Rea Family/Dancer/A Little Bit Of Truth

A Little Bit of Truth 1

The scroll turned to dust in his hands. Again. He growled, crunching the rapidly disappearing scraps of paper in his fist. He had known he was out of practice, but this was ridiculous. By Akkan, nearly half of the scrolls had disintegrated, the other half whispering across the breeze, rather then the earthquakes and hellfire he was used to. He looked to the horizon, glazed eyes staring into the sunset. He could see the coast from here, his city of Rines peaking out from behind the spiraling towers of Grehk off to the east. The sea breeze whistled quietly across the coast as the sun set, licking it's way up the the hillside Dancer stood on. He could taste his homeland in the breeze. It made him feel nostalgic, faint echos of his past flashing through his mind. He growled again. He'd made his choice then, when Riombara fell.

He'd stripped to only his trousers, and inked infernal runes runes across his body in blood, the goat carcass discarded a little ways down the hill. He'd carved circles of true daemon worship across the hillside, blood and dirt mingling in grotesque patterns speaking of death and ruin. His scars stood out across his back in the waning light, visible proof of his dedication. He remembered walking to the post that day, the crisp morning air raising goosebumps across his bare skin. He couldn't even remember why he'd been punished anymore. Just that he had failed, failed his Brothers, failed the Lords. He remembered tossing and turning in the healer's tent, fading in and out of consciousness. They'd been given strict instruction only to keep his wounds clean. He'd lived through every agonizing second of the pain, screaming into the darkness. Never again. He narrowed his eyes, staring right into the red streaks when the sun had set moments before. He had no direction from his Lords, no contact from the netherworld. His brothers had not returned this time. He was entirely alone. He snorted in disgust. He may not have any orders, but he knew. He knew what the biggest Lie on the continent was. He grinned into the rapidly fading light. He'd do what he'd always done, and root our the Liers and Pretenders. Obia'Syela would fall. He would drag it into hell himself. A cackle rose from his breast, a mad howl taking over as he rose from the ground. He roared into the countryside, into his home, defiled by the Liers.

Sickly red lines began to travel from his bare feet, tracing the lines from the summoning circles. The goat, innards still spilling out from where it had been eviscerated, rose drunkenly, eyes growing the same sick red. Dancer quieted down, grinning at the goat. It would spread, over time. Let the Liars deal with some invaders. His signature wolfish grin spread across his face. He had two scrolls left. He had a few ideas to make them more successful.

A Little Bit of Truth 2

• Continuation of RP a few days ago, making a mess of the Grand Inquisitor's hillside

He had set off straight away, but not to the coast. He needed ... more, for his final two scrolls, something to really raise the dead from their slumber. There was a small town nearby, nestled below an imposing castle. While it was quite the walk, he made it there in record time, nearly bouncing with what he had planned. Dan slunk around the edges, searching. Darkness had fell fully during his travel, and the peasants had gone to bed. First, he found the smithy, unguarded. He procured additional materials for his ritual, wrapping the metal in cloth to keep his pilfering activities quiet. It took him a long while to haul the materials back to the hill, and longer to haul them to the top. He sat for a moment, resting his body. His legs were on fire, his arms numbed from the shoulders. He wasn't as spry as he had used to be, and all the heavy lifting was accentuating that fact. He hadn't gotten a workout like this since before he woke from his dirt covered prison. He looked back towards the hamlet, hidden around the side of a mountain and rows of tall trees. Earlier, he'd scouted out a small merchants house, near the edge of town. The next part would be harder, but it would be much more satisfying.

It was quite a ways past midnight now, the stars of his homeland shining down. The house sat on the very edge of the town, backed up to the woods. He dispatched the single man the merchant employed with a quick slice of his dagger. It'd been a long time since he'd done anything like this either. Fortuitously, dulling his sight had sharpened his other senses. Darkness cloaked the cultist's movements as he slipped in a side door, his fingers easily picking the simple lock. He went upstairs first, ghosting up the stairs, and through a short corridor. Only one room had its door shut, making his job even simpler. His face broke into a grin as he peeked his head inside the door. The merchant and his wife slept, side by side. He could hear them breathing, like an orchestra playing slightly out of sync. He slipped out of the doorframe, softly closing the door. He refrained from latching it again, simply letting it sit slightly ajar. Like a cougar, he slide into a nearby open room, crouching down, and waiting. He only had to wait a little less then an hour, before he heard the unmistakable sounds of someone shuffling to use the loo. He waited, just a little more. Just enough to let the shuffling go towards the other end of the hallway....

A Little Bit of Truth 3

• Continuation of RP a few days ago, making a mess of the Grand Inquisitor's hillside

Both the merchant and his wife had gone down easily, the wife, choked to unconsciousness on her way to relive herself, and the merchant, similarly dispatched with a pillow. He smiled his trademark wolfish grin. It had gone much better then he'd hoped, with almost no struggle. He hadn't even had to kill anyone, save the guard outside. These Pretenders really were coddling the masses. He made his two trips, moving both unconscious people to the first floor, near his ingress. He stopped for a moment, surveying the short grass strip outside. The town was quite, the night guard long past. He hurried the man across first, glancing quickly for any lights, listening for any footsteps. He returned to the woman, hoisting her on his shoulder. He turned, ready to rush the grass again, when he heard a soft cry. He crouched, placing the woman down as quickly as he dared. He waited, closing his eyes, crouched just inside the door. The soft warble echoed though the house again, echoing out of one of the first floor rooms. Dan pulled his dagger, stalking the first floor warily. Another, slightly louder warble rose from inside one of the ground floor rooms. He took a hushed breath, and pushed his way through the offending door.

Instead of danger, however, he found a small bassinet, teeny babe squirming inside. He curled his lip, disgust rising from deep within him. He hadn't even considered what to do with a child. He stood awkwardly inside the nursery, perplexed on what to do about this new development. He couldn't leave it, it would cry unattended and alert the town watch. The child cried, louder this time. In one motion, Dancer flashed across the room, scooping the child up, cradled it. The child quieted, and stared at him with baleful blue eyes. Dancer blinked, surprised at himself. He hadn't touched a babe, not since his little brother was born, many many years ago. The child made a small hiccup, burbling goo all over Dancer's shirt. He stood there, staring into the child's eyes. "Oh for Jomorosh's sake." He mumbled to himself. It's not like he could leave it alone anyways. He dug around the room, finally finding a sling for the babe, and seating it on his back. "Cry and I'll tear your toenails off" he growled at the child. The child hiccuped again, getting baby slobber in Dancer's hair. He ignored the mini shower, returning to the door on the side of the house. He looked down at the woman, and sighed. He hefted her in his arms, rushing the grass gauntlet only slightly slower.