● Fear the voice
Of the lion

The night was silent around a singular vessel that sat in the docks. The moon would’ve been high in the sky should it had not been hidden by the clouds. All that could’ve been seen moving across the stone pathway was a tall figure of white. The silence that had fallen across the area was interrupted by the figure’s steps. The steps weren’t one of a man, which resembled blunt thuds or sharp clacks depending on the foot wear. The steps were marked by the sound of something scraping against the stone pathways. This man was not attempting to be stealthy or sneaky. With the rate that he moved, there was evidence that he was on a mission.

Aboard the ship sat a group of 7 men that had broken an unsaid rule in a local tavern. Within the Apex Tavern, you do not talk about slaver work. The owner took exception to that topic, and it would happen that nine times out of ten you were asked to leave, or removed if took much. These select few had been a bit much. The man that was standing before vessel was less than pleased. Tread carefully in the den of a lion.

Before each ship there was a post light, allow for some sort of illumination. Before this ship stood a Minks who stood bare chest. His body only clad in some leather worked pants. His fur was snow white, and bore some black streaks across it. The face that would’ve been visible from the boat should there had been a look out was that of a Lion. A pissed lion at that. In the right hand of that lion minks was a weapon that was all too familiar with the blood of slavers. His grip tightened around the staff of duality as he began to inhale. An aura built around his body, it shimmered red for a moment with power of the Goe Goe taking root, but he exhaled it calmly through his nose.

Too soon for that

His thumb found the lever of the staff, and flicked it as his left hand drug over to capture the falling axe that split off from duality, leaving him with two axes in his hand. He eyed the vessel before him before calmly walking up the ramp of what he could assume was a Freedom style ship. ’Ironic style, but they must be fast the cowards.’.

There was one upon the deck as he came up. The man seemed to have been in a drunken stupor. He would be quick. Kolt drew back his left arm that held one of the axes; Death, and let it fly. There was a clean sclidge sound as the blade of his weapon carved it’s way into the man’s skull. Kolt had cleared the small space between them, and retrieved Death before allowing blood and gray matter leak from the back of the man’s split skull. He looked over the body before embedding the blade of his axe into the mast of the ship and reaching down to pick up the small being body, and tossing it over the side of the ship into the water. He had hope the sounds wouldn’t have woken up anyone.