Sublime Shroud
Giggle.
Odd.
The dark haired man turned around slowly. This was not where he had been an hour ago.
Obviously.
Indeed, where before he had been in a forest, now he was standing in the midst of an archaic metropolis. No, that wasn’t what they were called. Hmm…
Ah, yes. Of course. Towns.
The buildings were largely made of stone or wood, where they stood at all. Most of the area was rather empty. And what was that on the other side of the road? Was that actually a grove of trees? What sort of fruit was that?
Interesting.
The road looked to be made of dirt, though perhaps “made” was stretching things a bit. In fact, it looked more like someone had gone and flattened the general area with a tree, or something heavy. However, the road was almost perfectly straight, and ran just to the side of the town. It was wide; the man thought that one of the buildings would have fit across it easily, with room to spare.
One of his gloved hands tapped against the white mask that hid his features from view. A crescent moon gash split the mask, though the gap failed to reveal the face beneath. A glow sat within the triangular cutaway of the eyes, faintly blue. The length was highly disproportionate to the width, giving his head a stretched appearance.
Laugh.
The man was tall, topping six feet by at least three inches. His black garb looked vaguely Victorian, a comparison implied by the collar that rose almost to the chin where it hid beneath the mask. However, in stark contrast to the snug neck, the sleeves of the tunic were loose, bagging near the elbows. White cloth wrapped around his wrists and upward to the elbows, where in addition thick leather padding cinched the material.
The shirt disappeared behind another white wrapping, which began just below his ribcage and then worked its way south to his waist, where it vanished behind a wide black velour belt. The wrapping appeared again below the strip, though here it fell another inch, perhaps two at the most before halting. Black cotton pants appeared beneath; fanning out rapidly, though a faint pleat was visible. At his knees a thick padding marked the beginning of another bandaged section, which enclosed his legs down to his ankles, where thick black wool covered his feet, the soles of which had a thin coating of rubber, just enough to shield his feet from damage while retaining the greatest tractability possible.
No apparent weapons decorated his figure, though that meant very little. His enemies had worn no weapons openly, and while they were dead now, in life they had been successful despite.
His black hair fell to his ankles, simply brushed back over his shoulder as if he had no time for a more thorough binding. It shone in the sunlight, though he ignored it. No breeze could stir his hair, though he would not have told why if asked.
The sky was barren, on fire as the sun rose.
Die.
Odd.
The dark haired man turned around slowly. This was not where he had been an hour ago.
Obviously.
Indeed, where before he had been in a forest, now he was standing in the midst of an archaic metropolis. No, that wasn’t what they were called. Hmm…
Ah, yes. Of course. Towns.
The buildings were largely made of stone or wood, where they stood at all. Most of the area was rather empty. And what was that on the other side of the road? Was that actually a grove of trees? What sort of fruit was that?
Interesting.
The road looked to be made of dirt, though perhaps “made” was stretching things a bit. In fact, it looked more like someone had gone and flattened the general area with a tree, or something heavy. However, the road was almost perfectly straight, and ran just to the side of the town. It was wide; the man thought that one of the buildings would have fit across it easily, with room to spare.
One of his gloved hands tapped against the white mask that hid his features from view. A crescent moon gash split the mask, though the gap failed to reveal the face beneath. A glow sat within the triangular cutaway of the eyes, faintly blue. The length was highly disproportionate to the width, giving his head a stretched appearance.
Laugh.
The man was tall, topping six feet by at least three inches. His black garb looked vaguely Victorian, a comparison implied by the collar that rose almost to the chin where it hid beneath the mask. However, in stark contrast to the snug neck, the sleeves of the tunic were loose, bagging near the elbows. White cloth wrapped around his wrists and upward to the elbows, where in addition thick leather padding cinched the material.
The shirt disappeared behind another white wrapping, which began just below his ribcage and then worked its way south to his waist, where it vanished behind a wide black velour belt. The wrapping appeared again below the strip, though here it fell another inch, perhaps two at the most before halting. Black cotton pants appeared beneath; fanning out rapidly, though a faint pleat was visible. At his knees a thick padding marked the beginning of another bandaged section, which enclosed his legs down to his ankles, where thick black wool covered his feet, the soles of which had a thin coating of rubber, just enough to shield his feet from damage while retaining the greatest tractability possible.
No apparent weapons decorated his figure, though that meant very little. His enemies had worn no weapons openly, and while they were dead now, in life they had been successful despite.
His black hair fell to his ankles, simply brushed back over his shoulder as if he had no time for a more thorough binding. It shone in the sunlight, though he ignored it. No breeze could stir his hair, though he would not have told why if asked.
The sky was barren, on fire as the sun rose.
Die.