*Crickets chirping*
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Someone has been following them. Someone stupid enough to reveal their position. Multiple creatures, hard to tell how many based on the distance. The black knight was the first to respond. Stupid. Let them come closer, make them think you have the upper hand. Too late now. A plan. Maldron needed a plan. Something in his head clicked on like a switch. A job, a purpose. He can unleash his inner beast now, a calm, calculated, ruthless beast.
"Make them focus their attention solely on you." He told to the group. "I will flank them." He then turns to the knight. "Say "Begone, strangers!" loudly, and it will be a sign for me to neutralize them. I will not attack unless you say these two words." Plotting both the fastest and most concealed route, Maldron was finally at peace, for this moment. A stalker, the apex predator. For all that remained of his memories, he knew he was raised to be just that. And he enjoyed it. That thrill of the hunt. This land sought to deny him just that, but a hunter shall not become the hunted that easily. Perhaps even the rest of the group could see it. The change in his eyes. A subtle change, from the eyes of a man to that of a killer, hunter of men. Even his voice changed to something more monotone, devoid of any emotion behind it.
Sticking to the shadows, however scarce they were without any actual visible source of light. His attire also helped Maldron to hide pretty well, his dull white, or rather grey-ish cloak blending in with the land. Circling around while the rest of group do whatever they are doing, the assassin was preparing his blades. Though he had no memory of the small vials strapped to his chest, he knew they contained venom, and what kind. Since he wears his cloak like a robe, all of this usually hidden from sight. It was like his hands were moving on his own, like he did it hundreds of times already. He chose the paralyzing venom, as he could not know if the creatures following them were hostile. Coating his dagger and a few throwing knives with a thin layer of venom, the assassin was almost in his destination, currently not spotted yet. If the knight makes the call, Maldron will need just a graze, and the venom will kick in swiftly.
Finally in position, there was two of them. A human with clothing that suggested some pedigree, and some sort of animated stone creature. The man was seemingly annoyed by the thing. So they were not allies? The man also had a sword, though his stance betrayed the fact that he wasn't very alert. Even if he spotted Maldron now, he would be hit before he was able to grab the hilt of his sword. The stone being didn't seem very threatening either. Whatever happens next, is up to the knight and the rest of the group.
"Make them focus their attention solely on you." He told to the group. "I will flank them." He then turns to the knight. "Say "Begone, strangers!" loudly, and it will be a sign for me to neutralize them. I will not attack unless you say these two words." Plotting both the fastest and most concealed route, Maldron was finally at peace, for this moment. A stalker, the apex predator. For all that remained of his memories, he knew he was raised to be just that. And he enjoyed it. That thrill of the hunt. This land sought to deny him just that, but a hunter shall not become the hunted that easily. Perhaps even the rest of the group could see it. The change in his eyes. A subtle change, from the eyes of a man to that of a killer, hunter of men. Even his voice changed to something more monotone, devoid of any emotion behind it.
Sticking to the shadows, however scarce they were without any actual visible source of light. His attire also helped Maldron to hide pretty well, his dull white, or rather grey-ish cloak blending in with the land. Circling around while the rest of group do whatever they are doing, the assassin was preparing his blades. Though he had no memory of the small vials strapped to his chest, he knew they contained venom, and what kind. Since he wears his cloak like a robe, all of this usually hidden from sight. It was like his hands were moving on his own, like he did it hundreds of times already. He chose the paralyzing venom, as he could not know if the creatures following them were hostile. Coating his dagger and a few throwing knives with a thin layer of venom, the assassin was almost in his destination, currently not spotted yet. If the knight makes the call, Maldron will need just a graze, and the venom will kick in swiftly.
Finally in position, there was two of them. A human with clothing that suggested some pedigree, and some sort of animated stone creature. The man was seemingly annoyed by the thing. So they were not allies? The man also had a sword, though his stance betrayed the fact that he wasn't very alert. Even if he spotted Maldron now, he would be hit before he was able to grab the hilt of his sword. The stone being didn't seem very threatening either. Whatever happens next, is up to the knight and the rest of the group.
Gonna make a post next thing in the morning, so in about 8-9 hours.
EDIT: Or simply right now. Unfortunately, I didn't turn out as long as I wanted. But I can't really pull out something out of my ass either. Bleh, 4 paragraphs should be enough.
EDIT: Or simply right now. Unfortunately, I didn't turn out as long as I wanted. But I can't really pull out something out of my ass either. Bleh, 4 paragraphs should be enough.
I'm gonna make a post soon. Planning Maldron to take some action. ATM I'm quite sick so I haven't posted yet.
Honestly, I can't wait until he makes his first appearance.
Hmm, really wish the things with Turncloak Knight would move faster.
Hmm never given his height much thought. Let's make him average, about 1.6 metres.
Meh, couldn't stretch out my post as much as I wanted to.
And so, a fragile truce was born. The clown, with those goddamn annoying bells was watching Maldron, a lot. It was faint, but Maldron could notice the clown's suspicion. No, it was no suspicion. It was something more. The way he spoke around the assassin. But it didn't matter. The clown gains nothing from hostility.
They followed the Black Knight, Maldron was impressed by the man's endurance and sheer force of will. Impressed? That was not quite like him. Reflecting on all that he still remembers, Maldron realized just how much he was changing. From his memories of life, he was an ultimate weapon, unburdened by emotion. For a killer, feelings and emotions dull his edge. But this land, this hellish oblivion, and the loneliness and desolation that Maldron experienced changed him. He began to crave social interaction, he become curious of this land. He became interested in his... companions. At the very least, he was going to have a plan to kill everyone he meets, while also being polite and efficient.
"Funny, isn't it." Maldron broke the silence, following the knight. "Now that I have absolute freedom here, I am without a purpose." He shrugs. "In life, all I knew or cared about was my next target, the means to fulfill my assignment, and... And... There is something important I am forgetting!" He raised his voice a bit. Was it anger, frustration he felt? Why? Why must this land dull the blade that he is? His memories it can take away. But not his skill, his cutting edge which let's Maldron fulfill his purpose. "I was raised to feel nothing, to be the ultimate weapon." This... confession certainly made things easier for his mind. Or was it the social interaction that he craved, in any form? "And this place is hell bent on making me lose my edge." He was frustrated, but trying to hide that. He could not appear weak. Or was he already weak, needing to talk, needing a goal, needing anything? A sword should not care for anything. A sword should only carry out what the hand that wields it wishes. Anything else is a liability. "But then again, hell needs no assassins..."
The knight has shared some insight about the mountain. The cold tried to bite Maldron, but it's bite was too weak for Maldron to care. He felt it though, the biting cold, even through this warm leather and his cloak, which hid his projectile weapons. But he simply did not care that much. It was uncomfortable, but nothing too lethal. This new information, a new lead, it needs to be rationally analyzed, discussed. "When we die here, we lose a memory before being reborn again. That much we all know." Maldron clears his throat. "It is reasonable to assume that we all been there at the mountain, once. But most of us can't remember it. We're also all drawn towards it, like moths to a flame." The words he was to speak next made him uncomfortable. He cared little for matters of faith, but this land, and the knight's experiences made Maldron question some concepts, and entertain others. "What if the mountain is paradise, and this is hell. And we, the wicked, were kicked out - unworthy." Deep down inside him, this thought terrified him, though he knew such was his fate, if gods did exist. "I spent so much time trying to find a rational explanation for this irrational place, but it seem another approach needs to be considered. I know I killed a lot of people, and even more that I probably don't remember anymore. It makes sense I was thrown here, if it is indeed hell." He turned to the rest of the group. "What about you?"
They followed the Black Knight, Maldron was impressed by the man's endurance and sheer force of will. Impressed? That was not quite like him. Reflecting on all that he still remembers, Maldron realized just how much he was changing. From his memories of life, he was an ultimate weapon, unburdened by emotion. For a killer, feelings and emotions dull his edge. But this land, this hellish oblivion, and the loneliness and desolation that Maldron experienced changed him. He began to crave social interaction, he become curious of this land. He became interested in his... companions. At the very least, he was going to have a plan to kill everyone he meets, while also being polite and efficient.
"Funny, isn't it." Maldron broke the silence, following the knight. "Now that I have absolute freedom here, I am without a purpose." He shrugs. "In life, all I knew or cared about was my next target, the means to fulfill my assignment, and... And... There is something important I am forgetting!" He raised his voice a bit. Was it anger, frustration he felt? Why? Why must this land dull the blade that he is? His memories it can take away. But not his skill, his cutting edge which let's Maldron fulfill his purpose. "I was raised to feel nothing, to be the ultimate weapon." This... confession certainly made things easier for his mind. Or was it the social interaction that he craved, in any form? "And this place is hell bent on making me lose my edge." He was frustrated, but trying to hide that. He could not appear weak. Or was he already weak, needing to talk, needing a goal, needing anything? A sword should not care for anything. A sword should only carry out what the hand that wields it wishes. Anything else is a liability. "But then again, hell needs no assassins..."
The knight has shared some insight about the mountain. The cold tried to bite Maldron, but it's bite was too weak for Maldron to care. He felt it though, the biting cold, even through this warm leather and his cloak, which hid his projectile weapons. But he simply did not care that much. It was uncomfortable, but nothing too lethal. This new information, a new lead, it needs to be rationally analyzed, discussed. "When we die here, we lose a memory before being reborn again. That much we all know." Maldron clears his throat. "It is reasonable to assume that we all been there at the mountain, once. But most of us can't remember it. We're also all drawn towards it, like moths to a flame." The words he was to speak next made him uncomfortable. He cared little for matters of faith, but this land, and the knight's experiences made Maldron question some concepts, and entertain others. "What if the mountain is paradise, and this is hell. And we, the wicked, were kicked out - unworthy." Deep down inside him, this thought terrified him, though he knew such was his fate, if gods did exist. "I spent so much time trying to find a rational explanation for this irrational place, but it seem another approach needs to be considered. I know I killed a lot of people, and even more that I probably don't remember anymore. It makes sense I was thrown here, if it is indeed hell." He turned to the rest of the group. "What about you?"
I really don't care much either way. I can work with both scenarios.
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