Alive and Breathing



The night stirred with a strange intensity, a sky colored crimson with the setting sun; as the shadows played at the outskirts of thought, and of mind. Intense red orbs pierced the lengthening darkness, and he leapt forward. Red danced within the silver, and then vanished. Glanhelmion tilted his head upwards, nostrils flaring as they absorbed the air. A scent, of faint brimstone held inside of his nostrils, then fading leading him towards the direction of its source. The wind told the tale of death, a familiar lament, yet tonight it was to be witnessed, it was to be found, and the assailants to die.

Animosity seethed, building under his skin, holding to his frame intense as the depth of shadow in his wake. A churning abyss that always remained near him, that soaked up the hatred looming within it. His spies, his eyes, his ears, the muggers, the thugs, the people who pray upon those unsuspecting, the ones who remain outside the darkness, untainted untouched by it's spells. Loose straight fitting jeans hang an inch below his waist, an Elvin silk shirt draped over a thin layer of metallic armor that concealed many of his implements of death. A worn red leather jacket perched on his shoulders, which corresponded with the red tribal patterns on his jeans. Silent bells hung on matte black leather boots that lapped up cobblestone after cobblestone swallowing them into the darkness he brought with him. Black leather gloves fit snug to his hands, triangular gemstones about the size of half dollars were bonded to them, which seemed to emanate a faint glow. There was a stir of ominous wind, that sent sparse decorative trees on the street bowing; as he faded into a shadow wisp, instant, quick as death, and as silent as night he was gone.

Lights dimmed on the alleyway, and from the darkness red streaks formed eyes that peered from behind the dumpster. There were two of them, crowded over a women's body. Crushed in her frailty, wilted like the rose after bloom, and as dead as a leaf in autumn; but it was all fresh, and he could see the last strands of life playing away as the night drew near. The blood still warm, fresh, casually pouring out onto the cobblestones pooling around her in a final farewell. Her eyes not yet blank, and cold, the spark was still there, and it seemed to cling. Her soul was not yet theirs, and it wouldn't be, it never would be, they had no right to take it. She still maintained grace and beauty in death, her brown locks falling over her face, and red lips slightly ajar. Glan called out, reached towards the remains of her, calling to what was left. "Do you wish vengeance?"

There was a momentary pause, a silence of a heartbeat, like the last flutter of a butterfly's wings, or the final breath of the majestic beast before its beauty was lost forever.

"Yes" her reply simple, short, and filled with the bite of hatred that sustained Glanhelmion"

"Then help me, and I shall allow you to avenge yourself."

Another lapse, before he felt her will become his, he felt the consent of her soul.

Sliding from nothing, as wisps of dark strands surrounded him, before vanishing, evaporating like steam. He was standing about five feet from the abominations he was tracking, and the bells sounded; a whisper of night, the messenger of death, and the final serenade for the condemned. Both forms turned, but with a flick of his right wrist her soul was called to him, her anger, hatred, and want for vengeance; the gem of his right hand glowed like the embers of a fire, which clung to the ashes of the past, to be reborn again in a new form.

Red flecks danced, as smiles found their way to the faces of the soul sucking hit men. Their sneers seemed to hold to them their sin, their anguish, and seemed to tell their stories. Silver swallowed by crimson fire, that brought with it the glow, the glow from within. His eyes dancing from one to the other in respective sockets, as the glow intensified within them.

Glanhelmion let a ghost of a smile cross his features, before he called the darkness forward. A darkness that smothered all light, and enveloped the alleyway, the attackers, and himself; swallowing what seemed to be everything, smothering the hope that dusk brought with it's orange horizons, and stifled the fear brought by the velvet night sky. It swallowed the stars, the sun, the sounds, the smells. Briefly the crimson glow of red lingered, only to intensify then fade; before this little piece of existence was given back to the place and time it belonged to.

The hit men lay face down on the cobblestones, sand filtering from their false forms. Their souls taken into possession, so they would not be returning, a price paid for the cost of the life they stole. He flicked his wrist once more, releasing the women, only keeping her hatred.

"You are free to traverse, although I am not the gatekeeper, nor am I in touch with your god, so you now journey your own way to an afterlife."

That said, he felt her leave him with something else, something that warmed his void within him. She left him gratitude, and the kindness felt for his act. As for the demonic souls, he devoured one, then added the other to his collection within his left hands gem, to be harnessed for the power it held, to add to his own abilities.

Turning on his heel, he now understood, and knew what they knew" so that gave him more leads, and more understanding of the operations occurring around him. Therefore he had more strategizing to commence, before he would be satisfied.

"Howe you will pay, you will pay for what you have done." Said calmly and quietly, the vow he made after what Howe had done to him. Glanhelmion hated Daeron, tried to keep him separate, he also now understood Daeron's offer, but it was Glan's choice, not Howe's, yet Howe made it. Howe melded him and Glan into the same person, forcing the changes, forcing the power, and the limitations, and the memories that created Daeron.

Daeron was once a part of Glan's soul, a part that Glan had pushed aside, he was the emotions that conflicted with Glan, the memories of wars, slaughters; he was the darkness that Glan denied. Daeron was guilt, anger, hatred, and also the abyss that was formed by these things constantly being forced inward. Glanhelmion knew that Daeron was created by the partitioning of his soul, and now there was no removing of Daeron, he was now and forever part of him. Daeron was the ancient, the devil of a heart that Glan once possessed before he locked him away, he was the evil that caused the Trueblood to be expelled from the Tasartir line, the reason that he did not take the throne but was expelled from his house, and forced into service to Corwyn.

Yet after he had removed Daeron from his heart, from his soul, and mind, he severed the connection. But Daeron grew stronger in this separation, so strong that he renewed the link to the physical world, and began to devour what was left of Glan, so that he would force the him to accept his offer. Yet it was still a choice, Glan could no longer possess his body at all, or put himself back together.

Well Howe had put his soul back together, yet he still could not find it; and if anything would have to kill a lot of people to find out where it was kept, and who kept it.

"Silence, and time will kill you Howe, and if I can't end you myself every other being involved in my capture will fall instead, as the price you yourself will pay for what you have done to me, for what you have forced upon me, you son of a bitch!"

A far cry of anger, a guttural growl that rumbled up the Truebloods throat, and then he was gone. Wisps of darkness remained for a second before the twisted and dispersed like smoke.

B-town Justice

Sanguine tendrils of silk split into puffy bits of smoky ink" dissolving to reveal him, black armor a catching the glow of night. The town on the opposite side of him a red glow emitting from him, igniting the ribbon of snaking water before him. It was the mad red river, snaking, writhing" and only feet before it lay one broken, condemned, and lost. It was a recent scene, no blood, which was due to the mean's of death.

She was once an elegant looking halfie, her silvery hair, with streaks of other loud colors, was sprawled in a curtain near her head, feathering in strands, with the occasional stir of wind. Her skin which could have once been considered tan, was now a bright pale, and her bruises and contusions on her wrist, legs, neck, and fair face suggests fouler play. Glan stepped forth, his favored dagger, sliding with a click into a sheath as he looked down upon her broken form. He could see the limbs twisted, in a way one should never look, the wisps of death still rising, and her soul was still intact. He looked upon her face, and called out, pulling for it' and once she consented to his offer, he possessed that soul" drinking it into an amulet, to be expended during his hunt. Purifying it ultimately for its journey towards where it belonged.

He stepped away, before turning on his heel, there was a rush of displaced air, that sucked in a wispy mist of darkness, that vanished dispersing on a coming breeze, and he was gone.

There was more displaced air, and he crept from the darkness cutting into a building, from the lack of light in an alleyway. There they were, two men, completely unaware that a hunter stalked" red flecks dancing fluidly in silver as he crept, there wasn't even a sound on the slick slimy floor of the alley as his boots danced from darkness to darkness, and closer each step to either of them.

They were chatting lightly, their ugly human heads taunting Glan, his eyes flashing their silver, catching a nonexistent light at an odd angle, making an ominous spark which was unseen by the two before him...

"Yeah she was a fucking bitch anyway! Can't believe how stupid she was though!" He was the bigger of the two, but his weight was hidden behind a duster, but just by the lines of his body pressing lightly into certain parts of the baggy clothing it was obvious that he was more than physically fit. There were the outlines of weapons; actually he concealed them with very sloppy actions.

"Oh yeah right, but smooth as a glove, tight fit at first though eh"!" The second was not much less than the other man, but he was decently shorter, and decently more compact in his build. Yet he was also very pressing, and probably smart. Well not currently' but he was also the darker of the two, and probably the one to fear most, just by the tone; and presence he possessed. He had something in his eyes as he glanced back at the other man' a part of him more vicious, or more willing of doing wrongs then the other man.

But this night they were both marked, the shadows indicating them as someone to take to the gates, and offer their souls. Envelope into him, devour! Their hate, and evil will sustain him, and whatever kindness he possessed would add to his will, and wisdom. Yes it was truly a feast' as he leapt silently brushing a blade from a sheath; and in a fluid motion it swept the first man's tendon's behind his knee, causing him to crash to the ground. But before he even began his decent Glan was coming up, using a spin, and pivot motion, his free leg used to harness that momentum, and speed. In this silence, there wasn't even a whisper of displaced air; but very faint, there was a jingle of his bells, it was there, but barely audible.

His upright jolt of motion sent him coming at an upwards angle with the blade grazing the man's ribs, arm and slicing his prominent arm's controlling muscles, and tendons; making it useless, and left to dangle.

Then in a flurry that followed that surprise attack, his leg he used to pivot was still positioned, and he used that, pushing off with the other foot, boot still making no noise except a now obvious whisper of his bells, as he swept the leg under the man; sending him crashing to the ground.

The first man was in agonizing pain at this point, and he was holding to that knife wound placing pressure, and trying to tear the pain off of his body. But it was too late, the poisons were already eating his flesh in rapid necrosis. Of course it was just one of the various things he mixed up, using various substances that Glan preferred" so he simply watched the second man writhe in pain, as the same thing had already begun eating away at him.

He pulled out an Elvin silk cloth from somewhere in a flash of movement that made it impossible to even know where. Then he swiped the dark thick poison and blood from the blade, before letting it fall casually to the alley floor. Landing lightly in a puddle, and now beginning to sizzle slightly. Glan then slid the blade back into the poison coating sheath, and with a two faint clicks was now locked in place. Blood was the catalyst for that serum, and it was used when blood was meant to be drawn" so all in all, it wasn't something to coat a throwing knife, or an arrow, or needle, but something to coat a dagger, or sword, something that slashed as well as stabbed, and covered as much tissue as possible. So he had done finely with his catch, now to do his work" and make a statement.

Now he slid various smaller cutting tools from a rolled pouch stashed beneath his belt. Taking them out carefully, and setting them to slicing parts of the second man, first cutting his face, making his mouth a twisted smile. Then he removed the eyelids, and carved several things into his forehead. Then he severed every bit of the underside of the neck, with carefulness, so when disturbed the head was released from his corpse? yet the thing was, that until Glan had done this, the man was still alive.

He then turned upon the first, pulling a mini saw from the pouch, it was only about two inches long, and made for quick simple cuts. He slid it with harsh jerking motions across the undersides of the first man's arms, removing flesh, and shredding bone, as he palmed the blade, blood spilling over a leather glove, covering his wrist, and he continued to shred through them both. There was some grinding, then a gurgled sound, as he left both arms hanging loose on a shred of flesh, big enough to conceal that they were severed to whom ever touched them, and then that individual would have a startling surprise when they fell off. He did the same to everything but the tainted leg, humming was faint under this one's screams, he took a little more to break then the first, as Glan devoured his soul. But partially, Glan was relishing in the pain, that he could taste, and the hurt that he inflicted.

He paused, once finishing the desired leg, the man was still alive, but losing blood, there wouldn't be too much enjoyment if he just suddenly went into shock, and stopped screaming. Glan, took a small wire, and attached it to a miniature power cell, and hooked it too two separate needles, that he placed in each of the man's eye's, to melt them. And instantly the man's scream intensified until his voice broke. His will followed, and Glan ate what was left of him, depositing the power contained in them, into the gems of two separate amulets. Then he continued his work, leaving every thing secretly severed so that they looked still attached. Then he carved the man's into a twisted expression, somewhere between glee, and insanity.

Carving various curses, and experiences of how this man must have been abused while he was younger, into his chest, and neck. And he pulled the needles out of the man's now empty sockets from the wires. As he disconnected the miniature power cell, and then cleaned the needles, with a bleach substance. Then in an instant, he cleaned all of his other instruments, and dried them, using Elvin silk cloth; before he tossed it away carelessly. Placing everything carefully back into the roll up pouch, he made sure that it was secure, and then he slid the bleach like compound's vial into a concealed spot in his armor, before again concealing the pouch, and implements. A smile, one of rarity, and cold joy at that pain tainted his lips, pulling them taut to expose teeth, in the darkness of an alleyway the Trueblood smiled down, watching the corpses spasm in that near pitch black abyss of swirling shadow.

He rose to his full height, and with the sound of wool dragged in sand wispy tendrils snaked outwards. Displaced air pulling inward the puffy smog of inky blackness, that spiraled like cigarette smoke. There was the whisper of bells, and the remnants of a sick laugh, as he vanished. The scent of night shade lingering to the eyes he knew were watching, and the misty darkness caressed a face of an oh so late friend who was now left too look upon his fallen comrades; just before that darkness too became nothing, and the remnants of his presence died, except for the scent of nightshade which hung loftily over those corpses. The smell of a poisonous flower, left, as a trademark of his passing as a ghost of ghosts.