Run, rocker, run!

o/

((Hello Mika!))

(hey mika:D)

((We'll be setting up. This will be part 2 of 3))

Meowฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

((Hey Cassy headpats the Cassy))

those who know of Acton would say he put up a good fight before his return to final death, now no more to wander the earth he could not feel any attachment to. The being of spectral construct cloth rises with only dent that bulges in the right golden eye, higher it goes till the head of every tree is beneath it. With a crack of the dry heads splitting from the force of it cutting them in anger as it can not find it's prey of Aleda

(There should be two commas in the title~)

purring

With the cloak that Acton gave him earlier, rockstar Aleda continues running forward. He has was not aware of Acton's whereabouts, but he knew that Amathyst brought Acton in for a purpose. Hopefully, Acton accomplished the task he was assigned to do... even if the rockstar wasn't aware of the final result. There was no time to look back--both literally and figuratively. The rockstar simply ran past tree after tree. Did he know where he was actually going? Maybe. Maybe not. There was only one thing on his mind right now--meet up with Amathyst the necromancer. Not too far behind him, he can swear that he heard some trees getting destroyed. Was it that spectre again?

Uwaa?

Atop the tree top heads it walks on misshaped cloved heel feet of pure stich-work cloth stained in dirt and bone dust. Every pace as if it walks on a gift of a red carpet, glaring down at the ground~ hunched over like a a broke leper man, it's golden fake eyes hungrily acting as if it is a bird of prey but perhaps it thinks it could be one for such is the cruel nature of a creature like a wraith. It freezes in posed position as it does spot Aleda but it takes no course to screech down upon him, instead it merely watchs for the perfect moment

The rockstar continues running in a mostly straight line. In his gut, he feels like he's still in danger, but he's so focused on reaching to his destination that he's not fully aware of the danger pursuing him from the back. Without looking back, his eyes dart around looking for a thicker part of the forest to retreat to so that hopefully he can catch his breath for even just a few seconds...

unfreezes it does to skip with a heavy striding step that stretches out the cloth in a silent rhythm, never once is that glaze separated from him, that forever stretched grinning golden teeth smile is rubbing against the spine of the sickle in a low screech of metallic staining noise. It may not be lunging at him but it shall shall do worse then a lunging blade

His pacing was almost nonstop relentless since this whole thing started, and now, it was finally catching up to him. As soon as he ran into into a thicker area of the woods, he slightly slowed down--allowing his breathing and his body to, at least, somewhat catch up. Since, visually, he was focused on what was in front of him, he relied on mostly his hearing to detect anything in the back of him, and he hadn't heard the sounds of trees being damaged behind him for some time...

((Brb))

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Hello there

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((Hi there Jack))

it moves clockwise to you, moving to the flank right side of you, contorting behind every trunk of a nearer closer tree, there is no natural noise it could ever make, all of its growing enjoyment can be only represented by it grinding the sickle's spine harder against the gold till its scratch marks are whitening the two front teeth to a pearly faux glaze.

Concentrating on both maintaining and regaining some stamina, he continues his current pace--it's still a fast pace although slightly slower than what he was doing for most of the night so far. He's tempted to send out some homing lightning bolts to his back just to be on the safe side, but he figured it would be better to conserve his energy. At least, the cold night air, helped him somewhat in that he didn't have to worry about the sun and heat bearing down on him as well.

the noise could have been heard but that was a moment to pass in a few seconds as the wraith daintly floats down over you till your back is facing it where with a lunging swing of the round crooked sickle blade it finally strikes at you, a long thin cut across space itself that is no wider or thicker then the blade as it motions in a circular lawnmower pattern that leaves a garish unsightly uncomfortable hole to the human eye

For a split second, the rockstar thought he heard the sound of Acton's cloak, still flowing behind him, being cut. Shortly, thereafter, he fell to his doom, or rather, he he was saved by a fall. By luck or foresight... or perhaps, both, the rockstar seemingly lost his footing as he tumbled down a slope. A second or two later, and he may been struck a fatal blow. He didn't see the spectre, but that brief moment of hearing Acton's cloak being cut was enough to tell him what he needed to know. With whatever energy he was able to regain in a short amount of time, he resumed his frantic pace not knowing any other direction other than forward...

bending, contorting, never stopping and only spinning that blade more and more till it is the noise of a choppers blade through the air because it knows one thing that eventually aleda will tire himself out and be left helpless without defence against the blade. It watches on so happily to only have to follow behind as it counts up the seconds and minutes that will make up the remainder of his life.

Hearing the whirling noise behind him was a good thing and a bad thing. On one hand, the creature was giving away its position. On the other hand, the noise was coming ever so closer. Honestly, had it not been for his determination to reach the necromancer, he probably wouldn't have lasted this long. While continuing to race through the woods, he couldn't help but think of a few things though. What the hell did Amathyst do to bring such a creature about? Why, of all people, is he the target? Damn. Hopefully, these will answered in time. Yes, they will be answered because he sure as hell won't give up now.

behind you is the very feeling itself of air getting cut in seperation, the gushing wound of air that will be joining you In a union blessed by murder. But this not an excuse to give up now, this is the time to scream and yell against the unfair world while striking back against everything thrown in passionate mockery. To the wraith itself it does not gloat for now as it despises a fact about itself~a construct like itself are left without speaking mouths that could be spewing the most vile of toxic knowledge and joining words of nauseating description. But perhaps after this quarrel it shall be sent down a path to get a speaking mouth, but such a imagined path is only day dreaming falsehoods.

He can hear it. That noise of impending doom. It creeps ever so closer. Perhaps, no amount of running will be enough to shake off the creature? Maybe now is the right time for the final showdown--there seemed to be no other choice. If he fell in this battle? Well, what better way to go down, then--wait, what's this? The faint sounds of a rock song in the distance? "Lear jet SWAT Team~ On a midnight run~" Is his death so close that he's hearing random songs now? "Death from above~ We're screaming now~" Perhaps, the rockstar's life really is a movie and this song is how he will go out. Jungle Work by Warren Zevon, right? Badass. To prepare for his last stand, the rockstar mentally focuses on his guitar, strapped to his back, and it sparks start popping out of it. His pace slows down for the inevitable...

(( https://youtu.be/fCGp5iw1CjU -- Jungle Work -- Warren Zevon ))

the climax is here now, this is where Aleda dies by the sickle blade of the wraith, this journey at this naught fruitless rushed end at the hand of some unknown beast of undeath. But there is one known fact~ this music that Aleda hears is not imagined but it is being played loud from a booming archaic boom box. But there is a more important boom in the air, there is the distinct orange fire of a muzzle flash coming out from amongst the trees, it's rifle bullet doming the mask squarely in the forehead, brining the wraith crashing back from the recoil that it's cloth body can do nothing to embrace into stopping till its crashing against a tree.

Just as the rockstar turns to make eye contact with his apparent doom bringer, he sees nothing but a blurred creature crashing into a tree. Who or what did that? He's still alive, and he can hear the music blaring just as loud as ever. With his guitar, on his back, still spouting off sparks, he turns to look for the source of the music. Well, it's good to know he wasn't imagining the song! His eyes scan around, and it doesn't take too long for him to notice a familiar figure holding a dated boom box. Shit! Am I glad to see you...

*from the bush steps out the right hand of the necromancer, Bones himself adorned in the uniform of the old mercenary war of 50s Congo. Both skeleton hands clutching a m14 rifle caked in dust and dirt of every African nation he ever fought in. "BANG" goes the second shot of 308 directly into the cloth chest itself. While Bones has no facial muscles to be adorning out expressions of the pure anger he is feeling or the relief of seeing aleda still alive, but there is still is the loud afrikaaner voice to express them both. GET YOUR FUCKING CLOTH SOUR MITTENS YOU FAKE IMPOSTER OF UNDEATH OR I SHALL BE PERSONALLY DRAGGING YOU TO A PEROSNAL HELL OF FOREVER WAR.

The rockstar hurries over to Bones's location, and hunches over a bit while taking deep breaths, slightly relieved that backup arrived. I knew Ama had an ace up her sleeve!~ The rockstar manages to say in between tired breaths What's the plan, now?

Its a simple plan, we burn the bastard till its ignited to a firey bbq end. a click as a bine finger switches the rifle from semi to full automatic. Such a thing would be near unusable to any human of flesh and blood as the recoil is magnified by all the shots of heavy 308, but this is bones, a being of undeath who needs not care about such trivia for he has brought tracer rounds to enflame this creation to a firry end.

*firey

it is stunned in shock and damage, the golden mask has a hole that a pinkie finger fits through if it could brave through the jagged cuts it would get. But this is not important for the more concerning fact that this new skeleton has put two damaging holes in it, the fabric torn below is a problem of where every great contorting and stretching action would only be making it wider and worse~so it does what any cornered animal would do, it lunges at the pair to kill them.

He closely listens to the words of Bones before he looks over to the creature for the first time since fleeing the battle between it and Acton. Indeed, a foul creature so distorted in appearance with malice to match. The fact that Acton had not been seen since then most likely meant that--the rockstar gritted his teeth at the thought. In one swift motion, he smoothly slung his guitar to his front from his back. He didn't even play any notes on it, but his renewed mental focus was already causing sparks to fly out from his guitar more frequently than earlier. With adrenaline flowing through him, the rockstar barely flinched as the spectre lunged at him and Bones. Instead, he covers all the strings in a palm mute, and does one quick strum which sends out a multitude of lightning bolts that spray out in a shotgun style fashion--short in range, but widespread and lethal in intensity! It seemed like the most appropriate attack against the creature which was closing in on them fast. As the rockstar's hand came back up from the strum... the G string of his guitar could be seen dangling from his fingers. It meant only one thing...

The guitar forms into a being that looks like a beautiful female human with red hair--only she most likely isn't human. The most certain thing about her right now is that she's pissed! Ah, bloody hell! Was wondering when you'd asked me to join~ Already know what's going! Without wasting any more time, she quickly charges up what look like spheres of red lightning in her hands and hurls them at the spectre Haa... it's been a while since I had a good stretch~ She glances over at Aleda and Bones with a grin on her face as her attack makes contact with the spectre

18 shots of white phosphorus tracer dyed bright red all unloaded in a single automatic burst paired with the dual fatal combo of bloody Mary's red lighting. To say that the wraith lit up like a roman candle would be a understatement. The ground beneath was engorged by such intense flame that it incinerated not only the grass and moisture but melted the golden smiling mask, the cheeks and lip tips were turning inside out and bursting like air bubbles on a boiling stew. The cloth couldn't resist such a flame, it only burned in microseconds, the wraith banished by then as it lost its physical body. But the mask of its power is broken without even a hope of repair, it's lineage of a thousand years of usage now over~ended by a red headed guitar girl and a undead south African mercenary skeleton.

Well, that was easy as bloody hell~ She giggles in a dark manner That was fun and all, but seeing as how everything's peaceful... at least, for mortals such as yourself... She winks at Aleda I'm just going to take a bloody nap again~ The red haired girl turns into a blood mist and returns strapped to Aleda's back in guitar form

satisfied smug chuckle with a wave goodbye at Mary as two fat strong Cuban cigars are pulled out of a magazine pouch, one held over the pyre burning mask before put between calcified teeth while the other is offered to aleda

A sigh of relief comes out from the rockstar as the creature is seemingly obliterated. At last, it doesn't pursue him any longer. Feeling the weight of Bloody Mary returning to guitar form on his back, he turns to Bones Damn... He takes one of the cigars, and a tiny bolt of lightning from the guitar helps to light it up as he puts it in this mouth Well then, Bones, I think this is the part where you explain a whole buncha shit to me. I know what Ama is trying to do, but why the fuck... was that thing... after me?

That's a problem though, we didn't expect a wraith to show up. To be more honest we don't know who sent it, the only notice we got was from Acton informing us that he's being followed by a wraith.

Well, whatever the case, that jackass was certainly not friendly! Speaking of Acton... well, I haven't seen him since he fought with it. I don't think he's coming back. Damn. I suppose he did do what Ama intended him to do though...

The rifle is slung over the right shoulder, the skelatol hand going behind your shoulder blades to give a good trying attempt of reassurance and understanding that Acton is at an absolute level, a dead man who no longer walks the earth. he did good in his try, I won't say anything negative about it and nor shall I hear anything negative about his sacrifice or I will shoot you. * the sarcasm is definitely there in the joking gest but the snickering laughter can't be held back for long*

The rockstar can't help but stifle a laughter as he overhears Bones's comment. At this point, he was familiar with the skeleton's antics. After engaging in some further chat, the rockstar followed the skeleton in the proper direction of the crypt. What will await him there? What will happen? Only time will tell...