4. Crows
Quintin just peered up into the trees, mouthing the words as he counted the black shapes lurking, waiting just beyond the leaves for the next unfortunate victim. Sometimes he was left wondering if they were Eona’s messengers, but that was quickly disproved. They never ran from the god of trickery, he once even caught one of the black birds, although it was quite a boring chase. But that left the reasoning of why they were here.
“Little murderers, why do you linger and watch me? Who are you working for?” Quintin finally yelled up to the birds, and the silence was irritating. He certainly didn’t expect an answer, but at least if one of them flew away, he’d be satisfied.
“They are too busy carrying their god to be watching you, trickery.” The voice from their midst startled Quintin, and within seconds erased any irritation. The tieflings eyes searched through the leaves for the location of the voice, and was almost too pleased to find he was jumping down.
A man with a large brimmed hat, he stunk of death and his magic was old and far more powerful than his own. Quintin nonetheless was intrigued.
“I assume you are one then? I wasn’t aware that death was such an important job.” Quintin grinned, moving closer and being delighted when the man did not move away. He instead seemed to be entertained by the inquiry.
“There is only one death, but sometimes the old ones pop in for a fun visit…”
