"Do something useful huh? Good idea." Seraph thought. Making sure not to be seen, Percy was out of the confines of the jail cell in moments. As Seraph lie there in wait until Percy returned with an intelligence report (althoug, due to his particularily small IQ and lack of descriptive language, it was actually more of a stupidity report) Seraph lie there sleeping, if it could be called sleeping. Even under the many mounds of things Seraph clutched his poioned tipped kris-knife in his hand, his ears attuned for any noises, his nose atuned to any new smells, and his body attuned for any movements. It was actually closer to meditating than sleeping except for the one fact that Seraph had dreams during his sleep.
He found himself in the woods. He was heading back towards a house. His back still hurt from where the Kitin (a demon from hell who has control over chains) had scourged him the just the night before. The wound had stopped bleeding, but was still painful. The attack was unprovoked. The Kitin had simply attacked him for no reason, no reason except that he was small. He was prey. He had run, he had hid, but somehow he always managed to come into contact with the creature. And so now, Seraph, moving through the forest while hiding from the undead Lich, who had sworn his death minutes ago, saw the Kitin walking through the forest, wrapped in chains from head to toe, with four fifteen foot strands swinging at branches as he went. This was his only chance, The Kitin did not see him, did not know he was there, knew nothing.
Seraph Snuck around into throwing range. He had run and hid long enough. As long as that Kitin lived, Seraph would die. It was impossible to get food, The Kitin would just follow him and take what Seraph had killed, Seraph needed to eat, and so far it wasn't happening.
He picked his dart, tipped with a poison that would cause fatigue. He threwat the creature from behind. It was a hit. The creature looked around, but Seraph had already concealed himself again. Seraph worked his way around to the other side, and again threw a second dart. Again, he hit. But the Kitin spotted him. Suddenly the demon ran at Seraph. Four chains lashed out at him. Seraph managed to dodge the first two, and take only a glancing blow from the third, and only because the poisons were taking effect. The last Chain struck home. A gash formed along Seraph's side and blood flowed freely from it.
Seraph tried to hide again. It worked. The pain hurt, but he needed to finish this once and for all. If he did not, he would die. He snuck around again and threw another dart. It hit. The poisons were erally showing now. The Demon was starting to tire. Seraph threw his last poisoned dart, and hit. Not only that, but this time it hit him in the throat. Blood was seen dripping down the creatures had, which now covered its throat.
Seraph's heart sunk as the creature stopped bleeding and removed its hand from the now, closed wound. He threw another dart, unpoisoned this time. It missed, and worse the Kitin saw him again. One two three four chains. Fast on his feet, Seraph managed to avoid all four, but the creature closed range with seraph and swung his final attack, a barbed chain that he swung in his hand. Seraph trying to do the unexpected, dodged forewards towards the Kitin, to dodge the blow...and failed. A gash formed across his shoulder and down the length of his back. The pain was excruciating.
Only one final chance. Seraph used a slight of hand to distract the Kitin from the krisknife that was plunging it's way into his chest, and before the creature could react, he unsheathed another knife across the creatures throat for a final blow. The poison from the knife, drained his strength almost immediately, and having already been fatigued, the Kitin fell to the ground. The wound was already healing on the creatur's neck. Seraph acting quickly, went for the coup de grace, the final blow, plunging his krisknife through the creatures throat.
Seraph suddenly bolted awake, knocking packs off of the sled and onto the icy ground. He was sweating, and his dagger was clutched inextricably in his hand. His heart would not slow down, nor would his breath subside. He sheathed his knife. He could still feel the pain from the wound as if it had happened not so long ago. He rubbed the scar that went across his shoulder and down his back.
Percy had returned, to tell him what was outside this cell....