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Post by Bee on Sept 12, 2009 23:36:17 GMT -5
At last, there was an unattented window! He peeked around. He peeked through. It wasn't into a room, but a hallway; it made him nervous, as there might not be any place behind which he could immediately duck for cover. But it was the best opportunity for entrance he had, and he figured he had to take it.
There were no guards making a pass at the moment, and he couldn't hear anything coming--though he was not confident in that sense, as he could scarcely hear any delicate sound over the constant din of ringing in his ears--so he made a hurried crawl into the window.
He landed ungracefully on the floor and immediately scouted for something to duck behind. He wanted to believe that he wasn't hearing any footfall because there was no one around, rather than because he could only hear the damnable ringing and his own pounding heart.
There was an imposing statue, large but not the right shape to actually hide him. He moved behind it anyway, hoping to shield enough of himself to escape notice.
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Post by seraaches on Sept 12, 2009 23:50:53 GMT -5
Even if Ira had really noticed that El's hand had fisted-- which he vaguely did in the way that he noticed butterflies in the park-- he wouldn't have connected that with the fact that a few moments later that not-so-butterflyish fist connected with his jaw. He might have been a stallion versus El being a canine, as well as being in his bipedal versus El's human, but that didn't stop the fact that El was currently a very angry Club and, well, very angry.
The Heart wasn't just knocked off balance, Ira actually fell over, stumbling backwards and managing only with a lithe twist to keep from landing on his souvenir wing. He smacked hard on his own left arm, which was better than breaking something irreplaceable. By the time he had carefully gotten back up, El was gone. He shook his head and tsked under his breath. El had the strangest ways of showing that he was comforted. Still, with his task happily completed, if a bit oddly, Ira touched his jaw tenderly and headed for the door. He had a long journey ahead of him and there was no time like the present to complete it.
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Post by Trebias on Sept 13, 2009 0:24:43 GMT -5
Angrier than he'd started the evening, and very much in need of some way to vent his spleen, El continued down the hallway. He nearly missed the form that slid in the window and immediately tried to hide.
Seriously?
With an incoherent shout he reached behind the statue, grabbing what scruff he could, and flung the figure toward the opposite wall of the hallway.
He half ran to the figure - a Lowlander? What in the - Didn't matter.
He picked the rotting scum up off the floor and slammed him back down. Normally he would interrogate the slime, but not this time.
He lost himself for a time. The last thing he remembered for a while was sitting down on the weasel's chest, pinning the limbs as best as he could, and slamming his fists into the stomach, chest, neck, head, whatever he could hit as the form tried to avoid the blows.
He stopped. . .some time later. His hands were wet with Lowlander goo. Was it even still alive? He bent closer to see.
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Post by Bee on Sept 13, 2009 0:52:53 GMT -5
All the hopeful thinking in the world couldn't alter reality, apparently, because scarcely ten seconds had passed from when he hid and when he was rather violently jerked from behind the statue.
He would've liked to have thought that somehow, he would summon some kind of fighting spirit, some kind of terror-spawned strength, and throw his assailant in return, allowing him enough time to escape--but he could do nothing. He didn't have the opportunity, willpower, or strength to land a blow, and could only attempt the feeblest of strikes--a miserable flail, batting at air, as every open sore and exposed muscle in his body was hammered by fists.
He felt ribs crack. His back leg, hanging on by only the frailest of tendons, was on the floor a couple feet away--jolted off, probably, by impact with the wall. The quick trip to the bottom of a lake had also been a flight of fancy--the reality was more brutal. And why wouldn't it be? He wasn't a person anymore, not really. Just a little beaten cretin, an ugly smear on someone's boot heel.
He wheezed (something was weighing down his lungs, something sharp and heavy), and vomited painfully.
"Looking for...loo..." The words bubbled out like blood. There was, he realized, actual blood to accompany them. Looking for Elyse. Useless now. The kindest hands won't wrestle the damage undone. "Tell...tell..." Tell my daughter I love her. He tried to look up, pleadingly, but he couldn't lift his head.
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Post by Trebias on Sept 13, 2009 1:18:19 GMT -5
El didn't register that the Lowlander had spoken; he was more distracted by the fact that he'd been vomited on. He wiped his hands on his legs with disgust.
The weasel was making a pathetic face at him, mouth working like a fish out of water. From the bubbles of blood, he was probably having that much trouble breathing.
Elias could rip the memories from his mind, and find out why the Lowlander came, who it was working for. His best guess was that it had some stealth magic it didn't have the chance to activate, or that Queens could see through, and he got unlucky.
Elias could find all of that out, or he could just kill the pispard.
He reached down with his left hand, gripping the weaselly head by the chin. His right hand grabbed the back of the head by whatever fur hadn't rotted away or been torn off by the beating.
A quick twist, and the face was looking east with the body facing west.
Elias chanced upon a servant in an adjoining hallway. Normally terrified by Elias' appearance with his mask on, Elias was fearsome indeed covered by gore and vomited blood. The servant tried to retreat, but Elias caught him. "Clean up that mess," he said, gesturing around the corner. "I'm going to make sure he didn't give me anything nasty. Is Elyse around?"
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Post by Bee on Sept 13, 2009 1:35:08 GMT -5
He didn't get the chance to spew anything else out--the man was clearly not interested in hearing any final words he might have to say; the mangled fragments merely slipped into the void. No matter. He had no great message to deliver to the world.
He didn't need anyone to tell Senka he loved her; after nearly two decades, she had damn well better know.
It was a bizarrely comforting thought, and might have warmed him a bit, soothed away a bit of the pain, but the emotion didn't have the time to sink in. A hand grabbed his neck, and before he could even feel a final thrill of anticipation and fear--the end, the end, this was the end, at the hands of a man whose face was a blur through glazed eyes--there was a crack, and then nothing.
The tremors and twitching stopped. His body went limp. An ugly smear on someone's bloodied hands.
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Post by carcinoGeneticist on Sept 13, 2009 15:18:25 GMT -5
Bee, Sera, and Trebias receive 2 tokens each, to be redeemed in Ashwin's Shoppe.
This will automatically be added to your recorded totals in the shoppe.
Congratulations, and keep up the good RP!
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