Blade of Woe
Irae
The stench was unforgivable...
Aphon's hand rested upon his ancestral blade as his eyes scoured the skyline of Ession, the once great capital of the so-called Ashlan Crusade still rife with the acrid taste of the Light. The unpleasant sensation wasn't helped by the nexus that had found its way creeping through every inch of this place, though Aphon would do his best to toss its accursed blight to the wayside. They were here to do a mission, after all. A traitor in the midst of the very Empire itself, a craven knave so worthless that they would even dare to seek solace among those that adhered to the outdated teachings of Ashla's Light.
Was this what they had come to? Hunting down the weak and desperate in an effort to further another's aims? It was a bitter taste indeed, yet Aphon's palette had been found to be dull, for he only sought what might be his next worthy kill...
Perhaps his partner would feel the same, or perhaps not. They had to spend some time away from each other in recent weeks, conducting their own missions at the behest of the Imperial council. Yet fate would always find a way to bring them back together, and in this moment, Aphon was simply glad to be hunting with his dear comrade once again.
His eyes wouldn't move away from the skyline, his voice simmering with a slow, heated tone.
"What do we know of this one?"