Goll: Las Vegas
Bright lights. Loud noises. The land had changed so much in the time Goll had walked it... nothing was as it had been. The places, the sounds... only the people remained as they were. Greedy malcontents. No one was content with their position; They were like ants swarming over each other to get closer to a particularly tastey morsel. Creatures hardly worth noticing, save for sustenance. For the feeding stock would always be there... and they would remain ignorant of the predators that walk amongst them. Time had proved that, if nothing else.
Goll raised from his crouch atop the small, squat building on the Strip. Pacing towards the back he simply stepped over the edge, falling four stories to the alley behind and quickly rolling behind a dumpster. A large black canvas bag lay there unmolested. Good. He sent the tools. Goll attempted for a moment to open the small interlocking teeth that lined the top before getting frustrated and simply ripping them apart. Inside the bag there lay several dully shining blades and quite a few leather straps.
"Good... I am prepared then." Goll spoke in to the silence, his clearly inhuman voice echoing from deep in his chest.
"You're never prepared, Hound."
The second voice seemed to come from nowhere, Goll could not locate it. But it tugged at some lost memory, some ancient anger was dredged up with the thought.
"Who dares speak so? I am the Hound!" Goll's crystal-blue eyes swept the alley quickly, even as he stooped low to begin to fasten the leather harnesses to his body. A sword here, a crossbow there and a large greataxe on his back - all tied tightly to his person.
"You are the Hound. And I am the Hunter. Will you hunt for me, Hound?" The voice seemed to be coming from one corner of the alley where the shadows pooled particularly deeply.
Goll moved forward, blood beginning to course through his body as his supernatural abilities took over. He did not speak now, instead lashing out with his hand to grab this unseen jester. He reached out and grabbed crushed velvet between his already-forming claws. He twisted his wrist quickly and pulled his assailant forward... and the blood left him.
As Goll released him and sank to his knees in the grime, the man looked down at the Hound of Darkness with a somewhat pleased smile. "You have done well, Hound, survivng through the centuries... but rumor holds that my Hound has gotten long in the tooth. Do you still serve?"
The blood did not seem to react to Goll's whims as he wished. It was sluggish and... it seemed almost fearfull. He could only hang his head slowly, his fists clenching and unclenching in impotant rage.
"I... have, Master. The Hound still courses."
Goll raised from his crouch atop the small, squat building on the Strip. Pacing towards the back he simply stepped over the edge, falling four stories to the alley behind and quickly rolling behind a dumpster. A large black canvas bag lay there unmolested. Good. He sent the tools. Goll attempted for a moment to open the small interlocking teeth that lined the top before getting frustrated and simply ripping them apart. Inside the bag there lay several dully shining blades and quite a few leather straps.
"Good... I am prepared then." Goll spoke in to the silence, his clearly inhuman voice echoing from deep in his chest.
"You're never prepared, Hound."
The second voice seemed to come from nowhere, Goll could not locate it. But it tugged at some lost memory, some ancient anger was dredged up with the thought.
"Who dares speak so? I am the Hound!" Goll's crystal-blue eyes swept the alley quickly, even as he stooped low to begin to fasten the leather harnesses to his body. A sword here, a crossbow there and a large greataxe on his back - all tied tightly to his person.
"You are the Hound. And I am the Hunter. Will you hunt for me, Hound?" The voice seemed to be coming from one corner of the alley where the shadows pooled particularly deeply.
Goll moved forward, blood beginning to course through his body as his supernatural abilities took over. He did not speak now, instead lashing out with his hand to grab this unseen jester. He reached out and grabbed crushed velvet between his already-forming claws. He twisted his wrist quickly and pulled his assailant forward... and the blood left him.
As Goll released him and sank to his knees in the grime, the man looked down at the Hound of Darkness with a somewhat pleased smile. "You have done well, Hound, survivng through the centuries... but rumor holds that my Hound has gotten long in the tooth. Do you still serve?"
The blood did not seem to react to Goll's whims as he wished. It was sluggish and... it seemed almost fearfull. He could only hang his head slowly, his fists clenching and unclenching in impotant rage.
"I... have, Master. The Hound still courses."