10-02-2014, 09:06 PM
With the sun under the horizon, Shang Tsung found himself once more in the streets of Darkshire. Much like he’d done before, he aimlessly wandered until he found himself in the worst parts of the town.
Just as before, he found himself confronted with an assortment of shady characters and the overpowering stench of poverty and human excrement. On this night, however, the sorcerer was not of his own appearance. Rather, he wore the guise of the knight he’d murdered prior to his arrival in this squalor-filled medieval cesspool. In his right hand, he held out a broadsword, and his left hand lazily hung at his side.
“You don’t belong here,” someone rasped from behind Tsang. The sorcerer turned around to find himself confronted by five dirt- and sweat-stained men in tattered clothes. All of them were already armed with knives, and from the manic looks in their eyes, they had already settled on a course of action. “This is the territory of the Folville’s, and I don’t think the boss takes kindly to knight’s wandering around our turf.” The man talking was casually tossing a knife between his hands.
“Come die on my sword,” Shang replied matter-of-factly as he started to walk toward his aggressors. The man furthest to the left let out a laugh and moved forward with his knife, but before he had a chance to strike, the sorcerer threw out his palm and blasted the rogue with a fireball. As the unfortunate man’s two buddies tried to react, Shang cut the talker’s throat open with a swift swipe of the sword. After dodging an erratic knife thrust, he leaned forward and put his blade through the throat of the third man, who gurgling blood as he collapsed into a twitching heap.
The surviving gang member dropped his knife and fled down the street. Shang could have killed him to, but what he wanted was to be on their radar. It would be so much easier to have them feed the souls to him than to play a cat-and-mouse game.
Speaking of souls… With a grin on his face, the sorcerer sheathed his weapons and raised his arms, beckoning his prizes to him.
Just as before, he found himself confronted with an assortment of shady characters and the overpowering stench of poverty and human excrement. On this night, however, the sorcerer was not of his own appearance. Rather, he wore the guise of the knight he’d murdered prior to his arrival in this squalor-filled medieval cesspool. In his right hand, he held out a broadsword, and his left hand lazily hung at his side.
“You don’t belong here,” someone rasped from behind Tsang. The sorcerer turned around to find himself confronted by five dirt- and sweat-stained men in tattered clothes. All of them were already armed with knives, and from the manic looks in their eyes, they had already settled on a course of action. “This is the territory of the Folville’s, and I don’t think the boss takes kindly to knight’s wandering around our turf.” The man talking was casually tossing a knife between his hands.
“Come die on my sword,” Shang replied matter-of-factly as he started to walk toward his aggressors. The man furthest to the left let out a laugh and moved forward with his knife, but before he had a chance to strike, the sorcerer threw out his palm and blasted the rogue with a fireball. As the unfortunate man’s two buddies tried to react, Shang cut the talker’s throat open with a swift swipe of the sword. After dodging an erratic knife thrust, he leaned forward and put his blade through the throat of the third man, who gurgling blood as he collapsed into a twitching heap.
The surviving gang member dropped his knife and fled down the street. Shang could have killed him to, but what he wanted was to be on their radar. It would be so much easier to have them feed the souls to him than to play a cat-and-mouse game.
Speaking of souls… With a grin on his face, the sorcerer sheathed his weapons and raised his arms, beckoning his prizes to him.
![[Image: Shang.jpg]](http://www.omniverse-rpg.com/images/Shang.jpg)