Wolf

Wolf strolled through the village like an Angel of Death, striking swift and precise, leaving only those he wanted dead as corpses for the others to find. He even managed to avoid spilling any blood on the raven-black cloak and wide-brimmed kasa he wore on missions like this. With a wide, toothy grin, he made his way to the center of the village where the young woman's scent was strongest. She sat on a bench in front of the stone statue of the village founder. Her long, brown hair fell across one shoulder and down the back of her light-blue dress. Wolf took several seconds to admire the craftsmanship of the statue and decided, if anything, he'd at least leave it intact.
He saw her stand as he stepped out of the shadow of the building and into the torch-lit square. She walked several steps closer to him as she spoke, her movements betraying no sign of fear that she might hold within her, as most young heroes do. "So, what took you so long? You have been wandering around the town for almost half an hour now." She stared at him, eyes unwavering and fearless. Wolf assured himself that would change before he finished here.
Never breaking the wide, tooth-filled smile, he said "I had a hard time tracking down your scent. I needed to eliminate the others who reeked of it until I finally found you." He watched the look of confusion fill her face until she replaced it with one of horror, grief, and ultimately, anger. Who else would have her scent on them besides the people she made contact with. Her family. Her friends.
Wolf shrugged, still smiling. "It needed to be done, after all." With a subtle move, he dropped his black cloak onto the stone-slab ground of the empty town square. Nest came off his kasa, which he dropped onto the cloak, the wide-brimmed straw hat landing perfectly upright. She could see his face clearly now, his facial features still dominated though by his wide, tooth-filled smile. She saw him begin inspecting his gray, long-sleeved tunic, picking off bits of black lint. In the middle of a fight, she thought, the act infuriating her even further toward blind rage. She let her anger consume her, her Resolve determined to punish the intruder. For justice, she thought. And Vengeance, she quickly added.
Placing her two hands over her chest, she concentrated her Resolve and began unsheathing her Blade. The blue light emitted from her chest, dim at first but began glowing brighter. As she reached one hand into the light, Wolf walked forward, closing the distance between the two of them. When she pulled her hand out, clutching the hilt of her Blade, he sprinted forward. Pulling his hands from behind his back, he flung two short, thin-bladed throwing knives. She just placed her second hand on the hilt of her Blade when the two knives made contact with each of them. Startled, she released her grip, letting the Blade fall back into the light. With a swift tug, Wolf yanked the double-edged Blade from her chest just as the gateway faded. With a spin, he flipped her Blade upside-down and jammed the cold steel into the ground. He looked back at her to see she collapsed onto her knees, breathing heavy, and hands feeling her chest.
"Feels like somethings missing doesn't it?" He circled her, like a vulture, stopping where he started, right in front of her. "Like a piece of yourself has just been ripped from you."
She looked up to see only his smile. She tried to say something, to scream, but she couldn't. The pain was too intense and so she could only watch as he raised his head toward the sky and opened his mouth wide. Within seconds, a single light glowing from his mouth bathed the entire square in a crimson light. He reached one hand into the light and extracted a four foot katana. Even when the red light faded, she could see the blade-still glowing red. From its point it even dripped red. Blood.
"A Fang," she gasped. Her voice was strained as she spoke, leaving Wolf with a look of surprise on his face.
"So, you know what this is." He spun the sword several times at his side.
"A Fang," she repeated, "That means you're a, a, a Monster."
"Ahh, yes. A Hero I am no more."
"So, you've Resolved to kill me." She emphasized Resolved hoping he'd get the joke. He did and he laughed.
"No Resolve," he said, raising his Fang, the katana, above his head. "Only Hunger." He brought the sword down, point first, and buried his Fang into her shoulder, letting it taste her blood before he pulled it out. She fell. He turned around to see her Blade still plunged in the ground.
"Now," he said, resting his Fang upon his shoulder, "What to do with you?"


Wolf comes from the story involving Chance. both are tagged under the "Blades and Fangs" story

Chance's story

It was heavier than he anticipated, especially since it was only his first week with his own Blade. His arms shook under the sword's weight until finally, unable to keep it raised any longer, he let it fall, burying its edge into the dirt.
"You're Resolve still is not strong enough," his master said as he whacked him in the back of the head yet again. Chance tried again to lift his Blade, raising it out of the dirt before dropping the sword completely this time.
Master _____ (I'll think of a name later) let out a sigh. "Let's go get lunch now and you can tell me all about why you are such a failure afterwards." He turned his back and proceeded to exit the training arena, gesturing for Chance to follow.
Now Chance let out a sigh, watching Master _____ exit the room without so much as a glance backwards. He looked down at his Blade, a simple double-edged longsword measuring four feet from tip of blade to the end of the handle. Master ____ told him that it would change as he got stronger, as his Resolve grew but for now it would remain a simple sword meant purely for hacking, slashing, and piercing. He looked around the room several times before pulling out a small piece of leather fabric from his pocket. Placing the blade of the sword into the middle of the leather, he pulled the material as hard as he could but it still refused the sword's cutting edge. "Guess my Resolve still isn't that strong at all."
Chance stood, alone in the empty training arena, the dirt from the floor blowing around in the wind. After a couple of minutes, he heard the doors open followed by the chatter of the grounds crew in charge of preparing the room for whoever reserved the room next. Guess its time to go. He lifted the sword with relative ease this time. The sword, though normally heavy during his training sessions, became relatively light when it knew Chance wanted to sheathe it. He hefted the sword and pointed tip of the blade toward his chest. He could feel the eyes of the grounds crew on him as he proceeded to move the point closer to his chest. Really hope I don't fuck this up. As far as Chance knew, no one had ever stabbed themselves while sheathing their own Blade. Still, being the first week of his training, Chance felt the tingle of fear until he saw the bluish glow where the point of the sword met with his chest. He could feel the awe of everyone in the arena as they watched him continue to shove the sword further and further into his chest, into the light until there was nothing left except his own hand placed upon his heart, the blue light gone as mysteriously as it came.

note: all names are subject to change. "Chance" is just a good standby name though