were traveling together. They appeared to be cheery; Christian hated cheerful people. They were just too....happy. He had never felt happiness, so he frowned upon anyone who had it. They even give him tip of the hat, but he just brushes them off and keeps on the road. After walking a bit, his movements start to slow and he becomes weary. Was it the cold torturing him? If so, why him? He looses his balance and falls face first into the snow. The icy covering tore at his face as he skidded across it. He lays there, not wanting to move. He needed rest. This might be uncomfortable, but it was rest. No, he must push onwards. He uses his arms to push himself up back onto his feet. Wiping blood from the corner of his mouth, he keeps walking along.

Just to make sure he wasn't being followes, Christian quickly glanced behind him. This time, he could just make out a figure walking down the path. Oh no. Christian quickens his pace, and once he knows he is far enough ahead not to be seen, he hops into the bushes at the side of the road. He crouches down in them, his cloak blending perfectly with the snow. He was virtually invisible now, just how he liked to be. Every so often he would pop his head out from the bush to see how close the man was to him. He prays to every god he knows that this man would not be a foe.

Once the man had passed him, he assassin quietly steps out from the bush. He keeps a slow pace behind the man, just close enough so he could inspect him. He did not appear to have any signs or special armor that showed he was of importance, so that made Christian a bit more calm and collected. This man just might not be hostile after all. Christian debates whether or not to try to make conversation with the man. Would the man just turn around and throw a knife into his heart? Maybe, but Christian liked taking risks. 'You there. State your business here.' he says, trying to act like someone of high authority to scare the man.

Christian takes a good, long stare at the man who stood before him. That is when he hears it; the snapping of twigs and the voices of men shouting. No, they couldn't have found him. There was no way they could have possibly followed his trail that he spent time to disguise. He quickly shoots his arm out and grabs the man by the shoulder. "Who did you come here with?" he asks, his voice tinged with anger and annoyance. If this man had set him up, he would meet an untimely fate right here, right now.

The voice of the men were getting closer, and Christian also heard the barking of dogs. From the sound of it, it was probably a band of ten men and double the amount of dogs. Oh crap, this was bad. Christian glares at the man who still stood before him. "Who did you come here with?" he growls again, just to make sure he was heard.

Christian stares at the man's face for a second. He recognized the scars. The man was a werewolf, no doubt about it. At the moment though, he didn't care what the man was. He just wanted to know if he would help him defeat these men or not. An evil smile comes across his face as he looks towards the man.

"You are a werewolf, correct? I would assume you would want to die fighting. But what a shame it would be to just kill yourself. Very cowardly if you ask me. Join me in this fight. If you die, at least you died fighting." Christian tells the man.
((Sorry for the short/sucky post.))

"If I wanted to be dead," the werewolf said coldly. "I assure you, I would have let myself be hung by the first lynch mob that tried to chase me down." His voice was cold and forbidding, apathetic even. "This is your problem, not mine." His eyes flashed angrily. "But very well."

Gael didn't care whether the man lived or died, he only wanted to be on his way and put as much distance between them. Unfortunately, that didn't seem likely to happen so soon. He reached into his boot and drew a long bladed knife, silver and steel. He tossed it from his left hand into his right. Coldly, he regarded the other. He could hear the music of the hunt growing louder. It would be a minute, maybe more, before they would be on them.

ooc: Lawl, no worries. Mine was pretty bad too.

'Ah...giving into a mob is still pretty cowardly. You have to fight back!' Christian exclaims happily. Why was he so happy? Well because he was about to kill some people. That always gave him a good feeling inside. The blood a beautiful sight, the screams music to his ears, the rush of adrenaline when his sword is dropped on a head, dismembering it from a body. True, Christian is a very sick and twisted person, but he likes who he is. He quickly unsheathes his sword, and holds it in front of him. 'Be on your toes if you want to live.' he advises the man. Who was he though, to be giving advice to another person of his age?

With a roar of shouts and barks, the men and dogs tear through the woods behind the two. Christian whips around and swings his sword just in time to make his sword run through a dog. He pulls his sword out, and smiles. He feels his blood starting to heavily pump through his veins. Just the sight of blood gave him a good feeling inside. With no regrets, he goes charging towards the men, swinging his sword madly. The thing was though, he was hitting a target every time. All those years of training really did help him in battles. He was very grateful for them. If he hadn't he would be toast by now. 'C'mon, fight with me!' the assassin yells cheerfully to the man.

Had Gael been any other man, he would have joined the fight in a heartbeat. The thrill of the battle seemed to be something exciting to most humans and for why he could not say. It was insane, in his mind, that killing was so venerated. He could see the point in defending one's homeland or loved ones, but this senseless slaughter was a mystery to him. What good did it do? Neither the losers nor the victors benefited from it, despite what they might think. Innocent souls were lost; how could that be a good thing? He couldn't see the sense in it to save his soul. Then again, it was probably already too late for his soul to be saved.

Gael did not intend to participate in the fighting, but when they started coming after him too, he had no choice by to defend himself. He dropped back into a crouch, spinning away from the attackers, giving him enough time to gather himself and launch an attack. He punched one of the men in the face and felt his nose give way under his knuckles, accompanied by a warm burst of blood and a sickly sweet smell. As the man doubled over, he rammed the knife into his gut to the hilt and ripped upwards. And then he was swept up into the chaos of the fight.


ooc: This took me WAY too long to post...

Christian looses his focus on the man and only turns his attention to one thing, death. He loved killing people, but if he was to be killed what a shame it would be. He takes out the remainder of the dogs first. They were always the worst. They seemed to come out of nowhere and bit you in very vital places. If they were brought into a fight, they were the first thing Christian will kill, no matter what. After delivering the final slash to the lasr of the dog's head, he turns his focus to the men in front of him. This was great. Even the werewolf was in the fray. Smiling to himself, he joins the werewolf in fighting.

First slash to either the chest or legs, then to the throat. That was how Christian battled. No one he fought died with a head still attached to his body. Christian was of fair strength. He assumed he was a bit stronger than the average working man. These were no average working men though. These were trained men,who were probably stronger than him, which was really bad on his part. He quickly ducks under a blow, then hols back up to deliver his finisher to the unlucky man who decided to attack him. The way he killed people was very messy, but he liked his enemies messed up bad enough that they would not he able to be identified. He hacks and slashes in every way to strike and parry attacks. Adrenaline was pumping throughout his body. That was a good thing. Christian was stronger when the rush of battle was gushing through him.

As soon as the last man fell to the ground, Christian looks at what he and the other man had done. Victory, sweet victory; that is what had happened. He wipes the blood that had stained and was dripping off of his sword on the clothes of a dead man. After poking the sword in the snow for a moment, it looked like it had before the battle, nice and shiny. He smiles to himself as he looks at the carnage he had done. The man who had fought with him was a good fighter from what he saw.

“You fought well. I guess I owe you a few answers too. Why did the men attack us? Why am I walking this God-forsaken trail? First things first though. The name is Christian Novus. I am what people call an assassin. That is why those men were after me. I have a target up in the mountains around here. That is why I am up here.” Christian tells the man, hoping that the man wouldn’t flip at the fact that he was with a cold-blooded murderer.


OOC: Dang, I'm sucking at posting.

Gael simply nodded as he found a clean patch of snow to clean his knife and hands. Oh Goddess, so much blood. Once the blade was gleaming again, he wiped it dry on his cloak. His hands were harder, and even though he rubbed them with snow, the dark stain remained. He felt sick with himself. Bile rose in his throat, but he forced it away. So this man was an assassin. That explained his coldblooded way of killing, why he looked perfectly happy with the fight. Head pounding dully, he wiped the sweat from his brow and ran a hand through his hair. He suddenly became conscious that it was freezing and the wind had picked up, if anything. He dried his hands before they could freeze, and replaced his hood.

"Are you going to kill me, then?" Gael asked with cold mockery in his voice. His gaze strayed to the slain dogs and he wanted to throw up; however, his face remained as cold as ever. "Or are we going to go separate ways and forget this happened?" He smirked. That was hardly likely, but he could be trusted not to tell a soul about what just unfolded.


ooc: Lawl, we can be bad posters together!

Without a word, Christian turns his back on the man. He would kill him right there, but only if he was paid to. That was the issue with him. He only worked for coin. Taking in a deep breath, and bracing himself in the cold, he takes off running. He couldn’t stay in the same place for too long. He wonders if the man will follow him or not, but does not look behind him to see. After running for a couple of minutes, he turns his pace into a walk. He didn’t want to waste too much energy, especially in the cold. His adrenaline rush starting to wear off, he starts to grow weary. He spots a log that he could rest on not far from him, but forces himself to just keep on walking. That man was probably running after him. If he though correctly, he searched the attackers, then found a poster with Christian’s name and face on it, and saw the bounty on him. That is what has happened before. Not wanting to get caught, Christian starts walking just a bit faster. He could never be too careful.

OOC: Super shortness!

Gael watched the man run off as if his life depended on it. He didn't know what the guy's problem was, but an assassin had to have people who were none too happy with him. He did not envy the man, but he had the good luck, at least, not to be a monster. He could hide who he was with a careful disguise. He himself, was helpless to keep what he was a secret. With a shudder, his mind conjured up an image of what the man's life must be like. An assassin, eh? More like a bounty hunter since he hadn't taken up his offer to him. Too bad... His death would benefit a good many people, including himself.

The overpowering stench of death and blood around him finally broke down the final barriers in his mind that kept him in shock. He turned away and was violently sick. Disgusted with himself, he wiped his mouth and spat. Oh Goddess, he couldn't leave the bodies like this to rot in the son. His stomach turned over as he realized what it was that he was going to do. With a shudder, he resigned himself to the task. Jaw set, he moved among the bodies, piling them on top of each other. The humans went on the bottom since they were larger and the dogs on top of them. He looked around to check his surroundings, then slipped into the shelter of the trees to cut some branches for wood. He cut several large branches and placed them at strategic intervals among the broken and torn forms. That done, he lit the first with his tinderbox. There was a lot of smoke at first, but eventually, the branches and then the corpses caught fire and the acrid smell of burning flesh filled the air. The werewolf wrinkled his nose and turned his back. He had to get away from here. The blaze would take care of itself and wouldn't spread to the woods due to the layers of snow, so he felt confident about walking away... Or about as confident as he could feel, knowing that there was an assassin somewhere up ahead.


occ: Gack, same!

Christian gets a blast of wind in the face that smelled most foul. What was that smell? It was all to familiar. Bodies. Wait, was that man burning the bodies? How stupid could he be? He lets out a sigh and retraces his steps until he comes back to the fool. 'What the hell are you doing?' he asks the werewolf. Was this man stupid enough to burn the bodies, near the road no less? Now there were to be even more men chasing him. Smoke tended to attract auhorities.

Christian grabs the man's arm and drags him into the trees. 'How foolish are you?' he asks him, his voice harsh and cold. 'Smoke attracts people, which is not good at all. Do you want to die?'

Christian lets the man take his arm back. After all that, this is how he repays him? Well at least he was used to it.
'Mind if I go around yelling 'werewolf'?' he says, his voice full of mockery and hate. Two could play at this game, and this was one game Christian new all too well. Just play he cards right, and you win. He knew that he would be able to get out of this. Even with the fire, the man just ignites Christian's happiness once again. Just the thought of killing more people sent a warm, fuzzy feeling throughout him. Ah yes, there were more to come. He would only have to wait.