Roads to War

[Arch_Laughter]

Otomar sat down. After such a sight he wondered if the city would tolerate his indulgences. He quietly thought to himself about what had happened to his last associate. Burned at the steak in the middle of a large German city. Zure had managed to manipulate the fire enough to set himself free. After a quite dramatic escape from the city limits, he made it slowly to Poland.

He could only hope that this dead man had been hung by anyone but the police.

Well, that the hope the man was not in Otomar's type of predicament.

He closed his eyes. Then quickly opened them again, making sure the package stowed in his staff remained safe. Now he could rest until they arrived at their destination.

[Darkly Chaotic]

the colonel wakened with a gasp, and sat up. his sleepy gaze scanned the room, looking for the remnant of his nightmare thinking it to be real. his gaze fell upon the large shaded figure in the tent corner and his heart began to speed up. the figure stood and the colonel screamed, backpedaling across the bed to try and get away. Scarecrow laughed and grabbed his arm and pulled him in, feeding off the fear emenating off the man. "ah, how I missed the taste of fear, shame it has to end." quickly he snapped the mans neck and began to don his clothes. he slipped the cap low over his head so that it hid his face, and he quickly compressed the straw in his body to shorten his form. from a distance he would look like the colonel but under closer inspection it wouldn't hold up. quickly he grabbed the gun and walked out. two barks took out some of the patrols in the camp and was loud enough to bring more running. grabbing another gun he began to shoot the men in the camp with brutal efficacy. soon most of the readied patrols were dead, and more of the sleeping men began to pour out of the tents. ditching the guns, Scarecrow leapt in great bounds among the soldiers making it so they couldn't shoot him without risking their comrades. every now and then he would reach out and snap a man's neck with a well placed blow, his cloth face lit up with pleasure as he fed on the men's fear. bounding off, he leapt through the tent line and slipped away through the trees, leaving only a rustling of leaves behind. pulling himself up into the tree, he checked his arm, where one of the soldiers had nicked him as he fled. pinching the cloth of his skin closed, it quickly restitched itself and closed, leaving only some strange, slightly luminous, green blood as a testament of the cut.