[center][img]http://orig04.deviantart.net/992f/f/2016/274/0/9/blackblood_by_fenixking13-dajgrkh.png[/img][/center]
[center][color=1b1464]Mithril Blackblood[/color]
[color=aba000]The Golden Sword[/color][/center]

[@Lucius Cypher]

[i][color=1a7b30]"Halt and lay down your weapons! You are under suspicion for acts of violence against the city and it's people. Surrender peacefully and you will receive a lawful trial. Otherwise you will be treated to an immediate execution."[/color][/i]


Mithril stopped entirely where the stood, halting even his own momentum as he stood stiffly in his tracks almost comically as one leg was on the uneven rooftop while the other was just beginning to step forward to advance in his run, both arms to either side in a joggers position. Slowly the masked face turned to glance upon his would be assailants features though they too were obscured by outlandish clothing. Some fool with a death wish dared to stop the universe itself. Ever so slowly he unbent his body and put both feet on the roof and rested his hands on his hips to stare haughtily at her. 

Outwardly calm and relaxed, complying with this strange womans demand for his peaceful surrender, did not betray the inner thoughts that screamed to attack. To rend this woman limb from limb and toss the severed pieces to the streets before kicking her filthy head over the palaces front gate. To dance in her blood and drink in the terror of her face as he slid the knife into the soft flesh of her body. To inhale her last breathe through the puppets lungs as the light in her eyes faded to nothing.
But the Golden Sword loved these games. It would play along until it got bored. After all, even if this woman killed her puppet, it would only be a matter of time before a new one tried to move the exquisite blade. No force in the heavens or the hells could stop it from commandeering a weak willed servant. No force known could cheapen its shine, dull it edge, or trap it forever. Someone always answered the call. 

[color=0072bc]"On what grounds do you choose to arrest me. Or is it you are smitten by my handsome features."[/color] Mithril fake-swooned and dramatically placed his wrist upon his forehead as he cried out. [color=0072bc]"OH to be as handsome and daring as I! irresistable to the filthy masses. Tis a curse, I assure you."[/color] 

His laughter was dark indeed as the mad man took a step towards Atisha, then another, his every footfall began to sound like a hammer striking the anvil as the golden sword subtly emitted an aura of fear from its puppet. Strong minds could resist the trembling of the body or the sinking dread that filled their stomach, but the weaker or unwilling would find themselves incapable of approaching. The very air they breathed took on the chill of the grave and forced them to stare in horror at every shadow.

There would be no reinforcements from the weaklings or the craven that wielded 'authority' but lacked a spine to enforce it. 
[color=0072bc]
"Bring me a good time or fly home, little bird."[/color] He whispered.