.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
10-20-2013, 04:56 PM
|
d'Artagnan the Nightshade
d’Artagnan didn’t know why he was here, a rotting barn well past its best years, nor really why he was dressed like he was. The outfit seemed good at the time and he took a rather sick humour in the way he looked all knightly and noble. Agitation laced the Time Mender’s sigh and he grumbled under his breath, noting he should’ve left the hat out as it bounced against the back of his ears, a rather large white feather tickling his neck making his eyes bulge in irritation. To say the least, it was putting the stalking beast in a foul mood and he entertained the idea of ripping it off and stamping on it. The blue and yellow cape was tolerable, however, and was something quite bright that stood out in the tiniest bit of light the barn was provided by lamps. A sword completed his outfit, useless in combat as it was made out of some substance that couldn’t even pierce flesh and for some reason it was stuck to its scabbard, so it hung uselessly by his side, held in place by leather straps that slung around his withers. The Nightshade had complimented his outfit by using the last of his fake blood, splattered down his glass weapons and marring his face in splotches of blood red. Accompanying him as ever was his loyal soldier, Aramis, who had come in new attire as well. He looked… Odd, in a word. At least to d’Artagnan anyway. Paws had slid neatly through holes in a leather number, that stretched across his back and was decorated in silver studs. He’d covered the top of his head with blood, perhaps yesterdays dinner, and it matted his fur into clumps with a stench that made the shade’s nose wrinkle. Lastly, slung around his furry neck on a moon coloured chain, was a silver bullet that bounced against his chest. The hell dog had said nothing about his choice and simply followed d’Artagnan silently, enduring each strange look his bonded gave him now and then. Turning his attention, finally, away from his companion, the shade took the time to gaze about his surroundings. Noting the strange looking areas tied off with some material. Odd tools that looked like they could do some damage lined the walls, behind him were closed wooden doors and moldy hay accompanied by some unhealthy looking feeders kept the locked door company. The right wall had a narrow corridor that looked as if it led to another room and a slight breeze picked up strands of tangled, black mane. Under foot the ground was hard, compact with dirt, but easy enough to walk on. The place was lit just enough for him to see properly, apart from one part of the barn, where a lamp lingered on the verge of death and threatened to impair his ability to see. All in all the shade would have dismissed the place as rather dull and uninteresting apart from the mean looking tools on the wall. However, he wasn’t alone here. Spirits haunted the filthy abode, souls who used to work here still or live here had not yet left it and d’Artagnan shivered once, crimson lobes twitching back and forth in uncertainty. It probably wasn’t wise to remain, but the Doctor had never really given much credit to the theory that ghosts existed, so remain he did. Intrigued that perhaps, unbelievably, he was wrong. It was then, his curious gaze spotted the giant outline, the smell of another horse and his ears laced back brushing against the muddy hat. Who was it? It wasn’t a scent he recognized, it might be someone out to get revenge, he had many enemies after all. It might be someone coming back to finish the job, there must be a reason why this place is haunted after all, maybe he was next on the list to join the undead party. d’Artagnan sneered and launched himself into a canter, kicking up the odd bit of dirt behind him, aiming straight for the stranger whilst Aramis lingered behind. Golden eyes tensely watching his bonded launch his attack, muscles on spring alert ready to aid. Rolling back his coal lips, the mender aimed for a sharp bite at the strangers right shoulder, his own gaze holding an odd sense of wildness to it. He was most certainly not going to die in a dingy, smelly barn, that was not the way for d’Artagnan the Nightshade to end his days. ------- [This is an OOC Challenge Spar for the Graveyard Championships. w/c: 767 || ⅓ || setting d’Artagan is dressed up as a disney’s version of a musketeer. and Aramis is dressed as a punk rocker. Good luck time! :D] |
@[Archibald]
my heart’s an endless winter
filled with rage
Use force at your own peril ;) please tag me!
