Death and his Lesser (Private Rogg and Danker)

O'Malley, one of the gangsters most dangerous hit man, was walking fairly fast down a series of streets and alley ways. He was being followed and for good reasons. A killer like him has his enemies, and he was looking for blowing off some pent up steam. He was on probation for killing the wrong hit, though it did not matter to him. That creature would've been in his crosshairs eventually.
O'Malley purposely made a wrong turn and hit a dead end. "Hello stranger." He said in his unnaturally soft voice. "Who might you be?"

Rogg pulled his thick cloak closer about his large body as he padded down a dark street. So cold tonight…why was it always the coldest outside when he was walking around? The young otter sighed, but then he felt the fur on the back of his neck stand up. He felt as though there was someabeast behind him. It was possibly some towns person out and about, but this late at night it was mostly the darker underbelly of society that wandered the streets. No harm in being safe...

Not looking backwards, he quickly turned into a shadowy alley, not showing any signs of apprehension. His paw naturally went for the dagger in the sheath at the back of his belt and he slowly pulled it out, keeping it still hidden behind his forearm. Whoever was following him would be in for a nasty surprise if they had any hostile intent...

"Hello stranger." He said in his unnaturally soft voice. "Who might you be?"

The otter cringed. What a soft voice this other creature had…it sent chills up and down Rogg's spine and it took him a moment to shake the feeling and bring himself to replying in a friendly tone.
"Who am I? I'm just a poor lost soul wandering the earth bringing death where ere I go"

"Strange, that sounds like me." Stephen walked into a torch light. His death white complexion, his dirty worn purple suit and hat, and especially his noose. His red eyes peered at the otter. "Ya seem out a place water dog. Huntin for somethin?" O'Malley smiled.

Rogg grimaced when he saw the deathly white pallor of the creature that stood in front of him. He was throughly creeped out now…

"Ya seem out a place water dog. Huntin for somethin?"

The otter closed his eyes so not to let his hot temper fly on the weasel (he hated the term 'water dog'). Forcing a smile onto his whiskery face, he replied.
"Well, ya could say I'm searchin' for an answer as to why you're following this…'water dog' "
His webbed paw clenched the stiletto a bit tighter. This newcomer probably wasn't here to take Rogg out for a drink...

"Well," He began. " your the one following me child. Isn't good to follow ya know." He nonchalantly drew his three bladed sword. "It's cold out tonight. Just like death's sweet embrace. Hm." Stephen chuckled playfully. "Just like it."

"Well," " your the one following me child. Isn't good to follow ya know." "It's cold out tonight. Just like death's sweet embrace. Hm." "Just like it."

Rogg stared at the weasel and his exotic weapon, knowing now that this was no common street thug.
"I didn't follow you, you were the one behind me, therefore you were the one following me. Now why you were doing that I don't know, is it money? If so take some"
The otter pulled a gold coin from a pouch on his belt and threw it to the ground in front of the weasel.
"Are you here to beg?" He commented sarcastically as the coin clanked softly on the stones of the alley.
"Or maybe beg for your pitiful life?"
He slowly drew his blade, a short steel sword which he had used to end the lives of more than he cared to remember. His gloved paw gripped the hilt, holding the sword in the reverse grip style.

O'Malley's smile only grew. "Beg? I do not beg." He stepped over the coins as if they weren't there. "I like otters. I like their webbed parts." He put the swords tip on his fingers. "I like to cut them out. You otters act so strong til I cut your webbing. They cry and beg, but I just smile and tune it out. Some begged me to just end 'em there an' then. I let them live though." Stephen walked closer to Rogg, totally unfazed by the otters sword. "Lets see how you beg." He lunged for ward with his sword aimed at Rogg's legs.

"I like otters. I like their webbed parts." "I like to cut them out. You otters act so strong til I cut your webbing. They cry and beg, but I just smile and tune it out. Some begged me to just end 'em there an' then. I let them live though."

Rogg looked at the webbing on his paw. Now that he thought if it it sounded quite painful, very painful indeed…he wouldn't let that happen though.
"No, no I think I like my paws just the way they are thank you."

"Lets see how you beg."

The otter stepped backwards, just a short way from touching the wall. This wasn't really the ideal place to have a fight, it would be best if he could make it to the street that was only a few meters away…

Before he could do any more planning he saw the flashing blade traveling towards his unprotected legs. The mercenary gritted his teeth and glared at his opponent, jumping  to the rear, his back pressed up against the wall. He felt the weasel's blade clip a few hairs as is passed by, it was much too sharp for Rogg's liking...

There was no way out. His attacker had the advantage. All the mercenary could think to do was raise his blade and slash at the weasel before jumping past him and into the openness of the street.

Rogg went into a low crouch, holding his blade just below his chin, concentrating all his mind on the weasel that had so foolishly tried to fight him.

Stephen moved to the side and let Rogg through. O'Malley chased after and soon, they faced each other in the street. "Ya know why I like my sword so much water dog? It makes nasty cuts that are hard to fix." O'Malley made swipes at Rogg's face and arms.

"Ya know why I like my sword so much water dog? It makes nasty cuts that are hard to fix."

Rogg could feel anger welling up within him. Being called a water dog more than once in a night was far too much, and now he was truly furious at his assailant. Why wouldn't the weasel just leave him alone? Was there any real reason for them to be fighting? The otter thought now, but if somebody was trying to kill him there was no point in pacifism.

No words came from his mouth, he was concentrating too hard parrying each punishing blow that was directed at him. His strategy was simple; wait until the other creature had grown slightly weary and then come in and finish him off with a few precise slashes. So the young otter skillfully continued to defend himself from the weasel's attacks…

O'Malley was keaping up a fast pace, but he knew that was what the otter wanted. He was going to get worn out if he didn't do something, so he did something. Stephen spat a nasty wad of spit into Rogg's face and scored a shallow cut on his arm.

Rogg  grunted as the he felt the pain as the blade sliced into his skin, it burned, but the otter was used to small cuts and wounds that he took in battle, he simply forced himself to ignore the pain. Now was the time to attack. He swing latterly at the weasels throat, using the rage that was pent up inside him to give his arm the power it would need to decapitate his opponent with one fell swoop.

O'Malley jumped back in time to avodie getting killed, but was still cut along his colar bone. "Oh…Ya cut me. Now that just won't do. Your gonna have to pay me in blood ya know." He dropped his sword and pulled out his small knives. Stephen charged forward, jabbing and hooking at Rogg's waist. A single stabb or cut can't kill, but many can.

Rogg smiled as he saw the cut on his enemy's chest, it wasn't a clean hit, but at least it drew blood. Than O'Malley drew several small blades. The otter knew how deadly they could be in the right paws, and the weasel seemed to have the right paws for the job. He quickly leapt to the side and brought his blade down over his head, aiming for his attacker's forearms.

O'Malley dodged the attack by wind mill swinging his arms, following the blade insted of trying to move. With the momentum of the swing Stephen brought the blades down on Rogg's shoulders and gave him a strong knee to the gut. O'Malley backed off, a little tired. "Looks like ya runnin out a luck otter." O'Malley put away his knives and pulled out his chain.
It had small spikes through it's mid section. "Ya see this chain? It's gonna cause you a lot of pain." He slowly began his way over to Rogg, rattling the chain as he went.

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