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Oh, but Decruda didnt need to consciously think about pricking the woman. All he had to do was come into physical contact with her, and aside from that, it was to play the role of a travelling peddler. All the woman would find out from her prying would be that he was certainly not a real merchant. And as for the costume? The veil was mainly to cover his face, hide his eyes, disguised in the form of protecting a traveller from the harsh conditions of the environment.

"Its just a habit of mine, to know the names of my customers." the peddler shrugged as he hop onto the animal and began to continue along his way.

"Good doing business with you." his lis would crack into a wry smile.

He wouldnt stop, letting the camel move along at it's own casual pace as he simply rode it on. Just because someone tells him to stop doesnt mean he would, and he certainly didnt have to answer her questions either.

"Perhaps you should go along your way before you run into trouble, madame." Decruda said in his normal voice, no longer acting as he continued to move. There was no point, it seemed that the woman had somehow seen through his disguise.

"If you keep digging, you'll quickly find that all you've done was dig your own grave." Let those words sink in. He reached into his robes with his left hand while his back was turned to the woman as the animal moved onwards.

Should have taken that warning.

As soon as she had moved in front of the peddler, his right arm shot straight forward as if to throw a straight punch. However, being on top of a camel, and without anyone really there in front of him, it was sort of pointless.

Pointless until the point where his left arm, already within the folds of his robes would swing out, his hand following along the path of the straight arm as the robes were pulled off by the right arm violently and burst into flame. And from the flaming clothing which flew forth, a straight bolt of lightning shot forth between the two figures, and considering the distance between one and the other, would strike just as the woman had turned her horse.


What did Decruda have in his left hand as it peeled away from his right arm? His glass dagger. And his entire right arm was covered in a tight fitting sleeve of bristling fur. All he had to do was focus some energy and brush the spell components together as a bolt of electricity would lash out from the dagger as it left the fur and ignite the robes which were flung off at the same time.

The bristling fur of the sleeve would stand vertical against the static in the area as Decruda took a breath of the air which smelled of ozone and possibly charred flesh.

The man clicked his tongue twice and the camel began to move once again, going around the charred corpse of horse. Nobody ever takes the warning do they? Well, things like this always happened.

His right hand rested against the hilt of his scimitar at his left hip as he rode on past the woman. A surge of power and flash like that in the middle of the desert may alert anyone nearby, and he'd rather not have to answer questions and probably waste time killing some other person in the process.

Certainly the man didnt have to stop for anyone, however, he didnt, and instead the camel stopped.

Decruda clicked his tongue to urge it on, he kicked it's flanks, and he even whipped the bridal. It didnt move. He snarled and grunted as in one swift motion, he drew the scimitar and slashed opened the camel's neck in one fine motion, releasing a fine spray of crimson as he swung a leg over the animal as it would crumble to the sand, dead.

"What a bother." he hissed as he turned around to face the woman. His inverted eyes would concentrate around her as he began to whisper archaic words which sounded as a snake hisses as his left hand reached around his back into one of the small pouches lining his belt.

His right arm went up around his eyes as he hissed, words coming to a halt. And as he rubbed them out, he felt a small amount of pain tear into his arm for a brief moment. His right arm hung at his side as he took the scimitar in his left hand, leaving the weapon stuck in his shoulder as he paced towards her.

It seemed that things were going to get physical.

With a spurt of blood following the weapon's exit of flesh, Decruda growled.

"I wish I am able to cast my prepared spells with but a thought." he grumbled, perhaps in thought, as he rushed the woman, swinging the scimitar in an upwards slash from his lower left to upper right.

His right hand would bend and hold at his waist, as if to perform a second action.

The woman probably should have payed attention to his words, because like so many of his other actions, they were not idle words.



His wish may only be temporary, but that was clearly not a problem as it would last long enough to deal with the woman. And for the cost of one year of his life, he really didnt care.

As the blade went swishing by air to his upper right, his grip would slacken as he would flick his wrist to toss the weapon into his right hand by his waist. And in the same motion, his right hand would snap up to snatch the hilt of the scimitar while lashing out to cut her across the belly with its tip as he moved forward.




((Solid Fog was an interrupted spell.))