His pace along the dirt path leading into the small village amongst the hills quickened as the volume increased. Not of screams, but of the pressure that surrounded him; Anybody who knew a thing about Ghouls could feel their presence in the air. From within, figures came fleeing from the settlement, screams of horror and eyes full of panic. Men and women running from what they feared was an untimely fate
Crux wasn't so sure what they were afraid of. They were breathing, and as long as they kept out of his way that wouldn't change tonight. Several of them collided with Crux as he approached the epicenter of their fear, but he broke not his stride. They could run if they wanted. All that Crux felt in the veil of darkness that seemed to suddenly fall over the village was an opportunity for punishment.
A twisted, almost demented smile threatened to split his face, only growing wider across his cheeks as he laid eyes upon them at last. Horrifying visages like something out of a nightmare. Men, women, and children fleeing for the safety of their homes, screams of terror echoing off every surface. One of the ghouls spotted him, its jaw falling in a hungry wail as it began to shamble its way towards what it didn't know would be its own demise.
Hand dropping to the hilt of one of his blades, Crux prepared to charge in for an up-close and personal slaying. Just then, a voice from off to the side beckoned his mark, and the ghoul whipped his head around, screeching as it broke into a run towards whatever distraction had interrupted his fun.
Crux broke into a run, carried by some inhuman need to see these unholy husks withered at the heel of his boot. How dare this rotten hunk of garbage turn its back on him? It would pay in blood for such disrespect! His hands drop to the whip tied around his waist, quickly loosening it and gripping the handle to pull it free. It was far from the typical leather whip used by more common folk; such tools were of no use in killing the corrupted. The whip consisted of a thin metal cable, cut into segments and placed over the leather core of the
weapon. Small blades were fitted onto the metal pieces offering sharp cutting edges.
It was this weapon of death that Crux whipped at the Ghoul bounding towards what looked to be a man and a dog, the cable meeting the beast's neck with enough force to wrap around it and stop the ghoul in its tracks, its hands desperately clawing at its neck in an attempt to free itself as Crux pulls back, the blades of his whip doing their job and ripping the head from the ghoul completely.
That man and his mutt had better stay out of his way. This was his playground, and as the bloodied whip fell to the ground with a clatter of steel against the rocks on the road, Crux felt that rush of satisfaction that came with watching the ghoul's body fall over lifelessly.
Gannis