Death Of An Assassin
06-04-2013, 12:44 AM
The assassin would stutter and fail, the woman had reached the extent of her use, she understood, she knew that. In her declining years she wouldn't make for a useful bringer of death, her days were numbered and spent, her mate slaughtered by her own hand, her past a bloodied, mangled mess of pain and suffering, she had brought death to the highest of nobles, the greatest of King's what would be a greater poetic justice than to end herself? But the assassin had a bit too much pride for that and thus she found herself, knee deep in the Ghoulish swamps. She was a small, lithe creature, comprised of compact sinewy muscle, deceptively tiny, she packed a nasty punch.
The muck suctioned to her pads, threatening to drag her down into a dismal oblivion, with each paw she lifted free she sunk that much lower into the slime until the filth and debris covered her, masking her scent entirely and blocking it away from the rest of the world. With one final step the muck had suctioned the dual colored woman down far enough to render her immobile. She would stand like some impenetrable stone, allowing it to drag it down. Her dual colored gems would flutter shut, her muscles relaxing, accepting her dismal fate, the image of her lover flickered behind her eyelids, a visage she hadn't seen in years and a true, tiny smile would drift across her maw for the first time since she had torn the throat out of her own lover as the heavy muck finished its job, her cranium disappearing beneath the sludge.
(((OOC: Im giving whoever a chance to save her, a few days at best, if not I will presume her dead. )))
The muck suctioned to her pads, threatening to drag her down into a dismal oblivion, with each paw she lifted free she sunk that much lower into the slime until the filth and debris covered her, masking her scent entirely and blocking it away from the rest of the world. With one final step the muck had suctioned the dual colored woman down far enough to render her immobile. She would stand like some impenetrable stone, allowing it to drag it down. Her dual colored gems would flutter shut, her muscles relaxing, accepting her dismal fate, the image of her lover flickered behind her eyelids, a visage she hadn't seen in years and a true, tiny smile would drift across her maw for the first time since she had torn the throat out of her own lover as the heavy muck finished its job, her cranium disappearing beneath the sludge.
(((OOC: Im giving whoever a chance to save her, a few days at best, if not I will presume her dead. )))
06-04-2013, 11:02 AM
aaaand the biggest asshole of the year goes to:
Eight years. Damn I'm getting old. The male grumbled as he walked. He didn't appreciate old age. It was making him frailer. Granted he'd gain more than his fair share of wisdom, he had no exited his prime. He couldn't run as fast as he used to, or run as long. Time was beginning to take it's toll. He eventually would no longer age gracefully. He truly would look like a skeleton by the time he died. Soon it would be a battle against death to see how long he could last. But there was always that saying. No one gets out alive. He eventually would have to succumb to nature and that would be the end of his existence.
For now though he would take his leave from Tortuga and run in the somewhat warmer weather of the south. The mountains had begun to chill long before Winter had come along. Snow covered the mountain tops the majority of the year. Now with Winter the whole mountain and valley was covered. Layers of it clung to the icy ground and he found himself sick of it. The phantom no longer wanted to blend in, but stay warm. A swift decision was made, hence why he was taking a small vacation to go south.
What he didn't expect to find was the scent of the old Assassin, Cyanide. Charcoal colored nose twitched and ears flicked forward at the other scent. Morphine. The banished Queen. A curious expression overrode his visage and his pace quickened. He was well aware of the situation at hand. Cyanide had betrayed Tortuga and had left for Valhalla. Morphine had been the one to try and fight for Cyanide, but all in vain. Surely she would still hold a grudge against the girl for leaving in the first place. Regardless of how the rest felt towards Cyanide, he still enjoyed the woman's company. While he had ruled she had served faithfully. She was not to blame for not liking Kaien, and damned Valhalla had done to them what Neo and Kaien had done to them. He blamed no one now.
Long strides at up the ground navigating the terrain with a careful ease. He didn't want to be swallowed up by the earth. What he saw ahead of him though made him slow for a moment. Morphine was watching as the last of Cyanide slipped under the surface.
Ignoring the other white wolf he picked his way around the spot she had disappeared. The majority of the ground was wet and he was careful not to misplace his steps. An ears would flick occasionally to Morphine wondering what she would think of his appearance and to keep tabs on what she was doing, but other than that he made no sign she was there. Instead he finally found a hard patch of ground close to where the female had gone under. Without hesitation he plunged his face into the muck and grimaced before clamping his jaws on what he thought to be the scruff of her neck and began to tug, using every muscle in his body to fight the mud that wanted to continue to suck her under.
[ooc: If he pulls her out or not, that's up to Cyanide. If he hasn't grabbed her then he's grabbed a stick or something xD]
"Talk"
Eight years. Damn I'm getting old. The male grumbled as he walked. He didn't appreciate old age. It was making him frailer. Granted he'd gain more than his fair share of wisdom, he had no exited his prime. He couldn't run as fast as he used to, or run as long. Time was beginning to take it's toll. He eventually would no longer age gracefully. He truly would look like a skeleton by the time he died. Soon it would be a battle against death to see how long he could last. But there was always that saying. No one gets out alive. He eventually would have to succumb to nature and that would be the end of his existence.
For now though he would take his leave from Tortuga and run in the somewhat warmer weather of the south. The mountains had begun to chill long before Winter had come along. Snow covered the mountain tops the majority of the year. Now with Winter the whole mountain and valley was covered. Layers of it clung to the icy ground and he found himself sick of it. The phantom no longer wanted to blend in, but stay warm. A swift decision was made, hence why he was taking a small vacation to go south.
What he didn't expect to find was the scent of the old Assassin, Cyanide. Charcoal colored nose twitched and ears flicked forward at the other scent. Morphine. The banished Queen. A curious expression overrode his visage and his pace quickened. He was well aware of the situation at hand. Cyanide had betrayed Tortuga and had left for Valhalla. Morphine had been the one to try and fight for Cyanide, but all in vain. Surely she would still hold a grudge against the girl for leaving in the first place. Regardless of how the rest felt towards Cyanide, he still enjoyed the woman's company. While he had ruled she had served faithfully. She was not to blame for not liking Kaien, and damned Valhalla had done to them what Neo and Kaien had done to them. He blamed no one now.
Long strides at up the ground navigating the terrain with a careful ease. He didn't want to be swallowed up by the earth. What he saw ahead of him though made him slow for a moment. Morphine was watching as the last of Cyanide slipped under the surface.
Ignoring the other white wolf he picked his way around the spot she had disappeared. The majority of the ground was wet and he was careful not to misplace his steps. An ears would flick occasionally to Morphine wondering what she would think of his appearance and to keep tabs on what she was doing, but other than that he made no sign she was there. Instead he finally found a hard patch of ground close to where the female had gone under. Without hesitation he plunged his face into the muck and grimaced before clamping his jaws on what he thought to be the scruff of her neck and began to tug, using every muscle in his body to fight the mud that wanted to continue to suck her under.
[ooc: If he pulls her out or not, that's up to Cyanide. If he hasn't grabbed her then he's grabbed a stick or something xD]
"Talk"