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Kha'raab the White-Eyed: Unwanted Attention

Kha’raab The White-Eyed: Unwanted Attention

The warm blood streaming down your hand triggered the flashing lights of transformation. This would be a very bad moment for him to appear, to take over. Since it started years ago, you have never been able to stop him from seizing an opportunity to stroll upon Limera in your body. Steadying your breathing, you look at your enemy and fight the flashes of madness, praying you are able to delay long enough to find a solution.

They looked like regular humans, but the soft whisper of darkness and the slash on your upper arm tells you they are more than that. Younglings from the Bastion in the High Rise, none further than the first stage of becoming a Hunter. Usually not that dangerous for someone as formidable as yourself, but it would be wise to remain cautious. Humans were known to be treacherous and dishonorable in battle.


The flashes are becoming a problem if you don’t act fast. A deadly problem for these boys. Raising your arm, you look at the purple blood and grin, showing the young humans your filed teeth. With your tongue, you lick the blood from your elbow to the palm of your hand. The taste makes you want to gag, and for a moment, you almost lose yourself to the madness in your mind. Just barely, you are able to remain yourself, giving the boys a chance to live today.


“Do you wish to meet Baros so badly that you feel the need to seek out trouble in the Understreets, human?” you ask the humans with a low voice, slightly turning away from them as if not perceiving them as a threat at all. Their apparent leader shifts his feet unwillingly. Good, he is afraid. Perhaps you will be able to resolve this without killing a few of them this time.


Licking your lips, you straighten yourself, making the Humans see your full length, and rolling your shoulder muscles, you lower your left hand to stroke the bone hilt of your dagger. A dagger that is so unusual to be carried by one of your race. Though you hate to wear it, it does make you feel as if you are able to silently scream back at the pieces of shit that cast you out for no reason other than to preserve their own reputations. Of course, you also ignore the fact that, just like filing your teeth, getting a dagger was one of his decisions, and he refuses to let go of it.


You feel the well-known pain of imminent loss of control starting to throb in the back of your skull. Why are these fools not backing off like they should? Humans have never really been a problem for the Naru. But these Essence Hunters are able to fight your people at an almost equal strength, making them extremely cocky, especially the young ones. Due to their harsh training and fighting experience, the more experienced Hunters can easily go toe-to-toe with a Naru, especially with that sixth sense of theirs. Unfortunately, there are quite a few of those experienced Hunters present in the Bastion here in Windhaven, and the Naru don’t really feel the need for violence anyways. Or at least, most of you don’t.


You take a step forward into the light, loosening the dagger in its sheath. The way these humans cower when they see your face, especially the milky-white stare of your right eye, is intoxicating, arousing even. You close your eyes and inhale deeply to get a sense of your surroundings through the smells. Good, no witnesses close by. Chuckling, you open your eyes and look at the soft little shits in their armor, waiting to be cracked open like crustaceans at an all-you-can-eat buffet in one of those fancy houses in the High Rise. How beautiful it would be to bite into their soft flesh, hear the terror in their voices, the disbelief in their ugly faces. And the blood, the sweet, rich red blood, gushing, flowing, streaming.


He is here, or should you say, you are here. These humans need to get away from you and fast. Growling, you take another step forward, and with a low, threatening voice, you command them, “Move or I will use your ball bag as a purse for my smoking herbs!”

Two of the younglings seem to have some sense and tell their leader it is time to go, that they will be missed if they are not back before the change of the guard. Looking into their leader’s eyes, your heart plummets into your stomach. All you see there is defiance shining. Another fool hoping to make his name in the back alleys of the Understreets of Windhaven. Sad, you shake your head as your ears are filling with the sound of a mad cackle at the promise of slaughter. “I am so sorry,” you manage to get out with a breaking voice, before the other takes over. Curling up in your own head, you prepare for what is to come next.


The screaming starts…