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Description
From the darkness of the forest, Sjiriki watched the two guards talk and bicker. This necromancer was a strange one, they usually eschewed humans in favor of undead guards. Their senses weren't as keen as those of the living, but they were impossible to distract, a whole lot less annoying and cheaper to boot. Besides, what else would you use your undead for when you weren't on the move?

They weren't exactly a problem to Sjiriki. His hand trailed to the greatsword strapped to his back, shaped like his old sword. It oozed shadow, very much like Sjiriki did himself. He didn't have to kill them, he could just shift to the Plane of Shadows, walk inside the castle, and shift back. Undead would have been a bigger problem, they could sense him even in the Plane of Shadows. Sure, he might end up a bit off target, with lots of bad luck inside a wall or the ground, which was never fun. (and with a shiver Sjiriki remembered that one time he had shifted back partially inside a rock. In the middle of a landslide) But it would save him a fight. The undead were asleep, he could sense it. Whatever the Necromancer was doing, it required a lot of energy, apparantly.

Sjiriki was about to shift to the Shadowplane when he hesitated. He didn't want to let the two men live. He wanted to... see them die. He wanted to see their life bleed away, wanted to see their souls pass the Veil. Not out of a sense of justice for allying with a necromancer, he simply wanted to kill. Sjiriki was surprised, he had never felt the feeling this strong before. But he could not do it. It was unnecessary, nothing but a distraction, something with no gain but which could potentially screw him over.

On the other hand, perhaps the necromancer had installed wards. Or perhaps the undead weren't asleep, and he had sensed wrong. In that case, walking through Shadow would bring him into even more trouble.

Sjiriki closed his eyes for a moment, thinking. When he opened them again, he had slowly taked his sword out of the scabbard slung over his shoulder, and held it in his hands. The necromancer was using his power for something, and Sjiriki didn't want to risk alerting him.

Slowly, he rose to his feet, his mind finally fully snapping into focus. The shadows, which had simply oozed of him, started whirling around him, and he faded a bit. He became a blurry figure as his mind emptied, with just one thing left: The soul brightly burning at the top of the tower.

Wreathed in Shadow Sjiriki strode forward to the two guards, who kept on talking and bickering, unaware of their impending doom. Sjiriki's pace quickened, and he raised his sword. Even now, in a full out sprint, his footsteps made no noise and his feet seemed to barely touch the ground, his muscles, infused with magic he had stolen from countless mages which further enhanced his strength propelling him with a breathtaking speed.

Description
From the darkness of the forest, Sjiriki watched the two guards talk and bicker. This necromancer was a strange one, they usually eschewed humans in favor of undead guards. Their senses weren't as keen as those of the living, but they were impossible to distract, a whole lot less annoying and cheaper to boot. Besides, what else would you use your undead for when you weren't on the move?

They weren't exactly a problem to Sjiriki. His hand trailed to the greatsword strapped to his back, shaped like his old sword. It oozed shadow, very much like Sjiriki did himself. He didn't have to kill them, he could just shift to the Plane of Shadows, walk inside the castle, and shift back. Undead would have been a bigger problem, they could sense him even in the Plane of Shadows. Sure, he might end up a bit off target, with lots of bad luck inside a wall or the ground, which was never fun. (and with a shiver Sjiriki remembered that one time he had shifted back partially inside a rock. In the middle of a landslide) But it would save him a fight. The undead were asleep, he could sense it. Whatever the Necromancer was doing, it required a lot of energy, apparantly.

Sjiriki was about to shift to the Shadowplane when he hesitated. He didn't want to let the two men live. He wanted to... see them die. He wanted to see their life bleed away, wanted to see their souls pass the Veil. Not out of a sense of justice for allying with a necromancer, he simply wanted to kill. Sjiriki was surprised, he had never felt the feeling this strong before. But he could not do it. It was unnecessary, nothing but a distraction, something with no gain but which could potentially screw him over.

On the other hand, perhaps the necromancer had installed wards. Or perhaps the undead weren't asleep, and he had sensed wrong. In that case, walking through Shadow would bring him into even more trouble.

Sjiriki closed his eyes for a moment, thinking. When he opened them again, he had slowly taked his sword out of the scabbard slung over his shoulder, and held it in his hands. The necromancer was using his power for something, and Sjiriki didn't want to risk alerting him.

Slowly, he rose to his feet, his mind finally fully snapping into focus. The shadows, which had simply oozed of him, started whirling around him, and he faded a bit. He became a blurry figure as his mind emptied, with just one thing left: The soul brightly burning at the top of the tower.

Wreathed in Shadow Sjiriki strode forward to the two guards, who kept on talking and bickering, unaware of their impending doom. Sjiriki's pace quickened, and he raised his sword. Even now, in a full out sprint, his footsteps made no noise and his feet seemed to barely touch the ground, his muscles, infused with magic he had stolen from countless mages which further enhanced his strength propelling him with a breathtaking speed.