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He arrived at the time and place Soro had specified. So why wasn't Soro standing there in front of the church, calm and calculating, his eyes fierce and his voice silent, the same person Asmodai had been traveling with for the last year and a half? Why wasn't there a hostage trapped behind locked doors? Why wasn't everything as Soro had said it would be?
Why was Soro a bloody heap of dead flesh before him? The big werewolf had frozen in place, knowing before he approached what he would see, but unwilling to forgo the sight of his cousin's final state. His brown eyes took all of it in...the matting and discoloration where terrible blows had come down on the GreyClaw warrior, the puffing up of the face which had happened before death in response to the repeated collisions, the damage on the forearms which he rose to protect his damaged face, the vicious marks where his enemy's claws had dug into the neck, pulling upward and severing the carotid arteries. The pool of blood was already coagulated, sticky and dried on the ground. The grass had drank well this day. Asmodai's gaze did not leave the ruined body of his cousin for a very long time.
"Soro," he said, knowing full well that there would be no sarcastic or brooding answer to greet him.
"Soro," he spoke up again, his voice a bit more stern, even though he knew quite clearly that this would lead no where.
"Soro," a crack in his voice, a crack in his armor, a dull and dejected acceptance. Emotions wanted to well up inside of him, but he had a job to do...he couldn't be overcome with grief, not yet...not yet.
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 His shoulders were hunched forward as he walked along, but his gaze was on the ground. He kicked idly at random things blocking his path--random tin cans, glass bottles that produced a unique resonant sound when they rolled across the pavement (in sharp contrast to the broken chunks of brick, which plopped down in clouds of dust and then were silent). He had his bag with him, slung over his left shoulder with his hand resting lightly on the strap to keep it from sliding off. In his right hand he loosely clung to an axe, which had proven too large to fit into his sack. His arm swayed freely in an arc as a pendulum might in time with his stride.
He was thinking of Ahren and the barn. He hadn't really had much of a chance to come here since the whole war had escalated, and now he was searching for distractions. He'd gone to his secret retreat, halfway hoping to find Poe there, but the only things that stirred were the dead leaves that danced in circles across the wooden floor. He'd spotted his bag and stash of other things, and he decided that maybe practising his carpentry and use of tools would be a good distraction.
That meant he had to find the right place to do so. Maybe he'd chop up some boards and nail them back together. Or... screw them, since the whole screwdriver concept would be new. Yeah, that was the plan. Was being the key word there. He stopped kicking at things and looked up when he heard someone ahead. A church was on his left; he was walking down the street to go past it. A large male was bent over something (or someone), but he couldn't quite tell what was going on yet. He drew in closer, and realised it was definitely another body--a lifeless one. His hand moved from his backpack up to his head and he scratched at the back of his neck, shrugged, and moved to keep walking past. Whatever this was, he did not want to deal with it. |
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Nice spin with the axe =)
The sounds and smells of someone approaching, but Asmodai did not let his eyes stray from Soro's body. The sounds grew louder, and he moved his eyes, giving a sideways stare out at the figure that approached. Shorter than he was, though built powerfully. Scarred, bronze furred. An axe gripped in one hand. The big gray werewolf hesitated, before rising wordlessly, and beginning to approach.
"Skoll, I presume." It was a statement. There wasn't any question. The scars weren't as prominent as he'd heard, nor was he an exceptionally tall individual, but stories were often exaggerated. He was built up more powerfully than Soro, so given the training of a GreyClaw warrior he could see this wolf winning out. Without another word, Asmodai's right hand reached back, and drew the two-foot steel blade from his pack. His left hand reached to a hidden side pocket, from which he produced a long dagger. It was fitting that it should end here. Over the body of Skoll's final victory, won only with the training he should never have received.
They were still several paces distant, it would take him a few seconds to get there. Skoll was carrying his signature weapon, but that was all. He was supposed to be very good with the axe, but the warrior knew that he would be able to take him down. Winning and surviving was the tricky part, but as long as survival wasn't an objective, killing was simple. He would run him through with the sword, and using the steel buried in his enemy's gut as an anchor, he would hold him still long enough to slide the dagger through his throat. The axe could kill in a single blow, but he was confident enough in his abilities to believe that he wouldn't give him the opportunity to deliver a killing blow until his mission was already completed.
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All of a sudden, the hunched over wolf whirled about on him. Anselm froze up instantly and glared; even before the other said anything, he knew what that kind of advance meant. Under normal circumstances, he might have been more than willing to go in guns ablazin', but these circumstances were not normal. First off, he was still somewhat beat up from the nonsense with Dahlia de Mai. Second, this wolf smelled of Iskata's pack to the south--Inferni couldn't afford to be fighting on two fronts at once, and he was certain he already had one huge strike against him that may as well count for two. He was positive if he fucked with any of her members, a whole new series of problems would erupt.
The other's voice confused him for an instant, but drawing the weapons out did not. He raised the axe defensively and tossed his bag to the side, but he did not advance. His ears slicked back and he snorted; he was halfway tempted to retreat, but he refused to leave this without knowing what the hell the problem was. "Skull?" he spat, tone incredulous and annoyed. Skoll was not a name he recognised, so he figured he just heard him wrong. Was he talking about those on the pikes? "Look, pal, I don't know what the fuck you're talking about and I don't know why I should care."
He sneered and jerked his gaze over to the crumpled form of the wolf's comrade. For all he knew, Asmodai had been the one to kill Soro. "Just killing everyone that comes through here, are we?" he asked, then clicked his teeth together as his mouth snapped shut. For crying out loud, what next? The fallen was even a wolf... did this have to do with Inferni at all? It certainly didn't seem like it. Mentally and physically, he prepared himself for a fight--all the while, his mind raced around in circles: Not now, not now, not now. |
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Asmodai paused his advance. The words of this wolf were incongruous with what he had perceived a moment ago. Short sword in his right hand and dagger in his left, he halted and took a moment to scrutinize the situation a bit further. Skoll was a huge wolf. While stories did exaggerate, people in the packs he'd encountered had met in him person, so Skoll must have been quite large for a wolf, where this person wasn't. Also, he wielded an axe one-handed, where this wolf abandoned his pack to use two. Further, the scarring on this male wasn't extensive enough to been noted as an important feature everywhere he went, nor were his features entirely lupine...this wasn't Skoll.
Asmodai let his arms fall to his sides, before standing at ease. It had just been too perfect. Almost gold in color, muscular and clearly built for a fighting life, carrying an axe, next to Soro's body...it was easy to see why there had been a mix up, but he knew that part of it had been him seeing what he wanted. It would have been convenient and easy for Skoll to show up at the site of the killing, it would have prevented him from having to think things through, stopped him from having the time to choose what to do. Now that his scent hit him, he could detect that he was a member of Inferni, the volatile group that Iskata had told him about.
"My sincere apologies," he said, stepping away so that the threat hanging in the air might subside. He began sliding his sword back into his pack. "I was distraught at my friend's death, and mistook you for someone else. I am sorry for alarming you."
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Something in the other's posture changed and he noted it immediately. He couldn't say what caused this change of heart, but he also couldn't say what had started the whole advance. All he knew was that he was glad it was over with and they could all move on. Hopefully. The axe lowered back to his side, and he bent down slowly to pick up his bag. The whole time, his eyes were trained on the other male's face. After something like that, he had no reason to think this wasn't some sort of trick--paranoid and wary of others to begin with, this was a first impression he would not soon forget.
He exhaled slowly as the other took a step back, then sheathed his weapons. Confused, he wondered what he ought to do with the axe--there was nowhere that really counted as "away" to put it. "Eh.." he grunted, mostly to himself. He didn't really have much to say to any of that--his gaze trailed back over to the wolf. In a remarkable feat, he attempted empathy--he imagined if the body were one of his few friends. Surely, if he found Gabriel crumpled up in front of a church and some jackass with an axe walked by, he'd be ready to tear them limb from limb, too.
He grimaced, ever so slightly, then nodded to the strange wolf. "Understandable." Something in him sank--who had done this? Was it someone from Inferni? It seemed unlikely, for then Asmodai wouldn't have halted his attack. Still, he decided he might as well ask. "What happened?" |
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"We came here to accomplish a dangerous task," he said slowly, putting the knife away also. "But not everyone approves of what we came here to do. Soro was very capable, so anyone who could defeat him would need to be quite dangerous. Tell me, if you will, the killer was here not long ago, his scent is all over the area, does he bear any pack scent that you recognize?"
Truth be told, he shouldn't have been so confident that Skoll had been the one to do this, but it seemed likely, given the scenario Soro had painted for him. It was his confidence in the prowess held by warriors of GreyClaw which led him to the conclusion that only their quarry would be able to do this...alone, at any rate. Even though he had seen his mentor defeated at the hands of a non-expert, he still held unshakable confidence in this fact.
"I may not be able to do anything about it, but it would be comforting to be certain if it is who I think it is..." or to know where to find who I know it is, he finished in his thoughts. Lies, lies, and more lies. He had told them long before coming to this place, but it was here that he began regretting the absence of truth that seemed to pervade all his words.
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Well now--Asmodai had certainly grabbed his attention. What was this, the tale of two powerful warriors with a mission? What mission could that possibly be? Why was it so controversial? Questions like these were highly acidic and could burn a hole through his mind, one that was impossible to ignore. Still, he found himself doubting that he'd get answers very easily. The thing about "dangerous missions" was that they could be compromised pretty easily if word of the original plan got back to the intended target.
Putting his things back down, he shuffled about on all fours closer to the body, which he scented carefully. He paced around the area and before long had identified one pack scent in particular--that of Lubomir and Bleach, and Sirius and his family. The other spoke again, and Anselm's head turned back to face him. One brow was lifted sceptically, and he gave a half-hearted "Uh huh" in response. Yeah; right. He'd practically just been mauled for not killing this Soro, and he could only imagine what would have happened if he had. Besides, who asked for information they intended to do nothing with? It had nothing to do with how Asmodai spoke; it had to do with the contradictory content.
Regardless, the hybrid hardly cared. If this was the case of an individual versus another individual, he might cooperate. "Does this task of yours involve any of the packs here?" he asked first, utterly unwilling to divulge any information at all that might be later turned against him. He watched the other very carefully now, blood red eyes never leaving the wolf's face. Any twitch, movement of the eyes, or hesitation would be noted. He was pretty sure now this had nothing to do with Inferni, but he wasn't inclined to open the gates of hell and sick this hell hound on any of the packs he sort of liked, either. |
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"No," he said easily, firmly. "I didn't know any of the packs here prior to my arrival. I will need to know where this person lives if I intend to do anything about this." Right now, he was ninety percent certain he would go after the killer, but that resolve would crumble once he took the necessary time to plan things out. There was opportunity here...no one was left to be responsible to, he could live here, if he wanted. He hadn't done anything wrong yet, other than lying, which he had a perfectly good explanation for.
He might be able to find him without this man's help, but it would definitely save time. He didn't want to act while the fire of rage still burned in his belly, but he didn't want to delay the culmination of this final, dark chapter in his journey any longer than was necessary. He was lucky he hadn't approached any faster. Killing this male would have been a disaster...he would have almost certainly taken some injury, making travel slower just as a whole slew of new enemies came after him, and further he would have believed himself rid of his enemy and Soro's death avenged, and may have walked away under this false impression, failing at the very end due to bad information.
Asmodai's gaze revealed very little as his own eyes of typical brown looked into the crimson of the hybrid's. There wasn't any challenge, but nor was his gaze yielding. A sort of deadness resided within him now, he would need to do what he would need to do soon, but here was an opportunity to ease the process of getting to that final duty. He wasn't sure what he'd do if the person who this scent led him to was not Skoll.
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The reality of this whole encounter was beginning to sink in for him. Even though the grey scale stranger seemed non-threatening now, he couldn't get it out of his head that he'd almost been attacked for nothing. Here. Weren't the odds of that supposed to be lower in these parts? At least relative to where he'd grown up... Either way, none of it concerned Inferni or even any of the other packs--it was the business of a handful of individuals, principally the deceased, his friend, and the killer.
He was starting to want to get out of there.
"Shadowed Sun," he stated finally. "They're to the north; they've laid claim to part of the mountain." That was all that he knew, and hopefully now this guy would leave him alone. At the very least, Anselm seriously doubted that he'd want to stick around to chitchat about meaningless things--or so he hoped. Still, he remained planted where he was firmly, somewhat unwilling to walk away until he was positive that everything here was settled. |
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Alright, thanks a lot for finishing this up, Zero. After the accident, I thought we would just leave it open-ended, but I'm glad we finished.
The werewolf looked off in the direction indicated, before giving the stranger a curt nod. He would go soon, not to finish this business right away, but to scope out the locale of Soro's killer. He might even catch sight of him. Nevertheless, he would avoid confronting him until he had thought this whole thing out. He had to have all relevant information before taking any action.
"Thank you." The word came and went like an leaf blown on an autumn wind, passing by prettily, but empty of meaning or driving purpose. Following the hollow thanks, the large wolf turned back to the body, and pulled it up. Soro was only a few inches shorter than himself, so it wasn't an easy process, though he handled the corpse with as much respect and grace as possible. He would leave this human place, and find suitable ground in which to bury his cousin. His good friend of two and a half years was gone forever...he would pay his respects, and then be on his way.
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It was a strange feeling for him--the thought that he might have helped someone else die so indirectly. At the very least, he couldn't recall a time in the past where he'd been subjected to similar circumstances. Usually, if Anselm was out for somebody, he would do the deed himself. And usually, if he wasn't after somebody, he'd go along his merry way and not even bother to get involved; he typically had enough shit of his own to worry about.
His expression was blank as he watched the other wolf gather up his friend. The golden hybrid continued to look on for a few more moments before he moved off to the side to collect his things, including the axe. Glancing back over his shoulder one last time, he began to move down the road in the direction he'd originally been headed. Frankly, he'd be fine if this was the last time he ever laid eyes upon the strange wolf. He wasn't sure if he still wanted to practise his carpentry or not, but he decided he could figure it out once he got there--wherever that was. |
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