Pursuers

Bright Moon, rocks, bonfire, the countryside, a man.

When Thales woke up, the feedback from his hell's senses told him of such a scene.

Very good, he was not tied up.

Thales opened his eyes slightly. While the back of his head ached and he was assaulted by waves of nausea, he groped the area around his waist quietly.

"Looking for this?"

A voice resembling a gong rang.

Thales sighed. He gave up on the groping, sat up with great effort on his part and patted the dust off his clothing. "That's mine."

Monty sat leaning against a tree with a relaxed expression, right next to a bonfire in the night. With a smile on his face, he looked at Thales.

The man spun JC's dagger nimbly with his hand and even did a number of fancy tricks with it.

"I have to say, it's pretty sharp."

The Raven of Death held the dagger with a backhand grip, then swiftly sliced through the air before he withdrew his arm with a slight swoosh.