The figure was no phantom dreamed but something of flesh and blood, Nasol was soon to find. A curved blade of bone lashed out from behind the intruders back as he began to advance on Nasol. The guard was often commended for his ingenuity but seldom for his skill at arms, the would not go well. Nasol raised the heavy lantern pole, the castle guards armed themselves with, between his foe and himself.
As the intruder came into the light of the lantern Nasol recoiled. It was a man of some sort the guard understood but the face was not human. Taught flesh covered a featureless face seeming almost a mask or something lashed to the head. There we no eyes or mouth to speak of just the flesh. And it scintillated with color, sometime ruddy or bruised then returned to a dead skin white.
Nasol did not understand what he saw, he only fended off the cuts from the short blade as best he could. He only understood the burst of red upon the skin when the enemies blade shattered on the iron of the lantern, that was rage.
Nasol thought himself winning for a moment or two beyond. Then he gambled on a wider lunge which was to undo him. The figure slide past and grasp him on the arm. This brought about an explosive pain as tendrils dung into the flesh of Nasol's forearm. The feeling almost electric brought the guard to his knees.
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