|
Post by luscen on Feb 21, 2020 9:42:21 GMT -6
Nunavant was not a place Casmir liked to visit. The Canadian province was extremely cold, very rural, and relatively low in terms of human population, which meant there was little to see or do out there. And while normally the Hunter wasn't one to seek out social activity, even he needed a pub to crawl into from time to time, or a museum to peruse, or a library to mull about. This place would definitely not be on anyone's "top ten must-see" list, as it was.
And besides that fact, with so much wilderness on hand, that meant one was far more likely to come across something that didn't really want the Human Element to get too familiar with its territory. This was the proverbial edge of civilization, after all- a place where there were no loud cars, dirty smoke, or children running around yelling and screaming; a perfect haven where those closer to nature could be left alone. And Canada certainly wasn't isolated from its myths and urban legends; here in the Great White North, the local natives – the Inuit – had their own creatures of legend that they gave proper respect to.
Which was why Casmir was currently seated near the mouth of a great cave in the tundra-like forested area of the province. Dressed in a heavy coat, buttoned tight to keep as much precious warmth in as possible, the scarred Hunter had also opted for a thermal scarf, goggles, and a cap. The goggles were thankfully prepped with a night-vision filter, which allowed him to see his surroundings fairly clearly in spite of the pervasive darkness; in an under-populated area such as this, artificial light was practically nonexistent. And while the view of the Aurora Borealis amidst a starry sky over the waters was a breath-taking sight, this part of the hinterlands was shrouded with a heavy gloom. Locals knew to stay away from this place, especially at night. To do otherwise was to draw the attention of one of those creatures of legend: The Amaroq.
Casmir, for his part, was never one to draw attention to himself. But sometimes he had to go against his better nature. This was one of those times.
How long he had been resigned to wait, he wasn't sure. What he did know was that this was the right spot- he could feel it in the air. The presence of powerful Supernaturals often left a mark on the landscape to those who knew what to look for. A kind of... tingle in the air, as it were. Something like lingering static electricity. And the Hunter could feel the hair on the back of his neck standing up, for sure. Whether that meant the Amaroq was presently home or not, was hard to say. The local Inuit hadn't said much to him, as it was not their custom to speak about such things with those who weren't of their tribe. In this day and age, some people might have considered such a thing grossly xenophobic, but Casmir knew it not to be anything of the sort; rather, it came from difficulty generated between lingual and cultural barriers. It was like trying to describe a color to a blind person- where would you even begin to find the words to explain what “red” was to someone who couldn't see? You might as well try teaching a dog to meow, for all the good it would do. Such was the predicament the natives faced when trying to explain these things to those who weren't familiar with their beliefs; better to simply refrain from attempting it altogether, and leave it at that.
Regardless of the "why," the Inuit's inherent reticence was still troublesome. Casmir liked to be prepared- the more the better usually. And while he knew some of the Amaroq's habits and nature, his information was painfully limited. He had set things up as best he could in the meantime, but until things actually started rolling, he wouldn't know how this was going to go down, and the uncertainty was one of his least favorite things. That and the cold; he really should consider mov-
The Hunter suddenly tensed, but didn't look behind him- he could feel a change in the air, a weight that meant someone else besides him was present. So when a voice spoke, he wasn't all that surprised: 'Well is your kind known for its lack of respect, Son of Man,' it said, the tones old with the weight of antiquity, but tinged with the hint of a threat that only those intimately familiar with the laws of nature could possibly carry. 'But even I wouldn't expect to find one of you seated on the threshold of my domain so brazenly.'
Casmir didn't turn, but kept his back straight and his hands on his knees. “Greetings, Great Spirit,” he replied, keeping his tone level and proper, his voice muffled slightly through the fabric of his thermal mask. “My apologies if I come across as conceited, but I was tasked to come and find you. And given your reputation, I had thought it would be better if I made my presence known first, rather than skulk about like an unwelcome intruder.”
A sharp huff of breath blew across the ground, followed by the sound of great paws scraping at the frozen soil. 'A paltry effort, but more honest than most, at least,' the voice growled, begrudgingly. 'And who was it that sent you to find me, then?'
Casmir resisted the urge to turn around. Had the thing wanted to attack, it would have done so, by now. Still, he didn't like having this thing out of eye-shot. “An old Angakkuq* named Isapoinhkyaki. She is performing a boon for me, and in return asked of me to plead a blessing from you.”
There was a sound of something sniffing the air, followed by a brief bit of a strange, wheeze series of breaths. The thing almost sounded like it was... chortling?
'I know of the one whom you speak,' came the reply. 'She is a good woman, well-practiced in the Old Ways, before you and yours came to burn it away like so much compost. But you cannot fool me, Son of Man; you are not here solely on the errand of a Singing Crow- What else brought you here?' A low growl, and the sensation of teeth bared. 'Before you reply, a word of warning given for your gesture of respect: Do not try and fool me. You will not have time to regret the attempt.'
Casmir shook his head. “It seems the stories about you were true,” he replied, standing up but keeping his back towards the Spirit. “Nothing is hidden under your gaze." He rolled his shoulder in a brief shrug. "Very well- though if I may? I would prefer to make my request face-to-face, Great Spirit.”
'You make demands as readily as the goose makes noise,' The beast huffed dismissively. 'But very well; face me, Son of Man.'
“Thank you,” Casmir replied, turning to look upon the Spirit properly: The Amaroq was a massive wolf, easily towering over him at a staggering 8 feet in height at the shoulder, and that was when it was on all fours. He couldn't tell from this angle, but he could guess that the thing was probably about 16 feet from nose to tail. Its pelt was a pitch black, with strange red and white markings around its ears and mouth, giving its face an unsettling visage akin to that of a tribal mask. The eyes, however, were a stark white, like that of the moon, and its gaze was sharp and piercing- so much so that the Hunter felt the urge to avert his eyes away from its intensity. Casmir wondered if the sensation were due to a a magical effect, but decided that this was something deeper than that, older and more primal than a simple spell or trick; The Amaroq's searching gaze could simply lay bare the layers of secrecy about a person with the same ease a child would peel an banana.
“The truth,” the Hunter began, keeping his eyes on the great beast before him. “Is that I am in pursuit of a very strong foe. One that might be even more powerful than you, with respect.” The great wolf made no reply save for a flick of its ear. “So then, knowing this, if I can't withstand you, o Amaroq, then surely I can't hope to succeed in my own Hunt.”
The wolf spirit tilted its head upwards, looking down its nose at Casmir, its nostrils flaring slightly. 'You seek me out to test your mettle?' It asked, flicking its tail in bemusement. 'Truly, I know not whether to commend you for recognizing your weakness, or to bite your head off for your arrogance, Son of Man. Know you, that I am the One who punishes the Hunter taken by hubris? They who would impudently skulk about at night, alone, to hide their greed from their fellows, while proclaiming themselves without fear... such fools are my prey. Should you wish my blessing, know that I will not give it so easily, after having heard your reasoning.' The wolf stood, now, ears slanted back along its skull. It let out a short, challenging bark. 'What is your answer, Son of Man?'
Casmir smirked beneath his mask, spreading his hands wide. “I believe you already know, great Amaroq.”
|
|
|
Post by MP on Feb 23, 2020 1:17:37 GMT -6
Now this was really interesting. To meet the wolf on his knees and with his vulnerable back, and then announce his challenge to its face - it was the kind of confidence that marked a plan, or else supreme stupidity. Stories of the Mongoose did not suggest a fool, but the fact remained that humans were small and slow and very fragile. This was a kind of boldness he rarely saw, and Sarkany almost hoped the man would get away with it.
Of course, he'd have to kill him after.
The tiercel drifted sideways to keep pace with a wisp of cloud. Not long ago, he'd found a little toy on the phone of a less fortunate hunter. The toy led him to names and faces and contracts, in particular a contract for one Mountain Devil - claimed. The day he'd taken the contract, Casmir had earned a hunter of his own. Sarkany had followed his exploits, tracked his hunts, and he'd tailed this latest mark until it put him on the trail of the man. Casmir wasn't the first to seek the Mountain Devil, but he was the easiest to find, thanks to the hunter's phone. Now the tiercel hovered over a mile up, watching the confrontation below.
Sarkany considered moving first. He could hit the man at a dive, faster than any bird, and be home in time for breakfast. But if Casmir was as formidable as his many hunts suggested, he could have prepared for surprises. With wards or magics or allies in wait. One should never rush when hunting a predator. So the tiercel only flattened his mane and watched. Better the man to expend his resources and energy on another beast. Show his skills. Spring his traps. And if he were honest, Sarkany wanted to see him back up that boldness.
|
|
|
Post by luscen on Mar 28, 2020 7:06:05 GMT -6
The massive wolf leapt with a deafening bark, fangs bared in a wide bite. Had Casmir not been watching the beast's motions, he likely would have been dead in less than a breath. The moment the Amaroq moved, however, he was already ducking down and rolling forward. The spirit crashed to earth again in a spray of powder and permafrost, twisting its colossal body around in a rush of air to catch sight of its prey. The Hunter, in reply, had his shotgun at the ready, pumping a few choice rounds into the canine's face, the silence of the wood shattered with the violent crack of weapon fire.
The beast didn't so much as flinch from the assault, the shells pelting harmless off its hide as if Casmir had lobbed some snowballs at it instead of a few rounds capable of tearing through an engine block as though it were tissue paper. Had the wolf expected Casmir to falter from this development, however, it was going to be disappointed- the Hunter's mismatched eyes simply kept an impassive bead on his target, watching for what the beast was going to do next.
The wait wasn't long. White eyes blazing, the Amaroq gave an aggressive lash of its tail, sending forth another fresh spray of snow. Hunkering down, it surged forward, advancing rapidly in a series of small hops each with a snap of its jaws for accompaniment, its white orbs leaving behind ghostly trails in the monster's wake. Casmir danced backwards, barely dodging the wolf's strikes, returning fire as best he could. 'So much for those mines I set,' he thought to himself, pumping another few rounds and ducking under another bite. 'Can the damn dog see those, too?'
One lucky blow caught the beast in its eye, causing it to recoil with an annoyed grunt. Rather than run for cover he knew wouldn't save him in the face of the spirit's preternatural perception, Casmir instead threw a grenade with a quick flick of his arm. The explosive hit the Amaroq square in its face, making the trees shudder from the blast and drawing an aggravated growl from the frustrated monster. Unfortunately, it seemed the grenade had done little but singe its fur and increase its frustration with the scarred Hunter, but Casmir took advantage of the breather to swap his bullets out with a different set. He fired a fresh shot as the Amaroq lunged again, and this time was rewarded with a spray of blood as the new rounds pierced the creature's pelt, making it howl in pain and fury, hopping back a few paces to avoid taking more damage.
'Looks like those silver bullets with the hagalaz rune were a good call...' Casmir thought to himself. Being a spiritual entity, the Amaroq likely didn't fend well against the purified metal or the ancient banishment rune inscribed on it. Whatever the cause of its sudden vulnerability, the great wolf was not happy; it hunched low to the ground now, flicking its ears and gauging the Hunter with a more wary eye. Casmir tried pressing his advantage, firing off a few more rounds, but – much to his surprise and chagrin – the great beast managed to twist around or duck under each of the projectiles, almost as though it were able to trace their trajectory.
'Great,' Casmir thought to himself as he reloaded. 'I guess it can see that too. And the damn thing's still somehow evading the mines! It's like a bloody ballerina, for god's sake!' He tried to angle around to its flank, to have a bigger target to work with, but the Amaroq was too fast for him by half. It suddenly bent its head down and rammed its shoulder into the Hunter, hard, knocking him away and across the ground in a few rough bounces. Had he not reinforced his armor with a few protective charms, the force of the blow would have left Casmir with a crushed ribcage and choking to death on his own blood.
As it was, he simply had the breath knocked out of his lungs- though odds were he was probably going to be bruising by the morrow. The sound of paws springing across the span caused him to duck on reflex, listening to his instincts; they served him well, as the wolf's great jaws snapped around the tree trunk just above where his head had been a moment ago. Bark rent, clattering around Casmir's shoulder, and the wood of the unfortunate evergreen groaned in painful protest from the wolf's powerful jaws.
Casmir leapt away from the spirit while it was occupied, ready for it to release the tree and leap at him again. The Amaroq, however, had other ideas: muscles straining, the beast slowly tore the tree up by its roots in a great display of strength, ripping the evergreen out of the ground in a spatter of dirt and stone. It angled around, holding the tree in its mouth like a massive club, white eyes aflame as it likely prepared to smash the Hunter flat- there wasn't be any way Casmir'd be able to avoid something that big and that fast, once the wolf swung its impromptu weapon.
Which is why he chose to depress the the trigger in his hand, activating the land mine buried just beneath the Amaroq's feet via a sonic pulse. The mine chain-reacted with another active mine near the remote one, creating a double-blast that shook the ground with a deafening roar and sent a shock-wave ripping along Casmir's body, sending his coat snapping backwards from the sudden wind.
|
|
|
Post by MP on Mar 29, 2020 13:29:58 GMT -6
Yellow eyes widened so as not to miss a moment of the action. Snow kicked up in sheets. Feet churned the snowbank. The tiercel craned forward at the sight, silent and intent. The eyes of a Sahar were unparalleled at tracking movement, and he could appreciate the full details of just how narrowly the teeth missed their mark, or how quickly the hunter moved. The man had good instincts, good reflexes. The safest thing would be to hit him at a dive - one quick lash. It almost seemed a shame.
Below, the wolf tore an entire tree loose with a crackle of roots and hoarfrost, audible even from this distance. Sarkany's jaws parted, teeth clicking lightly together in anticipation. Let's see the human get out of that one.
That was when the blasts erupted from the snow, taking both beasts by surprise. Sarkany tipped his head at the field below, reassessing disturbed patches of snow here and there about the field. He watched the hunter place them, but he hadn't caught all of the preparations. It seemed the dog hadn't either. Another notch of respect. It wasn't easy to steer your enemy while protecting your own throat. Not on human legs. And the man had placed them cleverly, placed them early, so that disturbances didn't necessarily mark the mine.
A confrontation here, he thought as the snow settled, would not be ideal. If by some chance he didn't take the man with one dive, whether from the armor or the curious durability the man seemed to have, it would mean a fight in human shape on dangerous terrain. Sarkany had no intention of an extended fight in his natural shape - no intention of letting this hunter get the measure of his abilities, and the abilities of his Icarim packmates. And he preferred to compartmentalize his shapes - human for battle, tiercel for living. Enemies should not connect the two.
Wait, he decided. Let the human expend his ammo and wards and energy here. Let him trek back through the forest. Let him lower his guard. While these traps were present, this territory was as much the hunter's as the dog's. And one should always try to fight on one's own ground.
|
|
|
Post by luscen on Apr 22, 2020 9:59:55 GMT -6
The Hunter chanced a look over his upheld arm as the dust started to clear off. For a long, tense moment, there was no sign of disturbance from within the haze. Casmir wondered for a moment if that had been enough, when a sudden groaning of wood snapped his attention to a certain spot in the dust clouds. With a curse, his flung himself down to the ground as the tree the Amaroq had uprooted came crashing through the soot. As it smashed into the foliage behind him, Casmir looked up to see the massive wolf's form still standing, its eyes glowing with fury and frustration.
'Bloody hell,' The Hunter thought, impressed and annoyed in equal measure. 'Dog's built like a damn panzer...'
The canine let off a bristling growl as it bent low to the ground, then launched itself at the Hunter. Casmir, meanwhile, wasted no time hitting his detonator again, triggering another manually-activated mine, but the beast nimbly leapt to the side, dodging the blast without so much as slowing its stride. 'Damn wolf can see those now, too, huh?' he thought, trying to catch the Amaroq with another trick blast from a proximity mine piggy-backed from a manual one. It's uncanny perception, however, seemed to sense the subtle shifts in the environment that occurred right before a mine detonated, and it was apparently using that information to find safe spots to avoid both the active mines alongside the inactive one- it pulled up short from this particularly loud blast, before leaping at Casmir out of the resulting dust cloud, fangs bared.
The Hunter tried to distance himself, wending around the trees and firing off a few rounds from his shotgun while triggering another mine. The Amaroq ducked the first assault while leaping away from the other once more, its preternatural ocular powers making it practically impossible to hit it with either firearm or booby trap.“Hmph,” Casmir grunted, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Guess that means I'm down to the wire, then...” Apparently, despite the fact that he was very likely out of his depth, he was enjoying this.
The Hunter tossed aside the now-useless detonator and his holstered his shotgun. As the Amaroq advanced, Casmir placed body low to the ground and rushed towards his quarry, sword drawn. The massive wolf's jaws descended towards Casmir, but he nimbly side-stepped the attack, swinging the slightly curved blade of his faschinenmesser around in a silvery arc that bit into its neck, drawing blood. The wolf yelped in unexpected pain, dancing back and putting distance between Casmir and his unexpectedly painful weapon, keeping itself low to the ground. Rather than pull back or regroup, however, the blonde went on the offensive, pressing his advantage. The wolf spirit twisted and shied away from the blade, though one lucky clip managed to lop off the tip of its ear. The loss of the ear tip apparently stoked the wolf's anger; it lashed its tail with a fierce growl, leaping for Casmir and intent to make the human pay for its pain.
What followed was an almost beautiful yet bloody duet between the two, Casmir chipping away at the massive creature while dodging its deadly jaws and powerful paws, stabbing and slicing away at it in what seemed to be a literal attempt of a death by a thousand cuts. It was a dangerous dance, all things considered, one that heavily favored the Amaroq and its great strength, as a single good bite would be all it took to end the Hunter's life, wards or no. But the blonde proved to be quick-footed enough to stay one step ahead of the spirit, using its larger size to his advantage while in melee range, where it was harder for the Amaroq to completely avoid his opponent's movements.
As he continued to hack at the great wolf, Casmir's hand slipped into his coat, drawing a small, copper dagger with an azurite gem embedded in the hilt. He swayed back from another attempted bite, stabbing back in retaliation and forcing the wolf to veer away from him, exposing its flank. He quickly stepped in, plunging the dagger into the wolf's hindquarters, before dancing backwards again, away from the beast's retaliatory snap. Darting around to the beast's other side, he pulled out another dagger, plunging it into the opposite flank as the first. While it was hard to tell if the wolf could feel the blades piercing him beyond Casmir's own slashes, the Amaroq was no less frustrated from both the pain of the Hunter's sword as well as its inability to sink its fangs into the Hunter's flesh.
Rearing up, the Amaroq slammed its paws back down, sending a small tremor rippling through the ground beneath Casmir's feet, forcing the Hunter to brace himself; As such, he barely avoided having his head bit off as a result, but a quick counter-strike against the wolf's cheek, forced it to back off, slightly. The blonde pressed his offensive again, drawing a third dagger from his coat and plunging it into the beast's shoulder, before pulling away with another covering slash of his sword. The black beast snarled in fury, chasing after Casmir, who darted around to the other side in order to keep ahead of it. While all seemed fine, however, Casmir's stamina was wearing thin, and the longer this dragged on, the more risk he put himself in.
He needed to finish this now, otherwise his opponent would.
Pulling out one last dagger, again identical to the previous three, Casmir swung his sword with one hand and plunged the dagger into the beast's opposing shoulder with the other. Having finally placed his last piece, he grabbed a small stone from his coat, dashing it against the ground with a powerful invocation.
“NIGATCHIAQTUQ!”*
Flashes of bluish-white energy sparked from the hilts of the daggers in the wake of the spell, forming chains of light that bolted themselves to the ground, lightning and magical power crackling and surging through the air in angry jolts. The wolf, caught in the Hunter's trap, snarled and struggled as the magical bindings pulled its massive body towards the ground, though the monstrous spirit tried to resist with everything it had. Casmir gripped his blade as he watched his foe sink inexorably down, stepping around to the wolf's flank, watching for any sign of failings within the binding. He had gone to great lengths to fashion these implements, as a creature of the Amaroq's power was not to be handled with second-rate tools. But even with all the prior arrangements in the world, the unexpected could still happen.
The blonde cursed the stray notion, coming to a pause as he watched the massive wolf's muscles clench, its entire body straining. Slowly, it pulled against its bindings, digging its paws into the ground to brace itself. Then, with an abrupt upward snap of its head, it let forth a howl so great that the air around Casmir seemed to tremble. The Hunter's hands flew to his ears to block out the din, as the bindings wavered. Then, with an resounding SNAP! that pierced the air, the daggers all shattered, the now-wild magic exploding outwards and blowing the Hunter off his feet. Grunting heavily and slowly pushing himself up to his feet, Casmir clenched his sword, panting. He'd been pushing himself to his limits during this bout, and the effort of staying ahead of the Amaroq's jaws was beginning to catch up to him.
The black wolf, for its part, looked equally worse for wear; its hide was singed and smoking, its fur matted in places where Casmir's sword had torn it open, tongue lolling heavily, and its tail drooping to the ground from the effort of shattering Casmir's attempted snare. Apparently it hadn't been a simple trick to break such a strong binding, even for a being of its vaunted strength. Regardless of its tired state, however, the wolf's eyes still blazed like stars, glaring at the Hunter with equal parts fury and respect. 'You... bear the will of the stone... Son of Man,' it growled, hackles raising. 'But this contest is not over.'
“We're both well spent, Great Wolf,” Casmir replied breathlessly, a small smirk tugging at his lips and a laugh in his voice. “Either your jaws find my flesh, or will my sword cut open your neck.”
'Perhaps,' the wolf retorted. 'But my jaws can find more than your flesh!'
With a lash of its tail, the Amaroq turned and bolted into the woods, fleeing the scene. Rather than look relieved, however, Casmir's eyes widened in alarm. Despite his aching body's protests, the blonde took off after the Wolf like a bullet. The beast had the greater lead, however, and no matter how hard he ran, Casmir found he couldn't close the gap in the slightest.
'I'll never catch up to him!' he thought frantically. 'Not like this anyway!' Nonetheless, he kept running, shoving his hands into his pocket and grabbing a pair of small scrolls. He had an idea to cross the gulf, reckless though it was; Such a foolish tactic would probably get him killed, but he didn't have time to get to his rented motorcycle- the act itself would have cost him precious seconds, and more pertinently he would have lost sight of the wolf's tail, which was the only means he had of keeping track of it.
Simply put, it was either this or he was a dead man.
His ill-advised decision made, Casmir leapt into the air, unfurling the first scroll, which turned out to be a high-quality Gust cantrip. A surge of powerful wind from the enhanced spell bolstered his jump, sending him arching half a dozen feet into the air. As he reached the apex of his “flight,” he grabbed a grappling gun from his belt and then used the second scroll, which shot him through the air like a rocket, bringing him within closing distance of the Amaroq. Not having the time to aim carefully, the Hunter fired at the massive wolf's back, which served as the largest target. The iron hook pierced the air, snagging the Amaroq's scruff. Angling his fall, Casmir gripped the cable, using to guide him and landing on the beast's back.
The wolf's ear flicked, but it didn't bother trying to throw him off, instead hunching low to the ground and putting on a fresh burst of speed. Casmir clung to its pelt, trying to keep his grip as the wolf's surging pace thumped into his stomach, threatening to knock the wind out of him. His arms feeling like they were going to be ripped out of his sockets, the Hunter put one hand over the other, crawling along the wolf's back and up to its head. He could see the edge of a lake coming up quickly, which left him precious little time. He moved as fast as he could, slipping once, but managing to hold on. The wolf practically threw itself at the shore, leaping through the air and landing in a heavy scattering of sand and debris. It lowered its head to the lake, jaws grasping something beneath the surface of the water.
'Shit!' Casmir cursed mentally. He scrabbled the last few legs up to the Amaroq's neck, clinging to it with one hand, while the other drew a long, obsidian dagger. He aimed for the back of the wolf's skull, as trying to strike from the top wouldn't do any good. The canine began to tug whatever it had caught from beneath the water up, however, and Casmir's heart stopped beating for a moment, eliciting a sharp groan of pain from the Hunter. His weapon-carrying hand flinched towards his breast, and through pain-narrowed eyes he saw what the beast was pulling up from the water: it was a ghostly blue image of himself- his soul slowly being torn from his body by the spirit's otherworldly powers. The Hunter panted through clenched teeth, fighting to keep himself whole and intact for even a few moments longer, though each passing second he felt his vision growing darker.
He had to end this. Now!
With a defiant yell, Casmir drove the dagger point into the base of the Amaroq's skull, piercing the spirit's flesh. The wolf cried out in pain, its jaws relinquishing its hold on the Hunter's watery soul. Casmir felt strength return to him in a fresh rush of adrenaline, and he drew the blade out and plunged it in again, causing the wolf to thrash, throwing him off. He felt to the ground with a grunt, only to curse and roll away in haste as the massive beast fell to the ground with a heavy thud that shook the branches of the nearby trees. The forest lay deathly quiet, save for the blowing of the wind across the dark surface of the lake.
Panting heavily from the stress of the moment, Casmir stood, though he didn't manage to make it all the way upright; Shoulders stooped, breathless and feeling light-headed, the Hunter's eye was drawn to the Amaroq's body by the sound of its low, canine chucking.
'You fight boldly, Son of man...' it muttered quietly, sounding amused. 'Perhaps too much, so. But I must commend you, all the same...'
Casmir hobbled forward, before sinking to his knee. “You weren't exactly a pushover yourself, Great Wolf.” he replied glibly.
'Indeed... And yet you stand, and I fall...' The canine closed its eyes and huffed disparagingly. 'So be it. You would ask of me a blessing, Son of Man, and so I give it to you: my eye, take it and carry it back to the Singing Crow. She is of the Old Ways, she will understand.'
The Hunter's eyes narrowed in consideration, but he did as he was instructed, stepping closer to the wolf's large head. Kneeling down, Casmir drew his sword and carefully extracted the eye from the spirit's socket. It was heavier than in looked, and glowed softly in the darkness, the color pale and cold like the moon. Curiously, rather than bearing the traits of a normal, mortal eye, it seemed as though it had more in common with a precious gemstone. Perhaps an effect of removing it, similar to a basilisk's? Casmir decided it wasn't worth thinking too heavily about, and stowed it within his belt. He offered the spirit a bow of his head in gratitude. “Thank you.”
'So it goes...' the Amaroq hummed, flicking its ear. As Casmir looked on, he saw the great wolf's form begin to... unravel, like a piece of paper slowly being consumed by a small but ravenous flame. 'One hunt is ended, only for another to begin... but which of you will be the hunted, and which the prey, Son of Man? I wonder...' another chortling dog laugh wriggled past the Amaroq's jaws.
Casmir frowned. Another hunt? He didn't have one planned just yet... “Do you see the foe I'm after, Great Wolf?” he asked, wondering if the spirit might have some words of wisdom to impart to him.
'No,' The wolf replied, its single remaining eye opening to look at him. 'I see the foe who is after you.' And with that cryptic warning, the Amaroq's body scattered like dust in the wind, leaving only the Hunter behind to ponder his unsettling words.
|
|
|
Post by MP on May 8, 2020 2:46:17 GMT -6
Only a fitful breeze, high and thin, followed the victor back. The clouds crawled with its trail. And even that - the wind and the sound beneath it - was lost beneath the insectile buzz of the motor as the hunter took his leave. It really was a shame, Sarkany thought cruising lower in the wake of the bike. One might as well ask the kuwha to break a Ming. But the human had already spent his weapons, his traps, his energy. And if you looked at it a certain way, the ground would be doing the breaking.
Smooth and silent, he tucked his limbs and dropped. The sound of his dive was masked by the rush of wind in the hunter's ears, and his slender body cast only the palest shadow. As his renewing stores of aether leveled Sarkany out, he swept in behind the bike and swerved. Perhaps there was a half second flash in the rearview mirrors - some movement of grey on grey, like a hitch in the overcast sky. Then the tiercel's tasseled tail struck out at the rear wheel. There was a great spray of snow, a lurch, and a horrible weightlessness as the tire lost traction. The result, compounded with the ice and the sloped terrain, was even more spectacular than he'd counted on. The bike didn't spin so much as cartwheel out of control, metal screeching and crumpling to a sudden stop against a pine. The crash alone should have killed such a small creature, but Sarkany was taking no chances. Even as he came around, his form was blurring, human feet striking the snow.
A flash of white - the same cold gleam as in the Amaroq's fangs, as in Sarkany's eyes. The knife was in his hand. He was on the wreckage in a bound, trying to press the human down before he could rise, ready to dart the knife in under the protection of the helmet and bury it in the soft underside of the jaw.
|
|
|
Post by luscen on May 8, 2020 4:02:51 GMT -6
Casmir looked down at the hard, gem-like eye clutched in his gloved hand, a minor scowl tracing his features. “The foe who's after me, is it?” he muttered to himself, taking stock of his surroundings. The forest was dark, with the moon hidden by the now-heavy cloud cover that had swept in over the course of his fight with the Amaroq. There was no sign of threat within the shadows of the trees, but something still didn't feel right... He sensed a lingering tension in the air, a unsettling air hanging over him, like a funeral shroud. It made the skin between his shoulder blades itch, and the familiar feeling of paranoia began to sink in. He suddenly felt the urge to find refuge under the forest canopy.
The weary Hunter pocketed his boon, adjusting his coat to brace against a sudden cold wind. Abruptly feeling very stiff and fatigued, no doubt from his impromptu unplanned flight, Casmir made his way back to where he had first scuffled with the great wolf. He needed to clear out the mines he had left buried, as well as recover any stray traces of his battle. You never knew when or how you were being tracked, so there was no sense in leaving behind things to make it easier to do so. And besides, it wouldn't exactly sit well on his conscience if some children decided to go play in the woods only to step on a mine and blow themselves up. Better to see to it the area was secure, before moving on to collect his pay.
Once the mines had been gathered, safely disarmed, and bundled up in a spare sack, Casmir made his way back to the bike he had rented, a Triumph Tiger 1200. Out here you needed a sturdy mount to get you where you needed to go, and being a bit of a muscle-motor type, the Hunter had wanted something practical and versatile, capable of long trips both on and off-road. He slipped the mines into the luggage trunk, adjusted his helmet and visor - thankful the bloody thing hadn't gotten knocked off in the fighting - and hopped onto the bike, revving it up and listening to it purr beneath his legs. If only he had a “normal” home, he could actually own one of these things, instead of having to rent all the time.
'Maybe I'll see if Delphi can finagle some kind of garage she can attach to the safe house,' the Hunter mused to himself with a small smile as he took off along the rough, uneven ground and back onto the main road. The wind was slowing down with only a few minor breezes making their way across the landscape, which he found unnerving for reasons he couldn't quite place. Fortunately, there were few cars and fewer cops around this area, so he could get away with going over the speed limit. He was in no mood to have to deal with the law after an escapade like that... Today had been rough enough without piling more bullshit onto it, thank you very much.
He'd only been driving for about fifteen minutes, but the feeling of danger hadn't left. Casmir had been at this long enough to trust his instincts, so when he spotted the strange, pale shadow of... something... in the corner of his eye, he discretely slipped his hand into his coat, grasping a scroll and keeping it tightly clenched against the handle of the motorbike. The roar of the engine was suddenly all-too-loud in his straining ears, and his eyes were swiveling around to both rear-view mirrors in an effort to catch sight of some errant sign of anything that was amiss.
It was that wary paranoia that saved him, though had he been a bit more proactive, he may have prevented what happened next: Something struck the back wheel of the bike, sending him pitching forward. His body was already moving, unfurling the protection scroll and tucking it close to his chest as he and the bike went tumbling one over the other. The cantrip, a spell of fortification, took effect before he first impacted the ground, granting Casmir a thin barrier which buffered his body from the crippling damage he likely would have felt had he taken the tumble head-on. Even with his helmet and body armor, at best the shock would have left him witless and groggy, perfect prey for whatever happened to be following him.
At worst, well... shock and disorientation would have been the least of his worries under those conditions. The assailant, whoever they were, wouldn't have had to worry about finishing the job, then.
As it was, a desire to make sure the deed was done was what Casmir was counting on. The Hunter lay prone in the snow, underneath the bike, his head to the side so that he could covertly spy whoever might be advancing up on him. As it was, he made for an easy target, tantalizing almost in his vulnerability. His hand was slightly buried in the snow, however, clutching his Desert Eagle and waiting for the right moment. He saw a figure, human in shape, leap up onto the wreckage of the bike, and – with some effort – suppressed the grunt that wanted to escape his lips at having the ruined vehicle pressed more against him. He needed to make sure his would-be killer thought he was as helpless as possible, and any sign of consciousness would make the assassin that much warier of getting close.
'Not yet,' he cautioned. Fire too soon and he'd leave himself wide open. He needed to wait the moment out.
The figure, crouched atop the twisted frame of the bike, craned its head forward, its hand raising, the glint of a blade shimmering in the dim light of the moon as it peeked out from behind the cover of the clouds. Casmir waited a few more moments, before suddenly snapping his arm up, firing a few shots center-mass of the shadowy killer.
|
|
|
Post by MP on May 9, 2020 19:53:30 GMT -6
In the midst of the hunt, the veneer of civilization, of Sarkany, fell away. He was a thing of the wild, dispassionate and intent, a predator to the very bones and core of him. And the predator knew the snap of bone, knew the unnatural angles and ragdoll fall that marked a shattered neck or spine. Knew that the man showed none of these - that the hunt was not yet done. He slipped down from the wreckage with a cat's poise, his footing precise, never forsaking balance for the sake of speed. Too many hunters, caught up in the thrill of their own power, forgot that their prey was also cunning, also patient, was most dangerous when caught. Yellow eyes flitted over the limp body, marking the limbs, not the throat. He knew better than most how dangerous men could be.
At the lurch of snow and the gleam of a barrel, he moved. Not back, but in past the man's reach, body turning to present a narrower target. Quick and savage as a snake, the knife raked up, flashed down again in nearly the same movement. The upstrike jarred the pistol aside, scoring lines up the grip and the backs of knuckles. The downstrike cracked through the visor as he buried the knife in it, and it was only the speed of Casmir's shot, jarring the blade from a perfect entry, that spared his eye.
Recognizing the miss, Sarkany shifted his weight to get a knee on the hunter's throat. Fast or not, the man was prone, trapped in the wreckage and deep snow, and even a heavier man could be pinned from such a position if you kept his head down. The knife came up. Paused for the briefest half instant.
In such close quarters, the man hummed with Otherness, suffusing yet separate. Not an off-worlder. But not quite belonging either. His own, and not his own. The man wore it like a second coat. Like a...necklace. Ah. There it was. The knife flashed down toward the hunter's throat.
|
|
|
Post by luscen on May 14, 2020 5:11:14 GMT -6
Casmir tensed as the stranger slipped in just past the reach of his weapon with the agility of a ferret, angling to the side and sweeping his arm up in the same fluid motion. His curved blade raked across the armor-backed fingers of Casmir's gloves, an angry streak of sparks flashing in the corner of the scarred man's vision- he didn't dare take his eyes off the other man. He knew, instinctively, that to do so – even for a moment – would end with the Hunter's throat stained crimson.
The gun discharged, knocked slightly off-kilter by the knife's trajectory, but it managed to deter the assassin, if only slightly. His downward stab was robbed of some of its force due to him leaning away in order to evade the gunshot, but Casmir's visor was punctured above his right eye, cracks spider-webbing outward from the tip of the blade. 'Don't focus on the knife,' the scarred man thought to himself furiously. 'Don't look away! Don't even blink!'
Rather than pull away and try again, his assailant used the handle of his knife as a grip, in order to press his knee down against Casmir's neck; the move was quick and efficient, with no wasted motions, to suppress any further resistance on the Hunter's part. Casmir let out a gurgled choke, struggling against the urge to try and push the other man off. Unfortunately, his legs were still pinned under the motorcycle wreckage, thanks to his intent to draw the other man in. He hadn't expected this level of agility from his would-be killer though, and now the scarred man needed to create some distance between the two of them, and quickly.
His quarry suitably subdued, the stranger brought the knife up back up, poised to strike. He abruptly paused, however; the curved blade glinted like a fang in the cold moonlight, and Casmir could see golden, wolf-like eyes frowning down at him in bemusement. Those feral eyes reminded the Hunter of the Amaroq's words:
“I see the foe who is after you.”
'Damn mutt could have been a little clearer!' Casmir cursed as the blade began to move again. The Hunter quickly flicked the trigger on the smoke grenade he had clenched in his other hand, a black shroud sweeping over the two of them and hiding everything from view. In order to further convince the other man to back off, Casmir followed up by angling his gun at where he thought the golden-eyed slayer's head would be, firing awkwardly in an attempt to dislodge him.
'Keep the pressure on him!' he thought furiously. 'Make him retreat!'
|
|
|
Post by MP on May 15, 2020 2:21:33 GMT -6
The knife made contact with a satisfying snick, more felt than heard as the smoke blacked out his vision. Sarkany snagged the catch with a deft twist. He'd shut his eyes to protect against any irritants that may have been in the smoke, but he heard the whisk of fabric, felt the rush of air, and twisted aside. The pistol cracked to his right. He flicked out the hilt of the knife, felt it jar, heard the puff and scratch of the firearm skittering across the snow. The smokescreen worked in his favor too, or else he'd have a few pretty holes in him by now. Sarkany wasted no time. He was clear in two bounds, retreating from the smokescreen and the sound of the human's struggles. His figure, though vague through the cloud, seemed to dust off his jacket as he went. A faint golden pulse. A second glint in his hand. When he emerged from the smoke, it was at a good distance from the human, near the cover of a leaning pine.
The air was clear outside the smokescreen, but the haze around Sarkany seemed to linger. It wasn't a film so much as a lack of clarity, the eye sliding over his figure and refocusing as if with fatigue or, in Casmir's case, a nasty scratch across the cornea. It was hard to discern exactly where he stood, but one detail was clear. Casmir's key danced over Sarkany's fingers, reappeared in his palm with a deft movement. His eyes, however, never left the hunter's position.
"Now what are you doing with a toy like this?"
The key spun through his fingers again. A smile played about his lips, but there was no humor in it. Beneath the casual tone and demeanor, he was listening, tracking, poised with lethal purpose.
"Last I checked, humans don't get private worlds."
And the key was a kind of world gate, he was sure. He might not be familiar with this particular signature, but it was a consistent one. And very small. He'd worked enough with Instances to tell that much. The oddity of it - the possibility that the human was an agent of someone or something larger - was the only thing that checked the seraph from a second attack.
|
|
|
Post by luscen on May 21, 2020 5:10:29 GMT -6
The blade missed it's mark, though the Hunter knew that it wasn't due to the abrupt screen of black clouds obscuring the other man's vision- there was no falter in the strike, no tell-tale sign of being caught off-guard. Instead it dipped down past Casmir's face, coming to rest somewhere near his neck, where it caught on something. The blonde didn't have the luxury of pondering about this strange change in behavior, however; he was more preoccupied with getting out from under the wreckage of the bike and figuring out why this strange murder-hobo decided to pick a fight with him.
He let off two haphazard shots from his pinned position, aiming for the stranger's head. The assassin was clearly anticipating this, however, as there was no sound of bullets finding their mark. Instead, Casmir cursed as the curved blade swept through the clouds, the hilt striking the barrel of the gun and knocking it out of his hand, where it skittered along the snowy ground and out of his reach. He needed to get it back, and fast. Fortunately for him, his golden-eyed foe must have wanted to get some distance, as his weight left Casmir's chest, letting the Hunter move more freely.
Casmir quickly pulled himself out from under the twisted metal, rolling across the ground and snatching his weapon. He quickly ducked behind one of the trees, checking his rounds. They were standard magnum rounds, but even with their increased velocity compared to regular fare, this guy still managed to dodge them. 'Better go for the shrapnel,' he thought, swiftly and quietly swapped the ammo types. 'Won't give him time for any kind of fancy dodging...'
He installed the new clip, then took a moment to calm himself, edging closer to the trunk of the tree and feeling the air around him; the tension was just as palpable as it had been with the Amaroq. Whoever this guy was, he was more than a little skilled. The question was: where did he come from, and how did he find Casmir all the way out here in the northern wastelands of Canada? Both bothersome questions, but of more pressing concern was that he didn't have any doors nearby to duck into; either to escape as a last resort, or to re-arm and refortify his flagging defenses. His ammo was low, his mines weren't available, and he only had three scrolls left at his disposal, which left him in a precarious predicament.
'Calm down,' Casmir reprimanded himself. 'Don't lose your head; he doesn't know what your situation is. Find a way to get around him, then take him down once you find your chance.' As long as he maintained his poise, he could get out of this.
Suddenly, however, a voice carried over the wind. “Now what are you doing with a toy like this?” it asked, echoing around the trees till it sounded like it was all around Casmir. Something about the surety it carried gave the Hunter pause; the knowing tone, the way it seemed as though it had found some juicy little morsel that its strict mother hadn't noticed... Casmir carefully pulled a mirror out from his coat pocket, holding it in such a way so as to see where the assassin was crowing from; as it turned out, he stood out in the middle of the clearing, bold as brass, rolling something that glinted in the moonlight across his fingers. It wasn't his dagger... it was something smaller, more compact.
“Last I checked,” the voice grinned, saturated with a conspiratorial glee. “humans don't get private worlds.”
Casmir's blood ran cold. He dropped the mirror, fumbling at his neck- the leather strap that hung from his neck had been severed. In his rush to escape, to drive off his attacker, he hadn't noticed; it was gone! His key was gone! Somehow, right under Casmir's nose, the knife-wielding hit-man had nicked it from right under his nose. Literally!
And if the white-haired assassin chose to flee...
The Hunter's eyes hardened into flint. His face a mask of cold fury, he immediately swung out from behind the tree, raising his gun in a two-hand grip for proper firing, and left off three rounds of shrapnel, aimed center-mass at the other man. Not wasting the time with being evasive, the Hunter immediately went on the offensive, running forward while continuing to fire. Any thoughts of trying to sneak around, to take things slow and cautiously, had fled in the wake of the other man's jeers. Reckless, certainly, but at this point, Casmir didn't really care.
No matter what, he could not let the other man get away with that key. Putting aside the fact that it could lead to Casmir being stranded, someone else having it – especially someone of the golden-eyed man's caliber – meant that Delphi would be in danger. That outcome was utterly unacceptable, no matter the cost. He could not - would not! - let her come to harm. Not so long as he could still draw breath.
|
|
|
Post by MP on May 21, 2020 8:38:43 GMT -6
Exposed, his challenge given, Sarkany listened in the silence. The echoing snap of an ice-weighted branch. The soft patter of snow falling from the canopy. The hard crunch of a boot coming down, pushing off, and hard.
His brief glimpse of that ferocious expression was confirmation enough. Sarkany sprang aside, falling back behind his pine even as the human swung out from behind his. Even so, the broad spray of shrapnel almost caught him, grazing a line across the arm of his coat. The man still had fresh ammo, he noted, glancing down at the damage. Skies, he missed the Iron Age.
"So you can use it," he called back. "Have you seen the faceless yet? Seen their shades?"
His words were answered with a succession of blasts. Not affiliated then, at least with anyone the Rimguard recognized, or he would have known the proper answer. Sarkany listened closely, tracking the trajectory of spraying bark, the intensity, the time between shots. The shrapnel did a good job of pinning him down, but it also broadcast the hunter's approach. And it deafened the hunter as much as himself when it came to hearing subtler sounds like movement. A glaring contrast to the man's earlier prudence. Sarkany tensed, gauging the distance. Three more steps. Two. One.
He lunged, moving so closely on the heels of the latest shot that he felt the force past his shoulder. He met the human mid-stride, hand darting up to grip the hand, grip the gun, not in a restraining hold, but in a feather-light touch and a lighter word.
"Aht."
The effects were immediate. The pistol, for all Casmir's efforts, simply refused to fire. For that matter, so did his trigger finger. There was no pressure, no sense of restraint or exertion should he struggle. The muscle was simply motionless, as unresponsive as a disconnected mouse. And just as soon, Sarkany released him, sliding out of the man's path and past him, always moving.
"Careful," he said. He could have meant the gun, which he was eyeing with a fixed anticipation, but it could just as easily have been the key still strung around his finger, judging from the words. "You're too aggressive for just a private room."
He was still moving to match the man, falling back or falling aside, forcing the man to follow. Circling. The command ached in his thoughts, but he held it for the moment. Keep up the threat, he thought. Don't give him time to think. The man was already tired, already injured; wear him out like any kuchora, so he focused on the bait instead of the reason behind it. It was no longer the man Sarkany was after.
"You hiding something important in there?" His smile widened, shark-like. "Someone?"
|
|
|
Post by luscen on May 27, 2020 23:40:11 GMT -6
Casmir ignored the strange man's question, discarding it as gibberish. He continued firing as he approached the tree the other man was hiding behind, his other hand going to a throwing dagger hidden in his coat. He didn't have any more of the ones he'd used on the Amaroq, as they had been expensive and hard to come by, but a simple one could still do more than enough damage.
Suddenly, the gray-haired man darted out from behind the tree, getting past the range of Casmir's gun. The Hunter cursed and swung his weapon arm up, caught off-guard from the abrupt movement and the speed at which the other man had slipped past his guard. When his mind caught up, he cursed himself for his stupidity- in his attempt to run the other man to ground, he didn't stop to consider the fact that his gunshots were also a marker to his proximity. 'This skurwysyn* was waiting for me to get close, listening to the time between shots...' he was apparently no swaggering rooster, that was for sure; he had the skill set to back up his dangerous aura, and that was something that only came from considerable experience.
Undeterred, the Hunter stepped back and brought the gun up, aiming for the spot between the man's amber-colored eyes. Before he could fire, however, the assassin placed a light touch on his hand, and spoke a word Casmir had never heard before.
“Aht.”
There was a... Casmir couldn't figure out how to describe it, exactly. It was a strange sensation that slowly spread along the length of his hand. It felt similar to magic, and that word definitely felt like a word of power, but his eye didn't see anything; there was no flash, no sparks, no surge of energy, but somehow he knew something had happened. He just didn't know what, yet.
“Careful,” the stranger continued, dangling the key just out of reach. The scarred man's eyes darted from his hand to the key, a fresh surge of irritation welling up in him at the way this man was taunting him. “You're too aggressive for just a private room. You hiding something important in there? Someone?” His smile was the definition of predatory, and a fresh wave of red entered the fringes of Casmir's vision.
“Odpieprz się!” the Hunter spat in Polish, swinging his arm around to fire at the stranger. To his surprise, however, his hand wouldn't move. The arm would, it followed his mental commands as reliably as ever. But the hand... It was as though it was made of plastic, for all the response it was giving.
'Paralysis?' he thougt rapidly. No, there was no numbness, no tingling. His hand felt fine, but for some reason it wouldn't do as it was told. Which meant a stasis lock, of some kind. Was this bastard a time mage, then? Or some sort of user of Quantum Mechanics?
It didn't matter. The Hunter needed to get that key that was kept just out of reach. He tried firing again, making it look like he was stupidly sticking to the same tactic while in an obvious fury. With a sudden motion, however, he pivoted on his heel, swinging his left side in close to the other man and slashing his dagger upwards. He'd noticed that his assailant wasn't using his other hand- that he'd put away his own weapon to taunt him with the key. That meant he couldn't use both hands, which made his other side a target. If he could knock his opponent off-guard, even for a moment, he could grab the key and withdraw. At least he might knock the man out of whatever spell he was placing Casmir.
[*skurwysyn: a Polish swear that basically equates to "son of a whore."]
|
|
|
Post by MP on May 29, 2020 0:54:47 GMT -6
“Odpieprz się!”
The human had ignored the Rimguard phrase, yet he snapped like a dog at this latest taunt. And the fire in his eyes. Sarkany's certainty deepened. This was a pragmatic sort of man, discarding the nonsense and focusing on the threat. And if Sarkany were any judge, of the hunter and the trinket both, he'd just made a very real threat against the true owner of the key. Were they a kind of companion to the human, he wondered? Or his tool? He'd just have to set the bait and see.
"Think I will," he said, fading back. "I already have what I need."
Yellow eyes caught the shift in Casmir's weight, tracked the changing footwork, and read the intent there. Sarkany's own knife lay against the small of his back, his good hand occupied, but he didn't try to draw it. He twisted sideways as the blade struck out, his right hand snapping up. The cord snared the blade like a noose, jolted hard as Sarkany tugged. There was a lurch. A snap as a glinting metal object flew end over end and vanished into the snow. In the same moment, with the knife pulled wide and the gun - the feint - turned safely away, Sarkany released the command.
The gun discharged. Once, twice as the hand and trigger snapped back into sync, bringing the delayed motion with them. The unexpected recoil jolted the arm, and that was the opening Sarkany needed. He withdrew in one fluid motion, veered around as if to lunge for the key. Only two strides, to keep pace with the hunter. And then he simply stopped.
Loi, the command now blurring his figure, drew its effects entirely from the viewer and was an art he'd spent many lifetimes honing. It took imagination, expectation, the space between observation and conclusion, and made a cloak of it. Start after the key after all that fuss, and one must suppose Sarkany was chasing it. Fight with quickness and constant motion, and one must assume he'd rely on that quickness to escape. Stay put and violate the patterns he'd established, and expectation failed. The command, which showed only what the viewer believed, would show nothing, no one - at least if he'd planned it right. Sarkany stood motionless amid the churned snow, pale hair and jacket against the pale landscape, restful, his frame devoid of all tension. He simply let the eye track over him. That trick grew easier every day.
|
|
|
Post by luscen on Jun 17, 2020 19:24:20 GMT -6
Were he in a calmer mindset, Casmir might have admired the golden-eyed assassin's skill at evading his strike. Begrudgingly, of course; you could only give so much credit to a man trying to kill you, after all. At the moment, however, nothing else mattered aside from the key. So when the stranger used its leather cord to catch the knife, sending the bit of metal flying off into the distance, Casmir didn't stop to think about whether or not the act had been done as bait. Even if he hadn't prioritized the key, the sudden jolt up his arm of two consecutive, unexpected gunshots served as ample distraction to divert his attention away from the other man. His arm felt like it had almost dislocated, but he ignored it, gripping the gun tightly and keeping his attention on the arc of silver that spiraled past him.
The Hunter's eye had traced the arc of the key, his sensitive ears picking up the quiet puff where it had fallen amid the shallow snow. Casmir's golden-eyed opponent swayed back, then darted around his left side, heading towards where the key fell. With his body low to the ground, and his with his shock of gray hair, it was as though he were a wolf running at full lope. The blonde's head turned, his body following, but as he took in the stranger with both eyes, he was baffled momentarily by the fact that the golden-eyed man just... wasn't there.
'Illusion magic,' Casmir reasoned. That or some other bit of time magic that relied on an afterimage, perhaps... Regardless, Casmir hid his hesitation with a pained grunt, trying to convince the other man that he was feeling the pain catching up to him. Which, in reality, wasn't that far from the truth; the battle with the Amaroq had stretched the Hunter thin, and while he was running on adrenaline, his reserves were quickly bleeding dry. He wasn't in a good situation here, and with both his stamina and his ammo running low, it was only a matter of time before things took a grim turn. He had to get the key back, then try and drive off this damn Pocketwatch. He'd wanted to try and get him alive, for interrogation purposes, but that was quickly becoming less and less likely by the moment.
He put on a burst of speed, both to sell the idea he was racing against the figure that wasn't there, as well as to get the key back as quickly as possible. The uncomfortable sensation of a pair of jaws closing down atop him as he ran wormed its way through his head, but he staunchly ignored it- key first. Everything else could wait. Fortunately, he saw a glint of metal in the moonlight, and dove for it. Casmir grabbed the sliver of metal, coming up in a roll, his gun primed for a quick release had it turned out that the golden-eyed man was behind him with the knife again. Hopefully he hadn't realized the Hunter had seen through the illusion; given his emphasis on evasion, it was likely a single good shot would drop him.
Hopefully, that's all it would take, as Casmir wasn't sure he had two in him, at this point.
|
|