A rugged fiendish wolf lifts his heavy head, sniffing to test the scents, a silent growl forming in its throat. He then strolls down a narrow road between black and grey houses, keeping close to the walls and shadows.
It is dark, only a bit of light finding its way between the mountains and tall buildings of the settlement most planar travellers know as Ribcage.
Few waste a second glance on the animal, a creature like this nothing special in a place that close to the lower planes.
The creature slips into a narrow alley, waits until he is alone then the shape begins to shift, distort, and is turning into a tall, armoured man.
He is encased in heavy plates, faded silver and enamel, where once some crest or symbol sat on the breastplate only charred steel remains. A crude badge shows the symbol of the Red Death, its chain jingling as the man leans forward, listening on a nearby door.
Taking a deep breath the man mumbles a few prayers- not to a god, not to a power- but instead requesting strenght and protection and guidance to do the right thing, to see justice is done.
Then, with a thunderous roar the man kicks in the door, a curved, wicked dagger with serrated edge in his hand.
A quick glance to take in the scenery- the simple, run down furniture, the dirt on the floor (a rusty stain that could be blood in the far corner?) and the man that struggles to get up from the table where he just took a simple meal.
"Convict Groovark Flessk, found to be guilty of murder in two cases, rape in one case, assault in 22 cases and petty theft of an apple in one case... stand down and accept your rightful punishment. Understand why it is done, repent and have your soul perfected by justice."
Of course the man laughs, of course he mumbles a spell, a wave of negative energy trying to smother the Mercykiller's soul- but the armoured man's wards hold.
With his left hand he sends the table flying against the far wall, with his right he pulls the blade across the man's throat, all his determination and righteous fury put into this single blow and it is more than cold steel that cuts through the man's flesh and ends his life- the only mercy shown is the quickness of his death.
Bending down to check for any lifesigns the armoured man wipes his blade on the robes of the convict before sheating it again. He is breathing fast, the adrenalin fading already.
But it went well- no innocents endangered and almost no collateral damage. Justice always finds those trying to escape- in one way or the other.
He leaves a short note for the town's officials who will have to remove the mess then steps out on the streets.
The amulet he used to disguise himself won't work again today but there is no need for secrecy anymore and he makes his way towards the portal over bloodred cobbled streets.
A few hours later Julius Ahestes sits at Kazheet's, in casual clothes but still wearing his dagger, sipping from his wine, looking through his wanted posters. Smiling pleased he folds one of them up, sealing it with red wax and his personal seal- a stylized snarling wolf's head.
"It was a good day", he thinks as he walks through Sigil's streets, approaching the prison where he is handing the wanted poster and the correct form of execution to one of Swan Son's aides.
He does not wait for a reaction, ignores the man's openly shown contempt for him and heads out on the streets again.
Yes, he is still on payed leave but Justice never rests. There is still work to do.
A Mercykiller on leave...
