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"Hmm.." He would remain in thought until after this old man seems to have burst into the building. The tip of his own cane would land upon the floor as he slowly turns and takes a step aside, before turning once more, this time in the direction of the old man. "Now.. let me see.. I believe those are usually my words." He would adjust his hat slightly with the very tip of that index finger, allowing this predator's gaze to be seen within the shadow cast by the brim of that hat. It was smiling then, despite the fact that the rest of that porcelain fleshed visage was nearly emotionless. "Greetings, it seems as though we will now have a duel." Old pleasantries and mannerism this one would have, especially when dealing with other old men.

The moment that all of this violence had begun, the shadows cast by every object in this room had begun their slow creep towards the doorway. Meanwhile, the table which Dracien sat upon had a shadow which would spike forward across the ground, forming into a spear which would thrust diagonally-upwards, impaling the dead man through the a**s, up through its body, the throat, and finally up through its mouth, the tip of that spear seems to be curled like a Victorian spear fence. This would completely incapacitate the enemy. Meanwhile.. Jack simply remains standing where the shadows from about the room have surrounded the old man. Suddenly, these opaque shadows would bubble up like tar, not to mention that stench of brimstone. Meanwhile, Jack seems to be leaning a bit upon that cane, applying a bit of pressure to the side of his hat so that it would not fall off his head. Could it even move upon its own? So far it has never done so.

Hands would thrust upwards from within the shadows about the area. Armored soldiers, three of them, would rise from the darkness. They were clad in uniform, as they were three of Matachi's elite swordsmen. How is this possible? Well, he had killed a great deal of them under the command of Katherine. Each kill meant strength for him. Like puppets of his own, these men would now draw their blades as though they were alive despite the obvious deathly appearance, their flesh completely white, their eyes closed. They kept themselves busy keeping that bone puppet busy. But why stop there? Why not have more flying objects appear from within that void this monster kept. Spheres the size of baseballs would fly from out of the walls. Covered in tiny needles, these spheres were obviously dangerous, perhaps they were poisoned? One would have to be struck to find out. And finally, while this is going on, a fourth hand would reach up from the darkness, clasping at the old man's leg. It was Orion, and he was apparently hungry for old man flesh.

"No. You already chose the moment you walked in here." The voice heard from the same slight smile apparent upon the scarecrow-like figure that is now riddled with holes. "I am pleased." His hole-riddled body lacked blood. In fact, it lacked everything, there were simply holes through them as though needles had flown through him, piercing him like paper. Those walking dead who had found themselves pierced did not halt. Although those flying orbs that came from the shadows on the walls found themselves changing trajectory, clattering upon the floor. "I am very pleased! I have been so bored, and you are not just a feeble old man after all." That onyx slit of a pupil found itself jutting outwards just the slightest bit. This was odd... and without further ado, it would fire like a bullet. This pole-like weapon shot forward, thrusting through steel, bone and flesh as though it were all butter. The object pierces that old man's chest, whether it was just a doll or not. Meanwhile, that corpse of Orion was busy breaking the old man/doll's leg off at the joint with wild abandon. That darkness would flow about the area, washing all of the now-dead, and dying bodies about like a whirlpool. Rising upwards, black strings would grasp these bodies at their joints, dozens of black strings per body. It was a creepy picture as these dead now hung in the stillness of the blood-painted building. These strings did not just hang down, but came upwards from the ground as well, seeming to defy gravity. Those long, slender fingers of his would curl as his hands rise in that insane laughter which was now growing from within. Despite the sound and inanity of this, that mouth did not move, it just remained in a slight smile. This is where he would leave off, allowing the enemy to take his turn. Those corpses did not move, they simply remain still for now, as though getting ready to strike. "Welcome! I would like you to enjoy my world for a little more time than you may have wished to!"

This was all a game to him, as his enemy seemed to take this quite seriously. The bodies that hung before the enemy would seem to twist..and twist.. and twist..bone and all, the crushed organs that were not needed, the blood that was not needed, it made quite a mess as they fell to the ground. The corpses were all like spears with blades upon both ends now.. The bone have been intertwined together until the many bodies were weapons. They all spun like propellers, while Jack waits for the enemy, simply remaining where he is. The darkness beneath the enemy seems to flow forward like a river.. and as the enemy charged and charged, he would soon find himself gaining little ground. Those blades, though.. they would spin faster and faster until the air seemed to carry a hollow ring. And they were then off, the ground beneath them splintering as they spun at a high speed. There must have been two dozen or so. One even slices through Jack's thin abdomen, leaving him hanging by a string, and yet he remains standing. Once again, this was fun to him, probably a little too much so.

He would remain where he is a moment as he would spin his cane at his side before catching it beneath his arm. Stepping across the bones, he would reach the exit. "Well, it seems like my plans were interrupted, and my prey has run." He would watch the area from beneath the brim of that hat. "But at least the scenery is interesting." Everything is left as it is, dead bodies and all. Except for the four in which he had brought back momentarily to stall the opponent. He did not kill today.. but, at least he had fun. That was much more to be said than the usual.

The day after would find the Lord watching the Inn being rebuilt. Everything was going smoothly, but the Inn would lose that worn in feel, so everyone inside would have to lay low for quite a while. It was what had to happen. The lord thought about the attack. He had been one of the only survivors. "Is it a blessing or a curse." The first thing he had done, was force a traveleing preist to bless each and every log and shingle with a blessing of the gods. Such filth wouldn't be getting in again.