We were chasing the perp down narrow alleys and he led us deeper and deeper into parts of DownTown we never had seen before. I was really thankful for my direction sense, then. Coming out of the alley we suddenly stepped into a dimly lit street, thick fumes of acrid smoke and fog limiting visual range to an arm's length. But we could hear our quarry's muffled footsteps not so far ahead in the fog.
We had no time to recoginze it then, but now remembering this utter, deadly silence gives me the creeps. We should have known. Loss, our psychotic Stormer - and believe me, you have never met a psychotic Stormer until you have met Loss, which is quite difficult now - took the other side of the street while Fhlos Dhren, our sharp-eyed Raider and me stayed on this side, rushing after the perp.
Then we heard the scream, a high pitched wail full of terror and pain, conjuring up images of skinned humans and acid baths, piercing the silence. And only after this scream we noticed how silent it really was and I felt that the walls had grown eyes with which they watched us, but perhaps that was only an illusion of the fog. Fhlos stopped me and motioned me to listen and I noticed that the footsteps of our quarry had stopped.
We both drew our guns and, pressed to the mouldy wall Fhlos proceeded while I paused for a quick Ebb Calculation. And then the stench hit me full force - the depraved, rotten aura of an immensely powerful Necanthrope, that was somewhere around here. I had first mistaken the Ebb Stench for the odour of the fog, but my Calculation enhanced senses told me otherwise and I knew that he was right ahead.
So I prepared for another meeting with <deleted>
From behind I heard Loss' shout "Contact!" and then his heavy footsteps crossing the street, running towards the Necanthrope. I wanted to order him to stop, but then I heard the fateful mechanic of his Anvil's slide and I knew that it was too late. Now Loss was as hot as the bullet in the chamber of his gun and only spilled blood could cool his temper now.
I never really saw what hit him then, I only saw an electric blue shimmer wavering through the fog and then I heard this piercing cry again, only this time it was Loss' voice screaming. I had to know and while Fhlos began to shiver with the anticipitation of the end of a hunt I opend up my mind to another Ebb Calculation, but I never finished it. Suddenly this other presence lodged itself into my mind, revealing itself in its fullest horror. I saw a tall figure, clad in ancient, richly and intricately embroidered robes, leaning on an artfully ornamented walking stick with a opal handle. His frame was haggard and bent as if leaning into a storm and I could see his robes fluttering in the wind, although it was completely windstill in the street. His face was partially hidden under a heavy hood, the hem silver and ornamented with shifting glyphs, but in this waxen mass of almost molten, ancient flesh I could see the blackest eye I have ever seen. And floating in this eye were three little red dots, gleaming like the fires of Hades' oil rigs. Slowly the ancient lips, no longer pink, but blue and almost rotten, split and I awaited an bloated, oozing and grey tongue to appear, but instead a thin and increadibly spindly, three-jointed fingerlike tentacle, ending in a long and pointed nail or thorn slithered out of the mouth, almost probing the air. Somehow its probing made me think of Lustre's GoreCannon, nervously creeping from its master's shoulder around his neck and down the other arm in anticipitation of torturing and sucking blood or Ebb. But the voice of the thing in front of me shattered my thoughts. It was only a whisper, but inside my head it seemed like a shout and with the shout came the iridescent electric blue stream of unhealthy light and afterwards darkness.