Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-11588669-20140208053126/@comment-11588669-20140308050410

His face was cold, uncaring. But his eyes showed rage, hatred, and contempt. The man moaned pitifully. He was straining to control himself, to keep his finger off of the trigger. Every fiber of his being urged him to pull the trigger, to vent his rage with the loud retort of a gunshot.

A hand clasped his shoulder. He didn't have to turn to know who it was. The mercenary jerked his shoulder out of her grip roughly, and holstered his pistol. He squatted down to grip the knife, fingers coiling around the hilt....and he twisted it, tearing the cut wider, digging the serations into flesh. Blood shot up into his face, but he made no motion, no reaction.

"Why were you sneaking up on me?" His question was simple. Easy to answer. Just the truth. Nox twisted the blade deeper, before tearing it out, a chunk of muscle and sinew coming along with it. The blade was laid on the man's stomach, the warmth of the fresh blood steaming off of the serratted edge. He pressed it down, just enough to start breaking the skin. "You know what happens, when I drag a slice across your stomach?" Nox's tone was almost conversational. "In this weather? It's quite simple really." A chuckle escaped him. It was completely devoid of mirth. "Cold seeps into the wound, and begins freezing your organs, one by one. And as you squirm, as you cry out, as any muscle in your body moves, thousands of ice shards will dig into your flesh. It's a slow, painful death." The mercenary gave a sadistic half smirk. "Again. Why were you sneaking up on me?" The man was shaking fearfully, too scared to form a coherent sentence.

"Pathetic." Nox scowled, and stood, walking past Nixia. "Take it from here. I'm getting nothing out of him." The mercenary retrieved the rest of his knives, and began walking back towards the cabin. Blood was cooling on his face and clothes, leaving steaming trails. He was still pissed. Now, though. He was harnessing it.