[zapdragon555]

click for human form

Naeem supposed it was a tragedy. He supposed that most humans would mourn this, if they laid their eyes upon the broken and decaying scene before him. The caravan was toppled and the goods had spilled, ornate pots that hadn't broken in the mess and had not been stolen by the raiders slowly filling up with sand that blew in the wind. The blood from the travelers' slit throats had long dried and mixed with sand, their eyes open to the unforgiving sun, long dried out and parched like their cracking skin.

He supposed that he should mourn.
But he couldn't find the heart to do so.

Naeem's fingers shifted on the black scythe in his grip, and he stepped over on light feet to peer down at the dead caravan. He reached out to brush his fingers over the skin of one man's face, then blinked slowly as he heard a sound come from the front of the cart. He looked up, his expression blank as he stared at the exhausted Tuskow lying on its side, its flanks heaving with dehydration and desperate desire to live. Naeem stared at it, noting its broken forelegs, then slowly raised his scythe, casting a long shadow on the sand--

"Halt!"

[1] [this number will count for both of them, unless the two separate for any reason]

[zapdragon555]

click for human form


Naeem looked up at the voice, his silver eyes flickering in what may have been surprise, was he capable of such an emotion. He looked around, his ears perked towards where he thought the sound had come from, and they swiveled around to try to pick up an echo of some sort.

"Good boy…" Naeem's eyes shot to the toppled caravan, and he blinked slowly, backing up a step as the shadow beneath it seemed to grow darker suddenly, and a pair of wicked blue eyes flashed out from beneath the caravan. "Step away from those yummy nummies, mhm? They're not yours…"

Naeem's eyes stilled as he watched the shadow slip out from underneath the caravan, and from the shadow a figure emerged, blackness dripping off like liquid smoke. "Faramin," Naeem said flatly, and the dark-expressioned man seemed to hiss and recoil.

[2]

[zapdragon555]

"How dare you speak my name!" Faramin spat, his blue eyes wild. "None can speak my name but Master. Your filthy jackal tongue doesn't deserve to lap the sand which Master's eyes have gazed upon, much less speak the name of Master's most trusted and beloved follower!"

Naeem stared at the man levelly, his ears angled back slightly with quiet hostility. "Your Master has not laid claim to these human souls," he murmured, his eyes barely narrowing. "You haven't the authority to defy the will of Anubis."

Faramin's scowl grew still, before it melted into hysterics, a hyena-like cackle spilling out of him. "The will of Anubis! By the Dragon's tongue, what a mangey lapdog you are."

[3]

[zapdragon555]

Naeem's collarbone seemed to grow slightly more pronounced as he tensed with irritation, and he shifted his scythe, the sound of the Tuskow braying weakly in distress making his ears twitch. "Your Master has relied on the souls of animals for their… rather puerile existence," Naeem said pointedly, tilting his chin up at the hooded figure. "Take this suffering beast instead."

Faramin's blue eyes grew dangerous again, and his grin grew set on his face, a grimace pulling at the corners of it. "My Master grows bored of such boorish and pure sustenance," he muttered, his voice tight with tension. "After all, it is my Master's duty to purge the unclean souls of this desert," the dark-haired man added as he dragged his eyes over the length of the scythe, a glitter of challenge sparking in his gaze. "And Master will gladly fight for them."

[4]

[zapdragon555]

Naeem stared at Faramin, his ears angled back, and slowly he moved his scythe to one of the dead bodies, lowering the blade to the clavicle of one man. He was ready for the whiplike tendril of shadow that lashed out and sliced across his hands, and he barely made a wincelike sound as he backed up and looked at Faramin, whose pupils had dilated to almost engulf the blue of his eyes. "You'd dare to defy my Master's wishes?"

"I defy no one's wishes. I obey the will of Anubis," Naeem murmured, the skin torn, but no blood seeped out. He turned to face Faramin, his eyes taking on a dangerous glint as he began to approach the man. "I will not hesitate in adding your half-formed soul to the collection I will present to him."

[5]

[zapdragon555]

"Such insolence!" Faramin yapped, his voice rising in volume and pitch with anger. "Begone, son of death! Master Tinneen has no use for the likes of false gods!" Faramin threw an arm towards Naeem as the other approached, and shadowy spikes of darkness shot out from his fingers, striking through Naeem with a lightning speed.

Naeem stumbled, the searing pain shooting up his body, and his silver eyes flashed with anger. He broke into a run with his scythe cocked back, and he swung it hard at Faramin, gritting his teeth as Faramin easily dodged and flashed into the shadow of Naeem's form on the sand. Naeem was breathing hard, and he whirled around to slash the scythe at his own shadow, and Faramin cried out in pain. The shadow ripped in two and Faramin scrambled out, howling in pain as blood trickled from a gash in his chest, soaking his cloak. "Wretch! Wretched dog!" Faramin screeched at Naeem, who looked at him calmly, his ears flattened against his head. "Master Tinneen will have your head on a spit!"

[6]

[zapdragon555]

"Be silent, flesh," Naeem murmured, his voice soft as breath compared to Faramin's ravings. "Lest your lifeblood spill quicker." Faramin's blue eyes flashed with anger, and he grit his teeth, hissing air through them.

"Do you test me?!" he spat, rushing forward and gathering shadows along his arm, his fingertips sharpening with solidified shadows into ethereal claws. "Mock me? Mock my Master?!" Naeem brought his scythe up to block the shadowy slash, and violet sparks raked to the sand, sinking like dust into the golden ground. "Leave this place! I found the dead and dying first, and thus laid claim to them long before your arrival." Faramin grunted as he was forced back by the scythe, his cloak growing heavy with sweat and blood, but Naeem was already approaching fast with danger in his eyes.

"Your very tongue is blasphemous. You speak nothing of value, puppet," Naeem said softly, cocking the scythe back again and taking a wide swing at Faramin's neck, but the man easily ducked it and shot a shadow at Naeem's feet, wrapping around his ankles and bolting him to the ground. Naeem stared at the dark shackles, then looked at Faramin with an almost feral light in his eyes.

[7]