Pain and Darkness: Time of Reckoning

Cities in Minstrel on the borders of Midi had never been the most opulent places; their neighbourdhood country, was little more than a pastoral peninsula, filled with forest, small villages and ruled by a modest monarchy. Closed by cliffs to the rich hand of the sea, Midi used to offer nothing in terms of riches than cattles and a quite landscapes. That until the entire peninsula was smothered by blankets of lava of metal, two monsterous masses of molten minerals had coalesced over Midi, covering almost each square inch of terrain in a everlasting prison. Midi was a place so barren that even plants struggled to find a place to rise, truly a land of dead: a yet, despite (or maybe because of that reason) that Sa'luk al-Tair was heading there to slay.

The man was resting in a inn two days of travel close to the borders, a two-store building squalid on the outside and rather empty of the inside. The innkeeper, an old, porty man, was showering the Devil Slayer with all the praises he could get, singing the qualities of his food, as costumers were commodity rarer and rarer to find in those days. Sa'luk had been already satisfied with a first meal, but ordered a second on the insistence of the patron. He found the food good, but he knew he was not the best person to evaluate the quality of aside: aside of his guildmaster stellar delicacies, he always to tried to keep his diet as frugal as possible, since he didn't want to be pray on the demon of gluttony: his job, no his crusade required him to work always at the best of his power, regardless of the taste of what he consumes in his everyday day.

But the years he passed with Dawn Horizon, in the end, still smoothed the assassin's rough edge: he grew shaver, cleaner, his face looking slightly pale and his eyes less sloven. Finding no reason to wear as a beggar, Sa'luk wore a turquoise tank-top, showing off his lithe yet strong arms, brown light pants; he still kept his typical open sandals, as an assassin must be ready anchor his bare on the ground when to strike. Always blending in his environment, Sa'luk looked practically identically to a Minstrel citizen from the southern reasons, if he weren't from the dreadlocks. His allegiance to Dawn Horizon may have soften his look, but he within he felt sharp as ever. Ready to bite, to strike, to come on the wicked like a scourge from the above and dragging them in the shadow, where their fate was only Hell and Darkness.

"You forget also that you've beocme a bona-ifde bishonen, my dear boy. As that beauty of Lindsay may attest, since she can't quite take off her plump, round golden eyes from your chiseled muscles...."

And there went Cursan, Sa'luk most loyal companion, sealed in arm blade's, always read to devour wicked souls, cast the power of demonic shadows, read minds inappropriately or spew juvenile comments from his mental mouth. The mentioning of the readhead made him blush slightly though.

The ring of the entrance bell captured his attention, distracting him from any witty return he had for his foul-mouthed demon caretaker. The few male patrons all turned their heads almost turned their heads as they were owls as young woman entered in the Inn and demanded something to drink or eat. The innkeeper gave the woman his most displayed reverences before taking orders, leaving her alone on the table.

"My, my, Think of Attractive Women and they doth appear! Would kindly give your boss fianceé your greetings? I don't want her think I haven't taught you good manners, Sa'luk." Suggested Cursan in a rather amused, if not jokingly paternal tone. Sa'luk did not enjoy to socialize a the moment, to busy at thinking of the ways to kill his target, but he surely found the coincidence interesting to say the least. He move close to the woman as waited for her meals, ignoring all the most lustful glances and the comments on the candor of her hair.

"Hi Mizuki . May I ask you why you are here?"