06-01-2017, 11:15 PM
Chakravartin idly pulled open the cork on the gold flecked wine and began to empty it into his mouth, walking through the sizable cellar. When the bottle was finished, he took the bottle into himself, hiding it among his clothes. Who knows when it might be useful later?
The cellar was stacked high with shelf after shelf, and great kegs laid here and there. Despite the ghosts and the nervous owner, it was still a somewhat successful bar. The owner had enough stock to last her a long time. However...
It was clear just from looking that it was stolen from regularly. He could tell it wasn't much- but discarded empty bottles could be found hidden in corners, having rolled into crevices where the owner wouldn't find them in the darkness. There were places for torches, and the shelves themselves showed signs of movement. Narrowing his eyes, Chakravartin began to push the shelves in the center of the cellar. He did it slowly, watching the marks on the floor, until he had lined up all the ones he could find.
It created a near-perfect circle in the middle of the darkness, wide enough for a half-dozen men to move around comfortably enough. Or as many animals.
He wasn't quite sure what a wolf was. He had learned the human language through the Fist Personas of hybrid Fist Users, and most things came up occasionally, but they didn't often bring up animals. He knew what cows were, bulls, lions, dragons, spiders, birds. But not a wolf.
From the tone alone with which Lysandra identified it, a wolf was something dangerous- a predator, likely. And going by the claw marks inside the barrels and on the wooden beam, it would fit. The center of the circle, in fact, the entire circle, was dotted with similar claw marks. He closed his eyes, and began Summoning a simple light. He began to regret it, for as soon as he took his focus away from his surroundings, he felt a confused sensation in his belly. Something was trying to spook him.
Saru didn't leave ghosts, Chakravartin knew. Their souls carried on with the stone their blood falls on, and if that stone gets annihalated, he didn't know where they went. Saru did not fear the transparent and wrathful echoes of things long dead. They relished in them, for it was a sign of the Saru own superiority, that the Saru had lived while these things had died. But something was trying to make him feel creeped out.
And that alone was enough to piss him off.
He gave up on his summoning, and the rainbow light retreated into him. He supposed he didn't need a lamp, though it would be easier to make out the evidence in white light, rather than red. He drew his lightsaber, and activated it, and the dark cellar was awash in red glow.
He held it over the scratched stone floor of the tavern's cellar, and narrowed his eyes, trying to make out the brown of dried blood amongst the stones.
The lightsaber flickered, and the temperature lowered, Chakravartin able to see his own breath. A barrel cracked open spontaneously on the other end of the cellar, and he could smell the ale pouring out of it. He could hear the lapping of a tongue agains the now-wet stone. He could hear the clacking of claws on the floor. Of hair brushing against bottles and wood.
He decided to make a strategic retreat.
Chakravartin ran for the opposite direction of the cellar, away from the sound of the dead wolves, drinking their fill of ale, and upon reaching the shelf he had moved into the position it would have held during the dogfights, he pushed it back.
But it refused to budge. He began to climb, but an invisible force shoved him back down, so that he landed in the center of the impromptu arena. He couldn't understand, but he felt a deep aura of resentment and anger emanate from the shelves themselves. In the center of the arena, made of shimmering pale blue light, a large, furry, sharp-toothed, large-clawed monster of a predator took shape. It was covered in scars, missing an eye, its nose tore down the middle. Bits of fur was missing from various points on its body. It was obviously a veteran, and going by the gleam of its remaining eye, it was quite insane.
"Ah. So that's a wolf."
The cellar was stacked high with shelf after shelf, and great kegs laid here and there. Despite the ghosts and the nervous owner, it was still a somewhat successful bar. The owner had enough stock to last her a long time. However...
It was clear just from looking that it was stolen from regularly. He could tell it wasn't much- but discarded empty bottles could be found hidden in corners, having rolled into crevices where the owner wouldn't find them in the darkness. There were places for torches, and the shelves themselves showed signs of movement. Narrowing his eyes, Chakravartin began to push the shelves in the center of the cellar. He did it slowly, watching the marks on the floor, until he had lined up all the ones he could find.
It created a near-perfect circle in the middle of the darkness, wide enough for a half-dozen men to move around comfortably enough. Or as many animals.
He wasn't quite sure what a wolf was. He had learned the human language through the Fist Personas of hybrid Fist Users, and most things came up occasionally, but they didn't often bring up animals. He knew what cows were, bulls, lions, dragons, spiders, birds. But not a wolf.
From the tone alone with which Lysandra identified it, a wolf was something dangerous- a predator, likely. And going by the claw marks inside the barrels and on the wooden beam, it would fit. The center of the circle, in fact, the entire circle, was dotted with similar claw marks. He closed his eyes, and began Summoning a simple light. He began to regret it, for as soon as he took his focus away from his surroundings, he felt a confused sensation in his belly. Something was trying to spook him.
Saru didn't leave ghosts, Chakravartin knew. Their souls carried on with the stone their blood falls on, and if that stone gets annihalated, he didn't know where they went. Saru did not fear the transparent and wrathful echoes of things long dead. They relished in them, for it was a sign of the Saru own superiority, that the Saru had lived while these things had died. But something was trying to make him feel creeped out.
And that alone was enough to piss him off.
He gave up on his summoning, and the rainbow light retreated into him. He supposed he didn't need a lamp, though it would be easier to make out the evidence in white light, rather than red. He drew his lightsaber, and activated it, and the dark cellar was awash in red glow.
He held it over the scratched stone floor of the tavern's cellar, and narrowed his eyes, trying to make out the brown of dried blood amongst the stones.
The lightsaber flickered, and the temperature lowered, Chakravartin able to see his own breath. A barrel cracked open spontaneously on the other end of the cellar, and he could smell the ale pouring out of it. He could hear the lapping of a tongue agains the now-wet stone. He could hear the clacking of claws on the floor. Of hair brushing against bottles and wood.
He decided to make a strategic retreat.
Chakravartin ran for the opposite direction of the cellar, away from the sound of the dead wolves, drinking their fill of ale, and upon reaching the shelf he had moved into the position it would have held during the dogfights, he pushed it back.
But it refused to budge. He began to climb, but an invisible force shoved him back down, so that he landed in the center of the impromptu arena. He couldn't understand, but he felt a deep aura of resentment and anger emanate from the shelves themselves. In the center of the arena, made of shimmering pale blue light, a large, furry, sharp-toothed, large-clawed monster of a predator took shape. It was covered in scars, missing an eye, its nose tore down the middle. Bits of fur was missing from various points on its body. It was obviously a veteran, and going by the gleam of its remaining eye, it was quite insane.
"Ah. So that's a wolf."
![[Image: Green+Lantern+%2321+Larfleeze.jpg]](http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4knYjWR4Ftg/UbffBSdAvAI/AAAAAAAACoU/SGQqiRnByVA/s1600/Green+Lantern+%2321+Larfleeze.jpg)