- Character Profile
- Feb 11, 2020
- Reaction score
Quietly, he sat amongst the crowd, his fingers crossed as he watched the citizens of Coronet City with dismissive interest. He had been here for days now and only in such a crowded place could he appear as a ghost, even with his unnatural limbs piercing through the bottom of his robed attire like solid needles. Nobody noticed, too busy with their lives as laborers milled about their business, everyone lost entirely in their own bubble. The city was an ocean of grey industry that evoked a sense of rueful pensiveness. It was a blanket of fog giving birth to intense sounds of machinery and the calls of simple lives. Here amongst them, he appeared as one of their own.
“They are here."
His jagged teeth, uneven, slightly bucked and cut of ivory, would tear into his lips in perpetual anxiety. He chewed, peering in the distance at nothing in particular, yet searching with attentiveness. He could feel the force pulling on his heartstrings and litter his pale flesh with goosebumps; electrifying, it called to him almost magnetically. Eventually, he stood, and revealed his towering nature. He was a sickly colossus, yet the sea of bodies he found himself amidst paid him no mind.
Sauntering forward, each stride he took was elegant and unlabored. Although it had taken quite some time, he had adjusted to his prosthetics beautifully. Weaving between bodies like water in a steady fashion, he made his way to the far-side of the industrial sector with an odd confidence. He was a leashed dog being pulled, driven down an unknown path to meet his quarry. The cityscape would eventually break into a clearing which contrasted with the former backdrop of robotic locomotion, giving way to an area claimed by nature on the city outskirts. This needed to be quick.
Reaching behind him, his fingers grasped the hilt of a telescopic polearm forged of solid Phrik. It was built sturdily yet remained light and discreet. Pulling it over his shoulder, he extended the body of the weapon, its length harboring an edged blade and spiked top that jutted from the shaft venomously. If there ever was an inquisitor, in this moment, he was one.
“I have come to take what you do not deserve.” His voice emanated from beneath cowled features to no one in particular, resonant throughout the trees. Still, he could feel them, and he knew that the sensation was shared.
“Your soul speaks to me. There is no hiding.”