@fandanicl: ❝ Hey, you forgot something ~ ♥ ❞
A voice was heard in the air, until the ascian appeared from one of those dark portals, while a wild dagger was speeding towards the dragoon's back.
𝐒𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐲 shaped by these strange beings. Ancient beyond reckoning, hailing from a time beyond memory to all but their own. For all their power, for all their grand schemes, what he now knows of them is of creatures little better than fading phantoms, clinging with all their might to a life only they would cherish. Each claw sunk deep into the very beating heart of this star pried loose as truth is as light is shone upon their dark secrets.
To hear tell of their cause might they have his sympathy, for how oft has he mourned the loss of home and family. Mayhap he does, in some small way, though much of that sympathy vanishes in memory of all the tragedy that they have wrought. Just as he veers to the realm of understanding does he remember the many families torn apart and many homes rent to naught by their very machinations.
Thus will he always hold these ascians in contempt. His very being recoiling to sense them so near. Though in truth, he knows only the one and only from a distance. Mayhap the way his very veins alight as though doused in black poison is a sensation belonging wholly to this Fandaniel. He’s like to never know as the Warrior of Light has seen to the rest of his kind.
Yet his senses are scoured all the same ere the voice is heard. Each syllable as broken glass that cuts against his nerves. For how every mote of his being screams, he heeds the first instinct, the one that has never failed him in his hour of need -- he leaps, feeling only the brush of air as the dagger darts past. He lands ‘pon an outcropping of rock, peering down at the fiend.
An eye for an eye, so it goes. Vengeance begets vengeance as he well knows. After all, he had meant to put the bastard out of his misery afore. Yet when the cackle that fills the air disappears in the moments that follow, he picks his way to the dagger. A cheap thing, poorly made, yet for what it’s meant to do ‘twould suffice. He straps the blade to his belt. ❝ I hope you’ve no need of this as there’ll only be one way I’ll be returning this dagger. ❞
