Akryn was in hot pursuit of a tall, beefy man, through the lower docks of Hargeon town, his sword, the black star cutter, in hand, fresh blood already tainting its blade. Akryn had been hired to help track down and detain the wanted killer known as Jacob Goodnight, a former miner turned butcher of men, who had been terrorizing the local community for a while. For a man that used no magic, he had done an absolutely marvelous job of murdering people and, probably even more impressive, eluding the town guard. But Akryn was no town guard, and no average bounty hunter either. His sense of smell was second to none, and his skills of the hunt had been sharpened from nearly twenty years in the mountains, under the tutelage of a dragon. No man, not even one with the mind of a rabid animal, could escape him for long.
Akryn had tracked the brute to the sewers, a veritable maze of fear and darkness that most men would have easily gotten lost in. Jacob Goodnight had apparently marked himself a route through to his hideout however, and Akryn had easily followed his trail. He had found the brute in the middle of his cruel craft, being practiced on some unfortunate man, so mutilated and disfigured that Akryn doubted anyone would ever recognize him again, if he survived the encounter.
When Akryn found the macabre site, he felt his heart well up with rage. How could a man do this to another human being? Akryn understood killing, he had done so himself on multiple occasions! He was no stranger to the blood of others. But those deaths had been in the heat of battle, lives taken for the greater good, at least as far as Akryn could see it at the time. This however? This was pure, unadulterated, unnessecary torture! Death for nothing more than the simple enjoyment of anothers pain. It sickened Akryn, and drove him into a hate filled rage.
Akryn attacked.
In a blind fury he charged into the den of the monster, Jacob Goodnight, sword in hand, intent on beating this beast of a being at his own, brutal game. Jacob goodnight was caught completely off guard by the attack, and it had taken him a moment or two to get his defenses up. By then it was to late, as Akryn had dealt a damaging blow to the mans right arm, and Jacob was bleeding profusely from a wound on his left hip, with dozens of smaller cuts lining his body.
Jacob had never met a foe with Akryns brutality, cunning, speed, and skill. For all the great butchers might, it meant nothing against this small, enraged, white haired man, for the killers cleaver was barely keeping Akryns sword at bay, and his own counter swings met with nothing save the air, where Akryn had been moments before. Jacob Goodnight realized quickly that, in a straight fight, he stood absolutely no chance against Akryn. His only hope was to escape.
To that end, Jacob devised a sudden, wicked, and horridly disgusting plan. After just a few more back and forth blows, with Akryn still firmly in control of this fight, Jacob feigned a pain in his hip, letting himself drop down to the dirty, sewage covered floor, face first. Face first into a particularly deep, nasty looking pool.
Akryn, sensing victory, quickly closed in, never dreaming of the ploy about to be used against him. As he reached down, about to roll Jacob over, fully intent on arresting the man, Jacob Goodnight, the butcher of Hargeon, rolled over, and, with a look of pure delight, spat a mouthful of rancid sewer water, and debris, right in Akryns face.
Akryn was a fighter, born and raised one, a man who relied on skill and speed for combat, rather than dirty tricks. Usually anyway. But the very idea of a mouthful of sewage, of human waste, coming out of a mans mouth, and into another mans face, so greatly distressed him, was such a foreign, unconceivable, unfathomable idea, that he stood there for a moment in total, and unclenching shock, giving the wicked, vile brute, known as Jacob Goodnight, a chance to climb a nearby ladder, and rush away, towards what he thought was freedom, and safety.
It did not take long for Akryns shock to be relaced by rage once more however, and very soon the young, hate filled, and admittedly wretchedly smelling, storm mage was in hot pursuit of the man, sword in hand. The absolute lows, the filth that stained this mans soul would not be allowed to live upon this world, he swore it to himself as he leapt obstacles, dodged pedestrians, and slowly closed the gap between himself and the brute ahead of him.
Jacob Goodnight had no warning, no premonition of what was to come. He thought himself safe, in the clear, and free to kill again. Until a long, black blade sank between his ribs, pushing up through his lungs, rupturing his central aorta, and coming out the other side. Jacob Goodnight stood there, frozen in pain and fear, as his lifeblood poured out of him, and the stench of sewage filled his nostrils. A small, white haired mage leaned up to whisper in the mans in. "Burn in hell." Akryn whispered before tearing his sword free, allowing the blood and gore to slide free of Jacob Goodnights wounds.
The town guard was soon on scene to take control, thanking and paying him, all while trying to hold their breaths. Akryn did not blame him really. He was seriously concerned about what Kyll would say however. He could picture in his mind the look on her face when he walked in smelling like this, and he almost laughed, until he pictured Saeko cringing at his new perfume as well. No, he decided, then and there. He would strip down outside of the guild and sneak to his room naked. Far less embarrassing....
Akryn had tracked the brute to the sewers, a veritable maze of fear and darkness that most men would have easily gotten lost in. Jacob Goodnight had apparently marked himself a route through to his hideout however, and Akryn had easily followed his trail. He had found the brute in the middle of his cruel craft, being practiced on some unfortunate man, so mutilated and disfigured that Akryn doubted anyone would ever recognize him again, if he survived the encounter.
When Akryn found the macabre site, he felt his heart well up with rage. How could a man do this to another human being? Akryn understood killing, he had done so himself on multiple occasions! He was no stranger to the blood of others. But those deaths had been in the heat of battle, lives taken for the greater good, at least as far as Akryn could see it at the time. This however? This was pure, unadulterated, unnessecary torture! Death for nothing more than the simple enjoyment of anothers pain. It sickened Akryn, and drove him into a hate filled rage.
Akryn attacked.
In a blind fury he charged into the den of the monster, Jacob Goodnight, sword in hand, intent on beating this beast of a being at his own, brutal game. Jacob goodnight was caught completely off guard by the attack, and it had taken him a moment or two to get his defenses up. By then it was to late, as Akryn had dealt a damaging blow to the mans right arm, and Jacob was bleeding profusely from a wound on his left hip, with dozens of smaller cuts lining his body.
Jacob had never met a foe with Akryns brutality, cunning, speed, and skill. For all the great butchers might, it meant nothing against this small, enraged, white haired man, for the killers cleaver was barely keeping Akryns sword at bay, and his own counter swings met with nothing save the air, where Akryn had been moments before. Jacob Goodnight realized quickly that, in a straight fight, he stood absolutely no chance against Akryn. His only hope was to escape.
To that end, Jacob devised a sudden, wicked, and horridly disgusting plan. After just a few more back and forth blows, with Akryn still firmly in control of this fight, Jacob feigned a pain in his hip, letting himself drop down to the dirty, sewage covered floor, face first. Face first into a particularly deep, nasty looking pool.
Akryn, sensing victory, quickly closed in, never dreaming of the ploy about to be used against him. As he reached down, about to roll Jacob over, fully intent on arresting the man, Jacob Goodnight, the butcher of Hargeon, rolled over, and, with a look of pure delight, spat a mouthful of rancid sewer water, and debris, right in Akryns face.
Akryn was a fighter, born and raised one, a man who relied on skill and speed for combat, rather than dirty tricks. Usually anyway. But the very idea of a mouthful of sewage, of human waste, coming out of a mans mouth, and into another mans face, so greatly distressed him, was such a foreign, unconceivable, unfathomable idea, that he stood there for a moment in total, and unclenching shock, giving the wicked, vile brute, known as Jacob Goodnight, a chance to climb a nearby ladder, and rush away, towards what he thought was freedom, and safety.
It did not take long for Akryns shock to be relaced by rage once more however, and very soon the young, hate filled, and admittedly wretchedly smelling, storm mage was in hot pursuit of the man, sword in hand. The absolute lows, the filth that stained this mans soul would not be allowed to live upon this world, he swore it to himself as he leapt obstacles, dodged pedestrians, and slowly closed the gap between himself and the brute ahead of him.
Jacob Goodnight had no warning, no premonition of what was to come. He thought himself safe, in the clear, and free to kill again. Until a long, black blade sank between his ribs, pushing up through his lungs, rupturing his central aorta, and coming out the other side. Jacob Goodnight stood there, frozen in pain and fear, as his lifeblood poured out of him, and the stench of sewage filled his nostrils. A small, white haired mage leaned up to whisper in the mans in. "Burn in hell." Akryn whispered before tearing his sword free, allowing the blood and gore to slide free of Jacob Goodnights wounds.
The town guard was soon on scene to take control, thanking and paying him, all while trying to hold their breaths. Akryn did not blame him really. He was seriously concerned about what Kyll would say however. He could picture in his mind the look on her face when he walked in smelling like this, and he almost laughed, until he pictured Saeko cringing at his new perfume as well. No, he decided, then and there. He would strip down outside of the guild and sneak to his room naked. Far less embarrassing....
