@meetsorcery
THE BLADE OF FRONTIERS. What a childish name for a hero of the people, and this was why it suited him so. His optimism and good heart made it ALL TOO EASY for a killer practiced as it was to slip right past his clutches time and time again. The resurgence of murders which could only be described as so well executed that the butchered bodies of the citizens could only be for Bhaal. Of course there were those who were MUCH TOO TERRIFIED TO BELIEVE IT. They had seen the last time that the Baldurians could not deny their existence any longer, had experienced the RIGHTFUL FEAR of the Dreadlord and did not wish to live through it again. Their frail mentality and way of life was vile to them. Their stomach twisted in disgust at the PASSING THOUGHT of living such a dull, rotting life. To let one's ability to slice and cut, only THAT could be a true death but never honing the practice a MEANINGLESS EXISTENCE indeed.
The Blade of Frontiers seemed to be DETERMINED TO RULE OUT EVERY POSSIBILITY, attempting to solve the murders as it were a normal spree. His eyes seemed fixed on Orin's path now, sorting through every sacrifice it offered up intensively. What did he expect ??? To find the magic clue which all other eyes simply glazed over and then be REVERED SO with cheers and acclamations ??? How Orin longed to sort through his mind with as much focus and thoroughness as he to find what made him so self righteous.
He was getting closer to their trail, Orin could detect the stink of his proximity. It grew STRONGER AND STRONGER as each day passed ( teeth LONGED to tear at the flesh and SWALLOW IT QUICKLY ), but he would NEVER CONTAIN THEM. Orin was certain in her abilities to bend bones and morph flesh to evade the point of his blade infinitely.
Crimson mischief was YANKED with a squishy, wet sound from the throat of Orin's latest sacrifice. Their eyes had long since lost their spark, but Orin had stabbed the lamb still. Over and over and over her blade further desecrated the corpse. They were just pressing the sharp edge of the shortsword to the corpse's belly to pull out and unravel the intestines. To spread them ALL OVER THE ALLEY so whoever discovered the carnage would think to themselves ' gore so LONG AND ENDLESS is bunched within my own belly ' before vomiting whatever their own entrails had processed that morning. The thought made Orin laugh manically to itself, but they stopped short. Just behind them, there was the sound of footsteps.
It whirled around, short extended towards the source of the disturbance. The DIM LIGHTING from the street was just enough for Orin to identify the Blade of Frontiers. She sneered at him as they rose to their feet, eyes BLAZING WITH FRUSTRATION. It wasn't perfect yet, it wasn't right and this foolish man DARED TO INTERRUPT. The fury of being stopped was enough that flashes of dozens of ways to kill him raced through her skull. She could gouge his eyes out and watch him STRUGGLE TO SWING HIS BLADE to strike down the villain. It would wait just long enough for the hopelessness of his situation to make itself known to him before striking him down PERMANENTLY. The murderous thoughts glinted in pale eyes, Orin looking properly monstrous in that moment without the aid of slayer form.
" So the mouse FINALLY CATCHES THE CAT in the midst of the slaughter. Flee, little mouse or you will soon find that no hole in the wall can keep you safe. I could crush you, could watch your brains leak from EVERY ORIFICE your head has. Your death would be exceptionally divine to make up from what you have denied me on this night. "