Know the Word Freak

Garand held his stiletto, uncertainty and fear flowing through his veins, as the chaos continued to unfold. It grew harder and harder to tell friend from foe, and with the undead warriors running about, Garand feared to enter the fray in any capacity. With a desire not to shorten his life, he stood back and observed. He had found, after a few moments, that the strange woman that had appeared before must have been on the side of him and his companions, along with the undead (as strange as that was), and the supposed Legion of Sol and Sisters of Old appeared to be working in tandem, or at least they both were at one point. The only thing they seemed to share was a desire for his head. He shook his head. There were too many fronts and sides to this battle, he was going to get himself killed, he was injured after all. However, in spite of coming to this conclusion, a thought tugged at the back of his mind. His eye twitched and he had no explanation for it.

Why are you afraid?

He groaned, clutching his head as strange thoughts began to fill his mind.

You were never afraid of death.

He forced his eyes shut, it was as if his body was tensing up, filling with anticipation.

Don't be afraid of yourself, nothing should scare you, Garand.

He began to feel as if these were not his thoughts. He needed to stay back, he needed to...

You need to kill.


When Garand opened his eyes, the sight he saw was as if souls were walking into the frozen gates of Hel, and he was the gates. He needed not to spill blood, the area of death that surrounded him seemed to fuel him just fine. He knew that he could absorb strong emotion, but the deaths of others never seemed to be sufficient. He had never involved in a bloodbath of this great an extent. His hands were almost shaking as power filled him, and the glare in his eyes was no more of an observer.

He held his stiletto, poise, and fearlessness flowing through his veins. He held his arm out, focus on a Sister of Old as she struggled against one of the necromancers Draugr. With a grunt, he pictured the woman melting, and her movements suddenly became sluggish and jelly-like. She thrust forward, and almost fell over, and the Draugr slashed at her exposed frame, lopping the woman nearly in half. Garand stepped forward, the clashing of metal surrounding him doing nothing to deter him. His attention turned over to a Legion soldier, who realized the newest addition to the battle was on the side of the opposition and, moved to attack. Garand raised his hand, imagining emptiness and nothingness, and the soldier tripped over his own feet as his numbing nerves betrayed him. The Half-Elf promptly crouched and sunk his blade into the base of the man's neck, ending his life with satisfying finality.

He rose with the look of a killer on his face, and from across the battlefield he noticed a hooded figure and found him familiar. It didn't take long. Brandishing his stiletto, he moved across the field, ducking under and dipping past slashes not meant for him. One Sister did swipe at him, and he grabbed hold of her sword-arm before she could bring her blade down on him, and proceeded to grip her neck with such force that her attack had completely stalled. He struggled, but Garand's magic was almost instantaneous, the woman struggled violently as her skin seemed to be on fire. Her fellow Sisters might have seen her flailing around like an idiot, but the pain she felt told diffierent. Garand released her, spinning, grabbing her blade from her hand and slicing her throat in one fluid motion, blood showering him as a great lighting seemed to strike be She gagged and fell over, and Garand spat before walking away and not bothering to wipe her blood from his face. Finally, he found his target as he and a Sister worked to fend off a small mob of Draugr. Garand stepped in between them, the Draugr on either side of him. Their focus was on his enemies, and they paid him no mind. He pointed the sword he had received from the slain Sister, his stiletto gripped backward in his offhand. He pressed his left hand to his chest, and his muscles went numb. He shook his head, teeth gritting as his anger fought to keep him focused. He had fought in this condition before, and he would do it again.

"You called us freaks before, Hunter. Now you will know the word!"

As if on cue, the remaining Draugr moved in, and Garand was in tow.

Garand first went to work on the warrior that had been fighting with him first, grasping at her mind with his magic while the Draugr assailed them physically.