A whispered screech of rust-caked iron grating against his cleaved bone. Lauth squealed like a whipped sow and scrambled away with a fluid twitch of his sinuous legs. His fur, so sleek it seemed to ripple with a sickened wet sheen purled with irritation under the merciless moonlight. The moonlight which offered him no shelter in shadow. He landed on all fours under a silver birch tree, his haggard, gaunt frame twisted into a stance of light-pawed grace. Lauth lowered his head in defiant but cowardly spite, his slit cunning eyes spoke volumes of the feral cruelty harbored in his mind.
He hissed, bearing a ragged fence of gnarled wiry fangs, like a forest of twisted dead roots jutting upright from his blackened gums.
Flickering orange torches danced closer in the distance. The moon seeming to betray his presence for all to see. The old bastard who had caught him unawares and slipped a lucky blow past his guard, now too stunned out of his wits to even shut his jaw, stood only a leaps distance away. This, and much more Lauth's cunning eyes took in, with one swift glance.
He held his long grasping fingers to the torn flesh at his side, vainly trying to hold in the blood that fountained out his torso and ran in hot rivulets down his haunch. Lauth trailed his cruel yellow eyes to the rusty farming scythe that had invaded his flesh, grasped in the liverspotted hands of a frail balding manling.
Old manling with soft bones, 'yes yes' Lauth mused to himself. He would have to be quick, for the dancing torches were now blazing closer, bringing with them the loud and raucous bellows of more trampling humans. In a blur so fast he seemed to have left his shadow were he stood just a moment before, Luath was at the terrified old bastard's throat, sinking his twisted spires of teeth into his sagging skin, his long sinewy tail whipping up to snag the old man's scythe clutching wrist, keeping the dull heavy razor from causing him anymore hurt. The old man's knees sagged to the soil and a satisfying wet gurgle bubbled from his straining lungs.
Lauth gave the old human bastard one more spiteful wrench with his jaws before letting him drop like a rag doll stuffed with wet straw, Lauth licked his blood matted muzzle and took a step back to survey his work. The torches were not far off now, close enough so that the angry human faces bathing in the warm glow of torchlight could be seen, close enough so that in an eye blink's time the rat-kin, Lauth, would be caught under the incriminating grasp of the torch lights....
But in the blink of an eye, Luath was already gone, leaving the surging mob of townsfolk confused and terrified as they came to a halt under the silver birch tree. The mob stood alone in the dark. They looked awfully dumb, clutching their household 'weapons' and torches, with the fast cooling body of the village baker splayed at their feet. Infact, at that moment, every one of those simple villagers had never felt so stupefied in all their long simple lives.
He hissed, bearing a ragged fence of gnarled wiry fangs, like a forest of twisted dead roots jutting upright from his blackened gums.
Flickering orange torches danced closer in the distance. The moon seeming to betray his presence for all to see. The old bastard who had caught him unawares and slipped a lucky blow past his guard, now too stunned out of his wits to even shut his jaw, stood only a leaps distance away. This, and much more Lauth's cunning eyes took in, with one swift glance.
He held his long grasping fingers to the torn flesh at his side, vainly trying to hold in the blood that fountained out his torso and ran in hot rivulets down his haunch. Lauth trailed his cruel yellow eyes to the rusty farming scythe that had invaded his flesh, grasped in the liverspotted hands of a frail balding manling.
Old manling with soft bones, 'yes yes' Lauth mused to himself. He would have to be quick, for the dancing torches were now blazing closer, bringing with them the loud and raucous bellows of more trampling humans. In a blur so fast he seemed to have left his shadow were he stood just a moment before, Luath was at the terrified old bastard's throat, sinking his twisted spires of teeth into his sagging skin, his long sinewy tail whipping up to snag the old man's scythe clutching wrist, keeping the dull heavy razor from causing him anymore hurt. The old man's knees sagged to the soil and a satisfying wet gurgle bubbled from his straining lungs.
Lauth gave the old human bastard one more spiteful wrench with his jaws before letting him drop like a rag doll stuffed with wet straw, Lauth licked his blood matted muzzle and took a step back to survey his work. The torches were not far off now, close enough so that the angry human faces bathing in the warm glow of torchlight could be seen, close enough so that in an eye blink's time the rat-kin, Lauth, would be caught under the incriminating grasp of the torch lights....
But in the blink of an eye, Luath was already gone, leaving the surging mob of townsfolk confused and terrified as they came to a halt under the silver birch tree. The mob stood alone in the dark. They looked awfully dumb, clutching their household 'weapons' and torches, with the fast cooling body of the village baker splayed at their feet. Infact, at that moment, every one of those simple villagers had never felt so stupefied in all their long simple lives.