Thread: The battle of the blade(Anansi and Pistol.)

A rustling sound came through the trees of the town, well some of the few that were standing anyway and as he slept soundly something approached. Flapping and fluttering wildly through the sharp needles and branches that surrounded him from where he sat. Christmas was long over but the town for some reason or another still had its tree up and strangely enough it was where he felt comfortable. His eyes shot open as the fluttering creature came towards him and his hand shot out to crush it in his grasp his leather clad fingers gripping it tightly as his crystalline blue eyes shot open. He had panicked slightly, it had become his usual reaction to anything that moved about him as he slept. Slowly he looked down to open his hand to reveal a crumpled torn half of a poster. Spreading it out on the trunk before him as he parted his legs to straddle it and leaned forward he tilted his head. Grand....grand what? He had a name, he had an address...but for what? He said slowly as his eyes ran along it. Lifting up his finger he moved his silver hair from his eyes and ran his eyes over the poster once more. He saw mention of food and perhaps it would be best to go to a place that was having some kind of grand event to get it rather than having to associate with local merchants who would only shoo him away for his odd appearance. He stood moving his fingers along his pale skin, it had a slight hue to it, as though it were constantly under a chill, his lips a soft blue and his veins showing slightly through his almost ethereally pale visage. His clothing was a stark contrast, a deep black, and ragged in contrast to his smooth face. His boots clinked softly as he stood. Turning he walked forward and to the trunk, then up the trunk before turning and walking down it the metal shank of the bottom of his boots giving a soft hiss with each press. On his way down he picked up a large black parcel of sorts. It was swaddled in a deep black cloth bound by various leather straps at odd angles as though its maker had been in a particular rush or just hadn't particularly cared about it. Reaching the bottom he hopped down and plodded out from beneath the thick boughs and branches of the large tree and walked slowly along down the road. His eyes flitted along the street signs looking for the place mentioned as he walked. His body shifting uneasily as he did so while people turned to look at him and pointed slowly one by one. He hated jobs that took him to places such as this. His hair dye had run out and his skin had returned to its usual complexion in a matter of days and now all he had to go on was being some strange sort of albino with birth defects to get people to stop asking him questions or chasing him about. Few ever noticed the important things, like the fact that no steam came from his mouth or that he had been wearing the same clothes for three weeks without so much of a hint of a scent coming off of them. Stopping before the edge of town he looked up and down the face of the establishment in the distance. He didn't particularly fancy walking so he looked about slowly for some alternate form of transportation. Spotting an officer on horseback he slowly made his way over to him. Slowly he removed the glove of his right hand and it began to give off the look of soft frost forming along his digits as he hopped up and touched a finger to the officers temple. The man's body seized up and he crumpled from his mount and into the crook of Dirael's arm. Replacing his glove he hopped onto the horse leaving the fallen officer who now gave off soft shuddering breaths in the street to quickly ride off and up to the main gate. A few minutes later he had gone through and past the gate before making his way up to the main entrance. Stepping down onto the coach stone before the house he gave the horse a firm clap on the backside sending it whinnying off in the distance as he made his way up to the door his eyes furtively glancing about. Slipping within he slowly walked over to the bar and proceeded to simply lean over it and take a pitcher on the other side lifting it onto the bar and pouring himself a glass. Ok... He said as he lifted the glass slowly and gulped down the lot quickly in one giant pull lest it freeze on its way down. He simply sat there with his parcel to one side..then oddly enough it spoke. Why'd we have to come here? I can make water you know...I mean its not like you haven't drank it before. I don't want to get into this..and stop talking to me...people will think I'm crazy if they see me talking to a parcel.