Armande watched carefully. The man attempted to appear calm but it was the little things that gave it away. The carefully controlled breathing; the deliberate slowness of his movements; same look of rebuke against the darkness that he'd manifested before the Oni.
And there was another reason. The bonds for the creature had been put there by the Atharim that captured it. They knew their work. But Dreyken were not merely ferocious in the same way a rougarou was. No, they were cunning, deliberate in their words and actions, always watching, always seeking the smallest cracks. And deceptively strong.
It was whispering something and Armande put a hand to his hilt, blade telescoping silently, as Patricus foolishly leaned in to hear more clearly. "No, your holiness! It's a!-" he yelled but was cut off by the explosion of movement.
Claws swiped at Patricus, snagging only thick Papal robes and the heavy cross on his chest. It was fortunate, though the movements threw the man away to the ground like a rag doll, notwithstanding the audible smack of head on marble.
Blade whipped out like a viper at the striking claw, separating it from owner in one clean motion. Blood sprayed over Patricus as the thing clutched at its stump, the whining cry like nails on a chalkboard, like bone in a grinder, high pitched and boring into his mind.
Another of its tools, he knew. It looked at him with eyes of pure malevolence and the promise of infinite pain and flew at him. His blade whirred but even so, the thing was a snake. What should have gone through its chest slashed a shoulder instead.
But Armande had done this his entire life. He fell deeper into his Chong rann, letting his body become water, flowing and bending. Time had slowed to a crawl as it was just the two of them now.
And he pressed, what was a stream now a jet to cut through steel. The final strike was so quick he barely felt the tug against the fine carbon steel blade.
Time sped up and once again, he was here. The head was separated and the body only twitched slightly. A small mercy. The idea of a creature like this continuing to be dangerous after such a thing was terrifying. Snakes indeed, whose heads had to be handled and buried, lest a small puncture of fangs still deliver venom.
He went to Patricus and knelt down to help the man up. "I am sorry, Holy Father. That was not supposed to have happened." An understatement.
He pulled at his black sash and gave it to him to wipe as best he could. In the meantime, he went to the chair. The metal restraints had been thick. But closer inspection showed that where they braced against the chair, twisting had occurred. Very likely, the dreyken had been working those connections during its entire stay.
A growl escaped his throat and he looked at Patricus, roiling storm of blue lightning in his eyes. A whisper. "I will have....words with the Atharim that bound him."
And there was another reason. The bonds for the creature had been put there by the Atharim that captured it. They knew their work. But Dreyken were not merely ferocious in the same way a rougarou was. No, they were cunning, deliberate in their words and actions, always watching, always seeking the smallest cracks. And deceptively strong.
It was whispering something and Armande put a hand to his hilt, blade telescoping silently, as Patricus foolishly leaned in to hear more clearly. "No, your holiness! It's a!-" he yelled but was cut off by the explosion of movement.
Claws swiped at Patricus, snagging only thick Papal robes and the heavy cross on his chest. It was fortunate, though the movements threw the man away to the ground like a rag doll, notwithstanding the audible smack of head on marble.
Blade whipped out like a viper at the striking claw, separating it from owner in one clean motion. Blood sprayed over Patricus as the thing clutched at its stump, the whining cry like nails on a chalkboard, like bone in a grinder, high pitched and boring into his mind.
Another of its tools, he knew. It looked at him with eyes of pure malevolence and the promise of infinite pain and flew at him. His blade whirred but even so, the thing was a snake. What should have gone through its chest slashed a shoulder instead.
But Armande had done this his entire life. He fell deeper into his Chong rann, letting his body become water, flowing and bending. Time had slowed to a crawl as it was just the two of them now.
And he pressed, what was a stream now a jet to cut through steel. The final strike was so quick he barely felt the tug against the fine carbon steel blade.
Time sped up and once again, he was here. The head was separated and the body only twitched slightly. A small mercy. The idea of a creature like this continuing to be dangerous after such a thing was terrifying. Snakes indeed, whose heads had to be handled and buried, lest a small puncture of fangs still deliver venom.
He went to Patricus and knelt down to help the man up. "I am sorry, Holy Father. That was not supposed to have happened." An understatement.
He pulled at his black sash and gave it to him to wipe as best he could. In the meantime, he went to the chair. The metal restraints had been thick. But closer inspection showed that where they braced against the chair, twisting had occurred. Very likely, the dreyken had been working those connections during its entire stay.
A growl escaped his throat and he looked at Patricus, roiling storm of blue lightning in his eyes. A whisper. "I will have....words with the Atharim that bound him."