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Around him the air felt like a frozen tundra. Though it was nothing to him, the warm blooded would have felt the cold if they still lived. As he slipped down the street the 'undead' being breathed hissed slowly, mists filtering from his cold mouth in front of them, and his presence even chilled the room ten degrees colder then it should have been. The Hollow moved towards the door and naturally, being created by shadows, his form had little mass, so he made no sound when moving across the terrain. Needless to say, he was nearly invisible in the complete darkness.

Out of habit, the man reached up to rub at his eyes with one curled fist, as if to banish soreness and sleep deprivation; his arms reaching skyward then falling as he stifled a yawn, containing it in his maw behind pursed lips. It seemed that everything seemed to come in with better focus now, that he had restored his strength with recently deceased. The lantern light was getting fierce, and after coming out of the darkness of the terraced house and into the more spacious street, Sir Valter de Guillon's eyes were sensitive to its light; he turned his face away from the glare quickly. After a moment of time he conjured his magic as the lights dimmed, then were easily snuffed out, brushing one spread fingered hand through the soft hair of his rufous mane, he hastened back though town, slipping into the shadows cast by the buildings along the block, his medium length cloak trailing behind his armored self. Looking up he noticed that the way the next hanging lantern fell upon the buildings made them light up like a torch all the way up to the third floor, but cast the rest of the street into a dismal darkness. It was as much the buildings hieght, as well as the way the heavily forested stony slopes of mountains that rose up farther inland, that caused shadows to lay about the place.

the cool and dark, night shadows seemed to lend extra mystique to the tall, delicately designed buildings, and as Valter passed through the darkness they cast, he found himself admiring them and the hand that created their shapes with a distant, desperate kind of sadness. His thoughts rested on what he was going to do next. As he stalked slowly through the streets, he tore his thoughts away from his miserable future, and turned them to his next actions for the night. He figured he would check thestreets for survivors, and then head off to do whatever was next. After all, there was no need to fear the guards any longer since he had destroyed their existence long ago. He remembered how, in the past, he would, on a decent day, see the rush of men and women and children, scuttling along the streets, hurrying off to do their daily chores - the farmers to their fields, the city officials to their offices, the merchants to their stalls in the Market.

At one of the cross sections he stopped, glancing up and down the cobblestone boulevard that would take him one way to the tavern, and the other way the direction of the Market. Where would he go? It wasn't like he had anything specific in mind to occupy his time. The Hollow turned, judging his options and finally decided to turn in the direction leading to the Market, but stopped suddenly at the slightest of noises. Peering through the darkness he saw a couple of dogs. Yet they held a slightly forboding power, alerting him that they were not truly among the living. But he knew...Someone living must have created them. His ghostly form moved without a whisper of sound or scent, leaving the dogs defenseless to his silent approach. He lifted the dark lance he carried, which was imbued with a dark magic and thrust it, penetrating the dogs through one side and slipped out the other. Other then emitting a soft yelp they disappeared in a puff of wispy black smoke. he felt the power that was used in creating them, ebb in his entire being. Knowing that the master would be alerted, he moved, dashing silently at a pace not expected for one in such heavy armor or any creature whatsoever, which again did not whisper in sound. He slipped into the old, abandoned church, slipping up the stairs and into the bell tower, looking over the cross section he had destroyed the celestial dogs...waiting...and watching in darkness that hid his entire form.