' Grant wheres Taylor '
The younger man looked to Aristeaus and shrugged as he took a seat outside the shop.
' Damn. '
Not half hour before Aris had sent the young man after Grant to keep him from trouble now it seemed that one of the troubesome pair had returned without the other, off all the luck.
Pushing himself from the wall Aris nods to the lizard before him ' Fooser we shall have to have that drink at some time '. His cloak falling about his side and his hat upon his brow the man heads towards the east of town the dawning of the days light resting within his eye the man glances behind his shoulder to see the beautifull yet deadly elfess behind him ' Always a pleasure ' says the man with a hint of a smile, his pace not slowing, with a swift nod to each other the pair walk the streets of Trollsbane, searching. But the search happned to late.
Upon round the corner past the Seahorse Inn a scene unfolds, the blue haired youth Taylor, kneeling upon the ground before a trio of the undead, one who's ebony skin glistened in the moonlight, this obsidion behomoths grasp about the young mans brow, clenching tightly. Dark obsidion eyes staring too the child.
' Be damned you shall release him '
The words leave Aristeaus lips as he removes the small axe from beneath his cloak, the startled stare of the elfess rests upon the scene before her as Aristeaus speak's, a cold anger within the mans eyes.
Two of the lich's stop and stare thier ravenous gaze's locking onto the axeman in time to see the once Lord of Varshikar, once petty criminal charge towards them on sure feet, his feet barely gracing the ground and leaving the air as he vaults between the two abominations too slam the hilt of his axe into thier obsidian masters skull, sending a shudder down the mans arm but also knocking the creature back. Raising the axe above himself Aristeaus goes to strike at his ungracefull foe, but he was to slow, perhaps age truely was catching up with him. The two lich's which he had avoided at first had now caught him and held him locked in thier steely grasps, the creature before him standing and reaching a skeletral claw to the mans brow.
' This one shall be next '
The claws take hold of Aristeaus forhead, pushing softly in his flesh, the maw of the obsidian skeleton opens revealing darkness within, nothing but darkness... As the strength is pulled slowly through his limbs Aristeaus has a single thought before conciousness,, and that which made him leaves him.
Forgive me Quin.
A lost soul
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