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The prey had fled, and the hound followed. He was relentless in his pursuit. There was none more determined than himself. The time for patience had long since past. He had taken the next boat out to the mainland, and picked up the trail. Buying a horse from the market, he followed the faint remnants of scent from one city, to another. When his horse grew tired, he sold it and bought another. He crossed open plains, jagged cliffs.. and a swamp where he nearly lost his current mount.. Still, he never once cursed his luck. He never once felt even a flicker of desperation.. His other minds suppressed, only the ruthless hunter remained.

Ravilth, Verator Knight, First Class, 'The Hound' as he was sometimes called was a tall imposing figure. Six foot, four inches, well over 200 pounds, heavy with well trained muscle. Even without the blackish and at times seemingly sentient armor he wore, which he could summon at will, the sinister beast of a man radiated power and ill intent. In contrast to the inky black locks and dark armor, although no less sinister, was the silvery mask that covered the left side of his face. Demonic in it's features, it seemed to shift and change at times, the evil features twisting and morphing, the nature of the mask changing.. at times in bursts of anger, spiny tendrils crept out the sides. In battle it became more smooth along the sides, clinging more securely to his face. A glass 'eye' golden amber in color, covered his damaged eye, just as the mask itself covered the ruined left side of his face.

The sword at his side, blackend mithral as his armor was raidiated dark blessings.. Power granted from a god, power that he had kept secret even from the Hivemind. No one in the Otherland knew about Ravilth's ability to divide his mind, and how that had been both the thing that had saved him from being discovered, and what was slowly driving him mad.

He had started with simply two selves. There was his true mind, and what he allowed the Hivemind to see. When they read his thoughts, as they did with all of those connected, they would find only a loyal dedicated servant. Not the man who had been forced into their service, and hated them with ever fiber of his being. When he attracted the attention of the Dark God, Ishtal, he divided his mind again, offering completely loyalty to only Him. But he still retained who he really was, hidden under the layers of mindspells placed upon himself. On certain missions given by the Hivemind, it became nessesary to create an additional conciousness.. and this was where he began to lose his grip. At times he struggled with remembering who he really was. He could for a while actually forget that he was not truely loyal to the Hivemind.. or that dispite dedication to Ishtal and accepting his gifts, he still harbored his own plans.

One thing remained true. He hunted the one called Decipere.. why he hunted him however, the reasoning sometimes changed.

He hunted him because he had betrayed the Hivemind.. and the Hound must do their bidding.

He hunted him because for now, he must pretend to be loyal, gain rank, get stronger, so that he could destroy them from the inside out, in the name of his god.

He hunted him because he had to feign loyalty to a god, for his own plans to take shape.

He hunted him because no one had ever escaped the Hound before, and he would not give up.

He hunted him because.. Why.. Why was he still doing this? Was what he had already done not enough? No, this was the path that had been set before him, he could not waver.

It had been nearly eighty years since he had departed from the mortal realm into the Otherland.. and his previous life had become more and more faint, a mere shadow of memory. The man that had been was long since gone. Now there was only Ravilth, caught up in a malestrom of deciet and plots and struggles for power.. No, there was only The Hound.. among the highest ranked and most feared Verator Knights.. No that was not right either. He was Ravilth, Cleric of Ishtal, and it was through the Dark God his true power came, and through the Dark God he would destroy them all, and take his place at his Lord's side, where he belonged.

But that was not it either was it?

He drew the cantering horse to a stop at the crest of a hill. The sun had nearly set. He tilted his head back and seemed to almost sniff the air.. But at the same time, he reached out with his mind. He had to be close to his prey.. Surely just a few miles.

There was no sign of Decipere, not a trace.

Outraged, he kicked the horse in the sides, sending the animal into a gallop down the narrow path. A snarl twisted the exposed half of his features. He had been ahead of him.. less than half an hour ago right ahead of him, and losing ground. He could not have just vanished into thin air. Was there a waygate in the city up ahead? If there was he would find it. He would find where Decipere had fled, and he would chase him to the ends of the earth if need be. He supressed the other minds, until only the most important one remained.


The Hound, never failed to run down his prey.";

Decipere had laid many false trails for the Hound in his time on the Mainland. In some places he had even passed through openly without any of his Disguises, making far more open sightings for his pursuer to follow. Then, as soon as the trail would begin to grow, would he adopt a new fleeting Disguise and leave, as if vanishing like a tendril of smoke blown apart in the wind.

He had been on the run for four months now. He knew why, and felt no shame in it. Through flickering memories and fleeting moments of anger, he had pieced together just why he had been taken. His Father had escaped. Some backwater town had become his refuge, and he'd even felt safe enough to settle down and start a family. But the Otherland had other ideas, and the retired battle-mage had fought for his life. He had failed however, and as 'payment', Decipre had been taken. A mere child of nine at the time, it had been a fragile point in his life. Young enough to be considered innocent but old enough for his mind to bear the scars of what had happened. That drove him. That kept him running. Even if he never settled down, he would do what his father had not - he would escape and if need be, die free.

He was tucked up in an Inn to the side of a long, winding country road. A new Disguise, one put together based off a dock worker. Broad-shouldered and burly with sun-caught skin, short blonde hair and brown eyes. Certainly a far cry from the borderline pretty elf mage he naturally was. But it had exhausted him to use such a Disguise, and now he rested - still in the Disguise for safety - but he slept. Eyes closed, slowly trying to draw on his reserves of strength. Ever wary, every uncertain of everyone around him.

Along the road, he had laid tiny, small 'alarms'. Little rocks or pebbles that gave off only the faintest trace of the aether, but enough to act as a tripwire to send a signal back if they were 'tripped' by another magic user. Just as his mind had begun to slip into deeper sleep... did the alarm reach him. His eyes snapped open, purple for a moment before becoming brown again. Ravilth had found his trail. He gritted his teeth, grinding them together for a moment. He had one of two choices, as always. Stay and fight, or run again.

He pushed off the sheets, pausing for a moment. To hell with it. His hands clenched into fists. Fight. There were two roads - a fork - to the Inn. One that Ravilth was coming down, and one that led from a farm. Given the time and short distance between farm and Inn, he could draw the carriage around and pretend to be just arriving at the Inn with a delivery. Going on the presumption that Ravilth would search the Inn, he could then in theory ambush the man. Not a tactic he was above. But first. Drawing in on the aether, he began to weave the tendrils of black and bronze into layers, twisting them around his fingers with the ease of a fisherman weaving a net. A trap, of course. A twist of his wrist had it placed over the door - out of sight to non magic users. Another muffling spell followed, dampening the first, making it near undetectable. Then over that, one designed to draw attention - a simple ward. Perspiring slightly, he then ran downstairs, making his way outside of the Inn. Looking left and right, he spotted a cart. Bingo. The owner was inside, out of sight and eyeline.

He clambered into the back, clearing a small space, before taking up a sleeping rough position. Eyes open... waiting and listening. The overweight dock worker looked the part at least. He still had enough morals in him to want to draw the fight that he knew was coming away from people who had no part in their quarrel.

He was over the crest of the next hill when he saw the Inn. Still some distance from the city that was no more than the faintest hint of glow on the horizon, it likely took most of it's business from those who did not wish to press their luck by being caught on the road at night. There was a small stable along one side of it, and what was likely a merchant's cart waiting in the front. He'd slowed his horse as he approached, riding up at a brisk walk.. before pulling to a stop right on the edge of the establishment's grounds. His horse stamped a few times and tossed his head.. winded a bit, but still wanting to run. Ravilth closed his eyes.

Decipere had been here. And he had been here recently. Faint traces of the man's use of the Aether, left a trail that could be sensed, 'sniffed out' in a way, as a hound might track a fox. He nudged the horse forward, up to the side of the building, and dismounted. His mount was a well trained animal, and he did not have much worry of the horse wandering off. His gaze swept over the road that lead on towards the city.. across the gently rolling meadows on the other side of the road.. How had his quarry vanished so quickly? How long ago was he here? The residue he was able to sense gave a rough idea, but it was hardly precise. He could have been there as much as six hours ago.. or ten minutes, going by the faint traces of Aether.

It was not a difficult conclusion to come to, that someone inside could very well know where the man had gone to, and how long ago he had left. He also realized, that Decipere could be even closer, and just masking his presence somehow. It was not an easy thing to do, but it could be done. He walked towards the heavy oak door of the inn, pushed it open, and went inside. There were only a handful patrons in the common room, one serving wench wiping down the tables, and a somewhat rounded and balding innkeeper at the bar, polishing the glass beer mugs. All eyes in the room turned to him, but almost just as quickly moved away as though everyone suddenly had something very pressing to do, or had instantly become deeply lost in thought. He expected as much. The Hound did not look like someone to be trifled with, even without his armor.

The innkeeper knew nothing however, nothing about anyone fitting Decipere's description. Ravilth did not think he was lying. There was a different fear associated with not knowing an answer, and trying to hide an answer. He quickly grew sick of the man's stammering and pathetic sniveling, and he let go of the innkeeper's shirt front, and shoved him back. The wench had been staring at him, mouth slightly agape, eyes wide, and shuffled backwards.. The patrons of the inn, had been reduced from six to just two, who had apparently been watching him while pretending they hadn't been watching. He did not waste time on them. He knew Decipere had been to this place.

The Innkeeper remained slumped against the wall, eyes wide, a hand on his chest and merely watched him climb the stairs. There were two hallways, which lead off to rooms. The hallways were lit by a couple lanterns each, turned down low, just enough so that one could find their way to a door. He closed his eyes again.. reaching out with his mind.. and then he sensed it.

The third door on the right was warded.

Under a much more stoic facade, on the inside, eagerness flowed into him.. The Hound, had cornered his prey. He strode down the hall and stood before the door. A mage, might have taken the time to pick open the ward, unraveling it.. But Ravilth was no mage, and finesse and precision was not his forte. He drew in on the sinister dark power granted to him.. a deep dark red energy laced with black flowed along his arm, and spiraled into a mass hovering above his palm. Several things, seemed to happen all at once just then.

The door crunched and splintered under the impact of the spell, both wood and ward alike giving way.. The trap, that he had not seen hidden under the ward, was triggered.. Sharp pains laced across the exposed right side of his face, and a sudden unseen force hurled him forward into the room. Surprise was first, chased by anger that quickly swelled into a savage almost animalistic rage.. He was on his feet, within two seconds of hitting the floor. Where was he? Where was that coward? The center of the bed, burst into flames.. a shockwave of energy sent a painting and a hanging lantern crashing to the floor, and shattered the window, blowing glass out for a good two dozen paces onto the ground below. His mouth twisted into a snarl. He touched his face, which still stung, but there was no blood.. Pain he could live with, deal with.. It was not the relatively mild pain.. but the insult of it.

Downstairs there were shouts and a woman, likely the slackjawed empty eyed wench, screamed. He could hear footsteps thumping, running.. Someone yelled 'fire' Outside, horses began to panic. The fire on the bed was starting to spread to the nearby wall. Another burst of the sinister energy smashed into the frame of the broken window, leaving a gaping smoldering hole. A snarl burst from him as he strode to the opening he had made. The summoned armor, was starting to snake it's way around his body, and down his limbs.. not yet solid.. looking more like a mix between smoke and tar. He leapt from the window, his fall slowed by about half through the use of a spellform. His cloak billowed out behind him.. He landed, just as the dark armor formed itself, and his sword.. forming from the same thick ichor, appeared in his hand. Already, the flames were an orange glow in the room above, and thick smoke was pouring out.

When he found Decipere, he would not simply kill him, he was going to make him suffer.

Decipere, being the sneaky bastard that he knew he was, made no attempt to deny that he was, felt torn. On one hand, he had no shame in the damage done to the man's Inn if it had meant getting even a minor one-up on the Hound. But on the other, the Inn and it's occupants were merely innocent bystanders. While he felt nothing for them in the sense of sympathy, he perhaps realised that he could have planned it so then the damage had been avoided.

Watching the man himself descend from the hole with a shiver of anticipation and nerves - eagerness more so than fear, he finally decided to make his 'entrance'. Three things happened at once, or would visually seem to have done to anyone watching that was not accustomed to the arcane. One, the canvas roof of the cart shot upwards, turning to a faintly purple-tinged ash as he threw it off, sending the larger shards flying through the air. Two, black tendrils were already rapidly weaving together to form a trap-layered ward. And three, the illusion of the worker faded out of sight - like water running down his body - to reveal the cockily grinning elf. Sure, his life was on the line, but he couldn't resist jabbing a little more at the already infuriated Knight. One brow then hiked up.
"Did you miss me?"
That was probably going to be the straw that broke the camels' back.

No sooner had those words come out of his lips, did a spellform of grey arch out from his fingertips towards the Cleric. Landing a few inches short, the intention of it might have come clear when thick, mud-coloured roots began to snake up the man's boots, calves.. as high as they could go before stopped.

His eyes narrowed at the display, and he zeroed in on his target as the man finally made an appearance. "Finally tired of running? Worry not, you will not suffer for long." The visible side of his face was still twisted into a snarling sneer. As the energy raced towards him, he wove a spellform to counter it. He growled as the energy raised up his legs, wrapping up to his calf muscles. He struck out with the counter, barbed whip like tendrils of pitch black slicing at the roots.. Chunks of earth were torn loose, damp earth spraying out in a circle around him, scorch marks in an almost sunburst pattern marking the surrounding dirt and patches of wispy half dead grass. Yes, the Hound was in fact weilding both Arcane magic, and drawing on 'blessings' from some dark and sinister entity.. But there had never been mention of Ravilth being a Cleric among the Hivemind, or the Council had there? Surely answering to a god, self proclaimed or not would have been forbidden.. yet here he was with.

When the fight had been joined, Ravilth allowed a more true self to rise to the surface.. all the while, the self he gave to the Hivemind, was projected, offered to them.. 'Hunting, Drawing closer to his prey. Loyal, Determined.' was all they would get as an 'answer' It was a dangerous game the man played. As the binding spellform sent by Decipere was dispelled, Ravilth drew on one of the gifts from his god.. Not even half a heartbeat later, a malestrom of deep red energy swirled around him.. A shockwave burst forth, splitting in half, as one part raced forward like a battering ram, and the second half arched high, several dozen meters up, and then came down like a crashing wave.

Decipere maintained the grin for a moment. "Hardly. I've got stamina to keep running from you for months, and then some." Slight potential snub of another sort there. When the attack to the man's ankles was retaliated to, he let the spellform maintaining it go - no point wasting energy on countering it when it had just been a distraction, an annoyance. Much like himself really!

That was when his head tilted and eyes narrowed, even behind the ward he had up. The duel-weilding made both brows lift. "Crafty..." Not so much at the skill it took to weild it, but at the fact that Ravilth had thus far managed to conceal such from the Council. Pity that he probably wouldn't have made it a mile in the Otherland, that snippet of news would have been no doubt of real interest towards the Council, considering their own self-centred, 'our way or the roadway' mentality that their precious Hound was flaunting right in front of him. Drawing in deeper on his reserves of energy, the battering ram was dealt with first; twisting his hands as the greys became lighter, it took the shape of a shield - when the ram struck, he would aim to deflect it back towards the Cleric-Knight as though it had been cast towards a mirror. That at least would allow him some leeway more to deal with the rest. Gritting his teeth together, his legs bent to take the shock before it struck the shield - cracking it in places.

Decipere was, after all, not someone made to do such things - such brute force attacks - for long. He was an illusionist for goodness sake. That was when he drew on that speciality. A mist seemed to shroud him for a moment, spreading about two foot to either side, perhaps three. Within a handful of minutes, did it fade.. to reveal three identical figures of the elf, including the real one, the caster. Sweat was beading along his brow, but he then lauched into a series of spellforms; from one, a fireball - the other, a whiplash of shocking, electric-like energy. And from himself, a battering ram of his own, like a strengthened buffet of air. Not that he could keep it up for long, but his aim was only to wear the other down as much as he could.

Somewhere however, he already knew it was a loosing battle. Open combat was simply not his forte. In the back of his mind, plotting, planning, trying to work out what to do next.

The shouts from other people in the area.. screams, panicking horses, became merely part of the background. Most everyone had given up trying to save the inn at this point, and were fleeing, heading towards the city in the distance. The flames, unchecked, crawled higher. Very few had stayed to watch the battle taking place.. That had been the very thing that had made saving the inn not worth sticking around for. Ravilth scowled when his strike was reflected, but as it had come from him, it parted and passed around him harmlessly.. dissipating out into thin air some distance behind him.. but stirring his hair and cloak as it passed.

He brought the sword around in a downward arching strike, from it came a hammer blow of red and black energy, striking at what was left of the shield. He struck a second time, advancing forward with quick purposeful strides as the mist began to form.. when he faced three of Decipere, instead of one, the sneer became only more filled with anger and hate. As the attacks came, a blackness was rising from the Cleric, like a reverse of ink dropped into water. He drew the darkness around him like a shroud, and the fireball absorbed into it, sparks of it flickering across the surface of whatever the hell it was around him. So dark, it seemed to drink up the light around him. He drove his blade into the ground.. a dim figure glowing faintly red in the blackness.. and he made an upward beckoning motion.

Scrambling and clawing their way from the earth came too thin, bony claw tipped hands.. and following, gaunt and skeletal beings with demonic features. They were small, around three foot tall each, with over-sized teeth, stony grey-blue skin, red eyes and short black horns. Almost classic 'Imps' down to the leathery wings that ripped from their back. Shrieking like banshee's they flapped their wings and raised to the air. One slammed into the electrical energy, sacrificing itself, and exploding into scorched meaty chunks, that became dust once they hit the ground. The other three, launched themselves at Decipere like rabid dogs.. Ravilth braced, skidding backwards a few paces with his arms raised, as he faced the battering ram of air head on. Recovering, he was already advancing forward again, still wreathed in that horrible blackness.

Decipere made a few calculations. People were fleeing towards the city. Most cities, even those without Keeps, at least potentially had a few magic users there. Neither of them wanted to be 'detained' by any mage of this world, if only for the fact that where they were from would take a lot of explaining to do. The small fact that they were essentially spies (and in Rav's case, Knights) of a dark nation planning to slowly control and manipulate others was generally also bound to be disliked. And if those from the city came here... It would at least give him a chance to, put bluntly, leg it. Open warfare was not his thing and he felt no shame at all in fleeing to find a field of battle that was more suited to his own speciality.

One of the spell-casting Decipere's remained the same. The other two - him and another illusion - began to shift. Much like how Ravilth's armor could appear, did his own shape morph, flex and smoothly flow into that of the hunched-over, dread-creature like shadow-horse that he so favoured - claws instead of hooves, a skeletal head and a body that seemed at once both anorexic in places and dense with sinewy muscle in others. He dropped the shield the moment when the chunks of deep-fried imp came sizzling down onto him, and the two creatures lunged right for the knight. While he could keep the other illusion solid for a period of time, the third still-elvish illusion's spellforms were beginning to slow down in frequency and power, a sure sign that he was diverting his energy and efforts elsewhere. At last the third faded out of sight, that spellform and the fireballs it'd been launching also parting. Imps first, Ravilth second.

Which was real and which was an illusion was a wild guess, but chances were, he could only keep up the two more realistic 'forms' for a short duration, certainly so given how the fight had been going before then. Fighting more out of desperation now, fighting to get room enough to leave.

Ravilth realized the bastard was trying to escape. "Not this time, little rabbit. You will not run again." He growled under his breath. A lash of blackish magic struck out at the illusionary elf, meaning to split the slower moving 'fake' Decipere in half and dispell the magic. Of course there was some small twinge of satisfaction watching even an illusion of his prey die. Perhaps he could look into that some evening if he wanted entertainment. With that one gone.. One of the two, he was certain was the real one. Illusions such as that were tricky and dangerous. On one hand, they gave an attacker more than one target to have to deal with.. On the other.. No illusion could be as strong as the real thing.. And the real thing, had to focus on maintaining that illusion. The remaining imps took to the air, circling as Ravilth contined his advance. He ignored the screams, he ignored the people fleeing.. He ignored the flames leaping high from the inn he'd set fire to.

The other two had shifted, and he gazed intently.. trying to feel which had the stronger 'aura' coming from it, so to speak.. Hard to make such assessments in the midst of a battle.. but soon, he was certain of which one it was. He wasted little on the fake beast.. One of his his imps flapping towards it, diving, before swooping back up, trying to keep it engaged in combat.. Ravilth's armor began to retract.. both it an the armor becoming like flowing tar again, seeping back to where it had come from, and at that same instant, his body changed rapidly.

It was a grotesque transformation. Crimson laced dark energy whipped around him, as his flesh and bone structure distorted. Boney scales seemed to burst from his skin, his legs bent the wrong way.. his mouth stretched into a muzzle.. It took only seconds.. and there was a beast of a different sort running full tilt for Decipere, flanked by two flying imps, shrieking at the top of their lungs.

He was roughly five foot at the shoulder.. some sort of hellish monstrosity drug from the nightmares of the damned. Somewhat canine in overall structure, he was like some sort of unnatural mesh of a mastiff, a hyena and a dragon.. Powerful in build, but still agile enough to move quickly. One eye burned a firey orange, the other was a milky amber. On that same side his face was a mass of scarring, destroyed almost from ripping claws that had ruined it long ago. It left the left side of his muzzle twisted in a terrible snarl. Wisps of that terrible power that infected him still flowed along his sides, intwined around his feet and he bounded, jaws opening to let loose a bone chilling howl.

Decipere could also only maintain the two illusions for so long. But he did give it enough energy, enough solidity to deal with one of the two imps - sacrificing some energy to lessen the immediate threat. Better to get rid of the pests first, then to deal with the main threat.

Ravilth's form was recognizable at least. He'd certainly not forgotten their fight - brief as it had been - in the Underhall. His own bore resemblance to the Dread Creature that had actually interrupted that fight. Seven foot at the shoulder and skeletal in places, the differences came in the claws on his front legs like those of a prehistoric earth-originating 'raptor and the inability to pass under doors. Decipere crouched low, lashing his clawed hand, the largest hook ready to strike, towards the monstrous hound's face.

Well, those who were lingering at a safe distance to watch were at least getting an exceptionally rare show...

Ravilth had expected Decipere to run. He had expected to end up chasing after him. What he had not expected was that the elf-turned-skeletal-monster was going to turn and fight again. There was no time to check his momentum, instead he merely dropped his head, closing his eyes when he was less than a bound away.. Heavier and lower to the ground that the other, he left the back of his skull, neck and shoulders exposed, but trying to damage that was like striking scale mail armor almost.. Far from indestructible, but not easy to slice through either. He fully intended to barrel headlong into his prey, and take him to the ground, sending them both rolling. With any luck he'd break the bastard's legs with the force of the impact.

Decipere, while certainly not one to have any shame in running, was not going to make his intentions obvious. Yes, he was going to run. Just not yet. If he was going to fight the man, he wanted it to be on a little more on even (or entirely uneven, in his favour) territory. Here, the Knight-Hound's magical strength had the upperhand, certainly so against the elf's preference for illusions and other such deceptions.

His eyes widened, and for a moment his mind 'skipped'. But the collision would have occured regardless of what he might have tried to prevent it. He impacted to one side of the stockier dog-thing after partially dodging, and together they did indeed roll. While his legs weren't broken, he felt a muscle tear somewhere in one of his flanks at the difficult acute turn and a selection of ribs cracked - one broke proper. His sternum also cracked. The shriek-like baying sound close to that of the monster he mimiced was certainly real. He weighed his options. Run and possibly get to the Tether. Or, try and fight, and probably lose. Already his breathing was hindered from the injuries, and his energy levels were depleting the longer he maintained this form.

He hauled himself to his feet with something of an effort, kicking out a few times with his hindlegs deliberately - hopefully catching something - before beginning to canter, trot, and then run. Not that he could do so for long, but his aim was to get somewhere isolated enough to shift, to hide, to run again.

Ravilth crashed into the false Dread Creature without slowing.. the impact was jarring, and he went down as well, rolling several times, sliding and skidding through the dirt and loose gravel. The orange haze of the fire loomed some distance behind them now.. He ended up on his side, but almost instantly clawed at the earth, twisting and kicking off the ground, throwing clods of dirt out behind him..

He launched himself almost blindly at Decipere yet again. He staggered sideways with the impact of hind feet striking his side.. Recovering, but already Decipere was on the move. In the dark, smoke and clouds of thick dust he could only faintly make out the retreating shape. He snarled, shook his head, and took off after him. He was not made for speed or running over long distances, his prey was far more suited than that.. Decipere was surely injured and that might even the odds somewhat.. It had to be enough..

Rage fueled him to nearly the point of frenzy. He would not lose track of him again. He could not fail in this mission. Ravilth, Verator Knight of the First Order, The Hound of the Council, The Right Hand of Ishtal did not fail. There was a dull throb in his side, but he ignored it. He did not think much damage had been done, after all. Behind him, two imps were flapping desperatly to keep up. After a few hundred yards, they simply exploded into clouds of dust and char. Lower weak summons such as those never lasted long anyways. Typically they were merely good for a distraction, or cannon fodder.

The beast that resembled some sort of scaled and even more monsterous hellhound, opened his jaws and let loose an unearthly bone chilling, echoing howl. The little rabbit could run all he wanted.. Eventually the hound would catch him.

Decipere at least wasn't unrealistic with his expectations of his own health, and knew that just getting to the nearest town would take some stamina and drive. But he kept going, despite the howl. He knew full well what it meant and precisely what it would mean in the future. But his need to live and remain free was just as strong as Ravilth's need to hunt and capture (or kill) him again. Panting heavily even as it sent pangs of sharp pain through his sides, he rounded the path's corner... before sharply taking it, hairpinning around the bend and taking off down a road that led towards the docks. Several furres backed sharply out the way, and one man with a horse and cart almost went off the road as he tried to swerve to avoid the creature. Just that bit further... just had to find somewhere...

Ravilth tore after him, determined to not lose him in the chaos. He snarled, sending horses into a panic as he nearly collided with the pair pulling the cart. The horses screamed, rearing, and Ravilth lost some ground when he was forced to go around. He ignored the shouts... The cart not only went off the road, it overturned behind him.. He kept going..

He realized Decipere was heading toward the docks. A dangerous stunt, one that would either help his prey escape, or leave him cornered. Oh how he hoped for the later. The beast lurched forward, running full tilt. Fangs flashed in the moonlight, and the ruined left side of the monstrous creature's face, only made him more terrible to behold. He was sure he left nightmares in his wake. Some distant part of him, under the insatiable drive was pleased with that.

Decipere was relying on a few things. That it was crowded, and that there was some form of security or militia. He was gauging that he was ahead enough to be causing a disturbance, and the (scant) distance between them would or could give enough time for people to react to the second of the two monsters. At least it was far enough away from Guildereim for rumours of his shape likely not to reach to it, and he'd covered his tracks thoroughly enough by creating a new Disguise upon entering the port initially. Market day. Oh dear.

He thrust and lunged himself into the crowd. Releasing some of the energy that held this form in place, it shrank.. distorted, and became that of a Wolfhound. The initial release of magic of course caused the tendrils to rise and arch from him, but he kept moving - jinxing one way and then bolting the other to try and keep himself just a little way ahead of where the first sighting of his magic would have been. His injuries were doing him no favours, and he could feel his breath rasping and bubbling slightly in his lungs. Each breath alone was agonizing as it was. He chose well; a mage, of relatively low power, was nearby. Likely drawn by the fight up at the Inn, he forced himself to desist limping long enough to hopefully briskly walk past Ravilth's hyena-like form alongside the student's horse - using the man's magic to shroud the currently weaker aura of his own.

Risky and depleting his energy further but, really, he was running out of straws to clutch at.

Chaos had fully errupted at this point. The guards were trying to gather in order to protect against whatever monsterous threat was decending on them from the direction of the burning inn.. For the smoke and red-orange glow stood out strongly in the distance. Rearing horses, both them and people screaming.. Shielding magic being drawn in by the mage... Ravilth snarled in fury, Where was he? Not seeing the wolfhound he bolted past.. or at least not reconizing it as Decipere in the madness their appearance had envoked.. He knew he was attracting too much attention.. He flung himself into a nearby storage building.. rolling.. and when he stood his form had melted into his natural human one again.. the armor and sword gone.. dismissed so to speak. Mask still firmly in place, but he pulled the hood of his cloak up.. and came out the other side.. looking for more signs of where Decipere might have gone.