Let It Burn! (mature Content Warning-may Contain Material Unsuitable For Children)

[Fluffywerewolf]

Emerald orbs flicked left, then right, then left again. Beneath the supple black cloth covering his face, the creature inhaled, pulling a breath of air into his lungs. Their scent was on the wind, and it would be tonight that their blood was shed. His powerful arms bare, he combat crawled on the rooftops, his peircing emerald eyes taking in every available detail. This was my village...they have taken it from me. They have taken my grandparents, my home, and all that remained of my life. They will pay tonight, rest assuredly, they will pay dearly. His thoughts coursed along the path of revenge, his splintered psyche maintaining several careening options, each one more brutal and violent than the next. His body stiffened, a scent upon the wind digging a hold into his attention.

In the alleyways beside him, muffled cries could be heard. Fluidly, he prowled to the edge, the predatorial side of him taking over more and more by the moment. What looked to be an NCIA emmisary was pressed against the wall, her robe ripped open at the chest, by a pair of older males. One had a knife, the other had a weapon of a different sort, and was preparing to show just how well he could "Weild" it. He would never get the chance; for in mere moments, Keianzne had dropped down from the shadows, landing behind him without a sound. A light tap on the man's shoulder made him jump, and he turned to face the Furousha. Peircing green eyes showed no mercy, perfect cuelty of nature was all that lay within the occular vaults.

In a swift, almost undectable motion, the enraged creature shot his hand downwards, clasping the man's "weapon" in a clawed grip. The next few seconds seemed an eternity, as Keianzen's other hand caught him by the throat, threw him to the ground, and squeezed. The man's scream was almost ear-shattering, and he lay in a puddle of blood writhing on the ground. His partner stood staring at this demon, this creature from the darkness. His trembling hands nearly made it to the shortsword he was keeping on his hip. He nearly had gotten his hand on his blade. But the Furousha had his blades on his hands.

Four extended fingertips shot out, digging deeply into the shaking fool's chest. Another scream, this one of pure fear, was turned into a gurgeling sound as the furousha moved foreward, biting out the man's neck. He turned his blood-soaked features to the woman standing against the wall and smiled, his razor-like teeth glinting despite the crimson cover.