- Messages
- 33
- Character Biography
- Link
Rhenn opted to ignore her most pointed question at first, though he certainly heard it. Perhaps he didn't have an answer he wished to share, or perhaps he didn't quite know himself. Maybe both. Either way he was preoccupied at the moment; Willowood drove a stake down into the dirt stamping it down underneath his boot until it could barely be nudged.
"Vengeance. Pft, nothing so boring as that." He spat as he fashioned the stake into a post, seemingly for hitching their horses. "I wish for the freedom to do as I please, to them or anybody else I desire. My affiliation with them is a cage that stops my flight, and little else."
He kicked the wooden post. There was an undeniable rush of adrenaline coursing through him, for the sheer thought of the act he sought to perform in this quaint little town, a freedom he'd not allowed himself in some time that now he could almost taste. It came through in his voice, the extra bass making him sound louder, even. "We hitch here. Then, move down the hill into town quietly, find a way up onto the rooftops. These people are holding things that I want, and tonight, you're going to help me take them."
Willowood didn't look back to see whether she followed or not; he became a blurry figure in the darkness, snaking his way down towards a bevy of unsuspecting victims. It had been some time since he'd performed as his namesake, leaving little more than a shiver in the shadows as he had his way with any unsuspecting home he pleased.
The village, for it's part, was a cozy little place. No walls or guards to speak of, which meant they enjoyed a peaceful lifestyle. If Rhenn did his job, they wouldn't realize that had changed until he was far away. The church looked to be the most optimal way to ascend, a wall overgrown with vines and a roof with a slant that would allow him to walk up and over with little trouble.
Willowood reached out, gripping the vines with gloved hands and pulling to test the strength: It would hold. A smirk grew on his covered lips, as he turns to see whether his new companion had followed.
"Not going to burst into flames touching a holy place, are you?"
Mathalla
"Vengeance. Pft, nothing so boring as that." He spat as he fashioned the stake into a post, seemingly for hitching their horses. "I wish for the freedom to do as I please, to them or anybody else I desire. My affiliation with them is a cage that stops my flight, and little else."
He kicked the wooden post. There was an undeniable rush of adrenaline coursing through him, for the sheer thought of the act he sought to perform in this quaint little town, a freedom he'd not allowed himself in some time that now he could almost taste. It came through in his voice, the extra bass making him sound louder, even. "We hitch here. Then, move down the hill into town quietly, find a way up onto the rooftops. These people are holding things that I want, and tonight, you're going to help me take them."
Willowood didn't look back to see whether she followed or not; he became a blurry figure in the darkness, snaking his way down towards a bevy of unsuspecting victims. It had been some time since he'd performed as his namesake, leaving little more than a shiver in the shadows as he had his way with any unsuspecting home he pleased.
The village, for it's part, was a cozy little place. No walls or guards to speak of, which meant they enjoyed a peaceful lifestyle. If Rhenn did his job, they wouldn't realize that had changed until he was far away. The church looked to be the most optimal way to ascend, a wall overgrown with vines and a roof with a slant that would allow him to walk up and over with little trouble.
Willowood reached out, gripping the vines with gloved hands and pulling to test the strength: It would hold. A smirk grew on his covered lips, as he turns to see whether his new companion had followed.
"Not going to burst into flames touching a holy place, are you?"
Mathalla
