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The skeletal form of Crow perched atop the crumbled cemetery wall poised in expectance and head turned to the sky as the sun could be seen sinking beneath the horizon, the closure to another day, but that day would be far from over for some. A conspicuous bag sat by his feet, its contents threatening to spill to the ground, and an assortment of masks of various origin and appearance poked their faces from their burlap confinement as if to look about at the faces that were soon to gawk at them.
The spectacle about to unfold would be unexpected for most—Crow had made no announcement but spread news they were to rendezvous outside the entrance of the graveyard at sundown for something important. Suspense was on his side, for had he alluded to the event perhaps the turnout would not be as great, but still he was not expecting much. One had to be of the strange variety to take heed to the general’s vague whispers, especially the more accustomed to his oddities they became. The feline was twitchy and volatile, and he found it hard to believe anyone would listen to him after getting to know his behaviours.
The tabby cleared his throat, pacing about atop the cool stone to observe those gathered. "So this is what's 'bout to happen," Crow started, letting his body drop off of the wall to stand on the ground, "is you're all gonna take one of these cloths and tie it somewhere on your body and go out into the cemetery under the full moon here 'n try to last 'til sunrise without gettin' caught. The prize is one of these fancy masks and braggin' rights. We've always worn these to intimidate in raids, so isn't it nice to earn your own special one?"
"R-rules are as goes," he stated, twiddling his paws about. "No maimin' or killin', I'll have to kick you out for that, 'n if me or Arrow takes your cloth, you're out, and you gotta try again next time. Simple, right?"
The last words the feline were said with an impish grin as he took a few steps backward into the wall of the cemetery, his form turning translucent as he began to dissipate into apparent nothingness. "Break a leg," he whispered, then he was gone, moving to position himself to await the approach of his first victim.
The skeletal form of Crow perched atop the crumbled cemetery wall poised in expectance and head turned to the sky as the sun could be seen sinking beneath the horizon, the closure to another day, but that day would be far from over for some. A conspicuous bag sat by his feet, its contents threatening to spill to the ground, and an assortment of masks of various origin and appearance poked their faces from their burlap confinement as if to look about at the faces that were soon to gawk at them.
The spectacle about to unfold would be unexpected for most—Crow had made no announcement but spread news they were to rendezvous outside the entrance of the graveyard at sundown for something important. Suspense was on his side, for had he alluded to the event perhaps the turnout would not be as great, but still he was not expecting much. One had to be of the strange variety to take heed to the general’s vague whispers, especially the more accustomed to his oddities they became. The feline was twitchy and volatile, and he found it hard to believe anyone would listen to him after getting to know his behaviours.
The tabby cleared his throat, pacing about atop the cool stone to observe those gathered. "So this is what's 'bout to happen," Crow started, letting his body drop off of the wall to stand on the ground, "is you're all gonna take one of these cloths and tie it somewhere on your body and go out into the cemetery under the full moon here 'n try to last 'til sunrise without gettin' caught. The prize is one of these fancy masks and braggin' rights. We've always worn these to intimidate in raids, so isn't it nice to earn your own special one?"
"R-rules are as goes," he stated, twiddling his paws about. "No maimin' or killin', I'll have to kick you out for that, 'n if me or Arrow takes your cloth, you're out, and you gotta try again next time. Simple, right?"
The last words the feline were said with an impish grin as he took a few steps backward into the wall of the cemetery, his form turning translucent as he began to dissipate into apparent nothingness. "Break a leg," he whispered, then he was gone, moving to position himself to await the approach of his first victim.
