A low chuckle rolled through the mist at the challenge. “Those are mighty big words considerin you’re in my world now punkin.”
Even as Kit issued the retort she knew in her gut it was the truth. It had taken a moment to get her bearings and realize where she was but returning to this place and finding little Gus waiting made it feel like coming home. It was as if this place belonged to her, and she belonged to it.
In here the huntress could feel everything. Every member of the pack and those she brought with her. Though she couldn't explain it, the sensation seemed as natural as breathing.
Soul’s presence felt comforting, like cocoa on a winter’s night or the big brother who kept the bullies away but the one called Alasdair was a thorn in her side, his very presence was an irritation impossible to ignore.
The mist swirled and danced around her enemy, obscuring sight and deadening sound. As it did, the huntress sidled up next to Soul and put a finger to her lips. She took his arm, gently urging him back just far enough to be out of the beings reach. Gus soon appeared next to them and silently Kit pantomimed out a plan. Gussy would guide Soul true, and Soul would keep him safe.
Kit began to speak, covering the sounds of Soul and Gus moving out “Because I like me a fair fight, I'm gonna be a good sport and give ya a head start." Her brow began to furrow in concentration. It seemed that the farther away they got, the more difficult it was for her to sense them. "I suggest ya get ta runnin, and pray to yer king to send the dawn.”
“Oh wait, he can’t do that can he? You’re all alone here with no big bad lying sack of king to come and help you out of this pickle.” Kit taunted Alasdair from the shadows “Poor little punkin. Whatever will ya do?”
The huntress felt Gus and Soul come to a stop but to make sure Alasdair knew where she was, she began chanting that old nursery rhyme. “Tick tock goes the clock, hands move round the dial. The huntsman’s call will pull you in to run an endless mile.”
As one, she and the pack began to close in on their prey. The hound’s low growls grew louder, giving away their positions as they neared. The fog surrounding Alasdair cleared up just enough to offer him but one gap, one glimmer of hope in which to escape from.
He'd thought he was helping, but as Alasdair sank his hand into his chest, his body was wracked by searing pain. When your whole being is your soul, attacks against your spirit are not pleasant in the slightest.
He wanted to help, yes, but honestly. He was too young to die! Well...die again at least. As Alasdair raised him into the air and moved to end him, he prepared to finally move on.
But then he realized Alasdair had let go. Falling to the ground, he clutched his chest and landed with a rather loud hit. He was quickly recovering, but didn't know where he was. What is this? Doesn't look like the cathedral...
He felt himself get pulled away quickly, though, and soon he was strong enough to realize what was going on. Grabbing his sword from the ground, he looked at Kit and Gus and quickly gathered she had a plan while she talked to Alasdair.
He gave her a silent nod, signaling he understood and standing up. He gave Gus a small pat on the head and a smile, quickly following behind him. He wasn't as aware of the area as Kit was, but as he ran besides Kit, he did feel further away in a spiritual sense as well as a physical one.
When Gus came to a stop, he did as well, crouching quietly in their hiding spot. Alright...this is an ambush...wait, or is it? Maybe she wants rid of me? Nah, it's an ambush. She wouldn't stick me with Gus if she wanted me out. Soul nodded to himself in assurance and waited perfectly still, trying his best not to screw this up.
All are equal in death; it's just that some people are more equal than others.
The constant singing from the Huntress agitated the Harvester, her voice echoed through this odd realm. Was this Karthus' doing? No, it couldn't have been. The girl was the one that had dragged him into this place, not Karthus. The Harvester moved out of the cathedral and looked around him, he had never experienced anything like this before. He felt, uneasy like someone was watching him.
He was correct about that part when he could hear the growling from the pack that closed in on his location. Alasdair spun around again and looked after the harlot that had dragged him into this cursed place. He could feel a familiar presence, the being Soul was here as well. But where was he? Turning around again the Harvester could see a gap in the fog, he considered going towards it, but this was the Huntress' realm, it might as well be an ambush. He thought and spun around again, he needed to get out of there but he also wanted to kill her.
"Harlot! Come out, we will show you what it feels like to die again!" The Harvester shouted, the sound of the pack coming closer did not escape him. He had killed one of them before he could just do it again.
Last Edit: Dec 29, 2013 9:26:49 GMT -5 by Alasdair
Gods help me; I could really use a friggin bow… Kit cursed silently, looking down at her open palms in dismay as if she were expecting a bow and arrow to suddenly appear. When nothing happened she rolled her eyes at herself and shrugged off the worry entirely. There was nothing she could do about it now. At least here she could actually land a blow. Let’s hope Death saw fit to gimme a decent right hook she resolved.
Cold red eyes narrowed and her hands balled up into fists, then she made her move. “You keep callin me that like yer hoping it’ll come true. Do ya really want me that bad punkin?” The huntress taunted him with a laugh as she sprang out of the fog and brought her fist toward Alasdair’s jaw. "Happy to oblige!" Her eyes were wide with either madness or glee, possibly both. At the same time as she moved in, the dogs would lunge, doing anything they could to make his afterlife difficult, nipping and biting, teeth tearing into him. “I’d bet my un-life that ya ain’t man enough to gimme one death let alone a second!”
“You wanna prove me wrong?”
If the punch connected she would keep hitting. If it did not she would try again, swinging and clawing at him till he was good and enraged. “Then ya better be able to run faster’n that!” Kit’s last jeer would be spoken just before dashing back into the fog, a sidelong gait leading both predator and prey toward the place where Soul and Gus laid in wait.
Soul heard the other group fall to blows and shuffled a bit, holding a hand out to Gus. "Stay quiet, boy. Don't worry; I bet Kit knows what she's doing." He heard them coming towards their hiding spot, and held his sword at the ready, just sitting and waiting besides the ghostly pup.
All are equal in death; it's just that some people are more equal than others.
Alasdair turned around when he thought he heard something from behind, he looked at the fog. There was no one there. Turning around he was met with a fist at his jaw and then another and then another. He swung his arm at hers to grab it but just barely missed because of the damn dogs that kept pulling in him and biting him.
Alasdair was too angry to feel pain at the moment and as soon as she ran away he darted after her. The Messenger was going to rip her soul out, but first he wanted her to see him kill her pets once more. The Harvester was looking for a shadow as he followed her, a shadow he could jump to in front of her. So far he had not seen one, but eventually one appeared. But by now he was close enough for Soul and Gus.
Alasdair disappeared and appeared in front of Kit, his fist clenched into a ball he threw it at her sorry undead face. "You can't run forever, wench!" The Harvester shouted at her, if the punch would connect he'd grasp for her soul once more.
There was almost no time to react as he reappeared in front of her, his fist meeting her face with a crunch that sent her reeling back a step. “You ...hit like a girl.” She spat at him after regaining her footing.
They were close now, so close that if Alasdair took a few steps backward he would nearly be on top of Soul. Seems death did not figure on me getting all up close and personal like with folks... the thought made her lips curl back, a bloody grin for a bloody business.
He came at her again and she took up a solid stance just before his hand met her chest. As it sunk in she felt like he had breached some essential part of her being. Whatever he hit, she was sure that it was something she could not live without. It had to be now, right now… “SOUL!” Her yell came as she gripped Alasdair by the shoulders and pushed his gauntleted hand in further.
“That… The best you got? …No wonder …Your king wanted …Someone like ME!” With the last broken word she threw herself forward, intent on head butting the sorry SOB to disrupt whatever the blazes he was doing and drive him backward.
The pack was harrowing him from all sides, barking, growling, and penning him in but there was little Kit could do aside from holding his focus; Their victory and survival now lay in Soul’s hands.
Soul heard the pack come closer and as they fell into his trap, he waited for a signal. It wasn't long before he saw Kit get the worse end of things, and as she cried out his name he leapt to action. He couldn't let her soul get ripped out, not now.
He jumped to his feet with Gus besides him, a battle cry following quickly behind as he jumped up, slashing at Alasdair's back with a broad swing. His sword still glimmered with Karthus's enchantment, and if he hit Alasdair, it would certainly do injury. As he landed from his leap, he glared at Alasdair, holding his sword up to attack again. "Not losing another friend to someone like you, not today, not soon, not ever!" He cried out, lunging forwards to stab Alasdair again.
All are equal in death; it's just that some people are more equal than others.
The Harvester clenched his fist inside the huntress, he was going to tear out her soul. But things did not go as expected, her head hit his and he lost the grip on her soul as he was pushed backwards. As he regained his balance he moved forwards, this time he was forced forward too. A long cut along his back made the harvester scream in pain.
When he got up from the attack he turned around and faced Soul as he got stabbed by the blade. This time Alasdair put one of his hands on the blade and pulled Soul closer to him. "You have caused us much pain, you will die!" This time he moved faster and thrust his gauntlet into Soul, he wasn't going to let him die so fast. The Harvester was no real fighter, but corrupt he could. "Let's see how you act without sanity." Alasdair taunted and would start to channel a corruption spell into him. A spell that would make Soul lose his sanity if not interrupted.
Kit blinked to clear her vision but Alasdair was now focused on Soul. With his back to her and Brimstone in trouble there was no time for thought, only action. She commanded the pack to attack and with one swift movement she slid around from behind him and from the side she hurled her elbow at his face, at the same time her other hand tore the blade from his chest.
The sword was heavy, cumbersome and even as she stumbled backward she felt awkward with it drooping in her hands. The huntress had never wielded anything bigger than a hunting knife.
At her command the pack fell on Alasdair with a vengeance, tooth and claw tearing into his incorporeal flesh from all sides. Even little Gus tried his best to fight, leaping and barking, trying his best to get at the hand embedded in soul's chest.
Kit gripped the hilt of the blade tightly with both hands as she waited for an opening to strike. Seconds that felt like a lifetime ticked by until suddenly, there it was....
Kari lost her grip on his shoulder and in the split second it took for the dog to regain her balance and leap up again, the huntress struck.
With an angry cry she hefted the blade up over her head and brought it down with all her might. If the blow landed true, it would come down in the middle of his skull, possibly with enough force to split it in two.
Soul didn't get a chance to celebrate his attack before Alasdair had his hand inside his chest. He didn't seem to be going for his normal attack this time...instead, Soul felt an odd force pouring out of the messenger and into his body. He suddenly felt afraid...unable to focus...and his memories, some of them started to slip out of his reach. Some of the flames of his body flickered slightly, turning black from orange and moving through his current like a disease.
But before he felt it go too far, Soul saw the hounds tear into Alasdair, Kit herself moving to finish him. He felt Alasdair's powers stop flowing now, although the black flame still flickered in his body. He would've breathed a sigh of relief, but he barely got a chance to do that before realizing that Alasdair's hand was actually really painful, prompting a loud yelp from him.
He really hoped Alasdair would pull out soon, whether by his choice or Kit's.
All are equal in death; it's just that some people are more equal than others.
Alasdair continued to channel the spell until Kit's elbow came into sight and hit him in the face shortly after. He stopped the channel as the dogs attacked him and the infant undead pulled out the sword from his chest. Screaming in pain the harvester looked down at the dogs that tore in his spectral body.
The Harvester could see the blade coming down towawrds him and the moment it connected to his head everything disappeared around him.
The Harvester looked around him, he was in a familiar place. A rather large house, but where was it? And why was he there? Looking down he could see that he was human again, a memory? Another person came into view, Alasdair smiled at her. But his smile was soon changed into a cold expression of pain as she stabbed him in the chest.
Alasdair couldn't recall why that happened, he knew this was his memory or a part of him. Who was that girl and why did she kill him? Everything faded once again, the furniture around him vaporized into a mist and a feeling of relief washed over him. Everything went black and silent, it stayed that way.
What Soul and Kit would see was the fading body of the Harvester, no movement and no sound came from him as he faded away. The Harvester had now disappeared from this world.
Time seemed to stop for a moment, as if the entire world were holding its breath in wait. The expectant silence remained until the moment Alasdair’s body evaporated beneath the blade.
Hunched over, hands still grasping the hilt for dear life, Kit could still hear his scream ringing in her ears as she blinked down at the place where he had been just moments before. It hardly seemed real that everything could be over and done just like that and yet, it was.
It took a second look before her mind could convince her hands to release the death grip she had on the blades hilt. Finally she broke the silence. “Is everybody alright?”
Bloodshot eyes glanced up from the spot on the ground to assess the situation for herself. Brimstone seemed to be intact, though it was hard to tell with him. Kari stood tall over her brood, all of whom appeared to be none the worse for wear. Relief washed over her as Kit crouched down in the middle of the pack and started to give everyone a proud round of petting.
As she examined paws and flanks, muzzles and ears, the dogs seemed to share her concern, whining and sniffing her injuries. “Aw don’t you worry, he didn't hurt me none.” She lied, smiling unconvincingly through the dull ache that still lingered in her chest. No doubt, the pain was from Alasdair’s attempt to tear out her soul. As an afterthought she ran her fingertips over the spot, finding a crack that now spidered out across her spectral flesh. Coulda been worse she thought, standing back up with a tired exhale.
With that in mind the huntress sauntered back over to the sword. Its own weight had embedded it into the ground. She frowned down at it, as if it had done this on purpose. Damn thing is more trouble than it’s worth, she mused, keeping her displeasure to herself as she pushed and pulled till she gained some leverage on the blade. Of course it wasn't true but her dislike seemed to confirm itself when the blade finally came loose and sent her stumbling back a step.
With a self conscious laugh she brought it to Soul, offering it back to him with a grateful nod. “Thanks for having our backs.” She would wait for him to take the blade before turning back around to tackle the next problem. Now how in blazes are we supposed to get outta here again? She questioned herself, eyes scanning the fog filled landscape carefully.
Her hands rested on her hips and her brow furrowed in thought. Kit chewed on the problem, nibbling on her cracked lip as she tried to figure out the answer to her own question. Finally she had no choice but to turn back to Soul and speak the worry that was on her mind. “So um, we may have ourselves an itty bitty problem.... see, I don’t rightly know how we got here again and I ain't exactly sure how were supposed to get back out.”
Soul staggered from where Alasdair had dropped him, a bit stunned. He was clutching his chest, unaware of the tainted part of his soul but completely aware of the pain. He reached out and took the sword from Kit, smiling a bit - although it likely didn't look like it. "And thank you for saving my life. I owe you one, Kit." A quick grimace spread across his face, but he tried to hide it, sheathing his sword and sighing.
He took a quick look at Kit to make sure she wasn't injured, and saw the crack spidering across her chest. "That doesn't look so good..." He said, pressing one of his cold metal hands against it to see if it felt dangerous. Deciding it was probably fine - for now - He withdrew and looked at her as she started talking about getting out.
He nervously fingered his sword's hilt, looking around. "So we're in this place and we don't even know where it is? Great." He glanced around and sighed, spotting the spectral copy of the Cathedral in the distance. "Maybe we should go back to the cathedral. At least then we'll know where we are, right?" He offered, pointing in the general direction.
All are equal in death; it's just that some people are more equal than others.
Kit blinked, her mouth hanging open a little as Soul withdrew his hand from her chest. If he hadn't seemed so concerned she would have slapped the sense back into him for the gesture. Of course the urge to whap him came right back again as he lamented about their situation. "Hey gimme a break will ya? I've only been dead fer… Well… Not that long. I got no idea how this stuff is supposed to work yet."
"Maybe we should go back to the cathedral. At least then we'll know where we are, right?"
“Now that ain't a bad idea at all.” she replied, nodding her head. With a quick hand gesture to the pack she turned toward the Cathedral and started walking. “I’ll bet my right eyeball that the boss can get us up on outta here without even breakin a sweat.” She turned back to grin at him but Soul was not where she expected him to be.
After watching him struggle to keep up for a few seconds she called the pack to a slow walk and doubled back. He was more beat up then she thought at first, silently she kicked herself for not realizing sooner. If she was hurting then he must have been feeling much worse. Alasdair had his hooks in for so long.
Before he could protest, Kit quickly wrapped an arm behind his back and ducked her head under his elbow, using her shoulder to help brace him up as they walked. “I ain't gonna listen to arguments an don’t even try to gimme some line bout how fine ya are neither” was all she offered in explanation for her actions.
Can a dead person die? An if they did die, would it be for always? An if it was where would they go? Did they heal when they got hurt like a live person would? What would happen if they didn't? And what if… Kit stopped her worried mind with a growl.
“Were just gonna get ya home and fix ya up and that’s all there is to it.” She told herself aloud, though the words might seem meant for Soul.
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