[ Blackmoon settlement! ]
"Soft little paws… soft little breath… softer little throats…take it easy…no need to rush this…"
Roanoke's voice was no louder than the rustle of dead leaves under his boots…it crept soundless,like the plague. It carried death and decay along with it.
He walked hunched, shoulders twitching, eyes rolling as if he were listening to whispers only he could hear. He looked darker than the night air hugging him…no moon…no light dared touch his frame.
His steps were noiseless, his shadow thinner than any wolf's.
The Blackmoon stronghold loomed ahead like a mini fortress, guarded by watchmen who were trained to scent death and blood. And yet, Roanoke slipped between their senses like smoke. His necromancy wrapped around him like a shroud, cloaking him from the keenest noses, the sharpest ears.
