[b][Kresnik][/b]
The Hunter's gaze became harder, more hate filled when the elf delayed further, wishing to know his name. Upon the Isle of Blackwood, names were not given carelessly; especially to employers, whose knowledge of one's name would bring ruin and assassins to other Hunters or mercenaries. Kresnik knew this, not only from rumors, but from personal experience. A name was a powerful and versatile tool; a name was a weakness. However, Kresnik could not simply ignore the complications of their current relationship; if anything, if the elf was to ever pull a stunt, the Hunter would simply end Locien's life. A simple, yet effective, countermeasure. With a sigh, the dhampir closed his eyes for a moment and opened them slowly.

"[i]Kresnik... Drakonov...[/i]" he said slowly, carefully, and with great emphasis. 

Back on his own world, his name had stirred rumors and nightmares, to both the living and the damned. Now, here at the Crossroads, Kresnik felt comfortable that his name did not carry any weight or legends. Simply Kresnik Drakonov, Sorcerer-for-Hire, was suitable enough for him; no more witch hunts, no more Inquisition and politics... simply a mercenary without a care in the world. This freedom elated him further. In the midst of emotional blizzard that arose within him, Kresnik did not let it show on his face and he kept his eyes cold and distant; a trick he picked up from years of experience.

As the elf nodded and mumbled to himself, Kresnik's ears twitched to the sound of the cittern as it was strummed. The music made the dhampir relax, yet attentive. He listened to the story, finding himself sinking back into despair. [i]My world... the Grey World... and now the Crossroads...[/i] he thought, gritting his teeth in empty rage and black hopelessness. Seething with rage, eyes alight with Hellfire, Kresnik steeled himself as the story came to a close. In the place of Kresnik was now hatred incarnate, wearing a death mask with glowing lavender eyes that shown with an infernal intensity beyond that of any sun. "Necromancy and biology mean little to me," Kresnik spoke harshly, his voice somehow darker. A strange pressure began to build up around him, as though all of his magic attempted to manifest itself.

"Now, when do we start?"