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Unread 5th of April, 2006, 05:32
Gralhruk's Avatar
Ghost of ORP Past [Epic Admin]

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Join Date: Jan 2002
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Location: The Netherworld
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The heavy amulet clatters at the polished boots of a handsome, blond haired half elf. He smiles sardonically at the threatening woman who hurled it there, seeming not at all perturbed by her menacing stance or the fact that her slim hands finger the hilts of her twin swords.

"What the hell is this?"

His eyes drift down to focus on the pendant at his feet - a beautiful object, though in a masculine way, fashioned in the shape of a dagger piercing a heart. Rubies imitating trails of blood run down its surface. His bright eyes meet her grey ones lazily.

"It is what I asked you to retrieve."

Her blade is out now.

"Damn it, you know what I mean. That belongs to Ricard."

Her knuckles whiten on the hilt and she starts towards him. The expression on his face doesn't change, the smile still adorns his cruel mouth. He brushes a speck of dust from his sleeve.

"As it happens, yes, it does. I am still working for him."

Living death, she pounces towards him, the dusky metal of her adamantine blade glittering in a wide horizontal arc. It slams into his chair, blade biting deep into the laquered wood, surely a blow that would have very neatly severed his throat - had he still been there. His mocking laugh seems to come from behind her. She spins, seeing nothing except a fleeting wisp of shadow at the edge of her vision.

And then, like in the Citadel, she is caught in the dread grip of intense cold. She can feel her strength sapping as icy black fingers caress her spine. His voice comes again, this time definitely behind her. She turns, sluggishly, to face him. Another wave of cold hits her and she fights the impulse to lay down and hug herself for warmth.

"You really are too impulsive for this business."

He sighs and retrieves the amulet from the ground. He holds it up as she begins shivering, sword dropping from her numb fingers. It clatters on the polished wooden floor.

"This was a present for you. You must hate him, possibly even more than I."

She struggles to speak but finds it impossible to form words through chattering teeth.

"Ssshhh. No need to thank me."

He steps forward and picks her up, cradling her in his arms like a babe. The heat from his body is like a furnace. Unwillingly, she sinks into it, desparate for a reprieve from the cold.

"The pleasure of revenge is proportional to the pain of its origin. Pleasure and pain, a recurring theme."

Down her spine again, the intense cold, then it is like a wall pressed against her back. She can almost see shadowy fingers brushing at her face.

"Have you met Salwisse? I don't think you have been formally introduced."

The dark, translucent fingers caress her face gently, feeling like icy razors across the skin. She shudders, gripping onto him with the last of her strength. Her mouth moves once again, trying to speak. He smiles down at her.