You could still feel hunger pangs, telling you that what you had consumed hadn't been enough. The figure before you was an abundant source of food, yet you couldn't afford to linger longer than you had to, for you had a duty to carry out, you had a task that had to be completed. You had to incapacitate the figure, ensure that they could not recover to the point that they could follow you, or even worse, escape. You had to ensure that they would be here when you returned. Your most immediate worry however, was to repeat the prior act of feeding, to carry out what seemed to come so naturally to you in regards to this sensation.
One foot pressed to the figures more intact arm as you swung the blade down, as you severed the arm at the shoulder causing howls of agony to escape that man as he writhed in agony. This had two fold benefits as it firstly was a means of providing you with food and secondly, it was a means of preventing him having the means to remove himself from the lamp he was impaled upon. You knew that he would recover rapidly however, that while you initiated feeding that you were going to have to come up with a means of disabling him.
Decapitation seemed promising, though it meant that you would have to carry around his head to ensure that if it regenerated, that you'd have it on hand to keep from regenerating fully. Finding a means to split the lamp post seemed good, providing you with a means of keeping him under what amounted to a giant metal pin. The downsides you could immediately see however, were that if he was strong enough he could bend it back into shape and escape, or potentially provide another weapon.
You needed something more efficient, something that would disable him completely.
A vague concept caught your attention as you picked the arm up, removing a few chunks of flesh as you greedily consumed them. You knew that one of the manners that you favoured for disabling the things that went bump in the night was to starve them of oxygen, or to break their spine. The spine ran through the neck and so did the airways that fed a creatures lungs. If you could take out both at the same time, break the spine and sever the airways, that you could incapacitate this figure. Naturally, he would recover from such an injury, that was where another concept took form.
An injury couldn't regenerate, if it was blocked, could it?
You turned about, looking for something suitable to use for such a purpose, something other than the weapon that you had, a weapon that you were reluctant to relinquish when it was the only one you had. Improvised weapons were all well and good, but a properly crafted blade was something that you could use to neutralise almost anything that went bump in the night.
There were some things that required more than a few well placed stab wounds or slashes to key parts of their body to disable, though those things were fortunately rare. You held the second arm you had taken from him between your teeth as your fingers closed around a long shard of glass, glass that had come from the head of the broken lamp.
The figure shook his head vigorously as he saw you approaching with that glass shard in hand, eyes wide as he opened his mouth to speak, though no words came. You knelt, restraining his head with your knees, placing the blade of the sword to his throat first, thrusting it down as you plunged it through his throat, through his spine, withdrawing it quickly as you thrust the glass shard down in its place.
The figure thrashed briefly as you dealt that initial injury, before laying still.
You sat there, watching for several long moments, confirming that this would do its job.
Warmth seeped through the dress that adorned your form, wetness against your lap from the blood that had gushed from the wound to the figures neck. The figure could do little more than lay there now, eyes twitching as they struggled to move, to move in any manner at all without success. They had healed around the glass shard rapidly, though they couldn't displace it.
You stood as you took the arm from between your teeth, stripping flesh from it with the blade once more as you started to feed on it, quickly removing and consuming all edible matter from it. You cast the bones aside as you started to jog in earlier direction the screaming had come from, figuring that you could get to the scene, see if there was anything left to deal with, then turn in the individual who had opposed your duties. If this individual could not be neutralised, then they would be contained.
Contained...
The concept of containment had you shiver, a sensation you could not place a name to gripping you briefly, though you were fast to shrug it off as you made your way down the streets, as you made your way to a street that had the lingering scent of blood and ichor in the air. Oddly, you could smell the farmland here too, the scent of straw lingered along with those other two scents. This could imply that there was a stable nearby, you told yourself as you slowed down, looking about the empty street.
Your attention was briefly caught by moonlight reflecting from the blade you held, prompting you to lift it, wiping it against the dress that adorned you, as you cleaned it against the fabric. The face that looked back at you from that reflection was one that seemed oddly familiar, and yet out of place.
Brown eyes, brown hair.
You couldn't actually make the colours of them out clearly in this low light, yet you knew them to be so.
You didn't have time for such pointless exercises as examining yourself however, not when you were undamaged- uninjured. Your feet seemed to have recovered from the shards of glass that had cut into them while you were preoccupied with other matters for a start. This meant that you had no reason not to focus on the task at hand, to consider what to do about the scene that you could barely make out in the gloom.
You could see bones, ones that looked clearly inhuman, you could see the dark trail of what could only be blood leading away from the bones, smeared up towards a wall. You could see straw over the pavement. You couldn't see any sign of whatever individual had left blood here, though you could see a trail leading away. The amount of blood that you could see told you that it was likely that the individual who had been here was deceased and thus likely of no further interest to you.
Did you follow the trail of blood, did you investigate the scene for further insight, or did you return to the figure who had attacked you prior to return them to the Clockworkers for containment?
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Topic: They told me I could be anything... (Read 78994 times)