Post by Ninmast on Aug 25, 2007 3:07:18 GMT -5
The air in city skylines is always colder than it ought to be, made insensitive by uncaring concrete. The twigs saluting human conquest stuck blandly in clusters of downtowns and business districts, their shells of grays and reds devoid of compassion.
Perched atop one of these monuments to ingenuity was a black-clad ragamuffin, weathering the late-autumn chill with her own brand of bitterness.
"I think I'll like this town," a polite, smooth voice said from behind her, its source a tan-skinned man with some scales down his neck and such visible, but with a handsome visage. Claws were on the end of his fingers, fangs could be seen in his smile, and a single, polished horn came off of his forehead. He wore a long trenchcoat over medieval-looking armor, swords visible sheathed to either hip. "It has a ..." He inhaled deeply, as if to take in the characteristic. "... a coldness to it, a sheer lack of emotion."
Her gaze darted over her shoulder, too self-involvedly baffled and displeased by the disturbance to notice his obviously foreign origin. "How'd you get up here?"
"I jumped," he answered politely. "Does it matter?" A rat rushed over the edge of the roof and hurried over to his foot. As she watched, several others came from behind clutter on the rooftop to join it. Flies, too, gathered, and all other manner of vermin slowly followed, though there was no noticeable stench coming from the man.
The girl's left eye twitched. She was no stranger to creatures of filth, but one shouldn't constantly wallow in such environments. Her eyes flicked from pests to newcomer, forgetting his answer. "You're seeing that, right?"
Little more than a fanged smile came to the man's face. "The pests of even this realm are drawn to my essence, child. They feel my corruption spreading through even the strange and foreign materials you build your human city from. They feel it and they come to serve it. Observe!"
He threw his hand toward the growing pile, and it began to churn, growing upwards, taller and wider as the filthy vermin twisted and ground into a new shape until the whole mess exploded like some disgusting cocoon to release a four-legged creature of gnarled flesh and bone the size of a small horse. It immediately stepped to its master's side, sniffed in the girl's direction like a dog, and bared sharp, twisted fangs in a snarling growl.
When True lowered the now gore-coated sleeve she'd shielded her face with, her expression paused mid-twitch. She got to her feet. Twenty-story drop, she still had options.
That didn't stop her voice from tightening into a nervous whine. "W-what is that thing?"
"That, my dear child," the man answered in that same polite, suave tone as he reached down and stroked the creature, "is called a Dal'drok. It is quite vicious, and rather hungry when first given life."
"I don't think it'd like to eat me." The girl observed logically. "I'm all metal and wires and plastic. I could point it in the right direction, though. There's lots of humans around here."
His smile was charming, the kind of charming that chilled you to the bone because it was the only thing his silver eyes didn't reflect. "I've never heard of "plastic," but Dal'droks eat anything, even dwarven steel, and this one likes your scent."
"Oh." She countered lamely. Her hand drew up to the iron locket around her neck of its own accord. Eating sentient beings against their will was most definitely against Pyran law.
She made a face. "I'd rather not be eaten. If it's all the same to you, mister...?"
"Oh, it's all the same to me, my dear," he answered graciously, actually dipping his head, "but it's not me you need to convince." He glanced down at the beast. "Eat up, boy."
The monstrosity roared as it rushed forward, leaping at the little girl.
The girl jolted visibly, in the same instant yanking the locket and chain off. Like some circus performer she put a finger to her pursed lips and exhaled a short stream of green flame.
The flames washed over the Dal'drok, and its shriek pierced the air like thousands of horrible nails on chalkboard before they consume it, entirely, leaving nothing but smoke.
The man showed little more reaction than arching a finely plucked eyebrow. "Odd, I wouldn't have expected that from a mere child."
Consequently, her expression was significantly more shocked than his. 'Must've been very against the law' she mused, mentally counting up possible charges. Oh, yes. Very.
Eventually, she blinked it off. "I wouldn't, either. What's your name?"
"Dorian," he answered, though he gave no last name. Whether this was because he didn't feel like telling or because he simply didn't have one was unclear. In either case, he tucked a lock of his ebon hair behind his slightly pointed ear before speaking again. "How about I make you a deal, child?"
"Mmm..." The girl forcefully silenced two loud, opposing viewpoints in her head. "Okay."
He made motions with his hand as he spoke, as if preparing spells. "You and I will fight. If you win, I leave. If I win, I kill you, use your corpse to form a new pet, and move on to somewhere else."
The girl shook her head quickly as she set the stage for her own potential innocence in a court of law. "Oh, no. I don't like dying and I wouldn't make a very good corpse pet. I don't want to fight."
"Hmm, a shame." He rubbed his chin in thought. "How about if you win," he said as he pulled out a large coin purse and sifted several coins that looked to be solid gold from it, "I buy you one thing of whatever you want."
The girl's mouth opened suddenly, as if she were going to shout something, but it closed just as quickly, then opened again. "I-... I really-... No, I can't."
"Come on, child," he encouraged, jingling the coins. "What have you to lose? I only want to see how I compare."
"Well..." The girl considered. "If you win and I die, do I have to turn into a doggie thing, or would I just be, like, a zombie version of me?"
"Which would you prefer?" he asked graciously.
"I would prefer to stay like I am and not be overly disfigured." She answered honestly. Yellow and Blue would recognize her that way. They could still find her and fix her. Probably.
Dorian nodded simply. "Agreed. Do we have an accord?"
The child blinked stupidly for a second, then nodded. "Yes, we have an accord." She refastened her locket, feeling it go somewhat numb in her grasp as she spoke the words.
He smiled, his fanged mouth holding none of the warmth it had before. He had gotten what he wanted, he could tell from the way the girl put the locket back. She would not be able to strike him down the same way she had stricken his beast down. He knew it was either striking at chaos or evil, and he had already prepared protections against the latter. This prey was his.
So confident was he that he held his arms wide. "I shall even allow you the first move."
"Oh." She mumbled, suddenly feeling disturbed. "Thank you."
With care, she moved her arm back as if taking aim, then hurled it forward. Mid-way between her and Dorian a green flash denoted the appearance of the Sacred Butcher Knife.
He closed his eyes and focused as dark energy swirled around him, and the butcher knife struck off of it as if he were wearing plate armor. "Anything else, child, or shall I take my turn?"
The girl pursed her lips again, but not for any offensive reason as a green flash announced the arrival of an over-large frying pan to her grasp. "Have you ever broken any laws?"
He stopped and seemed to honestly think on that. "Well, I've always tried my best to act within them. Just makes life easier." His fanged grin returned. "Have you?"
She squirmed, more at his answer than return question. "I have. What laws might you have broken, specifically?"
"I've killed a few people," he answered. "Quite a few, actually, but it was all with my emperor's consent, and since his word is law, none."
The weight of the locket seemed to scold her from its place. She only raised her skillet to pick at it with a gloved fingernail. "But, say, would that be against the law someplace else? Like here, or...?"
"I didn't do it here," he answered, his grin widening as he watched her. "So that's irrelevant."
"Were any of the people you killed from somewhere that it was against the law?"
"A few," he answered, "but they trespassed on our land in an attempt to harm our people. I killed them to defend our land and to enforce our law."
"Oh." She withered. A few more what-ifs stopped on the edge of her tongue. Then, suddenly- "Did you kill any of them with by slitting their throats? That's illegal."
He thought for a moment. "No, I don't believe so."
She winced, finally. "You're innocent?"
"Innocent?" he asked. "No. Law-abiding? To the best of my ability."
She blinked again, not fully understanding, but giving in with a low sigh. "Well, good enough. Let's slaughter True now."
"Jolly good," he answered with a grin, but his face furrowed and his silver eyes glowed as he pointed toward her, the dark shadows churning up wind around him. "Nightmare Swarm!"
The demonic energy rushed out from him to fill the area like a cloud, and in the clouds manifested some of her worst, most terrifying nightmares brought to seeming reality, including a set of glowing eyes.
True inhaled a shriek, batting the visions away with her irregular bludgeon as a stream of babbled high-pitched complaints were uttered from her. She flailed, most particularly, at the singularly red set leering eyes.
Behind the shades, the dagahasi had prepared another spell, and he pointed at the girl directly. "Nightmare Curse!"
Nightmare Curse
One of the most powerful and feared Reaver infestations, the nightmare curse
unleashes a number of horrifying effects upon the Reaver's victims. The
demonic energies of various types consume the user, tainting their soul,
sapping their strength and speed, and poisoning and diseasing the victim's body.
The girl's shriek became more of a wail, though her mechanics protected her from poison and disease, her joints seemed sapped and weak, as if suddenly older and stricken of their lubricant. She creaked loudly as she raised her guard, then decided a good strategy would be to get this over with quickly.
She charged forward, skillet upraised and coming down with a resounding CREEEEAK.
And that was when he drew his swords, first one, long and silver, engraved with countless runes, and then the other, crimson and sleek. As quick as lightning, he brought the runed one up to block the skillet and sent the crimson one shooting toward her forehead.
She saw the sword a split second before it split her brain. Her neck seemed to half-collapse and her head dropped sideways, allowing the thrust to miss by millimeters as she dropped back a step, her neck lurching back to proper alignment with a metal growl. Her left hand dropped back, a green flash calling up a simple silver fork with over-sharp prongs.
The Reaver watched her examiningly. "Hmm, you bend quite strangely, child."
"I do." She admitted, as if it were a minor bad habit. Then she danced in again with a mechanical squeal, guard-first, thrusting the fork toward his middle beneath it.
He simply stood there, however, and the fork collided with the same energy the butcher knife had hit. "Very well," he said as his silver eyes began to glow again and his coat began to shift in the wind. "Clearly, more direct methods are required to send you to Sativa."
"You don't have to use them, if you don't feel like it." The robot girl babbled quickly, desummoning the fork.
"Let's try," Dorian motioned with his hand before holding it out toward her, "Dread Blast!" The energy leapt out from his palm, and would do the same as her flames, except in reverse and according to how good someone was.
Fortunately for True, she wasn't an entirely good person, but she wasn't very evil, either.
The force drove her back and sent her down, black energy flaming out of her clothes as she sluggishly patted them out. Blue fluid oozed from wounds on her face, arms, and chest, but she didn't seem overly affected, or if she was, she didn't show it. In another flash she pointed a simple white hairdryer at the dagahasi, her elbow complaining noisily. "Hell's Hairdryer!" With that, she pressed a button, and un-aligned flames spewed forth.
"Extinguish," he bellowed as he snapped his fingers, and the flames sputtered out, as did all of the lights on the building top.
The sudden darkness startled True, but she blinked it off, her eyes slowly gaining a constant green glow to them, vaguely lighting the roofing area around her as the drier flashed away. Then she heaved her arms overhead, as if wincing at a heavy load.
With another CREEEAK she flung it, a flash summoning an entire washing machine to strike the man.
Even as her eyes glowed green, she could see his glowing distinctly red, and he raised his hand toward the washing machine. "Demonsmite!" Another blast issued forth, blowing it out of the air and over the edge of the rooftop.
True's glowing eyes followed it over the edge, her stomach falling with it. "Well. Hm."
In another flash a simple black mug was summoned. "Mystic Monsoon!"
A misnomer, but a functional alliteration, nonetheless, as a high-powered jet-stream of water shot out from it.
"Nightmare Mantle," was the answering call as he held his hand out and the dark energy surged out before him to block in his defense.
The water was blocked and the mug desummoned. Apparently short on ideas as well as powers, True spun away and painfully sprinted to leap from the building's edge.
The energy he had been charging was released all at once as he shouted, "OBLIVION!" What seemed like so many blasts of energy surged out from him and rushed at the girl's undefended back.
True went over the edge, and half the blasts struck her full-on, the others falling around her. Gears broke and wires melted, True's consciousness vanished with the impact as she tumbled, black flaming out of now exposed metal ribs.
She collided with the pavement unceremoniously, skeletal machinery buried in the crater. She was still, but internally, something ticked off numbers.
The man jumped from the top of the building to land lightly beside her ruined form as he looked down at her. "Well, that was mildly entertaining. What do you know, she was just a construct."
As the ticker came to three, the girl's eyes snapped open. She only bent at the waist, creaking and scraping upwards like a remote-control car low on battery.
"Who was a construct?" She enunciated slowly, forgetting to move her mouth to match the words.
"You are, child," the man answered as his eyes slanted in annoyance. "Otherwise, you would have been long dead, but instead, you have no life to take."
Her head shook, only one curt, noisy motion in either direction. Painfully loudly she raised a finger to her temple, where the smallest trickle of red was visible amidst blue. "I'm still a little human."
"Yes," he scowled, "in the same way my dal'drok was still a little rat."
"Yes. Rather like that." The arm dropped. "Does this mean you won't kill me?"
"No, child," he answered as he raised his arm to press against her forehead. "No, it doesn't." The energy surrounded him again. "Oblivion!"
True's expression froze, and for an instant, it seemed like nothing happened. That is, besides the damage to public property behind her.
Then she started to lean back, and a hand-shaped hole in her forehead betrayed her fate of the day.
True slumped back into the crater, a little lower than before, the back half of her head missing.
With that, Dorian kept his bargain in leaving her recognizable and turned on his heel, whistling a happy little tune as he made his way down the sidewalk.
Perched atop one of these monuments to ingenuity was a black-clad ragamuffin, weathering the late-autumn chill with her own brand of bitterness.
"I think I'll like this town," a polite, smooth voice said from behind her, its source a tan-skinned man with some scales down his neck and such visible, but with a handsome visage. Claws were on the end of his fingers, fangs could be seen in his smile, and a single, polished horn came off of his forehead. He wore a long trenchcoat over medieval-looking armor, swords visible sheathed to either hip. "It has a ..." He inhaled deeply, as if to take in the characteristic. "... a coldness to it, a sheer lack of emotion."
Her gaze darted over her shoulder, too self-involvedly baffled and displeased by the disturbance to notice his obviously foreign origin. "How'd you get up here?"
"I jumped," he answered politely. "Does it matter?" A rat rushed over the edge of the roof and hurried over to his foot. As she watched, several others came from behind clutter on the rooftop to join it. Flies, too, gathered, and all other manner of vermin slowly followed, though there was no noticeable stench coming from the man.
The girl's left eye twitched. She was no stranger to creatures of filth, but one shouldn't constantly wallow in such environments. Her eyes flicked from pests to newcomer, forgetting his answer. "You're seeing that, right?"
Little more than a fanged smile came to the man's face. "The pests of even this realm are drawn to my essence, child. They feel my corruption spreading through even the strange and foreign materials you build your human city from. They feel it and they come to serve it. Observe!"
He threw his hand toward the growing pile, and it began to churn, growing upwards, taller and wider as the filthy vermin twisted and ground into a new shape until the whole mess exploded like some disgusting cocoon to release a four-legged creature of gnarled flesh and bone the size of a small horse. It immediately stepped to its master's side, sniffed in the girl's direction like a dog, and bared sharp, twisted fangs in a snarling growl.
When True lowered the now gore-coated sleeve she'd shielded her face with, her expression paused mid-twitch. She got to her feet. Twenty-story drop, she still had options.
That didn't stop her voice from tightening into a nervous whine. "W-what is that thing?"
"That, my dear child," the man answered in that same polite, suave tone as he reached down and stroked the creature, "is called a Dal'drok. It is quite vicious, and rather hungry when first given life."
"I don't think it'd like to eat me." The girl observed logically. "I'm all metal and wires and plastic. I could point it in the right direction, though. There's lots of humans around here."
His smile was charming, the kind of charming that chilled you to the bone because it was the only thing his silver eyes didn't reflect. "I've never heard of "plastic," but Dal'droks eat anything, even dwarven steel, and this one likes your scent."
"Oh." She countered lamely. Her hand drew up to the iron locket around her neck of its own accord. Eating sentient beings against their will was most definitely against Pyran law.
She made a face. "I'd rather not be eaten. If it's all the same to you, mister...?"
"Oh, it's all the same to me, my dear," he answered graciously, actually dipping his head, "but it's not me you need to convince." He glanced down at the beast. "Eat up, boy."
The monstrosity roared as it rushed forward, leaping at the little girl.
The girl jolted visibly, in the same instant yanking the locket and chain off. Like some circus performer she put a finger to her pursed lips and exhaled a short stream of green flame.
The flames washed over the Dal'drok, and its shriek pierced the air like thousands of horrible nails on chalkboard before they consume it, entirely, leaving nothing but smoke.
The man showed little more reaction than arching a finely plucked eyebrow. "Odd, I wouldn't have expected that from a mere child."
Consequently, her expression was significantly more shocked than his. 'Must've been very against the law' she mused, mentally counting up possible charges. Oh, yes. Very.
Eventually, she blinked it off. "I wouldn't, either. What's your name?"
"Dorian," he answered, though he gave no last name. Whether this was because he didn't feel like telling or because he simply didn't have one was unclear. In either case, he tucked a lock of his ebon hair behind his slightly pointed ear before speaking again. "How about I make you a deal, child?"
"Mmm..." The girl forcefully silenced two loud, opposing viewpoints in her head. "Okay."
He made motions with his hand as he spoke, as if preparing spells. "You and I will fight. If you win, I leave. If I win, I kill you, use your corpse to form a new pet, and move on to somewhere else."
The girl shook her head quickly as she set the stage for her own potential innocence in a court of law. "Oh, no. I don't like dying and I wouldn't make a very good corpse pet. I don't want to fight."
"Hmm, a shame." He rubbed his chin in thought. "How about if you win," he said as he pulled out a large coin purse and sifted several coins that looked to be solid gold from it, "I buy you one thing of whatever you want."
The girl's mouth opened suddenly, as if she were going to shout something, but it closed just as quickly, then opened again. "I-... I really-... No, I can't."
"Come on, child," he encouraged, jingling the coins. "What have you to lose? I only want to see how I compare."
"Well..." The girl considered. "If you win and I die, do I have to turn into a doggie thing, or would I just be, like, a zombie version of me?"
"Which would you prefer?" he asked graciously.
"I would prefer to stay like I am and not be overly disfigured." She answered honestly. Yellow and Blue would recognize her that way. They could still find her and fix her. Probably.
Dorian nodded simply. "Agreed. Do we have an accord?"
The child blinked stupidly for a second, then nodded. "Yes, we have an accord." She refastened her locket, feeling it go somewhat numb in her grasp as she spoke the words.
He smiled, his fanged mouth holding none of the warmth it had before. He had gotten what he wanted, he could tell from the way the girl put the locket back. She would not be able to strike him down the same way she had stricken his beast down. He knew it was either striking at chaos or evil, and he had already prepared protections against the latter. This prey was his.
So confident was he that he held his arms wide. "I shall even allow you the first move."
"Oh." She mumbled, suddenly feeling disturbed. "Thank you."
With care, she moved her arm back as if taking aim, then hurled it forward. Mid-way between her and Dorian a green flash denoted the appearance of the Sacred Butcher Knife.
He closed his eyes and focused as dark energy swirled around him, and the butcher knife struck off of it as if he were wearing plate armor. "Anything else, child, or shall I take my turn?"
The girl pursed her lips again, but not for any offensive reason as a green flash announced the arrival of an over-large frying pan to her grasp. "Have you ever broken any laws?"
He stopped and seemed to honestly think on that. "Well, I've always tried my best to act within them. Just makes life easier." His fanged grin returned. "Have you?"
She squirmed, more at his answer than return question. "I have. What laws might you have broken, specifically?"
"I've killed a few people," he answered. "Quite a few, actually, but it was all with my emperor's consent, and since his word is law, none."
The weight of the locket seemed to scold her from its place. She only raised her skillet to pick at it with a gloved fingernail. "But, say, would that be against the law someplace else? Like here, or...?"
"I didn't do it here," he answered, his grin widening as he watched her. "So that's irrelevant."
"Were any of the people you killed from somewhere that it was against the law?"
"A few," he answered, "but they trespassed on our land in an attempt to harm our people. I killed them to defend our land and to enforce our law."
"Oh." She withered. A few more what-ifs stopped on the edge of her tongue. Then, suddenly- "Did you kill any of them with by slitting their throats? That's illegal."
He thought for a moment. "No, I don't believe so."
She winced, finally. "You're innocent?"
"Innocent?" he asked. "No. Law-abiding? To the best of my ability."
She blinked again, not fully understanding, but giving in with a low sigh. "Well, good enough. Let's slaughter True now."
"Jolly good," he answered with a grin, but his face furrowed and his silver eyes glowed as he pointed toward her, the dark shadows churning up wind around him. "Nightmare Swarm!"
The demonic energy rushed out from him to fill the area like a cloud, and in the clouds manifested some of her worst, most terrifying nightmares brought to seeming reality, including a set of glowing eyes.
True inhaled a shriek, batting the visions away with her irregular bludgeon as a stream of babbled high-pitched complaints were uttered from her. She flailed, most particularly, at the singularly red set leering eyes.
Behind the shades, the dagahasi had prepared another spell, and he pointed at the girl directly. "Nightmare Curse!"
Nightmare Curse
One of the most powerful and feared Reaver infestations, the nightmare curse
unleashes a number of horrifying effects upon the Reaver's victims. The
demonic energies of various types consume the user, tainting their soul,
sapping their strength and speed, and poisoning and diseasing the victim's body.
The girl's shriek became more of a wail, though her mechanics protected her from poison and disease, her joints seemed sapped and weak, as if suddenly older and stricken of their lubricant. She creaked loudly as she raised her guard, then decided a good strategy would be to get this over with quickly.
She charged forward, skillet upraised and coming down with a resounding CREEEEAK.
And that was when he drew his swords, first one, long and silver, engraved with countless runes, and then the other, crimson and sleek. As quick as lightning, he brought the runed one up to block the skillet and sent the crimson one shooting toward her forehead.
She saw the sword a split second before it split her brain. Her neck seemed to half-collapse and her head dropped sideways, allowing the thrust to miss by millimeters as she dropped back a step, her neck lurching back to proper alignment with a metal growl. Her left hand dropped back, a green flash calling up a simple silver fork with over-sharp prongs.
The Reaver watched her examiningly. "Hmm, you bend quite strangely, child."
"I do." She admitted, as if it were a minor bad habit. Then she danced in again with a mechanical squeal, guard-first, thrusting the fork toward his middle beneath it.
He simply stood there, however, and the fork collided with the same energy the butcher knife had hit. "Very well," he said as his silver eyes began to glow again and his coat began to shift in the wind. "Clearly, more direct methods are required to send you to Sativa."
"You don't have to use them, if you don't feel like it." The robot girl babbled quickly, desummoning the fork.
"Let's try," Dorian motioned with his hand before holding it out toward her, "Dread Blast!" The energy leapt out from his palm, and would do the same as her flames, except in reverse and according to how good someone was.
Fortunately for True, she wasn't an entirely good person, but she wasn't very evil, either.
The force drove her back and sent her down, black energy flaming out of her clothes as she sluggishly patted them out. Blue fluid oozed from wounds on her face, arms, and chest, but she didn't seem overly affected, or if she was, she didn't show it. In another flash she pointed a simple white hairdryer at the dagahasi, her elbow complaining noisily. "Hell's Hairdryer!" With that, she pressed a button, and un-aligned flames spewed forth.
"Extinguish," he bellowed as he snapped his fingers, and the flames sputtered out, as did all of the lights on the building top.
The sudden darkness startled True, but she blinked it off, her eyes slowly gaining a constant green glow to them, vaguely lighting the roofing area around her as the drier flashed away. Then she heaved her arms overhead, as if wincing at a heavy load.
With another CREEEAK she flung it, a flash summoning an entire washing machine to strike the man.
Even as her eyes glowed green, she could see his glowing distinctly red, and he raised his hand toward the washing machine. "Demonsmite!" Another blast issued forth, blowing it out of the air and over the edge of the rooftop.
True's glowing eyes followed it over the edge, her stomach falling with it. "Well. Hm."
In another flash a simple black mug was summoned. "Mystic Monsoon!"
A misnomer, but a functional alliteration, nonetheless, as a high-powered jet-stream of water shot out from it.
"Nightmare Mantle," was the answering call as he held his hand out and the dark energy surged out before him to block in his defense.
The water was blocked and the mug desummoned. Apparently short on ideas as well as powers, True spun away and painfully sprinted to leap from the building's edge.
The energy he had been charging was released all at once as he shouted, "OBLIVION!" What seemed like so many blasts of energy surged out from him and rushed at the girl's undefended back.
True went over the edge, and half the blasts struck her full-on, the others falling around her. Gears broke and wires melted, True's consciousness vanished with the impact as she tumbled, black flaming out of now exposed metal ribs.
She collided with the pavement unceremoniously, skeletal machinery buried in the crater. She was still, but internally, something ticked off numbers.
The man jumped from the top of the building to land lightly beside her ruined form as he looked down at her. "Well, that was mildly entertaining. What do you know, she was just a construct."
As the ticker came to three, the girl's eyes snapped open. She only bent at the waist, creaking and scraping upwards like a remote-control car low on battery.
"Who was a construct?" She enunciated slowly, forgetting to move her mouth to match the words.
"You are, child," the man answered as his eyes slanted in annoyance. "Otherwise, you would have been long dead, but instead, you have no life to take."
Her head shook, only one curt, noisy motion in either direction. Painfully loudly she raised a finger to her temple, where the smallest trickle of red was visible amidst blue. "I'm still a little human."
"Yes," he scowled, "in the same way my dal'drok was still a little rat."
"Yes. Rather like that." The arm dropped. "Does this mean you won't kill me?"
"No, child," he answered as he raised his arm to press against her forehead. "No, it doesn't." The energy surrounded him again. "Oblivion!"
True's expression froze, and for an instant, it seemed like nothing happened. That is, besides the damage to public property behind her.
Then she started to lean back, and a hand-shaped hole in her forehead betrayed her fate of the day.
True slumped back into the crater, a little lower than before, the back half of her head missing.
With that, Dorian kept his bargain in leaving her recognizable and turned on his heel, whistling a happy little tune as he made his way down the sidewalk.
