The salty scent of the sea lingered on the streets of Hargeon Town, even now when the entirety of the city was covered by an all-encompassing blanket of white, snow and ice sparing no surface. The people of Hargeon nonetheless appeared to be in a mood that was more than festive, groups of children, much to the annoyance of the townsfolk, making it a sport to battle each other and any random passerby with a pelting of snowballs. None of this, of course, mattered to Cassius, who neither paid much mind to the presence of the crashing waves nor the universal holiday cheer that had taken the people. The wraith had never actually been to Hargeon before, a fact that also mattered very little. He had only a single thing in mind now that his mission had been successfully completed, and that was receiving compensation for a job well done, as always. Gold was what he desired, the material drawing him to it in an almost unnatural way, but then again, little about the spirit was, in fact, natural. So little that even Cassius himself still didn't know why he existed or how he had come to be, pursuing every clue that could lead him to an answer with a semblance of interest, as much as was conventional for the wraith, but to very little avail, and while his objectives had changed somewhat now that he was part of the organization that called itself Hidden Blades, the range of emotions he felt had evolved not one bit.
Currently disguised as a man he, and more importantly, perhaps, others from the guild had come to call "Revvy", the ghost wandered the main road that lead through Hargeon, snow crunching beneath the feet of the doll he possessed, his goal, naturally, leaving the boundaries of this settlement and make his way back to Crocus to report his accomplishment, although they probably already knew of it. As he had come to know, the resources of the organization he had joined seemed nigh limitless, the division they titled Supports especially taking great care to clean up after the wraith and some of the messes he tended to leave behind. The fact that Cassius wasn't exactly of the communicative kind meant that it was a wise idea to, understandably, keep an eye on the spirit and monitor him somewhat. Whether the guild actually did this or not, Cassius did not know and did not care. What he lacked in social skills he made up for in martial prowess, though, and arguably, that would undoubtedly be the only thing Hidden Blades would be interested in. That, and his loyalty, of course, which would lie with the organization as long as they kept providing him with the ideal environment for his work and an abundance of both material and means to expand his prized collection.
More or less minding his own business, the wraith paid little attention to his surroundings, expecting to bother no one and not be bothered in return when, unceremoniously, the object he was currently inhabiting was lifted off the ground by a mighty blow paired with a thundering roar, the velocity and momentum of the swing sending him flying into a nearby stall that, as a result of his hard impact, collapsed down onto him. Certainly, any organic creature would have suffered from immediate and intense damage, probably not escaping without broken bones or ruptured organs. Luckily, that was not a factor for the wraith, who simply raised himself from the rubble, a few scratches on the artificial skin of the puppet under his command, now seeing the thing had delivered the blow he had suffered, laying metaphorical eyes on a monstrous gorilla-like ape, its body covered in white fur and eyes practically alight with rage. The creature unleashed another roar, dissatisfied with the fact that its victim had survived the attack, before charging at the wraith, drawing its fist back for a wide swing aimed at Cassius.
The wraith, however, as opposed to the last punch, was prepared for this next attack, catching the fist with his own hand and bringing his own monstrous strength to bear. Pushing against the Yeti, the two were locked in a stalemate, fist against fist, but the spirit, of course, relied on more than just his bare hands to do his job. Reaching out and summoning a massive greatsword into his free hand, the wraith unceremoniously rammed the blade into the ape's arm, a loud cry of agonizing pain ripping through the quickly emptying street. With a spat of crimson, Cassius pulled out the weapon, leaving a behind a gaping wound, only to feel the creature's grip relent, dashing forward and slamming the sword into the mosnter's gut, pulling back and repeating the process. The snow around him was covered red with violent spurts of red liquid, the raging Yeti tumbling before him and then finally collapsing onto its feet. With one swift strike, the wraith would decapitate the creature, leaving its body to sink to the stained pavement like a toppling sack of potatoes. This, though, didn't make him any smarter. Shouldering the weapon, the wraith wondered what exactly had made this thing attack him in the first place, Cassius now hyperaware of the area around him beginning to scan for more targets to confirm whether or not his immediate surroundings were clear, a single, red eye glowing faintly underneath his mask.
Word Count: 907
Word Count Total: 907 / 1,500
1x Yeti Defeated