Touya Khan
“Lost something?~”
Appearing abruptly out of nowhere, a pale man lazily emerged from the dense shadows of the room. His entrance was seamless, stretched out from the pitch gloom almost as if he had been there the entire time. Oddly, from his formal dress and mannerisms, he was so far removed from frightening it was surreal. Gloved fingers, so pale they could have been mistaken as transparent, delicately brushed over the icy cold surface of a metal slab as he regarded Touya. Had it been April who slept there? Or was it Damea? Only Reginald knew.
“They do say forgetfulness is a form of freedom,” commented the gentleman. He seemed earnest, but one could never be certain if he were intentionally mocking the therian given the green mask.
“Or was it the opposite?” asked the man, doubting himself immediately.
Shrugging, he spared only a second to gleam over his thoughts. A mop materialized in his hands then, though perhaps it had always been there. Shifting over, he navigated its rangy head downwards, sloshing water in a bucket that was hidden behind the table. “But some things can’t be forgotten, not completely. Only a little light can lift the haze,” he advised, spreading sentences that sounded more like riddles.
Turning to concentrate, he worked his way around the table. The man’s back and forth motions were almost methodical, blissfully unaware that the room was occupied. Nonetheless, he dolefully wiped out puddles of blood, plunging his dripping mop into the pail several times for good measure. “It’s going to take me weeks to fully remove these blood stains,” he grumbled petulantly, clinging to some lost hope the building would be used again.
Noticing that Touya was still watching, his emerald eyes glimmered, briefly displaying mild surprise. “Oh, strange. Usually you can’t see me by now,” he remarked, a ghost of a smile touching his unseen lips, “Alright, alright. If you insist. I guess I can chatter a bit more. I do wonder which path you’ll choose eventually. Humanity or the therians? I’ll leave you one clue to help make the decision. Toodle-oo.”
Something soft, yet solid bounced on the table before coming to rest. It rolled into light, revealing a recently severed arm, though the bleeding had long since stopped. Clearly effeminate, the limb ended in a clean cut just before the elbow. On closer inspection, a small object was found to be lodged between the fingers. Spherical in shape, it was an unknown badge of office. Segments of frayed, red cotton were still attached to the ends, suggesting the marker had been ripped from its origins.
Once again, the red haired gentleman had vanished without notice.
“What’s taking so long Touya? I hope you’re not pissing in there,” Miles hissed, his voice reverberating through the darkness to reach the therian, “We should move. I fear we have outstayed our welcome.”
Accompanied by Damea and the others, Miles had spent the majority of his time securing the surrounding vicinity. During that period, a noticeable lack of guards had passed beyond the windows. In fact, no body at all had appeared in the last several minutes. Eerily, the sounds of general chatter had ceased all together, only to be replaced by a faint clapping that echoed through the hallways. Miles shifted uncomfortably in his uniform, straining his senses for signs of potential danger. All the while he tried to ignore the persistent clapping. Every ten seconds the noise resonated through the tranquil building, like a death toll. What in the four realms was the cause of it?
“Smells like a trap,” Bastionne murmured, nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air, literally. The Lieutenant was practically invisible in the unlit premises of the hall. Deprived of his signature stubble machine-gun, Bastionne had restricted himself to a short sword in favor of stealth, even going as far as to dull the shine of the blade.
More clapping followed, maintaining tradition.
“Getting in here did feel far too easy. Think they want information on the identities of who still opposes them?” John responded, scanning the room from his crouched position.
Still the clapping continued, inevitably growing closer. Audible now was the distinct sound of metal rasping against stone.
“Nah, it’s probably just like Havoc said,” Miles intervened, unsheathing his sword in anticipation. “The scientist has a new toy and he wants to test it. I say, bring it on! I’m not worried! And for empire’s sake, can somebody stop that noise!”
Answering Miles, the clapping stopped. In its stead, a monster burst out from the darkness, eight foot tall and mewling wordless profanities. The thing charged forwards, heaving a mass of sinuous muscle and metal appendages that left the party gagging. Its disproportionate arms ended in one broadsword, and one giant hammer which it flailed about. Miles gulped, realizing it was the source of the clapping.
“I regret this immediately,” the Beast Slayer cursed.
John was the first to react, aiming his repeater crossbow down the length of the hall at the approaching hybrid. Pulling the trigger, he pumped the encroaching hybrid full of cross bolts before rolling aside desperately. No sooner had he done so did the hammer smashed through the wall behind him, pulverizing stone to dust. Bastionne had gone, lost in the chaos, but there were plenty of other targets left to massacre. The hybrid’s beady eyes focused on Damea and Miles, regarding them with deep hunger.
“Guess you smell better," Miles commented, brandishing his sword as the hybrid lunged towards Damea, broadsword swinging.