Intended to be a branch off of Prague's gathering, assuming that Prague and company have already left for the Chamber - since the fighting has already started there and, yeah. They're not here to do too much damage, just taking advantage of an opportunity.
The black demon had gone to the Valley, at first.
Set speaks words of release and he and Grim evaporate, leaving an acrid stench lingering on the wind. Reappearing on the western side of the Valley, the gravel sloped beneath their feet, stray pebbles sent skittering down to level ground when he shifts. The spring melt has finally reached the higher altitudes of the kingdom, water trickling from the snowcaps to fill the lake at the center of the kingdom. Grim bounds suddenly away, creating a miniature avalanche with her bulk as she climbs higher. It's only a few seconds before she reaches a ridge and disappears; Niklas watches her go before turning back to face the Valley. Haunches higher than his forehand, he shifts his weight again, ignoring the low whine in his head. His dark features are expressionless as he attempts to suss out the location of the impending battle. Though he cannot feel Eight's influence, he can feel the shadow of death that yet lingers in the cage of newly created flesh. The risen king approaches, the warring good at his back. He contemplates these odd circumstances a moment, turning it over in his head, a small, fascinating puzzle. Grim woofs quietly under her breath, jerking him out of his thoughts. She stands above him, clearly annoyed that he had ignored her. She blinks once and then disappears again, filling his head with visions of the ocean.
Intrigued, he follows.
Though it has been some time since he's been in the Valley, he does not remember an ocean separating it from the Jungle. His gaze follows the watery tracks of great sea creatures, their shadows visible just beneath the surface. He cannot sense their souls; a brief exchange with Grim confirms that she cannot detect them either. Creations of a magician, then. Protecting something precious, no doubt ... Turning his eyes to the jungle beyond the ocean, he blinks and they go cloudy white. A cluster of souls draws him like a beacon. A living, breathing, blood-bag beacon ... Grim howls, the cries of a thousand deaths held in that single time.
There is no need for pomp and circumstance. He and Grim teleport in among them. He does not know this, but their Khaleesi has gathered them so very nicely for him. The hellhound does not wait. The moment her over-sized paws touch the earth, those wickedly curved claws flex and she pushes off, rows of jagged teeth bared in a wide death grin. With a hellish snarl, she pounces on the nearest mare, a soul stamped Reszka. "Hello, ladies," Niklas greets, eyes gone black as his coat in a single blink. It is only then he displays an expression: mad glee as he disappears in a swirl of black smoke, reappearing at the filly's side, the one standing next to a small rose grey mare, no doubt her mother. "Care if we join you?" His head snakes down with unearthly speed, teeth bared, aiming for the child.
@[andrea]
I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife
The black demon had gone to the Valley, at first.
Set speaks words of release and he and Grim evaporate, leaving an acrid stench lingering on the wind. Reappearing on the western side of the Valley, the gravel sloped beneath their feet, stray pebbles sent skittering down to level ground when he shifts. The spring melt has finally reached the higher altitudes of the kingdom, water trickling from the snowcaps to fill the lake at the center of the kingdom. Grim bounds suddenly away, creating a miniature avalanche with her bulk as she climbs higher. It's only a few seconds before she reaches a ridge and disappears; Niklas watches her go before turning back to face the Valley. Haunches higher than his forehand, he shifts his weight again, ignoring the low whine in his head. His dark features are expressionless as he attempts to suss out the location of the impending battle. Though he cannot feel Eight's influence, he can feel the shadow of death that yet lingers in the cage of newly created flesh. The risen king approaches, the warring good at his back. He contemplates these odd circumstances a moment, turning it over in his head, a small, fascinating puzzle. Grim woofs quietly under her breath, jerking him out of his thoughts. She stands above him, clearly annoyed that he had ignored her. She blinks once and then disappears again, filling his head with visions of the ocean.
Intrigued, he follows.
Though it has been some time since he's been in the Valley, he does not remember an ocean separating it from the Jungle. His gaze follows the watery tracks of great sea creatures, their shadows visible just beneath the surface. He cannot sense their souls; a brief exchange with Grim confirms that she cannot detect them either. Creations of a magician, then. Protecting something precious, no doubt ... Turning his eyes to the jungle beyond the ocean, he blinks and they go cloudy white. A cluster of souls draws him like a beacon. A living, breathing, blood-bag beacon ... Grim howls, the cries of a thousand deaths held in that single time.
There is no need for pomp and circumstance. He and Grim teleport in among them. He does not know this, but their Khaleesi has gathered them so very nicely for him. The hellhound does not wait. The moment her over-sized paws touch the earth, those wickedly curved claws flex and she pushes off, rows of jagged teeth bared in a wide death grin. With a hellish snarl, she pounces on the nearest mare, a soul stamped Reszka. "Hello, ladies," Niklas greets, eyes gone black as his coat in a single blink. It is only then he displays an expression: mad glee as he disappears in a swirl of black smoke, reappearing at the filly's side, the one standing next to a small rose grey mare, no doubt her mother. "Care if we join you?" His head snakes down with unearthly speed, teeth bared, aiming for the child.
Niklas
@[andrea]