Cold Hearts IC Thread

[Malochai]

Indoril perched atop a tall building not far from the docks. He could feel a sharp wind coming from inland from the Sea of Chill, muted only slightly by the expensive clothes he wore. He frowned in consternation; he had been on the mainland of Naggaroth for too long. What were considered thick clothes there were not enough to thwart the chill of Karond Kar. To his left, he could see the sea of masts which made up the harbour; black wood and rigging, the large sails emblazoned with various captain and House emblems.

To his right, the tower of Karond Kar itself rose to the darkened sky, piercing the lowest clouds. He heard the wailing of tortured, dying souls, and felt a grim satisfaction settle upon him. ‘The Tower of Despair, indeed,’ he thought to himself. Sighing, he looked straight ahead. Three streets over, the tavern where Mythas had been sighted squatted, an ugly building. The Lord snorted derisively, and then looked at the open space before his feet. The street wasn’t that wide - he could jump it easily - but the roof was steep. He had been considering it before a particularly vehement gust of wind had nearly dislodged him from his temporary roost.

He had already had an idea - tie a length of rope around a bolt and fire it into the roof. He could then pull himself up, but it would be risky - placing his entire body weight on the integrity of a crossbow bolt didn’t appeal to him. The obvious solution was to work his way along the roofs until he could safely make the jump, but that would be too much like giving up in the face of an obstacle. Movement in one of the windows drew his attention, and a Druchii face stared back. Before he had thought about it, his crossbow was in his hands and a bolt flying, shattering glass and impaling the target. He looked at the dead body appraisingly, and then smirked. ‘Unfortunate fool.’ And then it struck him - instead of going over the building, he should go through it. He turned and then stepped backwards over the open space, only catching himself by the tips of his fingers. He gasped slightly and cursed as his shoulders were wrenched, but after breathing deeply for a few seconds he was ready to continue, lowering himself down so that he was slightly higher than the window.

The elf gathered his legs beneath him in an uncomfortable position and tensed them, relaxed them, and then pushed backwards, twisting mid-leap. The force of his jump powered him through the window and he rolled to absorb the force, ending up in a crouch. His left hand was in the rapidly spreading pool of blood. He grimaced in disgust, and wiped it on the thick jerkin of the dead elf before retrieving his bolt and doing the same to the head. He then took the time to look around the room, and found that it was study, the walls lined with bookshelves and desks. A spark of inspiration lit in his mind, and he strode towards the writing desk, pulling a piece of thick vellum from a draw. Dipping a quill into a pot of ink, he carefully scribed a note:-

‘I betrayed the Cold Hearts
I was a fool
I paid with my life
Fear them!’​

Pleased with himself, he left the room and searched for a window on the other side of the house than the one he had come through. Finally finding one, he found that there was a small yard at the back of the house, with high walls showing the boundary. He shrugged his shoulders back, still feeling the pain of catching himself slightly, and then leapt from the high window onto the top of the wall, having to steady himself slightly before quickly walking along it. He leapt towards the building at the end of the yard and clutched a sill, levering himself up. Once Indoril was stood on it, he looked up and caught hold of the lintel. Continuing this until he reached the roof, it was another few minutes before he could finally see the tavern. A couple of roofs away, he saw two figures in the midst of a fight. He instantly recognised Mythas and snarled. ‘So, he did survive,’ the Druchii Lord snarled derisively, before striking a lower pose to limit his silhouette. Creeping along the roofs parallel to the tavern until he was level with the two fighting elves, he lowered himself to his stomach, drawing his crossbow and levering a bolt into place. The weapon was then reverently placed next to him and Indoril settled in to observe the fight, ready to intervene should it be necessary.

 

[Get of W'soran]

Arkeith snarled "You dare speak to me so?" he hissed hatefully, his anger apparently getting the better of him as he ran forward wildly blade held high.

Inside however the knight smiled and when he had closed the distance he slowed down swiftly, casting aside any appearance of recklessness, although he slid slightly as one tile came loose but managed to keep his balance.

Judging the distance to be close enough Arkeith began a steady advance towards the stranger with a random pattern of extremely quick slices, each cut coming from a different angle.

 

[Mello]

Mythas sighed melodramatically, looks like this stranger is too much of a professional. He took several uneasy steps backwards as a shower of blows came towards him, no way even he could dodge them. The pair steadily advanced backwards until Mythas was pressed against the wall. Frowning to himself Mythas desperately thought of a plan, playing over what he had seen of the stranger so far..

His eyes lit. The stranger had slipped earlier a couple of times.. he must be less used to poor footing than Mythas. Pressing one foot to the wall behind him, Mythas launched himself forwards, holding his epeiu as a hopeful block against the upcoming attack, as the full force of the blow landed into his arms, he begun being catapulted sideways. Mythas' eyes narrowed. As planned. Grabbing onto the strangers arm he sling-shotted the pair of them across the roof using his momentum from the wall and parrying the heavy blow. Mythas had many a similar tumble and landed on his feet swiftly, sliding a good several feet from the sheer velocity. He span around to look at the damage he had caused.

 

[Count michael]

Slowly making his way to the warehouse Shevael quickly drew one of his pistols aiming and firing at the back of the guards head who's attention was occupied elsewhere, not waiting for the guards body to hit the ground Shevael kicked open the front door crying
Come on out you bastards it is I the great Shevael Redmane, I'm here to blow this dump kingdom high for the Cold Hearts, I'll be killing you all any way but you can at least make this night interesting I get bored easily drawing two more pistols ready to shoot the unext enemies to show themselves.

I wonder how I am going to do this, there should be something explosive somewhere, I wonder where

 

[Get of W'soran]

Arkeith wasn't exactly sure what was happening as he crashed onto the roof, sliding towards the roof edge for a few moments before managing to cease his movement.

Much less steadily than his opponent the Swordsman got to his feet, wincing slightly at a dull ache running down his side.

Arkeith rolled his shoulders, there was no sharp pains which he took as a good sign but he could feel that he was going to be covered in bruises tomorrow. Oh how he missed his old plate armour.

Very good. he thought to himself, realizing the elf had taken advantage of his lack of experience fighting on less steady ground.

But I grow tired of these tests. he though to himself, to fight another to just sample his skills reeked of arrogance.

Arkeith strode forward swiftly, his blade held before him in a central stance with the point directed at his foe, in a few moments he broke into a run
Only a few feet away from the other Druchii he hurled one of his daggers at the man's chest before dropping to one knee and with a brutal two-handed swing he swung the flat of his sword at his opponent's legs.

 

[Mello]

After Shevael's miniature speech, there was a short silence, before a low rumbling could be heard. Horse hooves..

Suddenly five crossbow men burst out of a door directly opposite Shevael, while the what sounded like a horse could be heard from directly behind him, before a voice called out.

"Supposed Cold Heart, you are surrounded. Surrender now, or your death will be more painful than we need make it" sounded a callous, grating voice behind him: A captain on a dark steed. He wore gold trimmed full plate armour and a ridiculous over the top frill and coat of arms. The rather drab and under paid looking crossbowmen in front of him chuckled, they seemed confident.

-------------

Mythas straightened himself up smugly. That worked well.. Mockingly Mythas allowed his opponent to stand up, with his hands at his sides tauntingly.

Despite his confidence Mythas frowned at the stranger's new found concentration and... confidence. He braced himself. Is he better than anticipated? He felt his adrenaline surge. Five feet, four feet..

Then the stranger threw something at the last moment, Mythas cursed and leant backwards, the blade skimming neatly over his nose. Damned throwing knives.. Suddenly he felt a sharp blow to his left leg and he couldn't help but yell as he fell over sideways. However his feverish adrenaline-riddled brain still worked, he twisted his body, using the sideways momentum he had already gained, and landed on one hand, upside down. Quickly he brought his blade whistling toward the stranger's throat, as he was kneeling it was directly in front of Mythas. However the stranger had react just as fast and he felt cold steel against his own throat.

Mythas made a grating noise, his form of chuckling. "So. A stale mate." He peered at the stranger's upside-down face. "I must confess I did not anticipate the fight ending this way. But you certainly match me. I would offer you a hand to shake, but I'm a little tied up as you can see. If you would like to join us, and become rich beyond your imagining. If wealth isn't your motive, then you'll meet fellow assassins. We look after our own, so your lifespan will be longer, almost certainly. Frankly I'm in it for the killing, we get some very interesting... targets."

Mythas grinned

"So what will it be stranger? Join us, or we both die. Your choice."

 

[Count michael]

Giddy with excitement Shevael could barely control himself
"Finally a audience worthy of my attention, this is going to be fun, are you sure you want to do this this entire place is surrounded by members of the Cold Hearts if you run now you may live"
Acting quickly Shevael shot at the two nearest crossbowmen before diving forward dropping one pistol, drawing his boarding axe and swinging it upwards at the other crossbowmen keen to quickly dispatch his foes hoping the pistol shots had spooked the horse or crossbowmen so he could get right in the midst of them so they couldn't use their crossbows effectively.

 

[The Archivist]

January waited by the alley mouth as shots rang out. She twirled her broomspear in boredom before returning to sitting patiently.

 

[Mello]

The crossbowmen jumped back cautiously at the lound, unfarmiliar sound of the pistols, but when they saw Shevael was limited to two shots, the remaining three ran forwards with renewed ferocity. Behind him Shevael heard a panicked neigh, before a harsh bark silenced the creature, and the low rumbling of hooves steadily increasing announced the charge of the commandant.

 

[Count michael]

Quickly unwinding the chain around his hand Shevael swing it around grabbing one of the crossbowmen trying to swing him behind into the path of the horse striking out with his boarding axe trying to kill another.

 

[Get of W'soran]

Arkeith smirked with his usual half-smile as he pulled the knife he had unsheathed away from the other Druchii's neck, his longsword still in his right hand.

"Well dying sounds awfully boring so I think I shall accept."

Holding both hands up to show he meant no threat until eventually the stranger let him step away safely.

Arkeith sauntered away nonchalantly, sheathing his longsword and dagger as he retrieved the throwing knife.

"Can't have too many knives." he joked.

Despite his relaxed demeanour the elf was relieved, he was aching, tired and certainly didn't want to test himself again such a skilled opponent any longer than necessary.

Turning back he returned to the other man and give an elaborate bow, more mocking than respectful.

"Sir Arkeith of House Uvirith at your service friend." he drawled.

 

[Malochai]

Indoril ground his teeth as Mythas and his adversary-turned-partner first hit a stalemate and then agreed to work together; he had hoped that the slippery fool he had previously worked with would get himself killed. His eyes narrowed at Mythas, and then he reached slowly for his crossbow. When the newcomer bowed, in what Indoril assumed was mock respect - he heard the word ‘Sir’ drift across to him, but lost the rest to the wind - he took his chance, and fired his bolt. It spun in the air, and the wind carried it slightly, but he had taken that into consideration.

The bolt slammed home into the tiles by Mythas’ feet, and Indoril retook his feet, standing with a hand on his hip, head held high. “Mythas, you promise him we look after your own, and yet you left me for dead! I am Indoril, of House Nerefteen, and I would retake my place in the Cold Hearts! You have let us drift into obscurity, a tale that the drunkards speak of only to amuse themselves. You have failed us. I will return us to our former glory, make the rich, the noble, the fair and the corrupt fear our name once more!”

 

[Get of W'soran]

Arkeith heard a clunk and slowly looked down to see a crossbow bolt embedded into the tiles near the Stranger, who was called Mythas apparently.

Arkeith turned to glance at the newcomer and sighed, it was too far for a throwing knife.

Instead Arkeith looked back at Mythas and raised an eyebrow.
"Friend of yours?"

 

[Mello]

The crossbowman snared in the chain screamed and a wet crunch sounded as he was crushed underfoot, soon the full bulk of a speeding horse slammed into the back of Shavael, and a sword tip sliced along the edge of his clothing, missing all too narrowly. The horse thundered past as the owner dismounted, landing in front of Shavael.

"Come on you arrogant dog" the leader snarled.

------------------

Mythas laughed drily, leaning back to return to a standing position. Not returning any form of formality, he despised the system.

"And I'm Mythas. Nothing more. I knew you were a posh boy after all, sir." he glanced around him before cupping his hands and making a weird shrieking whistle. Promptly Sylvia descended, hopping onto Mythas' shoulder, before regarding the newcomer with interest, head tilted to one side. She cawed and flew over to his shoulder and start pecking at a particular morsel of leather. Mythas grinned.

"And that's Sylvia, my companion."

Mythas glanced over, and waved a hand irritably.

"Friend being a loose term. He's a cold heart. As usual for highborns like you, thinks he's the most important and capable person in the whole of this damned city. I imagine you two will have a lot in common."

Mythas turned to Indoril before calling back. "Sure blame me when you abandoned us the moment you had something more important to do."

 

[Malochai]

Indoril scowled at Mythas' impertinence. "You remember wrong, Mythas; I did not abandon the Cold Hearts, you abandoned me! I have had Khainites trail me for months, and the Shade tribes hunting me as I travelled the mainland. The Cold Hearts failed to aid me, instead abandoning me for their own gain."

As he spoke, he espied a section of the street where the buildings hung out further, making the gap to jump narrower. He knew he could make it, and started walking towards it. Once he had stopped, he took a short run up, leapt at the last second, using the tiles as a spring board. He heard some of them shattering as he tucked into a roll on the other roof. Indoril regained his feet easily and brushed himself off as he turned to face Mythas and the newcomer nonchalantly. "My sister's dogs had me running for my life, whilst you sat here in this damnable city. You remained here. You let the Cold Hearts become rumour, conspiracy." The highborn then shrugged, and his tone became less angry, and he turned to face Arkeith. "Yet I would have done the same. Do not fill your head with thoughts of heroism and comradeship. We are in this for ourselves, and would kill each other if it would gain us gold." The assassin jerked his right arm forward, and his stiletto blade was pushed forward on its brace, into his palm. Raising an eyebrow, he glared at Mythas.

"I have picked up some ... Tricks, whilst I have been gone, though. Who survived? What are our numbers? Who killed my sister?"

 

[Get of W'soran]

"You're a very biased fellow, you know that?" he said to Mythas with chuckle "Besides of course we're better, finer blood and all that." he added not believing a word of it.

Arkeith watched as the other Cold Hearts member leapt and rolled onto the same roof as them.
What in the Crone's name is wrong with these people? Does no one use the ground these days? he thought to himself.

Arkeith clasped his hands behind his back as he listened quietly to the newcomer and grinned at his idiotic words.

"No loyalty amongst Assassins? I'm utterly shocked sir." he replied his voice laced with amusement.

He became quiet again as he listened to the other elf's questions feeling his interest piqued by any chance to hear something concrete about the Cold Heart's history.

 

[Mello]

"Last time I checked our species, we didn't pride ourselves on our loyalty. When I used the phrase "We look after our own" I meant we didn't kill each other on sight, like.. well like we do with everyone else really.

Well considering January and I are the only remaining, I killed Markus, I imagine January has. I certainly didn't, after all you didn't trust me enough to take you." he smirked.

"Anyway, now all the introductions are over with, and we have a new member, I suggest we retreat to our little hidey-hole. January is looking for new members or killing impersonators, depending on her mood, I'm sure she'll be back soon. I've collected up some contracts for us too, so we have plenty of work to do."

 

[Count michael]

"Bloody hell" thought Shevael brushing himself down before turning towards the leader

"oh shut up!!!! you are really getting annoying sighing in annoyance Shevael pulled out another of his pistols shooting the leader in the head, "damn I was going to be saving that one for later, oh well" turning towards the remaining crossbowmen "and then there were two, so we can carry this on if you want ti die though I am feeling generous so don't mind if you try running I have important business to complete for a lady."

"you wouldn't know where something very explosive is by any chance????" readying himself for his enemies next move.

 

[Mello]

The two crossbowman took one look at the leader, who was now missing a head, and back at Shavael. One whimpered. "I... If you tell us will you not kill us? I.. I have a wife and family!" The two were practically shaking in their boots.

 

[Malochai]

Indoril cocked an eyebrow at Mythas and then shook his head, an imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his lips very slightly. "Mythas, I would not trust you nor January as far as I could stick you with a crossbow bolt. As for the newcomer ..." the elf shrugged. "I don't know him, either. I will meet you at Markus' old hideout when time allows. I have ... Business, to attend to before I can join you. People are anxiously awaiting my return. I'm sure your bird can keep you company until I return."

With that, before the other elf could reply, Indoril had spun about on his heel and was on his way back to the gap between buildings. Easily, he leapt it and slipped down onto the ground beyond that roof, out of sight of the others. Once he was sure they weren't following, he took a tortuous root back through the city to Madame Ilira's pleasure house.

Once he reached the conspicuous building, he looked around again to ensure that no follower had managed to keep on his trail, and then pushed through the door. Immediately, the stench of roete assaulted his nose, which he wrinkled against it in undisguised disgust. He espied Ilira at the far wall and pushed himself through the crowd, which had all left their booths and were now mingling sociably - an odd enough feat in itself for the Druchii. Without even thinking it through, he pilfered their gold, hand dipping quickly into pockets or lifting the weight off of belts. The Madame looked slightly shocked to see him, before narrowing her eyes and pursing her ruby lips wickedly.

"Well, my Lord Nerefteen, what have you been up to? Her eyes seemed to dance expressively, and she didn't try to hide her amusement. "And here I was, thinking you were enjoying my girls!"

Indoril stared at her witheringly, and then beckoned her towards one of the booths away from the main gathering of people and drew the curtain shut. Once she had sat, and looked suitably interested, he stared her in the eye and began. "I have been involved with certain ... Groups, since I arrived in the city, Ilira." She nodded knowingly, and despite the obvious desire to burst in with a clever remark, she kept herself under control and gestured for him to continue. "We are gathering again. Soon, I will ensure we are as feared as we once were.
"However, I want you on side. You will be rewarded if you do as I say, as will those in your employ who serve you well in this matter. The room I had earlier - where my girls still are - is to be mine. I will invest in the damned business if that's what it takes. I want a lookout in there whenever I'm not. Watching the piers. Understood? The Madame nodded hesitantly, the questions burning in her eyes, but she still restrained herself.
"Good. I will retire to my rooms, then." With a flourish, he opened the curtains and strode up the stairs, his gait swift and lithe.

When he knocked at the door to the room he had locked before leaving, he heard the sound a woman hushing another, and then the soft padding of feet on the floor.A crack appeared between the wood of the door and the frame, and a beautiful human face appeared in the gap. She gasped and hurriedly opened the door, stepping back and dropping the sheet she had been using to retain her modestly. He snorted slightly as he closed and relocked the door behind him. 'A pleasure-slave with modesty.' He glanced across at the bed, where the other slave-girl lay seductively, and smiled. With a crooked finger, he summoned her to him and as she sashayed across the thick, luxurious carpet towards him, he explored her body with his eyes. 'This ... Is going to be fun.'

Indoril then proceeded to take his pleasures, oblivious to the body of the dead woman on the sideboard before the window, only stopping when a knock at the door disturbed him. Madame Ilira had deigned to join him, and with the three women, the newly-raised Lord enjoyed the creeping early hours.

 

[Get of W'soran]

Arkeith simply nodded now having grown bored of the new arrival and paid little attention to him as he spoke, instead he was glancing at Sylvia with interest.

After the other Cold Hearts Assassin left Arkeith smirked at Mythas.
"Well he's certainly a pleasant elf."

Turning his attention back to the bird he added absently
"Then lead on."

Arkeith lifted a hand up to brush a finger down Sylvia's head carefully.

I'm sure these gauntlets will keep me safe from it's nipping...right? he thought to himself.

 

[Count michael]

Snorting in disgust Shevael was disappointed there would be no way he could kill such cowards it would make him look bad
"Fine go I don't care,killing you would be a waste of ammo anyway

However........ Just remember today was the day that I Shevael Redmane the greatest killer ever decides to spare your lives so you could spread word of my greatness just remember you better make me look good otherwise I will personally hunt both you and your families down for a painful fate, now go before I change my mind"
Pulling out his empty pistols Shevael slowly reloaded them one by one before making his way into the smugglers den rummaging around for something highly explosive that would do the job

come on , come in where is it he thought to himself there has to be something explosive its a smigglers den all smugglers have to have something explosive otherwise whats the point.

I have my pistol ammo that might make a bang but that won't make a great exosionI need something memorable and massive, something that would strike fear in everyone whilst proclaiming my greatness"

 

[The Archivist]

January stabbed two smugglers as they emerged from the alley panting. She dragged the bodies into the shadow and sat down again, tapping her foot in impatience.

 

[Mello]

Shevael finally lighted upon a dry powder store, along with accompanying empire cannons. It seemed that the smugglers were selling ordnance as their main merchandise. This place will be almost too easy to blow up, hundreds or barrels were stacked as far as the eye could see, dimly lit and smelling of musk.

--------------

Mythas smiled sadly, "Yes indeed, of all the elves to survive, he was not one I would have chosen." Mythas stared with equal or even more interest than the knight. He smiled slyly.

"Well, you're the first person she's ever taken a liking to, minus me." Mythas opened up a small pouch and closed his fist around a morsel of food. Quickly handing it to Arkeith, he smiled genuinely, rarely for him, which was testified by the extreme difficulty he took in performing the facial expression. He succeeded only in a sad grimace.

"Give that to her, just make sure you have no exposed skin. Or she'll assume that's part of supper."

 

[Get of W'soran]

Arkeith smirked faintly "Can't say I blame you for that wish."

Arkeith chuckled as he stroked the bird's head before taking the food.

He paused to listen to Mythas's advice and sighed in relief, his gauntlets would do the trick in any case, then he held the morsel up so that the bird could take it.

The knight watched with interest as she ate, a faint smile on his lips devoid of the usual mockery.

After Sylvia was finished Arkeith turned his attention back to the Assassin.

"So where now? A meeting place for your people did you say?"