Death Of An Assassin

Seraphim wasn't sure what had been drawing him in the direction of this place. Instinct had carried him across the snow into the drier southern reaches of Alacritia, an area which he had had yet to venture into. He had been in these lands for months, yet so much was still unfamiliar. He had endured only one event of any significance had been his meeting with the white ex-queen of Tortuga. The thought of that experience brought a dark look to his eyes, the look of the killer that lay dormant within him most days. As of yet, he had no news of the fruit of their union, but he knew that it was close to time for them to be born if they hadn't already.



The alabaster brute found himself on the scene of the last thing he expected, and somehow felt that he had found the reason is natural instinct had led him here. He stood at length from the battle, far enough away that few would notice him and he could only barely make out the forms ahead. His eyes recognized only Morphine, and from this distance he was unsure whether she was still with child or had given birth yet. His eyes narrowed in concentration. If she was still pregnant, this wasn't the best damn decision she could be making. He hoped beyond hope that she wasn't that stupid.



He settled back on his haunches, determined to see this battle through to the end. If anything, it would be good entertainment in this wretched land. He had enjoyed very little entertainment in the past few years.