forum I'm alive and not sure for how long (MATURE + CLOSED)

Started September 09, 2023 by @Desvelarse pets

tune

Marla gave him a wink in response to his awkward chuckle. It really was a tavern and not a brothel; she mostly had made the rule as a joke, though they'd had to enforce it a few times. "That should do it. There's your key. I'll have Llenara show you to your room." She snapped her fingers at one of the girls, who walked over, checked the room number, and headed towards the stairs.
"Right this way, sir."

Valiel/Alnifer nodded with a smile. "Ah. That makes sense. Morticians around here can always use help." She glanced at Llenara. "I'll let you get to your room. Nice to meet you, Thatcher." She turned and headed back out of the tavern with a small wave.
A subtle glance at two of the large men sitting at the table had them following her not long after. Fremik and Carth had been glad to see her lead her new friend to Marla's. It was a relatively safe zone. Now, she was likely headed back to the palace, but they wouldn't know till she got where she was going.

Thatcher took the key from Marla, thanking the woman once again. He turned back to Valiel with a small smile on his lips. “I’m sure I will see you again before I have to leave town, Miss Alnifer,” he replied with a nod of his head. “Have a nice night.”

He turned away, patting his side as he followed Llenara so Nike would fall into heel next to him. He followed the woman to his room, making sure to thank her before she left. He opened up the door, and Nike trotted past him, jumping up onto the bed. He sighed as he did, hoping that she wouldn’t end up burning the sheets from her paws.

Thatcher dropped his bag onto the floor by the door, shrugging his trench coat off. He slipped his shoes off as well, his feet aching. He was exhausted from flying most of the way to the city/kingdom. As exhausted as he was though, he knew that he was unable to sleep. It would be a long night of planning for the reap he was assigned, as well as looking into the local mortuary to get his story a bit more straight.

Llenara led him up the spiralling staircase in the corner of the room, up past the second floor hallway and onto the third floor. The second floor had looked to be a long hallway with about 20 doors, which would mean smaller rooms.
The third floor, however, only had 10, all of them a little bigger. Llenara led him to 308, smiled in return to his thanks, and headed back down.
The door opened into a decent sized room, with a queen-sized bed against the far wall. A dresser next to the bed provided storage. There was a small desk and chair in the corner, a couch near the fireplace on the sidewall, and a padded window seat next to the fireplace.
A door on the opposite wall lead into a bathroom, with what looked to be a plumbing system of some sort. It was similar to other dwarvish engineering, and also seemed to have a few parts that worked purely on magic, but it made the bathroom functional.
The window overlooked the main street heading north to the palace, and Valiel could be seen making her way slowly that direction, with the two guards slowly following her.
The sun sank quickly in the Hinterlands, and soon enough, darkness had descended.

(sorry about that! Thursday is my busy day)

The next morning brought preparation in the streets of Konrack. The royals were venturing out of the Palace of Rime to mingle with their subjects. It was the Queen-Mother's birthday, and while she didn't want a huge party, she did, like Valiel, enjoy being among the people.

King Rhethiak was an imposing figure, and his people respected him. He was loved in many sections of the Hinterlands, due in large part to the great defenses he had lead over the years. His father had died when Rhethiak was young, and the crown had passed to him. His mother had grieved so deeply, she hadn't been able to continue to reign in any capacity.
The Clans, despite seeing a chance to grab power, had largely respected the Queen-Mother's grief, and left her alone. After some years had passed, she had returned to public light, and was a beloved figure in her own right.

So it was with a mix of awe, admiration, and jealousy that the people of Konrack prepared their shops and booths to be visited by Royals. The taverns stocked their best wines and liquors, the performing groups made sure they were ready for their most impressive shows, and the residential areas even decorated their homes a bit.

At noon, a trumpet fanfare rang out, and the massive gates to the Palace of Rime swung open. A cadre of guards marched out, followed by King Rhethiak and Queen Lluth. A few more guards followed them, and then Princess Valiel could be seen walking with her grandmother, Queen-Mother Nuriam. Another cadre of guards followed them as they made their way slowly through the city.

The Queen-Mother was free with her gold and her compliments, buying trinkets and smiling genuinely as the people showered her with congratulations on reaching 1025 years of age. Valiel stayed with her grandmother, enjoying the day. She knew her parents were likely being more regal, though no less kind. Grandmother could laugh with the people, though, and that was what Valiel liked.

They passed Marla's, and Valiel couldn't help but think about Thatcher. She hoped things were going ok for him. If she saw him, she wouldn't be able to ask,as he wouldn't necessarily recognize her. This form was very different from the one she'd been using yesterday when she met him.
Still. In her head, she wished him luck.

Thatcher was woken up early due to the festivities. He had no clue that was to happen, but he would be prepared none the less. He had a quick shower, scrubbing himself to make him look presentable in the hopes he would run into the princess again. He got out and dried off after around ten minutes. After getting out, he pondered on what to wear. He didn’t bring much with him, and only had a couple of outfits to choose from. Eventually, he decided on a black button down, black slacks, a nicer pair of black leather shoes, and a long black coat.

Thatcher was ready to go at this point. He called Nike’s name, waking her up from where she had been snoring at the end of the large bed. She got up, stretching out dramatically before hopping off the bed and going to Thatcher’s side. They made their way out of the room, heading down the steps and out the door, not wanting to get caught talking to anyone.

Nike whined, and he sighed, guessing he would have to wait to search for the princess. Nike was clearly hungry. He took a short walk away from the crowds, closer to where he came into the city yesterday. “Go on, but meet me back at the tavern,” he told the hound, and she bounded off to find something to eat.

With no one in sight, Thatcher turned into a murder of crows. They took flight, eventually landing in a tree close to the tavern. Nike eventually joined him, sitting at the base of the tree alone.

When the princess arrived, he was extremely confused. That wasn’t the woman he had met yesterday. Had he mistaken the woman from yesterday for the princess? He supposed so. Nike, on the other hand, seemed to know. While she couldn’t communicate that to Thatcher, she could tell the scents were the same, and her head tilted a tad as she started Valiel down. It was strange to see Nike there alone, Thatcher seemingly no where to be seen. Nike let out a bark, seemingly wanting the princess to come over to her.

Valiel had every intention of just walking past, but her Grandmother turned at the bark. She noted the dog, its darker form laid bare to her eyes. It didn't matter in the least to the Queen Mother, who stepped out of the procession to move towards the barking hellhound.
"Why, we haven't had one of your kind in our frozen part of the world in quite a while!" The older Skin-changer's voice was gentle, and had all the qualities of a grandma you could want.
Valiel stepped over with her, the guards tailing them both. "This is Nike, Grandmother. She's the delightful companion to a gentleman I met yesterday. His name is Thatcher, and he's some kind of travelling apprentice mortician." Valiel reached forward slowly, to see if Nike would let her rub her ears.
The Queen-Mother chuckled quietly. "A hellhound, companion to a mortician. What a perfect match." She gave Nike a smile, before turning and getting back in line with the rest of the procession. "Come, Valiel. We'll have to come back and meet your friend sometime when he's around."
The Princess nodded, turning to head back into the procession.

Nike’s tail whipped back and forth happily at the attention she received. Her tongue hung from her mouth as she panted, allowed Valiel to scratch at her ears. She seemed to enjoy it, pressing her head closer to Valiel’s hand, seemingly asking for more. When they began to walk away, she gave another bark, seeming to acknowledge their departure.

Thatcher, on the other hand, was left very confused. The princess knew about him, but he didn’t recognize her. The only person he had spoken to about being a mortician was the woman from the previous night, but that was not the princess. Did she have a sister that he didn’t know about?

Another realization hit him. The women knew Nike was a hellhound- meaning that they were not human. Nike looked up at the murder of crows, head tilted. She almost seemed to say ‘see? I was trying to tell you something was going on.’ Thatcher would have to look into his texts on nonhuman species. This reap just got a whole lot more difficult.

Genus and Species:

3rd ed.
Updated by Rixtus the Researcher

Chapter 14: Shape-shifters:

Section 17:
Skin-changers: _{Selected Excerpts}

Not much is known about the Northern Hinterlands Skin-changer. They have been a largely secretive people since time immemorial, and have only recently submitted some slight knowledge of their species to the scientific community. They are one of the recent additions to this edition.

Skin-changers are born an amorphous blob shape, and take on the form of the first creature they see as their default form. The Northern Hinterlands ruling family, Clan Galcan, has chosen to default to humanoid for generations now. This has largely helped them fit in with their humanoid neighbors to the south.

A Skin-changer is able to change its shape and size from birth, and adolescents often have trouble controlling this ability. In the stage where the brain is developing, adolescents may change shape as many as 3 or 4 times in an hour.

The forms a Skin-changer may take are limited only by their knowledge of the form, as well as their energy and metabolic rate. An adult Skin-changer takes on the strength and speed of the form it takes, and requires the enery to sustain those features.

Of note, Skin-changers are born with inherent magic beyond their shape-shifting abilities. The origin of this magic is undocumented, but every child is born with an innate alignment to what they call the Light and the Dark. What those terms mean outside of their culture is not certain at this time.

Their shape-shifting abilities, combined with innate magic not understood on a wide level, make Skin-changers formidable foes. Approach with caution.

(Sorry for the delay, been dead tired from work LOL. Dogs are exhausting)

Thatcher had retreated to a nearby library shortly after the crowds had dispersed. He found every text he could detailing nonhuman creatures, ending up with a decent stack of books to comb through. He had been at the library for close to two hours by the time that he was finally finding something that could be useful to him. Skin-changers. A type of creature that was similar to a shapeshifter of sorts. He assumed they may come from the same distant family, and that it may be a regional species of the group. They could take the shape of close to anything, from what he read. The notable difference from them and most other shapeshifters was that they were able to do more than shapeshift. They had enhanced magical abilities, relating to light and dark. To his annoyance, there was not much information on what those abilities would be. He had no idea what to expect now.

Thatcher shut the book in front of him, rubbing his palms over his face in an annoyed manner. He wondered if the Council had been aware that his target was not only inhuman, but also lacking information. He had no idea how to kill the target now, much less of his scythe would even work. That, and the fact that his target could be absolutely anyone at any time. The princess could easily disguise herself, and he would be none the wiser. He looked down at Nike, who was currently sleeping on his feet under the table he was sat at. Maybe Nike would come in hand at this time. She seemed to know who the princess was despite her changing form. Maybe Valiel's scent wasn't able to change? That was a strong assumption that could be proven false, but it was the only thing he had to go off of at the moment.

(youre fine. im usually quiet over the weekend anyway)

Skin-changers were able to change their smell, but luckily for Thatcher, Valiel didn't usually go to all that trouble. It was an extra step and took extra energy, and she just usually didn't have the time for it.
Her energy tended to be taken up with other things. Like healing.
The people of the Hinteralands knew that King Rhethiak was a powerful figure who'd fought many battles. They all knew he was a hard man, with steel in his spine and ice in his veins when it came to war.
What they weren't as aware of was how much of that terror he brought off the battlefield and into his home. His wife and children could attest to the fact that he ruled the Palace of Rime similar to how he ruled his army. You either got in line with his plans, or you wound up hurt, maybe dead.

He hadn't always been this way. Valiel could remember a time when her father had been soft with her. He'd been a gentle soul, kind to those he loved. But an assassination attempt on her mother had changed everything.
A rival clan had tried to get at the royal house. They had successfully seduced the lovely queen into an affair, and then attempted to kill her in an extremely vulnerable moment. Rhethiak had caught them, at the last second, and his wrath had been terrible. The remnant of that Clan had been only little children, who were just now beginning to come to adulthood. He'd made sure the Clan wouldn't challenge him again.
But his trust in his wife, and his sense of security in his own home, had been shattered. Rhethiak became resentful and angry, and his hypervigilance meant that if you went against his decrees, you were likely to get beaten.
This included things like staying away from commoners, not coddling your little brother, and preparing to marry the suitor Father had picked…
Which was why Valiel spent a lot of energy on healing. Rhethiak's beatings were not easy to shake off.

Take tonight, for instance. After a successful procession, Rhethiak had been in a good mood. They'd come home and had a feast as a celebration of the Queen-Mother. She didn't like huge parties, so it had been relatively small, with only her friends and some other nobles invited. This included Phyros, the son of a high ranking noble and Rhethiak's choice for Valiel's husband.
She'd done her best to be polite, but her clear disdain for Phyros was only mildly veiled by her manners. Things had gone well, until her father had drunk just little too much.
There had been music, and the king had demanded they dance. Phyros had done his best to pull her in close, and Valiel was unhappy with it. She hadn't stood as close to him as he'd clearly wanted, and by the time it was over, her father was angry.
His snarl had cleared the room of guests, who'd quickly excused themselves, thanked the royals for a delightful evening, and left in a hurry.
The Queen and the Queen-Mother had tried to calm him, but Valiel knew it wouldn't work. The Palace of Rime echoed with his shouts as he told them to leave him alone, and then the lecture began.
The long lecture on his authority and his choices and how he looked out for Valiel and wanted the best for her was the same as it always was. And Valiel had learned she could handle the lecture.
It was what always came towards the end of the lecture that made her tremble in fear.

So as she sat now, late at night, crying quietly in her room and slowly using the Light to heal the deep bruises, Valiel's mind strayed to other things. She thought of Thatcher, and what it would be like to travel. What it must be like to be free to go other places.

She dreamed of flying away that night.
…….

The next morning, a decree went out. Heralds strode through the streets, proclaiming the King's words, and nailing up notices on posts and bulletin boards throughout the city.

"Clan Galcan announces the marriage of Princess Valiel to Archduke Phyros of Clan Tolara! The wedding will be at the end of this week, with feasts at the Palace of Rime to celebrate! Every night between now and then, you, the people of Konrack, are invited to the Palace for feasting and celebration! Bring food, bring gifts, or even just bring yourself and your encouragement!"

And so the people prepared, many with joy and excitement, for 3 days of partying.

Thatcher had spent the next few mornings and nights preparing himself. Things were beginning to frown more complicated. Not only because of the realization his kill was not human, but because she was to be married off sometime in the near future. He would have to get past a husband, and he wondered if the man was the same species as Valiel or not.

The streets were busy when Thatcher stepped out of the tavern. His jaw clenched as he took a look around, opting to head for the marketplace where he last saw Valiel. He hadn’t seen her since the celebration a couple of days ago, and was worried he would have to break into the kingdom so soon. Nike was growing restless as well. He knew she was hungry, and it was making her a bit more moody. By that point, she was quick to nip at people who thought they could pet her without asking him first. He didn’t blame her, he wouldn’t want a stranger touching him either.

Upon arriving at the marketplace, he walked around, scanning the crowds for a familiar face. After a moment, he didn’t know why he bothered. Valiel could have been anyone or anything. His eyes shifted away and down to Nike, looking to see if she had any reaction to any scents around her.

As much as Valiel wanted to be able to be down in the marketplace, she was stuck. The last couple of days had been nightmarish.

First had come the shocking news that her father was moving the wedding date. She'd hoped he'd wait, that he wouldn't force her to marry Phyros anytime soon, but… his outrage the night of Grandmother's party had led to him moving it to this weekend.
To tomorrow, in fact.
She had only tonight to prepare herself. Tomorrow, she would marry Phyros and be his wife, and everything about that repelled her. Not only would she have to go live with him and pretend to enjoy his company, he would expect her to be a wife, in every sense of the word.
Valiel would rather die.
She had felt this before, the agony of her father's anger digging deep into her soul and making her wish herself able to not live this life, but this… this was deeper.
Her light felt so far away, covered by the thick clouds of deep sadness.

Only one more night. If she was still alive by morning, it would be her mistake.

…..

The heralds had gone through the marketplace once more, reminding people that tonight was the last night to wish the Princess good luck, before she became the Archduchess.
Most of the people of Konrack had been to the feasting the last couple of nights. Many of them had good intentions, celebrating what they saw as a happy thing for their royals.

A few, in the criminal world, had used it as a chance to case the Palace of Rime, and check security. They'd gone looking for valuables. Whispers of this had even reached Thatcher's ears, suggesting to him that the easiest way to get to Valiel might be to go as a guest.

It was an open invitation, after all.

(Sudden little idea- I’m guessing Phyros is abusive, so when he goes into the castle, something is happening between Phyros and Valiel, so he makes the judgement to kill Phyros. That would obviously start a whole thing of the other families heir being dead and Thatcher’s code being broken)

Thatcher and Nike hung around the marketplace, but there was no sign of the princess. He had begun to lose hope, thinking he must have to go about this the hard way. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth, knowing the spur of the moment thing could be dangerous. Did they know of reapers? More importantly, did they know how to kill them? He was going into this practically blind, save for the bits he had found when researching the species.

But, then he caught word of a few important things. First off, that he wouldn’t be the only one looking to pull something off at the castle. Whispers from thieves passed by his listening ears. He would use that as an advantage, as guards would be more worried about them, leaving the princess exposed. It was open invitation, he could get inside easily. He wasn’t sure if Nike would be able to come, but judging by the reactions of the women in the royal family, she may be able to sneak inside and be tolerated by some.

The townsfolk had been going in and out of the Palace all week with their animals. Some of the critters were given as gifts, others were there to do tricks or just be admired by the royalty.
Granted, none of them had been hellhounds in disguise, but Nike wouldn't be terribly out of place at Thatcher's side.

The evening came, and the procession of commoners headed towards the outer gates of the castle, ready to go in and enjoy food and music and dancing.
Valiel was in her room, standing at a window, watching them come. She felt off, as if something in her soul no longer wanted to keep breathing.
Phyros wasn't a bad sort, but she didn't want to marry him.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, she made her way down to the banquet hall. A huge room, with a raised dais in front of a fireplace. King Rhethiak and the Queen sat on two thrones there, servants serving them food. To their right sat Valiel, her grandmother, and her brother. To their left sat Phryos and other assorted nobles.
There were long tables around the outside wall of the hall, where people sat, eating and drinking and enjoying themselves. The floor in the middle had bee cleared, and dances occurred there, spurred by the music of a band of musicians off in one corner.
Peasants, nobles, and all other visitors entered the hall, and would bow before the royals, and present a gift, or their congratulations. It wasn't a requirement, of course, but the majority of people did it.

Valiel did her best to smile at everyone, but it was a hollow smile. She kept glancing across the room, and catching Phyros leering at her. He was already drunk, and she hated seeing that look in his eyes.

Thatcher had done his best to get dressed up nice for the event. He wore his all black formal attire and fixed up his hair, hoping to not stick out like a sore thumb. That would prove a bit difficult with his ‘doberman’ by his side, but he would work with it. He had put a crimson colored collar around her neck, and as much as she hated it, he thought to dress her up for the occasion the best he was able to.

Upon arriving at the castle, it took a while to get inside. There were large crowds throughout, and anxiety bubbled in his chest. How would he manage to get Valiel alone when everything was so hectic and busy? Nike seemed touchy as well, and he was glad he chose to make her wear a collar as it would prove helpful in the case he needed to yank her away from someone swiftly.

When it was his turn to approach the royal family, he did so with a false confidence. “Congratulations, your highness,” he said with a bow, grey eyes staying fixated on Valiel. He knew he couldn’t linger, and didn’t think he wanted to, so he stepped aside, heading with Nike into the crowds to wait and plan.

Rhethiak Galcan had seen a lot of things in his life. He was over 400 years old, and had been around quite a bit.

He recognized a Reaper when he saw one.

The hellhound was a nice touch. The killer was polite, and Rhethiak had to wonder why he was here. As far as he knew, Reapers only killed one person at a time… so who was this one here for?
If captured, he'd likely never tell, and he might even fight his way out, so Rhethiak gave a nod as the tall, dark figure bowed and offered congratulations.
They would wait, and see whom he was here to kill.
…..

Valiel was in a routine, not really paying attention, when she saw a face that made her pay attention. It was Thatcher and Nike! The hound looked so nice in the bright collar, Valiel couldn't help but smile at them both. She watched as he faded off to the side.

After a bit, she stood, intent on going to talk to him. She was known for mingling with the commoners, so no one would think anything of it.
"Valiel…"
Her father's voice pulled her up short, and he motioned her towards him.
"If you're intending to go talk to the tall fellow with the hellhound, don't. He's an assassin, and I'll not have you in close range of him."

Valiel felt like he'd slapped her. She'd rather liked Thatcher, but her father wasn't usually wrong about these things. She asked a few questions, got a few answers, and slipped back to her seat, her little heart sinking back down in her chest.
She felt betrayed, though she had no reason to feel that way. Certainly, she felt lied to, but the more she thought about it, she had no reason to feel that either. They'd met exactly one time. She shouldn't have expected him to just tell her everything after one meeting.
Her Grandmother leaned over and spoke comfortingly to her. "It's just your heart, dear. Everything feels worse because you're upset. But the sun will come up tomorrow, and the clouds will part, and you'll be alright." She smiled at Valiel, and the Princess gave the smallest smile back.
The thought wasn't a comforting one, but… it was a good try.
Maybe he's here to kill me… she thought. That would have been a nice turn of events.

……

The evening passed slowly, and soon, things were beginning to wind down. Only the most drunk and festive guests had stuck around… and the thieves.

This became clear when there was a commotion, and guards began shouting further into the palace. King Rhethiak stood, shouting orders, and marched out of the room quickly, flanked by multiple guards. Apparently, some drunk criminal, or a group of them, had made an attempt on the treasury. The King and many guards would be distracted for a while.

The Royal family all retired for the night, and the guests were dismissed.
Valiel gave Thatcher a sidelong glance as she headed towards her quarters. Part of her wanted to go yell at him, or say something cutting, but she held her tongue as she walked out of the banquet hall.

What she didn't see was Phryos drunkenly following her towards her rooms, with bad intentions in his eyes.

Thatcher was a tad disappointed that the princess didn’t come and speak with him. He had noticed her smile, noticed how she recognized him. He wasn’t sure why he was disappointed, though. Surely it was just because it would make his kill harder, right? By the time things began to clear out, there had been a commotion breaking out nearby. Common thieves, he supposed. That was a nice distraction for him, though. As the royal family left the hall, he waited. Eye contact was made with Valiel, and it interested him. Why hadn’t she spoken to him all night, and why did it bother him so much?

His attention was quickly turned to Phyros, whom he had identified as the man Valiel was to marry. Something about the man didn’t sit right. Reapers were born with a fantastic intuition, and something was off. Nike seemed to be able to tell as well. Her tail whipped back and forth sharply, and a soft growl sounded from her mouth. He watched as the man followed after Valiel. He took a look around before slipping into the shadows, Nike in tow as they followed a decent distance behind. It wasn’t difficult to follow them, as most of the guards were conveniently busy with the thieves.

Carth and Fremik, the two guards usually assigned to Valiel, had started to follow her, but another loud noise out in the palace stables had made it clear that Konrack's criminals, and rival Clans, had made their plans carefully.
They watched for a moment as Valiel made it to her rooms, before hurrying off to help with the situation outside. There were plenty of guards, and with the King barking orders, surely he'd make sure she was safe.

So no one was around to see Thatcher and Nike, or to see Phyros push his way into Valiel's rooms.
….

Valiel whipped around as Phyros pushed through her door and closed it behind him. He didn't lock it, but he was standing between her and the door.
"Phyros, what are you doing here? Please leave…"
The drunk noble stepped towards her unsteadily. "Valiel, I'm just here to make sure you're safe. I know how things are here in the palace. I know you fear your father when he's drunk and angry… I'm just here to protect you."
Valiel backed away from him. "You don't know what you're talking about… leave. Tomorrow, unfortunately, I'll be your wife, and then our rooms will be the same, but for tonight, I'm still my own woman. Leave my rooms."
Phyros laughed, a harsh sound that grated on the nerves. "Unfortunately? Come now, Valiel, you and I both know better than that. We both know you'll be glad to get away from your father." His voice softened, a slick, sugary tone to it that turned Valiel's stomach. "I'm not your father. I would be good to you…" He stepped closer, and Valiel found herself back up against the bed.
"Phyros, I don't need you to be nice. I need you to leave." Her voice was beginning to get mroe desperate. She could fight him off, maybe, but if things went badly, it would only come back on her. She tried to step around the bed, but he took two quick steps and had his arms around her waist, pawing at the lacing on her dress, pressing her backwards, until she landed on her back on the bed, with Phyros pinning her down. His voice was almost a whisper, a slimy, disgusting, wheedling tone.
"C'mon, let me be good to you, Valiel, I'm not going to hurt you, don't you see? I just want to show you love you've never known before, let me show you…"

Valiel squirmed and tried to get away. She screamed as his grip tightened, and again when she realized that no one was coming. Phyros raised a hand and muffled her screams, but she stopped making noise and focused on wrestling away from him as she realized help wasn't on the way. She tried to shift her shape, but Phyros felt it coming, and stifled her magic with his own. She was stuck in her current form, and he was stronger than her. Her guards and her family were busy, or far away, and in the chaos…

She was alone.

Thatcher had been standing around the corner of Valiel's bedroom as he listened in on the argument. A frown formed on his lips as he heard the sickly tone of Phyros's voice. Clearly the arranged marriage was not a happy one, judging by Valiel's insistence on him leaving. But he wasn't leaving, and that concerned him. He wasn't concerned about the fact that Phyros would be in the way of his kill. He found himself concerned for Valiel, who he had planned to reap that very night.

The sound of a scream made Thatcher sick to his stomach. Nike's ears shot up and her hackles bristled, a quiet and low growl rumbling in her throat. Something was seriously wrong. He tilted his head, taking a brief peak into the bedroom. He caught a glimpse of Phyros pinning Valiel down and subduing her. He jerked back quickly, pressing against the wall with wide eyes. He could assume what was coming, and he had a choice to make. He could not get involved, do what he was trained to do. Nothing that was happening was of his concern, it was not his place to interfere with the balance of things when it didn't come to reaping. Alternatively, he could step in and do something about the filth in front of him. He made eye contact with Nike, stomach churning as she seemed to agree with his decision he had made.

Thatcher opened his right hand, black tendrils that resembled ribbons emerging from the scythe tattoo on his forearm. The ribbons traveled up his arm, securing themselves around his wrist and in between his fingers before extending outwards. They had a mind of their own, taking the form of a large scythe, just about as tall as he was. Roughly, he shoved the bedroom door open the rest of the way, slamming it against the wall. Nike erupted into a flurry of almost demonic sounding barking and snarling, drool flinging from her mouth. In a quick movement, he was over them and swinging his scythe over his head, landing the blade into the back of Phyros. The end of it came out on the other side of his chest, and he yanked backwards as he did so, ripping a gaping cavity through the man's chest. His hand grabbed onto the back of the man's shirt, jerking him backwards and off of Valiel with an inhuman strength. It sent Phyros tumbling to the floor, where Nike was waiting behind him. She was on him quickly, fangs sinking into his shoulder. Her head thrashed, ripping and tearing at the muscle. Her fangs would have felt coated in fire, her feet leaving scorched paw prints on the floor.

Thatcher left Nike to deal with what may have been left of Phyros. He had no idea if the man was also a skin changer, as well as if his scythe would even kill the man. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he turned back to Valiel, appearing a mess as he was splattered with dark blood. His scythe was still in hand, dripping blood, but he didn't make another swing to finish her off as well. He held out his open hand to her. "Come on, now."

Phyros was too drunk to notice the door slam open. He was too busy tearing at Valiel's dress and keeping her pinned flat.
He did notice the giant scythe blade suddenly go all the way through his body. He tried to shift, to get way, but the jerking motion was too powerful, and he found himself on the ground, being attacked by something he couldn't fight off easily. He was bleeding, his dark magic ebbing from him quickly, and as Nike shook him, he gave a yelp and shifted his form. He'd intended to shift to something huge, and very strong, but what he turned into was a small cub or kit of some kind. It wasn't clear what he'd been going for, but his wounds had limited his power, and this form was easy for Nike to tear into and destroy.

He was dead pretty quickly.

As soon as the restraining power of Phyros's magic let go of her, Valiel had shifted. She chose the form of a massive woodtroll, 8 feet tall and muscled, her arms and legs looking like thick cords of wood as she lunged forward. She roared, a sound that echoed in the stony Palace of Rime.
Most who heard it thought it was another attacker of some kind, and no one came running.
However, as soon as she saw that Phyros was dying, and that her rescuer was Thatcher, she calmed slightly, and shifted back down to her normal form. Sitting heavily back on the bed, she looked at Thatcher. Her breath was coming quickly, her torn dress doing its best to cover her body as the adrenaline and fear took their toll.
Valiel looked at his outstretched hand, and the scythe, dripping blood, and slowly shook her head at his offer.
"If you're going to kill me… just do it here. Now." She swallowed hard and lifted her head, her dress slipping to expose her upper chest, though she caught it before she was completely immodest. "I know what you are, and if you're here to kill me, I welcome it." Her voice tapered from fear and the excitement of the moment, to dread. Not at Thatcher, but at the future he would be saving her from by killing her.

Nike had been a tad confused by Phyros shifting, as well as disappointed. He was much smaller now, and that would mean her meal wouldn't be as large. She would take what she was given in the moment, ripping of a chunk of meat from the creature and eating it swiftly.

Thatcher lowered his outstretched hand as he looked down at Valiel. He had been taken by surprise when she had suddenly shifted but composed himself and bounced back rather quickly. He did not reply for the moment, and his scythe began to crumble, its form falling apart into the dark ribbons once again. They retreated under the sleeve of his coat, forming back into the scythe tattoo on his forearm. When Valiel's dress began to slip, he tilted his head away, no longer looking at her. He shrugged his large trench coat style covering off and tossed it onto her lap for her to cover up with if need be.

He took a moment to dig into the pocket of his trousers, pulling searching for the slip of paper that would normally be there. It would have had Valiel's name on it, signifying that was his target. It was nowhere to be found. The adrenaline began to wear off by that point, a nauseating feeling settling in his core instead. When his scythe made contact with Phyros, it had vanished, signifying that he was put on immediate probation. He knew he was to report to the Council immediately, but what would happen to him was more unknown. What he had did had been a defection, breaking his code of conduct that he was bound to at birth. Surely, a severe punishment was waiting for him.

The silence had settled between them by that point, the only sound in the room being Nike ripping and tearing at the flesh of her current meal. "I will not kill you," he finally answered. "I will admit I was here for you, but not anymore. Not after this."

Valiel noted Nike eating Phyros, and had to turn her head so she wasn't watching. Despite knowing it was in the hellhound's instincts to do, it was still hard to watch her eat a person.

Thatcher's weapong disappeared, and Valiel found herself momentarily fascinated with the dark tendrils that crawled under his sleeve.
He tossed her his coat, but Valiel laid it gently to the side, not bothering with it. If her skin was a shame to him, she didn't care. She was relatively covered, just… clearly vulnerable.
Thatcher was digging in his pocket, looking for something, and the longer he dithered, the more Valiel began to get nervous. If someone checked on them, this was going to look bad.

The tall man spoke, and Valiel's heart sank. Part of her felt that same sense of betrayal. He had been here to kill her… They were enemies, though he'd acted like a friend, even if only briefly.
But some part of her was also disappointed that he wasn't going to anymore. Her head was so clouded, she wasn't sure she was thinking correctly, but as she glanced again at Nike feeding, one thought shone clear as day to her.
"Not after this?? No, now is the time I need you to do it most!" She stood, stepping towards him, the height difference causing her to look up at him, her blue eyes wide and pleading. "If you leave me alive, they'll think I got someone to kill Phyros to avoid marrying him, and I'll be punished. My father would have to fight wars with the Clans, or deliver me to their justice, and I'd rather be dead. That's what you're here for! Do it!"

Thatcher took a small step backwards when Valiel jumped to her feet to stand up in front of him. Nike lifted her head, blood dripping from her chops as she watched them before going back to her meal. "I can't," he replied in a sharp, stressed sounding tone. He shook his head, pressing his hand to his forehead. "You don't understand. I was supposed to kill you, but I killed that foul man instead. You're no longer mine to reap." Doing so would be similar to him killing someone not assigned to him, like he had just done. He wondered what the punishment would be for killing more than one person not assigned to him.

But Valiel wasn't his to take care of anymore. A wave of panic flooded his system as that set in. Another reaper would be sent to not only dispose of her, but to bring him back to the Council either in chains or dead. Whoever it was had most likely already began their journey there, and he had no idea how long it would take them to arrive. "We will both be killed," he breathed, shaking his head. He whistled sharply, and Nike jerked her head up once again. "Nike, finish up with him. We have to go."

Nike did just that, ripping a bit more meat off of the bones before trotting over to them. She sat down next to Thatcher, appearing as happy as could be in the moment. Her stomach was full, and she had a bit of fun. He looked back to Valiel, thoughts running through his brain at an astounding pace. "You can either come with me or stay and wait for whatever will come. I will not be here when the next Reaper arrives, and I doubt they will be so willing to save you," he said. It was his final offer to her. Nike looked in the direction of the door, hearing noises from out in the hall. There must be someone coming, and he did not want to wait and see if it was one of the guards or someone else.

"Oh, I was before, but I'm not now, huh? You've done your killing, and now your bound by some code?" Valiel snarled the words, before stepping back from him. She was terrified, and that was coming out as anger.

Thatcher's next words had her looking at him again. He seemed as afraid as she was, but of what wasn't clear. Nike didn't seem overtly upset, so it wasn't the current palace situation… it had to be something with whoever had sent him.

He mentioned the next Reaper, and it set in for Valiel that whoever had sent him would try again. At the moment, the thought of being dead appealed to her, but… there was still something in her chest that preferred life. Just not this life.

She was deliberating when she heard the sounds of guards out in the hall. Moving quickly, she closed and locked the door, before surprising Thatcher by tearing her dress off the rest of the way and hurrying towards her closet. Her modesty was not of chief concern as she grabbed clothes much more comfortable to travel in and dressed, rushing as much as she could.
There was a heavy knock on the door, and Carth's voice called out "Princess? Just checking on you. With all the comotion, people thought they heard noises down this way."
Valiel waved Thatcher and Nike off to the side, out of sight of the door, and composed herself with an ease that showed she had to fake being alright often. She opened the door just a bit and stuck her head out. "I'm fine, Carth. Thank you for checking. I'll be heading to bed soon though. It's been a long week."
Carth nodded at her, and gave her a small smile. "I'll see to it that you're not disturbed."
Valiel smiled, and closed the door, before turning and gesturing at her window. She stepped back into Thatcher's space, in order to whisper "I'm coming with you. Let's get out of here."

“I am not bound by shit,” Thatcher snapped, tone sounding harsh as he continued, “But I refuse to make my situation worse for myself because you want to die and you want it done by my hand.”

The words came out cruel and sharp, much more than he had meant in the moment. He wouldn’t take it back, though. Valiel didn’t understand the serious levels of trouble that he could get into because of him saving her. He would either be given a hefty amount of lashings on his back or could even be executed for breaking the code he had sworn his life to.

When Valiel began to undress rather suddenly and quickly, he turned his head away. His face felt hot, and he looked anywhere but in her direction. He pressed himself up against one of the far walls, not able to be seen from the cracked doorway. His attention turned to the window. “Is that the only way?” he asked, wondering if Valiel and Nike would be able to get out with ease.