The frigid gust of wind whipped across the rampart, sending the torch's embers skyward like a swarm of busy fireflies. The guardsman finished fastening his buckles, before pulling his cloak closer to him. He didn't need to look back. She was dead. Sure, she was one of his favorites over the years, but their games together had only gotten progressively more extreme with time. This would be the end of those games. Nobody would miss her, not really. She was but one of many low born women in the barony after all. Still, it was best he not be considered a part of this mess. The sound of his boots echoed loudly on the fortifications as he began to distance himself from the scene. He would have never turned back, except for that nearly inaudible rustling that came from behind him. No, surely she is dead. Even if she isn't, no empathy could help her in time. No empathy would even consider helping her kind anyways. Still, should she speak to someone before that inevitable last breath. . . . no, best to end it now.

Turning, the guard noticed it was not the woman who made the noise, but rather a robed figure hunched over her rapidly cooling body. Shaking his head wistfully, the newcomer stood up, the faint light of the nearby torches identifying him as an Elothean. The Eloth smiled at the guard mockingly, and the guard went for his sword. A few words from the Elothean, barely whispered, brought images of terror to the mind of the guard, freezing him in place. The Elothean steps toward the guard, sweeping the blue-black hair from his face.

"I- I didn't want for this to happen sir. Honestly I didn't," the guard begins. "Surely a reasonable one such as yourself knows opportunity when they see it, what will it cost me?"

The Elothean raises a hand slowly and shakes his head. Speaking aloud, not really to the guard, the Eloth says contentedly, 'I have return.'

Seeking a way to gain any sort of advantage, the guardsman asks, "Who?" His eyes finally notice the tarnished gryphon clasp adorning the Elothean, he splutters, "You- What do you want?"

"Justice, not law. Deeds, Not words," is the mocking reply.

"You will not get away with whatever you are planning," the guard drawls.

"Nor will you," is all that is replied as the Elothean steps past him, moving closer to the keep.

"I'm sorry," the guard whimpers. His words escaping him more quickly, "I never meant to murder-"

The cold sound of the Elothean's laughter cut him off. 'You think I care about murder?"

"Then what?"

Glancing sadly towards the still form of the woman, the Elothean merely sighs 'wasteful'.

Finally breaking free of the spells hold, the guard quickly reaches for his sword. Pivoting gracefully, while bellowing 'Monster!" his sword neatly slices through the air, but only gets about half the distance required before his scream echoes across the keep. Behind him, the risen form of the woman drops a bloody chunk of some organ, apparently vital.

"Monster-" the Elothean muses, glancing longing at the keep while dropping his gryphon clasp to the ground at his feet. "In a land of murderers, my sin is bringing them back."