Sinful Consequences (Closed) (Dated)

Rendered near-blind by the lightning, and almost deafened by the thunder, Zweihander was disoriented. He couldn't see much, except...

Freyia...? he incoherently thought.

With the flash fading, he saw the mare kill the two Guerillas quite easily with her spear. Their blood already pooling, he looked at Freyia, confused. What was that pony doing out here in the storm, and why did she save him? He figured it was his time to die, tortured and alon-AUUUUGH

Zweihander coughed in pain, having his wound mangled again. This was not his week. Not by a long shot. And it appeared Kroll was about to monologue again...Zweihander flinched with disgust.

Kroll shook his head. "You didn't need to kill the last of my squad though. That was a bit unnecessary, don't you think? If you'd just simply asked, I'm sure we could've worked something out so we could both get what we were promised...I take it they offered you to have the title of Valkyrie that's eluded you for so long?"

Looking at Kroll with utter venom, he attempted to stand defiantly.

What was this? Kroll thought she was after the same thing...maybe she wouldn't have to desert. But, she would have to play this off, if she wanted to keep Zwei alive as well as her job. "Kroll," She said disdainfully as she lowered the tip of her spear to the ground, "You know not even Commander Feliks has that kind of power." She relaxed her stance, keeping the tip of the spear pointed towards him, but on the ground.

Kroll...that griffon was bad news. Honorable only to his code, although in reality aren't we all. In the stories she heard as well what little she has seen of him, he is a madbird; one who takes pleasure in the pain inflicted on others. Even so, he was an excellent leader, and one worthy of her respect.

"I am here to take the traitor Zweihander in...alone," her tone was flat and emotionless, despite her heart racing. If they were to fight, not only could she die, but if she lived, everything she knew would be taken from her.

Kroll stared at Freyia for a moment, beginning to nod slowly. "I see..." He had no reason to distrust her; if anything, he had every reason in the world to believe her, being as loyal as she was to the kingdom. He smiled thinly at the spear-maiden, stepping away from Zweihander.

"Very well, I shall leave him in your care...but be careful. He's a slippery one, Zweihander; lost my whole squad because of this bastard." Kroll paused for a moment, looking at the two corpses in behind Freyia. "...I won't mention their deaths in my report...they attacked you first anyway." He shakes his head, sighing. "I swear, these guerrillas are getting more incompetent by the unit."

The Hunter had watched the Valkyrie and Grey speak to one another for a bit before he decided to move forward. He moved quickly, quietly, and skillfully about the shadows. When the lightning struck he froze temporarily, waiting till the shadows returned from their banishment.

It gave the illusion of teleportation. A massive cloaked figure, jumping the distance and closing in. Luckily none seemed to notice the show and soon the Hunter drew close enough to hear the words of Grey to the newcomer.

"Very well, I shall leave him in your care...but be careful. He's a slippery one, Zweihander; lost my whole squad because of this bastard." Kroll paused for a moment, looking at the two corpses in behind Freyia. "...I won't mention their deaths in my report...they attacked you first anyway." He shook his head, a sigh escaped him. Tired, disappointed it seemed. "I swear, these guerrillas are getting more incompetent by the unit."

The Hunter cocked his head to the side from where he watched now, sure that his cover was perfect. Even when the lightning struck this little nook remained black. Perfect for observation, perfect for gaining information, and so it was used.

Amusing no, that Grey actually thought the death of his squad was because of the griffon before him? When it was the work of others. A younger, more hotheaded hunter would have no doubt walked forth to claim that they themselves were the ones that struck down those few samples of prey.

The one in the shadows was not so foolish though, so instead he waited. Watching with cold serene eyes as the play continued to unfold.

Zweihander ground his beak in anger. He was not some... item to be bartered! He had remained defiant thus far. Perhaps it was time to stand for himself. Using his sword as leverage, he managed to stand up on his two legs and arm. Looking at Kroll with anger, he looked next at Freyia with... betrayal and hurt etched on his features.

He was tired and in pain. But, if the odds were so against him...

Perhaps it was time to let loose the monster within.

"I am glad you are willing to leave," She relaxed even more, "I know what others may say about you, but know that you have my respect sir." She bowed her head in thanks and respect. She snuk a glance at Zweihander and winked while she did this.

Stepping forward she placed her spear next to Zweihanders throat. "I have it from here, I will be sure to tell Feliks of your help in attaining the fugitive." She glanced at Kroll to ensure he was leaving.

Kroll nods. "Very well. He's all yours then." He gives Zweihander a quick wink and a nod before walking around Freyia, starting to drag the two corpses into a nearby alleyway.

"Hopefully we won't have to meet each other like this next time, yeah?".

Zweihande kept quiet during the entire episode. He had caught the mare's conspiratorial wink, and had realized quickly that this was a grift. However, he had kept the face of hurt and betrayal on as a mask. The sadist hadn't even questioned Freyia's motives much... he was uncertain if that boded well for his immediate health. Of course, what little there was of it left.

At Kroll's attempt of a wink Zweihander became suspicious. He knew that rat was up to something, but couldn't prove beyond a reasonable doubt he was up to something sinister. The dark alley he was dragging the two corpses would provide him with more than enough exits to follow them by. He would keep on his paws, else he was met with another encounter with that griffon.

Perhaps it was fate that drew the Grey into the Hunters domain. Perhaps it was simple, unfortunate, luck. Whatever it was, the unknowing griffon was dragging the bodies of his two fallen soldiers right into the alley where the Hunter was lurking.

The lightning flashed and lit up the alleyway, The Hunter's scout flew off towards the Valkyrie and the Brown with a loud squawking. And the Hunter? The Hunter just waited. The massive griffon shifted his gaze slowly, moved his form like ice. Hidden so perfectly within his shadows, Grey would never know he was there.

It would have been simple, to strike, to kill, to slaughter the other griffon. He was naught but a few feet away, his neck was exposed, flesh ripe for tearing, vertebra ready for breaking. A quick flurry of motion with his Ulak's and Grey would find himself blind, dead, and exterminated on the cold, wet, cobblestone of some unknown alley in the city; rain pouring down to wash the fatal red vitae away, forgotten and lost like so many who roamed this place. Yet, surprisingly, or perhaps mercifully the Hunter waited.

Waited and Watched.

Kroll propped the two bodies against the wall of the alleyway before doubling back, and walking into the shelled out hotel to retrieve the three bodies within.

Freyia waited till Kroll left into the building then whispered to Zwei, "Hurry, get up and walk slowly down the street." She made sure to keep her emotions in check, the stoic soldier appearance was necessary if Kroll was to believe her. She kept the spear to Zwei's back as they turned down an alley out of his view. "Are you alright," she turned her spear up and approached him, looking over his wounds." The rain was washing the blood away as it dripped from the bolt. "We need to get you help, before it gets infected." Her tone was rather flat and emotionless, for a friend trying to help a friend. Oh well, maybe that was just the way she was.

Having been led to the alley, he listened to the mare. He agreed with her on that account, to be sure; they needed to get the wound clean. He had knowledge of how to keep someone from bleeding out on a battlefield, it was true. However, preventing infection was a whole other beast entirely. And the place where he planned on hiding was no friend to open wounds either. Raw sewage has a penchant for getting into cuts, so he had heard.

Nodding at her words, he let her continue to speak.

After a few trips back and forth, Kroll dragged the bodies of his squadmates from the ruined hotel to the alley where he placed the others. After a brief moment of silence, he set to work, salvaging their gear and weapons for his personal use. He also retrieved his broken crossbow, and began to make repairs to it.

As he was tinkering, he noticed the long, steel bolt jutting out of the face of one of the dead guerrillas. Setting down his crossbow, Kroll walked over to the corpse and pulled the bolt out, wiping it off on one of his wings. He was intrigued by the item, even more so how it got there; the marksman from earlier used conventional bolts that were enhanced by magic. This was something completely different.

What bothered Kroll even more was the positioning of the bolt, as that means that whatever killed the griffon was in the same room as Zweihander when they went to capture him.

How many friends does this griffon have? Kroll thought to himself.

At this point, though, it didn't matter; Zweihander was in Freyia's custody, and Kroll's entire squad was dead. Simple as that.

Shaking his head, Kroll went back to work on salvaging gear and repairing weapons, keeping the steel bolt nearby as an impromptu shiv. He was completely unaware of the damage that lurked in the shadows behind him.

The Hunter remained motionless as the Grey came back, dragging the
bodies of those he'd slain back in the Hotel. He took the The Hunter's bolt as well....the griffon would need to be reclaiming
that. He was not one to leave such blatant physical evidence of his
presence behind.

He was new to this hunting ground, he did not
need to go leaving a large print behind so soon. He needed a place to
call home for now, he needed a lay of the land, and he needed
information. A source of one of these things was sitting before him. Yet
the Hunter did not want to strike just yet.

No he meditated quickly on the paths he could take, on the many ways this situation could unfold. Like the petals of a rose the ideas fleshed themselves out, revealing all the ways the situation could go. Yet this rose had more thorns than it did sweet scents, and so the choice was simple.

The Hunter moved slowly, creeping forward towards his target. The storm above raged as strong as ever. With a flash of lightning, the Hunter struck. His talons swift and keen, unerring in their aim. They wrapped about the firm flesh of their target, clenching tightly, then ripping backwards. The target had stood no chance, made no sound, as it was stolen from one and given to another.

Silently the Hunter slid his bolt back into its quiver and moved to leave the alley way; the shadows sheathed the massive predator, as always, hiding him from view.

Assuming all of this happened according to plan, Grey would be left alone in the alley and the Hunter would be long gone by the time that he noticed the theft. His destination? Simple. He was going after the other two now.

His Scout flew up and landed onto his shoulder again. Now ready to brave the cold rain once again. She would see use again soon enough, for now, the Hunter followed the path that the Valkyrie and Brown had taken.

Freyia did not bother to look on herself for bandages, she knew she had none. "Alright, do you have anywhere to go? Somewhere to lay low?" She tried asking yes or no questions, making it easier for the mute griffon to respond. She looked around for anything to dress the wound with. Sadly with the down pour, everything that could have been used was washed away.

She wiped the water from her eyes and took a breath. Zwei was now safe, for the most part, but what now? She thought about different things to do or say to not lose her job. How was this going to work?

Zweihander nodded in confirmation. He had a place planned nearby, in case he ever had to lay low. The sewers were a place most griffons disliked to enter; the confines constricting and claustrophobic to the airborne species. However, Zweihander was a Haldenschloss Griffon. The confines of corridors did not bother him nearly as much as most other griffons.

To show the mare his plan, he pointed to a nearby sewer access hole in the street.

Freyia looked to where he pointed. "In there?" She was worried for him and his wound, but it was not fatal, and laying low was more vital to his survival than dressing it. "Alright, lets go" She stood up and looked to ensure Kroll was not around. Lightning flashed as the ran poured down. Maybe it would help clean the sewers...stupid thought.

She made her way to the entrance, helping Zweihander as best she could.

The Hunter watched silently as his quarry moved into the sewers. An interesting choice considering the weather and Brown's current condition. Yet that is where they wandered, and where his quarry wandered, The Hunter was soon to follow.

Waiting a rough approximation of fifteen seconds after the two entered, The Hunter followed, his Scout with him. He slithered into the shadows of the sewer, giving time for his eyes to adjust to the new light and his nose to numb to the new scents. His ears would be his guide down here, the sounds of his quarries hoof/talon falls his guiding light in the darkness of this place.

He would do what was possible to keep the shadows and maintain a safe distance from his quarry. The Hunter did not want them knowing of his presence just yet.

Letting Freyia help him to the access point, Zweihander lifted the plate up to allow her to go first. From his view, the sewer was already running with water from the street. That was a boon and a curse at the same time. On one claw, there would be little evidence of their travel that the storm would not wash away. On the other claw, it could get dangerous until they got to a "drier" section of the sewer.

When the mare went inside he would enter himself, and close the covering plate down on them, submerging them in the murk and dark of the tunnels.

Freyia entered the dark sewer. Every fiber of her being did not want to go, the dirty, disgusting, dank dens under the city was the last place a pegasus like her would ever want to go. But, if this is what would keep Zwei safe, then it must be done for now.

She grimaced as the water rushed by her, half as tall as she was. The filth staining her snow white coat. She shook her head to try and forget where she was and what she was standing in. "Where to now?" she yelled trying let talk over the rushing filth.

Zweihander shuffled around in his harness for a few seconds, before producing a small, unremarkable vial. Filled with an unknown liquid. Opening the vial up carefully, he produced a much smaller glass sphere, filled with another liquid. Dropping it in the vial, he closed the threaded stopper, and gave it a few brisk shakes that broke the sphere inside the vial. When the two liquids met, they combined to form a compound that shone with a fairly bright luminescence.

Filling the tunnel with green light, Zweihander turned to the mare, the light giving his face a sickly pallor. Tilting his head towards the gloom beyond their light, he began walking down the passage.

Having made it into the rushing filth below The Hunter began to follow his quarry, keeping back a safe distance from them as he moved. It was difficult at first, to hear their voices over the roar of the river of unmentionable mire that rushed down the sewers diameter. But keen ears were eaisly focused, and the Hunter soon found a distance that kept him safely out of the light and close enough to listen.

The griffons eyes hissed in pain at him at the sudden flash of light from ahead when the Brown mixed the light giving formula together, and again the griffon had to let his eyes adapt. It was a matter eaisly handled. The light also had a secondary effect that benefited him. Casting a ring of shadow around the expanse of light, darker and more solid than the rest of the shadows in this dank, humid tunnel beneath the cold stone of the city streets.

He could use this ring, and so he would, following, watching, and lurking within the shadows. A predator hunting its prey.

Freyia watched as he mixed the liquid, preparing her eyes for the incoming light. As the two mixed, the sudden light show something behind them for a moment. It looked like a large, black figure disappearing into the shadows, like a roach running from light. She fixed her gaze in that direction, could someone be following them? If it were Kroll, he would not hide, and if it was any random griffon, she would hear them. Alas, she decided on a trick of the eye, though she touched her spear to ensure it was still locked on her back.

She turned back to Zwei before he could notice her and nodded in compliance, following him down the sewer. The filth rushed past them, creating a constant noise and running along their legs. "What is down here?" Better question would have been, how does he know where he is going. But the OGI had hidden places everywhere. This was probably just one of those. A shame, she thought, that the OGI was being "dismantled", it was her one shot at becoming something more than a maggot.

Oh well, the gods are rarely kind on mortals.

His attention focused on the glowvial, Zweihander did not see the silent shadow behind them. Walking forwards, he shone the light ahead of them, keeping the light consistent in its glow. The sewage and runoff from above ran under his legs like a tide; the smell wasn't too bad, as the rainwater diluted any waste left down here.

Hearing the skitter of insectoid legs, the brown griffon halted, and raised an arm to block the mare's passage.

Freyia was glancing behind her, not hearing the legs put checking her back again. It was not like her eyes to play games with her. Maybe it was just her age catching up with her finally.

The griffons arm stopped her and she looked to him with confusion. "What is it? She glances back behind, thinking that maybe the griffon hears something from there.

The Hunter smiled his eerie serene smile as the other pony looked back to him. Ah so the Valkyrie's senses were not as dull as most of her kind? How interesting. In response to almost being spotted the Hunter began to time his steps with those before him, he ducked low as he dared, and kept a few inches more distance between him and his quarry.

If he fell to far back the hard border of shadow currently hiding him would no longer sheathe his form so completely, and the Valkyrie could possibly spot him. An unacceptable outcome...for the time being.

Glancing up, Zweihander saw one of the more dangerous denizens of the sewers was looking right at him. Commonly referred to as "Roaches" by the denizens of the underground, this cockroach was the size of a large rat, with beady eyes staring at him.

Keeping eye contact, Zweihander slowly began walking down the sewer, and motioned the mare to do the same. Holding a talon to his beak to tell her to be quiet as well, as he did not want more than one roach at a time down here.

She looked where he was and saw the repulsive creature. Those certainly were not in the Mikill Borkr, nor even it caves. That was a creature that did not deserve to live. She began to unlock her spear, but as the griffon passed it, she decided to let it be. "I hate bugs," she quivered as she relocked her spear. Following him more, she made on last passing glance behind them...maybe it was a roach.

After several minutes of slowly navigating the sewers, Zweihander turned a corner to reveal stairs up to a dryer section of the sewer. Looking behind him to ensure there was only one follower, he moved up the stairway. Several steps high, it ended in a metal doorway, red and brown with rust. Producing a key, Zweihander inserted it into the lock, gave it a turn, and opened the door.

Gesturing to the mare, he motioned for her to enter.

The white pegasus smiled as they were going to get tout of the filth, her coat probably stained from it. She entered first, the room completely dark. Dripping water and filth could be heard against the ground as well as the rushing sewage from bellow. This must be an OGI safe house.

Why does it smell like shit? She thought the OGI was respectable and high up. If this was a safe house...maybe its for the best she return to her broom closet.

Zweihander closed the door behind him, and shone the vial forwards, revealing the room. Small, but not cramped, it had a bed, a table with two chairs, and a chest by the bed. Putting the vial on the table, he moved over to the chest, and began rummaging through it.

There must be a crystal somewhere...there we go!

Triumphantly standing, Zweihander held a fist sized crystal, that looked almost like quartz. Walking to the table, he got himself up with a little trouble. Looking at the small metal grill that was sized for the crystal, he motioned for the mare to cover her eyes.

Not bothering to see if she did so or not, he bashed the hard crystal on the ceiling with a loud noise. Immediately after, the room was filled with a bright, almost hot, light, illuminating the safe house. With the light, one thing could be better seen that was undefinable before...

An orange and blue banner was affixed on the wall by the bed, with the outline of a wolfs head sewn on. His families coat of arms.

This place was his, and his alone.

Back in the Sewers The Hunter had just lurked his way up to the safe-house. He stopped just outside its door, and looked it over. Opening it would be simple, walking in even more so. One bolt from the shadows to disable the spear-mare, another to be sure. Turn, face, fire. Brown hit in the chest, bleeding, move forward, pin to nearest hard surface.

He could have done all that, executed it with a disturbing efficiency...but that would be what a young, foolish hunter would do. Not he, no, no. He was not young, not foolish, not so terribly limited by his natural predatory nature to know only to kill or be killed.

The two in the room before him had something he needed, information, and should the next few minutes go right, The Hunter would be able to get what he needed and go along his way. First though he needed to do a little something to promote...good will between him and those within the room before him.

Backing down into the safety of a shadowed corner. The Hunter enacted his plan. Whispering orders to his scout, the griffon reached into his cloak and produced a small container of sorts. It was a strange little thing, part vial and part cup. Engraved on a small slip of paper near the vial's top was an ancient Northr symbol for good health.

Holding it out the Scout on the Hunters shoulder took flight and grabbed the vial, flying across the sewer and up to the door. It landed before the construct and began to tap on the door. Knocking courteously and curiously, waiting, and watching to make its delivery; its Master lurking a safe distance away. He'd wait till the door opened, and his little raven provided a proper distraction before even remotely considering moving forward.

Freyia did not hear the light knock, instead focusing on everything in the room. This was his home? She suddenly found herself comparing it to her own domicile and debating which one was worse. Hers was a fraction of this size, but his smelled of sewage and filth. In the end it was a draw.

She moved to an unoccupied corner and watched, waiting for what Zwei had planned...IF he had anything planned. She knew she needed to get back to HQ. She couldn't take too long, otherwise she would have to find a hole in the sewage like Zweihander here. She decided not to think of a plan yet. Better do that on the way back to HQ.

Tilting his head at the light sound of tapping, Zweihander turned his head to the door.

Was someone...knocking?

If that was the case... he held a talon to his beak, telling the mare to be silent. Bringing his right claw to his left side, he unsheathed the rapier, and moved towards the door, getting off the table.

Reaching his destination quietly on his hindlegs, Zweihander gently unlatched and unlocked the door, opening it to find... a raven?

Furrowing his brow in confusion, he sheathed the sword. Going back on all fours, He inspected the raven more closely. There appeared to be some sort of container attached to it, with a slip of paper affixed. Reaching out a claw slowly, he went to take the vial.

The Raven, apparently trained in such things, barked and bounced forward, holding the vial up with a leg. Upon being freed of its burden by the Brown it flew a foot or so into the room, barking a greeting to the Valkyrie and then finding itself an object to roost upon. A quick flutter of black wings and the Raven made itself comfortable.

The scout, much like its master, setting about observing all it could in the new room. Black, beady, intelligent eyes scanning any and all that existed.

Back in the sewers themselves, still hidden deep in shadow just beyond the avenue of light the room was casting out into the shade, the Hunter lurked. He had watched Brown arrive at the door, sword drawn, and appraised him and his arms. Swords were one of the few weapons the Hunter did not have a pool of experience with. In the harsh lands of his birth his air-powered bolter, his Ulak's, and his talons had been his biggest assets. As such they were his main arms even now.

Had all gone according to plan, the Hunter would begin to weigh his options further. To move or to stay? To reveal himself, or to remain ever in the shadows; distant and watching? That was a decision that would rely heavily on the reaction of the two before him to their new guest.

"The move is yours, my Quarry." the griffon thought to himself as he watched the room and the griffon across the way. "What path shall you choose?"

Freyia watched the raven enter, What the hay?! She unlatched her spear and locked it in a hoof as she took a stance looking at the doorway. This bird was obviously trained, not uncommon in her homeland, and that would mean the trainer would not be far.

"Zweihander, someone knows," she whispered to him. She slowly approached the Zwei, trying to inspect what was given, while keeping a sharp sense on the door.

Zweihander clicked his beak in frustration as the raven roosted on his old armour stand. This bird had been following him ever since this started; he had begun to equate it as being the herald of his misery. However, the vial it had given him seemed like a boon of sorts, as it had an old Northr rune for "Good Health" or "Fortitude" inscribed.

He hadn't survived his tough life by being trusting however. Walking over to the table, he placed the potion down as Freyia spoke.

"Zweihander, someone knows." Zweihander rolled his shoulder to warm up his muscles up. He had figured that out himself.From what he had figured, this raven's owner had an affinity for the shadows and ambushes, having seen his handiwork topside in the ruined apartment building. He was concerned that this..."phantom" was following him to do him harm. But this was his last place to go; he wasn't running now.

He had ran enough today. Getting his rapier in claw once more, he went into a relaxed postion on the bed. He would wait for this phantom to introduce himself. If he was to die... that was fine by him. He was sick and tired. He had no...hope...

Dropping his rapier, Zweihander lost the relaxed expression, and actually began tearing up as the realization hit him. The Prudentatae was over, and he was only just feeling the consequences impact. He had no hope for a cure now.

All was lost.

Remaining on the bed with a vacant, tearful expression, he picked up his rapier once more. He had nothing to lose now. He would see his...foe with the utmost courage and valour one of his kind should have at their side in all facets of their lives. This sewer may be his resting place, yes, but at least he would die in his home. His last bastion of himself.

The Hunter smiled his same serene smile at the reaction. So they were ones to prepare, and not to strike without question or . This was...pleasing. Had the two struck down his faithful scout, things may have gone...badly. His patience had paid off well however, as now the Hunter, having heard the Valkyrie's comment, now knew the name of his quarry.

Zweihander.

From his place in the Shadows the Hunter continued to watch silently. He could not see everything in the room for now, but what he could see was Brown. Teary eyed, limp, and deflated. The Hunter's head cocked to the side, serene, predatory eyes locked on the griffon before him. Where had his pride gone? His life? That spark of resistance that had been there back in the alley a few minutes prior? The Hunter had seen such looks before on much of his past quarry, but this one...he had been different. What had caused this sudden change?

"Such pride you had Zwei. Where has it gone, my Quarry?" The Hunter mused to himself, gaze flickering over towards the other in the room. The Valkyrie. The Hunter was not very keen on dealing with such a threat at the moment.

And so he waited. Waited and watched.

Freyia moved to the side a little, so as to be harder to see outside the door. With spear in leg, she was ready for anything to come through. Just then she heard the rapier drop. Looking to Zwei, she say his eyes teared. At first she thought it was the wound, and taking a few steps forward, pulled her cloak off to give to Zwei. "Is everything alright?" She whispered as softly as she could, always keeping a keen sense on the door.

As she got closer he picked up his weapon. It was not the wound, but his spirit. She held the cloak in her mouth and offered it to Zwei. She understood what he was feeling, and there was nothing she could do to help him; he had to do that himself.

Looking at Freyia, Zweihander shook his head at the offered cloak. He didn't need the comfort right now; now was the time for action. Recovering his determined expression, he began to think of ways to turn this around in their favour. Looking around the room for ideas, his eyes focused on the raven. It was still roosting on his armour stand, looking as comfortable as any bird could be.

The gears of Zweihanders mind began to tick. Quickly getting of the bed, he ran to the chest, and took out a worn piece of parchment and a quill, along with a stoppered inkwell. Placing these objects on the table, Zweihander quickly scribed a note.

We know you are following us. Show yourself with your bird, or send a reply. Either way, we know.

Rolling it up, he held out his arm in a falconers rest, inviting the bird to perch. He knew it was intelligent enough to send and give objects. Hopefully it would accept this piece of parchment and give it to its master.

The Raven barked at Zwei and idly flapped its wings, eyes flicking off towards a dark corner. For a moment the bird was still, its beady eyes watching the shadows, silently asking permission to obey another. The Shadows were silent, but gave their permission and without question the bird flew over and propped itself on the griffons arm.

It would wait there for only a few moments more, taking the message in foot, and then taking flight and soaring out the door into the shadows; returning to its master who waited there still. The Scout turned Messenger landed on its masters shoulder and rested again, the Hunter reaching up and take the parchment from it; reading over the notes contents quickly.

The serene smile that had been etched into the Hunters beak remained as he pulled a fresh slip of paper and a ink pot from his cloak and began to write. Unlike Zwei had, the griffon used his talon to write with, his penmanship surprisingly graceful for a creature of his size and gender. The language he wrote in was his own, Northr Runes flowing easier from his talon than Equuish ever would. The translation would be rough, assuming Zwei didn't know fully the Northr Runic language. Even then the dialect was...strange. Different in subtle ways that set the runes apart from most.

"Do you also wear a mask, my Quarry?" would be the full interpretation, should anyone in the room before the hunter be able to decipher his message.

Rolling up the parchment the Hunter held the message out and the Raven took it, taking flight once more and returning to the room. The route it took hiding its masters location still and it dropped the parchment on the bed; once more taking its place upon the armor stand afterwords.

Zweihander was surprised at how quickly the raven perched upon his arm, and how readily the raven took his "message". Watching it fly into the shadows of the rank, foul sewer, he only had to wait several moments for its return. Making a quick note of where it flew from, he observed it flap to his bed and drop the parchment. Roosting back on his old armour stand, it was as of nothing changed, or even happened, save the parchment.

Walking swiftly to the bed, he picked up the parchment. Eyes darting left and right, an irritated click coul be heard from the brown griffon.

Blast and damn, Northr runes...it'll take me a while to read these. Unless she can read them, she grew up north. Looking at the mare as he thought, he waved a talon to invite her to take a look, holding out the parchment with the other claw.

Freyia kept an ear to the door as she took the parchment with a confusing look. "What's this?" She opened it up,

oh,

Well, she was never taught to Runic first hand, but she learned it none the less. "Lets see."

She struggled with it. This was a much older version, archaic even, with personal elements. This acted like a signature for individuals. This griffon was obviously from her land, no doubts, and since she could not hear him, one guess would be a hunter; a good hunter.

"Do, you...wear-also wear...mask, Do you also wear a mask, my...Quarry?" She eventually got it out. She had not seen runes like this for 14 years. Surprised herself that she still knew how to read it.

Thinking about the words, she came up kind of blank. "I don't quite understand it, but I am sure that is what it says."

My...mask? Zweihander thought. He doubted the note meant a literal "mask" like what Brokenclaw cultists would wear, but likely a metaphorical one. At a loss on how to respond, his claw moved up to his neckfeathers, and began pulling at them. A nervous tic that he had since childhood, it was his standard response to tough problems. And a tough problem this was; he had no idea how to go about this. Pacing slowly, unknown to him in his deep thought, he thought about the possible ramifications.

This..."hunter" might be referring to how he had lost composure...or possibly about his condition. Those were the only two "masks" he could think of... From his gut instinct, he guessed former. He had yet to have any substantial evidence to suggest the latter.

Parchment in hand, he sat on the bed and wondered what he would do next. Respond with another message? Head out and try to find this stalker of the dark? Or just...rest? There were not many options, and the days events had caught up to him. He was at a loss, but damned he would be if he didn't come up with something. Maybe Freyia ha an idea. Looking at the mare, he had the look of a griffon stuck in a corner.

No matter which way he sliced it, he did not have the advantage.

Freyia looks at him and shrugs, then turns back to the door, putting herself against the wall next to it, weapon in leg. She would be ready if things went south.

Zweihander watched the mare shrug, and ready herself. She appeared to have chosen her course of action; stand and fight. He appreciated her candour and spirit for choosing this. It was time to tell the hunter he had chosen to stand tall as well.

Walking to the door, he placed a claw on the stone frame, feeling the wet moss of the stone. A steely glare went upon his features as he looked into the shadows for what laid within. He had seen this "hunter's" handiwork before, on Kroll's thugs. It was deadly accurate, it's aim was true. But if this shadowy threat wanted to kill him, it had its chance now.

Zwei would be sorely disappointed if he expected a bolt to fly forth from the shadows and pierce his heart. It would have been simple for the Hunter to do so, to take aim, to kill again. But his purpose was not to kill. If he had been intending that, he would have already taken the life of the griffon before him.

He'd had many opportunities for just that.

In the shadows the Hunter watched a while longer, curious as to the intention of the one at the door. He took this time to really study the griffon, as best the light would allow. The cool, serene stare tracing muscle groups and markings, mapping them for later reference. The stare stopped for a moment at the rather glaring scar on the griffons neck.

Impressive, more-so than even some of the ones that the Hunter himself wore upon his flesh. When finally the griffon was done with his study he reviewed what he had learned. He reveiwed the evidence he had gathered, about the Valkyrie and Zwei. He had presented his breast to the Hunter, and treated his scout with respect.

Time to return the favor.

Stepping forward, silent and fluid, the Hunter revealed himself to the griffon in the doorway. The shadows clung to the Hunter like the fingers of a desperate beast, revealing inch by inch his intimidatingly powerful form. Most of that Hunters form was sheathed by his cloak, which, upon closer inspection, was decorated with intricate weaving designs and what appeared to be bones of some kind.

Under the hood of the cloak, a mask, firm and unmoving reached out, hiding the Hunters face from view, and giving him an appearance not totally unlike that of the bird currently perched upon the Armor stand in Zwei's room. The Hunter's head was kept low, his eyes hidden as he moved forward. When he reached the bottom of the stairs leading up to the door he stopped, finally raising his head to stare at Zwei.

Golden eyes, both calm and serene, looked up at him from beneath the hood. From underneath the mask he wore the etchings of a serene and ethereal smile could be seen. If the griffon was hostile, he certainly didn't look it. If anything he looked more like a priest, monk, or other religious officer than a terrifyingly lethal killer.

The Griffon offered a silent gesture then, a single talon balling into a fist and pressing against his chest as he dipped his head. It was one of many traditional ways to greet others back in his tribal homeland, one both polite and respectful. After a few seconds of this the Griffon returned to his previous standing and stared onward.

What happened next would depend on the one in the doorway.

Zweihander widened his eyes at the figure that emerged from the murk. This griffon was a very large specimen, standing 6 feet roughly on all fours. Black as the shadows from which he came, it was difficult to determine where the fine cloak that this griffon wore ended, and the raven black feathers began. Everything about him screamed "sinister", but the look on his (for he was a male) face was serene. At least, what Zweihander could see behind the mask. Shaped into the likeness of a raven, similar to a plague doktor's mask or cultist of Orion's facecover, but far more fine-craft than any mask he had seen before of the two groups.

Brief moments after this mysterious griffon appeared, he did a greeting that was eerily reminiscent of the Prudentatae's own salute. However, it had a more simplistic form than that, and the movement was more swift. It was likely a Northr warrior's greeting. Silently, as Zweihander alwats operated, he returned the greeting with the Prudentatae salute.

Upon receiving the greeting the Hunter nodded and then spoke. His voice was smooth, his words, Equuish in origin, were delivered with ease and without flaw. The tone was something that held true to his serene demeanor, the sound much like the waters of a gentle river; cool, deep, and calm. As he spoke the griffon nodded towards the bolt, still embedded in the others shoulder, and the wound it had thus far caused.

"It is unwise to let such wounds fester in air so foul as this."