Grayell hefted his own weapon to his shoulder and let the blood slip, he had no more interest in it. He had less interest in parlaying with this ass though. His voice smacked of malice and impatience.
You're next in line, that's obvious. So I kill you in a hurry and what then? Those worms have one less person to look up to because they're simply not capable of wiping their own asses.
Worst case scenario for me is I kill all but one of them. But I'm getting the name. You... well you're just slowing me down.
If his words were suppose to cow the other man into acquiescing; they did not. He smirked instead and stood that much straighter. He was not intimidated.
You are correct. I am next in line. But, you won't get the name from them.
He waved a hand behind him to indicate the other three.
They are hired thugs. I should know. I hired them. What information they know is minuscule, and nothing that would help you. You want a name. You'll have to get it from me. Oh, you could have gotten it from Marik there, but as you can see, he lacks the capacity for discourse.
Eternity
“Put some clothes on, you weird, yellow-eyed, table-dancing, werewolf-training, cryptic, stare-me-right-in-the-eyes-and-don't-even-blink wench.”
Grayell smirked then and turned his side to the man and began to pace again over the water logged grass. His free hand met his chin and his voice became sly.
That's quite the lead.
Grayell turned 180 degrees then and waved his hand in a gesture to exaggerate his words.
See, you can't hope to beat me. You certainly can't hope to beat both of us. And me... well I am very good at getting whatever information I want. I don't have to kill you to get it.
Grayell stopped walking then and pointed the end of his blade directly at the man's face.
I don't deal with your ilk. But you're going to regret making this hard. It's amazing what you don't need to still speak.
Grayell whipped his blade back and then turned it in his hand to arc along the grass, his stance shifting. He looked back to Kiko in that moment, a mixture of concern and comfort... before he turned his gaze back upon his adversary.
I have no desire to deal with you, at all. However...
His arm came forward and the three men behind him advanced as a group. They had done this several times before, and it always turned out well for them.
...they will. Happily. Just out of curiosity, though? Both of you? Who are you planning to recruit with that fancy display of blood? The werewolf or Marik? Marik owes me money. I'd like to collect it.
Eternity
“Put some clothes on, you weird, yellow-eyed, table-dancing, werewolf-training, cryptic, stare-me-right-in-the-eyes-and-don't-even-blink wench.”
Grayell sneered, but the knowledge now that he was oblivious to her presence thrilled him. He didn't want her in danger... but Grayell revelled at times in the sight of Kiko in action. She was cold, precise and didn't mince words or waste action... she was as dangerous as she was gorgeous. Torn between wanting her kept from harm and wanting to see her kill...
... he was still pissed. He hadn't calmed down since the insult. But he had no more use for words. He had no want to waste more time. No, instead his blade whipped back, only arcing forward as he broke from his stance and leaped to the side of the trio, Onibusa a silent killer, looking to cleave the outside man in half.
Kiko made her play for the mouthy one while he was still talking. She came up out of the darkness of the swamp where she had been crouching and flung her body right into his chest. She had no desire to see him get a good swing in with that mace. Let him deal with a muzzle full of canine teeth in his face instead.
Grayell had managed to take the first of his opponents by surprise. He hadn't expected the man to leap to the side, but rather back up like any normal person would when faced with three attackers at once. He paid for his lack of imagination in spades, the strike cleaving through his hip and out across his upper thigh.
He was shrieking and spilling blood into the swampy ground, but the other two were more cautious this time around. They backed up to take stock of him instead of trying to rush in.
Eternity
“Put some clothes on, you weird, yellow-eyed, table-dancing, werewolf-training, cryptic, stare-me-right-in-the-eyes-and-don't-even-blink wench.”
Grayell smiled and nodded to them both as they gave ground... and then whipped his blade forward. Onibusa's blood-soaked edge was an incredible tool, the loose blood flinging for their faces and his mind slamming out, each bead of blood now becoming a dangerous, razored petal that sliced the air like Hollywood shuriken.
He'd maim their vision, their senses before one simple lunged took them both, his blade folding through one and to the other as fluid as a ribbon. Should that fail well, he'd only have to be more brutal.
There was a high pitched shriek from the first man. He dropped the two handed maul to fling his arm over his bleeding eyes. The other poacher was spun around from the slice to his cheek and ear. But, he managed to miss the vital thrust through his kidneys. He kept a hold of his weapon. Nevertheless, he was swaying badly and blood was already staining his worn out leather shirt and pants.
Neither of them would be any match for another slice of Onibusa. Just then a roar of rage came from behind Grayell. The werewolf shoved away from the earth in one powerful thrust throwing the body of the dead Marik to one side and plowing into the one unable to see him. He tore the blinded poacher’s head off with a negligent swipe from one clawed paw, the body was left to keel over into the swampy grass.
Kiko had collided with the armored poacher sending them both into the same wet grass. The mace had been knocked out of his hand. She was snapping at his throat. He was unsettled, unnerved, but hanging on tenaciously.
Eternity
“Put some clothes on, you weird, yellow-eyed, table-dancing, werewolf-training, cryptic, stare-me-right-in-the-eyes-and-don't-even-blink wench.”
Grayell spun fast, his feet sinking in the mud and murk as he moved, placing himself between the new threat and Kiko. His blade at the ready, he disregarded the wounded man, he would bleed to the point of uselessness too quickly. As it was, any attack from him would be futile.
How the damned hell the were had gotten back up was almost a mystery, he'd not taken it lightly. He'd looked to dismember it and it hadn't worked, something he would now have to remedy. The were was all rage though, it's body screaming in pain and fury - and Grayll was more than ok with that. It hadn't the focus it needed to combat him... not effectively. He looked back at Kiko for all of a breath of time.
Keep him pinned whilst I deal with the mutt.
Grayell had accentuated that last word and sneered as he faced the werewolf now. He moved closer, closing the gap before the wolf could look to leap headlong at him... and dropped his foot back. His blade rested down the center of his stance, his eyes parted by the steel.
Kiko was too busy ripping flesh from the throat of her victim to pay much attention, even with the resurgence of the werewolf. The armored poacher was flailing, shrieking in pain, and trying to roll to his feet. But, none of it had dissuaded her. His fear was a palpable thing, too, and infusing new energy in her attacks. It stung her nose, it put her hackles up stiff, and her teeth were unerringly accurate.
The werewolf had no interest in letting any of them leave alive. He had snatched up the other man and broken his spine. He discarded him like one would toss a bare chicken bone over their shoulder. Then he straightened up, his lip curling at Grayell's threat.
Fool. I told you the poachers would die. This was not your concern.
Eternity
“Put some clothes on, you weird, yellow-eyed, table-dancing, werewolf-training, cryptic, stare-me-right-in-the-eyes-and-don't-even-blink wench.”
Grayell's lips curl in kind and a gutteral, menacing growl emanates from his mouth. His sword whips down, curls in the air and then reverses. He spits on the ground, dismissing his foe.
It is my concern. These are my woods, and you're on my patch mate. Being that your a mongrel and it's my hobby to end your sort well... this has worked out rather nicely hasn't it?
If you're done playing with the mice, I'm ready for you.
Grayell's eyes immediately grew wide and unearthly cold. His face was bordering on blank but was quickly leaning toward infuriated. His hand let loose his blade and the hand swung up through his fingers, it then falling unceremoniously to the ground beside him. His eyes burned with malice but his lips smiled...
I got your difference mother f**ker.
His teeth grew and damn near snapped as the shift took over his body, shoulders bunching, growing and snapping bone and muscle, arms twisting and elongating, hands snapping and closing, then stretching into malicious claws. His legs snapped forward like a pneumatic mechanism, joints reformed and reset and shifted his hips back and a tail and fur broke from his flesh, smothering him as his jaw lengthened, full of wicked teeth.
Grayell turned to look at the were now, eyes insistent on ending the f**ker, his tongue pushed passed his teeth, his mouth open, lips pulled back and snarling. He was PISSED.
The werewolf made a bizarre sound in the midst of Grayell’s change. He laughed. It wasn’t pleasant; but rather full of cruel mockery. He stood there with his tongue hanging out and laughing coarsly. An attack appeared to be the furthest thing from his mind.
Kiko had, in the midst of the exchange between Grayell and the bestial creature, torn through the last poacher’s throat. She spit the dead flesh to the ground and maintained her stiff legged stance over top of his chest. Her bloody muzzle swung up a few inches into the air though at the strange laugh, but no higher than her shoulders.
Now that her attention was freed Kiko felt the Wolf’s fury as if it were her own. It vibrated straight through to her core. She stepped away from the dead poacher, her movements short and choppy. The hackles on her back flared as she pulled her head down low. Her teeth were bared in an blood stained snarl at the werewolf.
Eternity
“Put some clothes on, you weird, yellow-eyed, table-dancing, werewolf-training, cryptic, stare-me-right-in-the-eyes-and-don't-even-blink wench.”
Grayell stepped sideways, his wolf human form much larger than his regular human size. His claws could not keep still, they bunched and opened repeatedly and spittle frothed on his lip as he growled, menacing the damned werewolf. Something was not right - and embracing the wolf did not alter his awareness in that way... but he was having a difficult time caring about it.
No. Time to put the mongrel down.
Grayell swayed to his right - and then dropped left, his leg out and bounding him at the werewolves flank. He never fought like the wolf, was not so foolish as to be that predictable - but with his magic fuelling his blood, he was disturbingly fast, almost impossible to follow with sight alone. His right hand was cruel and anxious, his claws looking to disembowel his target before he flew past and beyond immediate reach.