02-10-2016, 02:46 AM
Those last dredges of sunlight were finally fading away in the west when the nephilim spotted his next point of interest.
After having inadvertently hiking south along the dirty cobbled path for some time, Dante could feel the hum and pull of the mystic power in a weaker state. Deductively, that meant the object in question lay somewhere back in the area he recently left from, likely in the one non-flooded direction the hunter had yet to check. The half-blood mercenary wouldn't admit it publicly, but he found himself still on the fence on whether or not to go after that macguffin. All things considered, it seemed like an equal chance Dante might either run into some vicious beast guarding the item or some punk like that kid who would have just taken the thing for themselves.
As these thought mulled about in his head, the alert hunter caught that point of interest: the soft, yet harsh crackling and smacking of something behind the decrepit shell of one long-lost house. It sounded like someone trying to be a sneaky snake and failing. Or possibly, Dante considered as he casually let the box fall to the ground behind him, a ruse meant to lead an unwiser being into a trap.
He considered himself not such a being, thankfully.
With practiced, careful, and patient steps, the red-coated figure sneaked up on the noise like someone about to play a practical joke. His attempts to venture a glance at whatever made such sounds were unsuccessful, in combination due to the low light and the creature in question tucked well behind the half-crumbled wall. As Dante was nearly upon the wall, the chewing noises began to taper off and weaken in volume, whilst he considered how to go about pinning down this... whatever it was. The answer, as the devilishly trickster of a mercenary decided, stood right in front of him.
Slowly, carefully, Dante raised his left foot, bringing the knee up to his lower chest- and then thrust out with a furious side kick, the whole of his bootprint planting into the old stone barrier. The base of the ancient wall gave way, and a large chunk of the rock surface fell dead forward, the ensuing earthy cacophony absolutely destroying the silence.
When it came to the proprietor of Devil May Cry, subtlety only extended so far.
However, as Dante stepped up and looked among the new line of debris, there lay nothing to be found that would've been the source of those sounds earlier. Not a person or an animal, or anything. But something did catch his eye, an object that stood out among the gray bits. The half-blood gingerly grabbed the thing by one end and lifted it to his height for a closer inspection; it looked like some had put a stick through some giant puke-colored maggot and devoured it like corn on the cob.
Disgusting, Dante's nose wrinkled at the smell of the sight. He'd definitely found what that mystery person was doing, at least: having a belated dinner.
A scuffling of cardboard sounded off behind him, and Dante whirled around. The container that he'd just lugged around for what had to be several miles had just been made off with, the brown corners disappearing behind a bend in the cobbled street. So much for not being unwiser - doubly so when the nephilim yelled out and began to give chase after the thieving bugger.
It was just a perfectly plain box, right? Why would he actually care about it if it were as useless as he kept saying? Well, when such a thing had been your only piece of equipment for the better half of a day, there was a certain amount of determination in not losing it.
Or, more likely, Dante just wanted the last laugh against this slippery rogue.
After having inadvertently hiking south along the dirty cobbled path for some time, Dante could feel the hum and pull of the mystic power in a weaker state. Deductively, that meant the object in question lay somewhere back in the area he recently left from, likely in the one non-flooded direction the hunter had yet to check. The half-blood mercenary wouldn't admit it publicly, but he found himself still on the fence on whether or not to go after that macguffin. All things considered, it seemed like an equal chance Dante might either run into some vicious beast guarding the item or some punk like that kid who would have just taken the thing for themselves.
As these thought mulled about in his head, the alert hunter caught that point of interest: the soft, yet harsh crackling and smacking of something behind the decrepit shell of one long-lost house. It sounded like someone trying to be a sneaky snake and failing. Or possibly, Dante considered as he casually let the box fall to the ground behind him, a ruse meant to lead an unwiser being into a trap.
He considered himself not such a being, thankfully.
With practiced, careful, and patient steps, the red-coated figure sneaked up on the noise like someone about to play a practical joke. His attempts to venture a glance at whatever made such sounds were unsuccessful, in combination due to the low light and the creature in question tucked well behind the half-crumbled wall. As Dante was nearly upon the wall, the chewing noises began to taper off and weaken in volume, whilst he considered how to go about pinning down this... whatever it was. The answer, as the devilishly trickster of a mercenary decided, stood right in front of him.
Slowly, carefully, Dante raised his left foot, bringing the knee up to his lower chest- and then thrust out with a furious side kick, the whole of his bootprint planting into the old stone barrier. The base of the ancient wall gave way, and a large chunk of the rock surface fell dead forward, the ensuing earthy cacophony absolutely destroying the silence.
When it came to the proprietor of Devil May Cry, subtlety only extended so far.
However, as Dante stepped up and looked among the new line of debris, there lay nothing to be found that would've been the source of those sounds earlier. Not a person or an animal, or anything. But something did catch his eye, an object that stood out among the gray bits. The half-blood gingerly grabbed the thing by one end and lifted it to his height for a closer inspection; it looked like some had put a stick through some giant puke-colored maggot and devoured it like corn on the cob.
Disgusting, Dante's nose wrinkled at the smell of the sight. He'd definitely found what that mystery person was doing, at least: having a belated dinner.
A scuffling of cardboard sounded off behind him, and Dante whirled around. The container that he'd just lugged around for what had to be several miles had just been made off with, the brown corners disappearing behind a bend in the cobbled street. So much for not being unwiser - doubly so when the nephilim yelled out and began to give chase after the thieving bugger.
It was just a perfectly plain box, right? Why would he actually care about it if it were as useless as he kept saying? Well, when such a thing had been your only piece of equipment for the better half of a day, there was a certain amount of determination in not losing it.
Or, more likely, Dante just wanted the last laugh against this slippery rogue.