Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Lutetia City: The Phantom Quarter

His charge shook the earth beneath his step, and when he and the animancer next clashed, it was once more at the cost of his own body. A familiar toll, one the Caer Lord was more than willing to pay. With a savage grin, his body seemed to become more fog than flesh, for just a single moment, allowing the holy blade to pass harmlessly by. Losing his solidity was not something Nox could do on a whim, even with his powers growing stronger ever day.

It had not yet seen it fit to grant him all the marvelous talents his Father had possessed, seeming to only gift him boundless strength, and endurance.

Not that Nox was complaining. He rather liked his simplistic style of combat. He'd been molded for it, after all.

Once Noah was exposed, that shark smile would bloom even wider before hungering fangs lunged downwards towards his incandescent mortal foe.
 
But the blade that Noah wielded was not one forged of mortal steel. A construct of pure anima, the memory of Deliverance was burned so clearly into its former bearer's soul that her host could call upon it with his powers. Where the blade passed through the mist, still it would burn and cut with surprising potency. It came at the cost of the strength of sanctification that the true blade would bear, but the memory was strong.

He did not pause to wait for the Caer's retaliation, darting past him with a duck to evade the fangs by a hair's breadth - Light, but he was fast - then spun to bring his sword around in a backhand slash towards the monster's face.
 
Nox had counted on his hellish abilities to completely avoid any damage the spiritual weapon might have inflicted, but he wasn't so lucky as that. Even in his semi-incorporeal state, the edge still inflicted damage. Damage he had not been expecting. He felt his balance crumble, his upper body pivoting to the side, jaws snapping at empty air, perhaps grazing a hair or two. He'd spin, dragging a half-reattached leg, dark energies flaring to life once more around him. Forearms would raise themselves, trailing his power as they did, one to intercept the blade.

The other lashing out towards Noah's stomach with jagged obsidian claws, practically singing as they sliced through the space between the two opponents. The infernal creature didn't even seem to notice the blade cutting into his cheek, his jaw, breaking bones and splaying flesh. If anything...it only seemed to emboldened the crazed look in those cyan orbs.
 
Noah tried to evade backwards, but mid-swing, even his enhanced reactions couldn't get him out of the way quickly enough. His enemy's callous disregard for injury made Noah's every attack an opening for him to fight back. The claws raked across his aura, testing its protections to their limits, and Noah winced as he felt them cut through into him despite the barrier. What would have been a disembowling strike was reduced to a series of relatively shallow cuts, but they were painful all the same, and blood seeped from them, soaking into his sweatshirt and coat.

The warden jumped backwards, cringing at the pain but forcing himself to ignore it. He couldn't afford to be so reckless, not against this enemy. One bad misstep would cost him his life. But neither could he stop. He'd long resolved not to fear death, and though it was another thing to stare it in its wintry blue eyes, he was not about to turn tail and let this monster loose on the city again. Backup would be here soon. He only needed keep it occupied...

With another push, he surged forwards, this time into a feinted slash for the creature's throat.
 
A voice would ring out like a gong in the Wardens mind.

GIVE UP MORTAL! NO LIGHT SHALL PROTECT YOU FROM ME!!

It was full of nothing but cruel mocking, seeping into every dark crevice of Noah's mind with ill intent, sticking like hot tar, hungry for every scrap of fear, every morsel of terror and self doubt it could pluck from the subconscious, a ravenous feral desire for every negative emotion the youth might harbor. Nox wanted it all.

Time was of the essence however. There were places he needed to be. Despite his most fervent, unquenchable desire to wage war on the monsters who robbed him of his family, he knew today would not be the day. It was time to end this.

This time Nox would call on his experience, his centuries of combat, abandoning his animalistic fighting mentality. He saw the path of the blade, and the path it would take once he dodged. He knew it was a lie before it even drew close to his face. Again, those claws would come, this time aiming to grab Noah by the arm.
The boy faltered. His will was strong, but against the full force of the Caer's demonic influence, he was a candle in a blizzard. And he flickered, his reflexes failing him as the monster's claws latched onto his arm painfully, stopping his swing short before he could pull it back.

The Warden would be pulled into those terrible teeth, lifted as he was, ebony daggers aimed to plunge deep into Noah's neck. He'd be lucky if thats all those fangs found on their quest to end the animancer's life.

Noah!

With a mental push, Aurore once more jolted Noah from his frozen state, just as his feet left the ground. Crying out, he pulled his free hand back, and in a flash the blade that had been trapped appeared anew, thrust forward clumsily to intercept the coming maw even as he kicked out in an attempt to free himself.

Choking was not a sensation Nox was familiar with. His eyes bulged almost out of their sunken sockets, and more than pain, anger erupted from his impaled, cavernous mouth. He felt his own black blood rush down his throat. This agony was not pleasing, it did nothing to arouse the sick, twisted varieties of lust the Caer felt during the course of a normal battle.

A gurgling roar would paint the Warden black with ichor as he was thrown down onto the concrete. This time Nox held none of his strength back.

Spluttering, Noah barely had time to gag before he was slammed into the dirt. Pain shot through his body. He felt ribs crack with the impact, and the wounds on his stomach worsen as they tore. Though his aura saved him from being utterly broken by the force of the throw, he was left stunned, winded and weak.

Get up, Noah! Get up! By the Light, child, get up!

Aurore's voice was desperate, but for the first few moments after hitting the ground, Noah simply couldn't move.

Over top the poor young man, the Caer stood, towering, glaring, holy blade still stuck into the back of his throat. Nox would rip it from his injured maw, dark blue fire smoldering behind hate filled eyes. A foot, mangled, dead, and taloned would press down on Noah's midsection.

And keep pressing.

And pressing. Slowly.

Noah gasped in pain, the pressure on his cuts sending shooting pain through his body. More blood soaked into his shirt, beginning to trickle onto the road. As the pressure mounted, he struggled, calling Deliverance back to his hand. But his swing at the Caer's leg was weak, practically inconsequential. Somewhere in the back of his head, Aurore was screaming for him. But his strength was failing. His aura fading.

Then, booted feet from around the corner. The first armoured figure appeared at the end of the road, swinging a greatsword through the neck of a lagging spawn. Aurelion's eyes locked onto the scene, and he called out to those behind him. "Here! Here!"

A pistol was drawn and fired, going wide by an inch at the long distance, but the paladin had started to charge forwards. And more were coming.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
Of course he'd heard the boots clomping down the street. His children were more or less spent, though those who remained still did there best to fight. He'd felt every one of them die, slain by the same bastards as half a century ago. But then he caught a whiff. And a smile erupted from his ruined mouth.

Eyes would lock with Aurelion's. It was a simple thing. To show him what he'd done at his familial home. His mother and father ripped apart. The horror they felt at his hands. Nox practically waved to the paladin as he raised his foot off of Noah...and ran...through a building.

Mid-charge, Aurelion stumbled, flashes of a nightmare playing through his mind with terrifying suddenness. The entire horrific massacre was seared into his mind in a matter of moments, and the paladin let out a cry that was equal parts rage and dismay. He froze for just a moment, and that was long enough for Nox to escape unharried.

"BASTARD," Aurelion yelled into the fog, snarling with rage. A great portion of him wanted to give chase, but his rational mind knew that he would never catch the Caer. And there were injured left behind.

After only a moment's further hesitation, the paladin ran forwards to the side of what he had first thought to be a fallen civilian. Noah's aura had faded completely, and Deliverance had vanished without his anima to sustain its physical form. When Aurelion recognised him, his eyes widened in shock. "Noah? Eleu, what are you doing here? Are you conscious?"

The boy's eyes flicked open, stinging with black ichor, and his vision focused just enough to see a helmeted face looking down at him. He recognised Aurelion's voice. "Au... Aurelion?"

"Don't talk," Aurelion cut in, carefully lifting Noah's coat to assess his injuries, and wincing at what he found. He heard more booted feet behind him and turned. "Get a medic here, now, and call for a med-evac."

"Light, is that Noah?" Perrin's eyes widened upon recognising the warden.

"Now, Perrin!" The barked order left no further room for hesitation, and Perrin nodded swiftly, getting onto his radio and calling in for medical aid.

"Leon... the ... there's another..." Noah lifted a shaking hand and pointed towards the ruins of the building where Savien lay.

Nodding his head, Aurelion waved over more of the arriving paladins towards the building and their unconscious comrade within. "Thank you," he said to the fallen boy. "But don't waste any more strength. Your injuries shouldn't be life threatening as long as they're treated, but you're badly hurt. Try not to move."

Noah gave a miniscule nod of acquiescence, clenching his fist and gritting his teeth as the adrenaline of the fight began to give way to more pain.

With Perrin calling for medical assistance, Aurelion opened his channel back to the monastery masters. "This is Aurelion. The target escaped on foot. Once the injured here are evac'd, I'm taking a squad to try and track its escape route. But I ... am fairly certain I can confirm the target's identity is as suspected. This is no imitator."

He took a deep breath, grimacing beneath his helm. "The Caer have returned."
 
Medical help would come not soon enough, paramedics and field clerics swiftly gathering the wounded and loading them up into ambulances. They would find Sir Savien Durandet, unconscious, curled up in a ball amidst a heap of rubble, blood pouring from his face and the gashes in his shoulders and arms. His silver was wrapped between two of his broken fingers and he shivered in the cold.
 
Though Aurelion and a team of other paladins set off after Nox as soon as the area around the injured was secured, his trail was lost not far from the building that he'd ploughed through on the way out. In the ensuing search, an entryway into the catacombs was found with a trickle of black ichor at its edges. It was quickly cordoned off, but for the time being, the paladins fell back. Delving into the underground in search of a Caer was a job for a fully equipped and organised task force, with ample preparation and planning.

Soon, though. They could not afford to leave their foe to his own devices any longer than was absolutely necessary.
 
Some hours later...

A stray, straggling vampire spawn scurried through the alleys of the Phantom Quarter, claws splashing through the murky puddles left by winter rain. It and its kin had been harrying the paladins combing for traces of their master, but now they had departed, leaving the creature aimless for the time being. A few of its sisters roamed the streets nearby, combing through the trash for scraps, or chasing stray dogs. But this one had the scent of something fresher, something juicier. Something human.

It turned a corner, into a narrower alley lined with rusted old trash cans and a disused skip. It was close. Lurching forwards, it scrambled over the cans with a clatter. Up ahead, there was a whimper. With as close to elation as the mindless creature could muster, the spawn threw itself towards the sound, skidding around the edge of the skip. And there it was, the prey. A homeless boy, pressed up against the wall and holding out a knife as though it might protect him from the undead beast that was staring at him with hungry, hollow eyes. The spawn tensed, ready to pounce.

"Ahaaa! Found another one!"

The creature's head snapped up towards the source of the sound, just in time for a boot to plant itself square into its face. It toppled with the force, and the boot rode it down, driving its skull into the ground with a crack. The boot's owner hopped off, turning to grin at the homeless boy. The newcomer was unnaturally pale, both of skin and of hair, and his eyes were a disconcertingly dead grey. He was dressed in an old hoodie that had clearly seen better days, worn over a grimy tee and a pair of tattered jeans.

The spawn twitched, launching itself back to its feet with a hiss to retaliate, only to meet another boot to the side of the head as the boy spun a kick at it. "Hey, stay down!" he snapped. "I dunno what hole you and your buddies crawled out of, but this is Revenant turf." The boy spat at the spawn, then sighed. "But you probably don't understand a word I'm saying. You're a mindless drone, right? Yeesh. Things like you give us dead folk a bad name, y'know?"

"Not as bad a name as you do," a second voice from the far end of the alley called. Another boy of similar pallor, slightly taller and with darker hair, had stepped into view. He smirked as the first boy turned to glower at him.

"Hey, show some respect to your elders, Arty," the first retorted. "D'you guys find the rest of them?"

"Think so. There weren't many left, after the paladins came through. Between you, me, Corby and Bex we've gotten a dozen or so. Might be more further out, but I've not heard any screaming." Arty shrugged. "You just gonna stand on that, or actually finish it?"

The first boy looked down, as though remembering the struggling creature. It had stared clawing at his leg without him noticing, digging a few gouges into his flesh. "Aw, man." He pressed down, and with a crunch, popped the spawn's skull under his foot. It went still. "I think these jeans are done for, now. They almost lasted three whole days." As he pulled his leg away, the wounds in it had already begun to close. Chuckling, he turned his attention back to the homeless boy. "Hey, there. Haven't seen you around here before, have I?"

The boy shook his head. "I ... I got kicked out yesterday. And some werewolves chased me in here last night ... I ..."

"Hey, hush, hush," the pale boy smiled, crouching down next to the homeless youth. "You can tell us when you've warmed yourself up by our fire, yeah? What's your name?"

"... Harry. Who are you? Are you ... human?"

"Hey, Harry. You can call me Ghast. And I was human, once. Still kind of am. I just breathe a bit less than I used to." He grinned as the boy's eyes widened, and he shrunk away a bit. "Hey, no need to be scared. I don't bite. And I get that that's a legit concern." Standing, Ghast offered the boy a hand. "Being dead's not so bad. Come on, we can talk more in the warm."

Harry eyed the hand warily for a few moments before tentatively taking it, and allowing the strange boy to help him to his feet.

Ghast grinned. "No running and screaming? Nice. I think we're gonna get along just fine." He looped an arm over the boy's shoulders and led him out of the alleyway towards Arty, and the three headed off back towards the run down building the Revenants called home. A new recruit? Ghast mused. Even if not, it was well past time that they started making their presence more known. Getting rid of the trash left behind by whatever the Church had been fighting here was a good start.

Nobody wanted anything to do with the Phantom Quarter. It was a dead district. So what better place for them to call their own? Like the werewolf packs protected their turf, starting today, the Revenants would protect theirs. Sure, it was mostly full of the homeless, drug addicts and dead bodies, but hey!

Everyone had to start somewhere, right?
 
Last edited:
Enter: The Corbeau Society
Written by LimeyPanda, glmstr, and Sentry

The Phantom Quarter. It was as putrid and run-down as ever. Homeless bums sprinkled the roads and shacks. Some were asleep, some were dead, and sometimes it was difficult to distinguish between the two.

Every building in sight was falling apart. Numerous floods and cheap construction had plucked apart a once decent neighborhood. People feared the Phantom Quarter for its hidden creatures. The helpless and lost were easy pluckings for werewolves, witches, and demons, and in the slums, no one cared to look for you.

Which was why the Corbeau Society was here.

Merlion stood in one of the Phantom Quarter's many dark alleyways, waiting in silence for...something. He was staring into a small glass vial filled with a murky silver liquid; all the while hoping for some sort of peace and quiet amongst his fellows. The vial itself was seemingly swimming with shavings of some strange, clumpy bronze substance; and the contents fizzed violently. "We're going to have to do this quietly, you two. No point trying to set up a foot-hold if every member of the City-guard knows where to find us."

Beneath a veritable mountain of shoddy overcoats and shawls and hobbling along one of the Quarter's many abandoned sidewalks with a gnarled wooden cane, Cyril was nearly indistinguishable from the other dregs that already inhabited the place. Those nearby could hear the shuffling of fabric, rhythmic tapping of his walking cane, and stray jingles of concealed metal that announced his movement.
He turned down the alley that housed Merlion, briefly glancing to the vial in his hands before looking back up at him. "Anyone in there is either already dead or too blitzed on dope to know what's going on."

"I wonder if they'd like to share," came a singsong voice from above. Sitting atop one of the broken walls of the slums was a young, dainty woman clad in a baggy hoodie. No doubt, she was the youngest of the three in both age and act. She kicked her feet gleefully, causing the building beneath her to noisily creak. "I mean, they're probably not gonna be able to use it soon. Right?"


"We'll move the ones we can spare along. Once they are gone, we can prepare a trap for the Monsters that roam this quarter. We want them to know that we are here and that this place is off limits to them. Merlion reached up with his spare hand and scratched his cheek. One of his many prominent scars itched under the attention, but he still did not break his gaze upon the vial. "Cyril, It'll be your job to perform Triage. Decide which ones can be re-homed and which are beyond saving. Nergüi , I want you to make a patrol of the area. Find out if there are any monsters nearby. If you find any, report back here. I want to make a show of force for the community. The Corbeau Society won't tolerate another beast praying on Humanity. Any questions?" He briefly looked past the vial to the pair; giving them a last chance to back out.

"Not necessarily, no," Cyril pivoted on his feet and hobbled towards one of the two buildings that immediately joined to make the alley he formerly stood in. While from the outside it looked secure, after peering through a broken store-front window he noticed several large cracks that spiderwebbed along the brick walls and several soggy patches of ceiling tile. The place was bound to fall apart if someone so much as stepped in the wrong spot or leaned against the wrong wall. A grunt of disapproval escaped Cyril's lips as he continued down the sidewalk.


The young lady held her hand up in the air eagerly. "Ohh! Oh, me! Do we want any prisoners?" she asked Merlion.

Merlion offers a slight smirk at Nergüi's question. "We're here to send a message,and that message doesn't offer a mercy clause."

Nergüi responded with a snicker and a salute. "Aye, captain!"

Leaning backwards, the woman disappeared into the shack. Only a few swift footsteps signaled her giddy departure for the hunt.
 
Next on the block was what must have been an apartment building, judging from the dozens of windows, most filthy or cracked or nonexistent, and the notably large and squarish exterior. From his spot outside there didn't seem to be any serious structural damage, a very promising start. From one of his pockets he produced a red aerosol can, giving it a quick shake before spray-painting a red X on the building's front door. From his new position, he could just barely make out the sounds of shouting and some sort of ruckus from the second floor.

Instead of moving inside, Cyril removed one of his multiple overcoats, then fished through his pouches to produce a wooden charm, not unlike a mask. He breathed over it, then placed the talisman in the hood of the removed coat. After a few seconds, the 'eyes' painted on the mask flickered with life, a wiry skeleton of glass, wood and scrap metal forming from nearby debris and standing up.

The next several buildings were visibly collapsed or missing large sections of walls, so the shaman did not bother. However, one building caught his eye. An old neon sign still stood outside it, "Pepe's Auto Repair". The building occupied a corner between two streets, with several stripped cars outside its openable garage, but the ribbed metal door was currently shut. The sounds of activity more readily permeated the building's walls, though, so Cyril remained at the sidewalk when he marked the ground outside with another X.
 
A merry hum pierced the depressing silence of the slums as Nergüi pranced through its maze. She had clumsily unholstered a shotgun as she skipped, though the weapon seemed nearly as large as herself. At first, there was nothing more incriminating than a gust of wind. Then, suddenly-

"Down by the banks of the hanky-panky!" she sang out, skidding into an alleyway. She frowned, hunching her shoulders. "Dammit. I thought I heard something..."

Nergüi froze and closed her eyes. There it was again: a soft scratching, like a dog pining on the front door. She let the sound guide her into one of the larger houses, each step a raucous complaint of her approach. She began to mumble under her breath as the sound got louder. She felt dust cover the insides of her lungs as it sprinkled from the ceiling. The scratching turned to thumping, the thumping turned to growling.

"With a hip... hop... soda-pop... twiddle-dee-dee..." Nergüi lifted her shotgun and aimed at the top of the stairs.

The door creaked open ever so slowly. Nergüi shook in anticipation, waiting for the figure behind it. She bounced on her heels.

... but when the door swung open, there was no one there. She drooped the end of her gun again, furrowing her brow.

She made her way upstairs cautiously, keeping her eyes peeled. Once she was on the second level, she checked behind the door.

Which promptly slammed shut in her face.

____________________________________________________________________________


Roughly an hour after she left, Nergüi was running back to Merlion's location. There had been several gunshots in the distance while she was away.

"Well, I think the message has been sent," she told Merlion. She pointed behind her.

Even from this distance, the burning building several blocks away lit up like the beacon of warning that they had hoped for. "There was a scary lady in there. She could move things without touching them, but she couldn't stop bullets!"
 
Not long after her return, the shambling mystic rounded a corner back into their original alleyway with not one, but two wiry totem guardians following him. "There are several houses that are abandoned and seem usable, but two larger buildings as well: an apartment complex and an auto repair shop. Both sound like they have something in them, but they'd be much better to set up shop in."
 
Immediately after escaping the hospital, Savien donned his armor and went to the Phantom Quarter. He figured he had twenty minutes before his nurse came back and realized he was missing. That gave him ample time to take a cab to the Monastery, gear up and get back on the road. It was difficult arming himself with his left arm in a sling, but he did the best he could.

Savien told himself he needed to scout the area in which he'd battled Nox, search for clues ... but he drove straight through the perimeter into the heart of the quarter, the epicenter of the battleground. He walked the rubble of the building where his bike had landed, stooped near the gravel where the monster had nearly taken his eye. Here and there the rock were flecked with spots of brown. Dried blood. His, most likely.

"All units," the radio on his destroyer squawked to life, "we have a sighting in the Phantom Quarter, 5th and Varxia, suspect identified as Morden Sinlendral."

Savien returned and mounted bike.

"Control, this is Savien. I'm in the quarter, heading towards the crossstreets now."

"Sir Durandet? You're... not cleared for duty, right? You shouldn't-"

"I'm already in the area," he retorted, trying to swallow the growl in his throat. "Send backup if you must, but I'm not giving up this opportunity. Not with him."

Morden. Once, a paladin - a knight. Savien had worked with him on a few occasions. But now? If the evidence was true, then Sinlendral had killed his brother and broken just about every law the Order upheld. He'd been on the run for months. Perhaps tonight he would at last be caught.

Savien pulled his bike up to the warehouse, a dilapidated two-story flat that had one manufactured glass bottles. He dismounted and strode to the entrance, taking a quick survey of the lobby through the window before bursting through the front door. His lawkeeper was trained forward with his good hand.

"Morden! his voice boomed through the hallways of the warehouse. Stealth was pointless - anyone would have heard his destrier approach.
 
Morden had taken up residence in this warehouse the night he escaped the Order. There had been people living here before but they were the kind of people it was alright to get rid of. Since then, this had been his home. He rarely left during day light hours since he was much better at blending in with the shadows. Today he had gone out into the light to take care of a target he'd had his eye on for a while but that was a mistake. He had torn his radio from destrier before leaving the order, just to help him keep track of their movements. He hadn't heard any notice of them being in the Quarter today and so thought it safe to go out. Oh well. If it was a fight they wanted they'd get it, but he was a slippery one. If he had a chance of losing them he would and he'd simply find a new place to hide until the coast was clear.

He was lucky though, only one paladin had shown up. This was too easy. Morden was lying in wait, watching the paladin from the shadows. he recognized Savien from the few times they worked together. He didn't really like him. Didn't think he really was as just as he thought himself to be.
 
"Come out, Morden," Savien called as he walked through the warehouse. He kept the walls, careful not to wander into a spot with any vantage points. "In the name of whatever honor you have left, come out."

He rounded a corner, gun aimed forward. His sword was belted to his hip. He didn't know how quickly he could draw it. He hoped he wouldn't have to find out.

"In your brother's name, come out."
 
Morden watched as Savien walked past him. He had already drawn his sword before he came in and was planning on attacking from behind. That last statement caught his attention though. It amused him. He let out a low dark chuckle that seemed to echo and reverberate through the empty space.

"Hehehe, in his name? Why would I come out for someone who is long dead? Hm?"
 
Savien wheeled. He couldn't pin exactly where the voice had come from, but he knew it was from somewhere behind him. Close, too. He holstered his gun and drew his blade, wielding it one-handed. If Morden got the drop, then his pistol would be of less use than his sword.

"You ought to know, Morden. You're the one that killed him," Savien pressed further, walking slowly back the way he came. "Did you feel any guilt at all? When you betrayed your brother?" His footsteps echoed in the hall. "When you betrayed your oath? Your honor?"
 
He frowned as Savien spoke, trying to make him feel guilt. He had nothing to feel guilty for.

"I betrayed him? He betrayed me! I asked him to leave the order with me but he refused. he wanted to continue to uphold all those false ideals you all follow and that oath that you all seem to think places you above the law. I've seen paladins do unjust things to innocent people and claim it was for the good of Lutetia or that they were just following orders. You all act as though you're champions for justice, but you are oppressors who turn a blind eye to the evils you refuse to see in this city. You only protect the people you wish to protect. you are not knights. You are tyrants."

Morden was stepping silently around Savien, blending in with the shadows in the lightless warehouse. He threw his voice, making it echo in odd places all around them.
 
Savien honed his senses, slowly but surely getting closer to Morden the more he spoke. He needed to keep him talking - get him angry. They make mistakes when they're angry.

"Cut the shit, Morden," Savien snarled, "you're not doing this out of some 'savior' complex. I've seen your case records - the perps who ended up dead on your watch, the criminals you've slaughtered without a trial. You're not a hero, fighting the corruption of the Monastic Order. You're a fucking monster. You kill because you want to."

He honed in on a particular corner where he thought Morden was hiding - backstepping towards it, offering the betrayer his flank. Bait.

"Wonder if that's why you killed Mistigun," the ghost of a grin cracked Savien's lips, "he was good. Noble. Everything you aren't. He was always better than you."
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top