[center] [h1] Henning The Grim [/h1] [/center] 

Henning Maddirish felt the same cold throbbing clawing away at his innards as he had always felt, the same overwhelming emptiness in his chest, and the same dull pounding within the confines of his skull.


 He pulled his Ninjatō free from the dying man’s stomach, letting a sudden surge of dark red blood spill forth with a wet splatter. The dying men let out a slow, bubble-ridden, gurgle before collapsing to the ground, clasping frantically at the new hole in his belly. He thrashed about in the snow, staining it red, but then his eyes lolled back into his head and his body went limp. 


The steady fluttering of paper-like snow which fell upon Henning’s skin did nothing to stir his frozen soul, nor did the icy wind which was pounding against him as he stood on the mountain top.



He gave the dead man’s corpse a gentle kick, and he went tumbling down into the abyss, bursting into a bloody smear as he struck a jagged spike of rock on his descent. 

A crisp white sky dominated Henning’s view when his earpiece began to chirp, a few rogue flakes of snow nestling on his armour-clad form. 

He answered plainly with a click of a button “Stavon is dead.”  

“Excellent work.” rasped the response “but it seems that the Circle already has another job for you.” 

Henning laughed without humour. The Pale Circle’s desire to keep him from their precious and impressionable acolytes never ceased to amuse him. It validated his sense of power, and reminded him that they held him with just as much dread as they did contempt. 

“Who might that be?” 

“An old friend of yours; she’s been causing quite a stir.” 

The Lich grinned darkly “Have your people arrange a plane to take me to Santa Somabra.” 

[center] * [/center]

The flight was faster than it ever would have been on a public aircraft. The private jet was furnished lavishly, and the extra legroom was always appreciated. The jet landed on the outskirts of the city, in a dark clearing amidst a clump of twisted trees. 

“Mr Maddirish.” A plain looking man in a grey suit greeted Henning as he stepped down from the jet, his boot-clad feet pressing down on the wet grass. “We appreciated your punctuality.” 

“I assume there’s a reason we’re not using the airport?” Henning replied dryly, more than a little jetlagged. 

“They didn’t tell you?” The man frowned. [i]Typical of the Circle to leave me in the dark[/i]. “The city is working through a slight Lycan problem.” 

Henning let the frustration show clearly on his pale face. They hadn’t given him any silver. 

“The Hunters are of no concern for me. I’m here for the Canoness.” he told the man bluntly. 

“Of course.” The figure gave a respectful nod “If you’d be so kind as to follow me to the jeep…”