Cold Hearts IC Thread

[Mello]

Mythas nodded, drawing up his hood.

"It's as good as done. I could kill the driver, and then someone else can kill the target. Alternatively I kill the target, and somebody gets rid of the driver, or I'll be taken somewhere I'll be likely to want to go."

He turned to Iriden, dust billowing slightly on the floor, as if it had become part of him.

"You could take care of the horses and the driver, I'd say." He said, motioning to her handbows.

 

[Malochai]

"I'm hoping that four of us is overkill, but you can never be too sure. Any of you risk my life, though, and you will pay for it - be it at their blade, or mine own." With a stern look at each of them, he turned, the cloak he wore trailing after him, and strode to Markus. "Now, you, which way out of this hellhole? I have a dealer to kill."

 

[Zephyr]

Kelarith turned his head towards Raniq and Jan bowing slightly.
"May the blood flow freely."
Turning towards Indoril, bowing again. "Let us give these guards the deaths they deserve. One more thing, you will find I do not speak once the fighting starts. I must be fully in the moment. I will hear you but I will not reply, at least not in my own voice."
He stretched his back and arms and quickly checked his gear.
"Let us depart, my Lord is hungry for my devotion."

 

[Johnny-Crass]

Markus pointed to a thin winding stair that led around the lake. "That way has cut-offs all over the city, each one should be labeled by district."

 

[The Archivist]

January looked at the three.

"We get to make the kill? Perfect. I need to pick up some... things first. When and where shall we meet again?"

 

[Lynks]

Hmm. Iriden contemplated her role in their assassination. Killing the driver and horses was hardly a spectacular task, butshe supposed it would be better than being in charge of mopping up any mess that might form. It would also mean she would strike first and utilise the element of surprise as well as giving her the opportunity to slink away while the others did their business. They were all paid the same anyway so why not take the task that meant the most safety.

"The coach and Driver will die by my bolts" Iriden replied to Mythas, "I will strike first, bursting out in front as the market crowds make way for the carriage, stopping it dead in it's tracks. I will then lead the guards onto the sword fanatic as much as possible then retreat, giving you your opportunity to strike. We can inform the other of the plan tomorrow, however it should be clear enough."

 

[Malochai]

Indoril listened to Markus, and nodded. "Thank you," he replied, with a certain condescension to his voice, before turning back to January as she spoke.

"I suggest meeting in the morning, at dawn, three streets south of the Slaver's Markets. It's higher ground, and isn't a ... Popular place to conduct business. Be careful ... Or not, it makes little difference to me." With this, Indoril turned and strode to the stairs, determined to leave the sea-cave of assassins in the distance as soon as possible.

 

[The Archivist]

"Very well. See you there."

January moves into the shadows, and comes out an old sailer wearing rags and a cap. She disappears back up the tunnel.

 

[Zephyr]

Kelarith walked off too but in a different direction as the others. He just hoped he could find the place in this wretched city.
Well, three streets south should not be a problem. He was pleased it would be in the morning, he so hated skulking around in the night like a thief.

 

[Mello]

Mythas was standing on a very tall tower, what it housed didn't interest him, and the wind was particularly vicious. If it wasn't for his winteresque clothing Mythas would have probably died from chill by now. Staring down at the wretched marketplace. Although the vast majority of the place was slave trading, mostly next to the vast corsair ships that daily entered and exited the city, really the only reason that the city was prosperous in the first place. Yet despite this, the usual paraphernalia was assorted around the market place, usually with very low quality. Poisons, weapons, a couple of cold ones, which were being bartered over savagely. Mythas always found the concept of money an odd thing, why would people trade their valuable goods for some pieces of metal? He could not deny the usefulness of it though..

Bringing himself back to the present, Mythas checked the area over. Verikar was browsing some weapons, although where he would put them on his body if he were to buy any, Mythas couldn't tell.. He couldn't see Iriden all the time, but he kept on catching glimpses of her hair, she was waiting for the carriage arrive.

Mythas sat down with Sylvia on his hand, idly stroking her, now all we needed was the carriage..

 

[Chaos_Born]

Verikar surveyed the cheap weapons in the stall before him, and he was not impressed. Despite the vendor's bragging about their quality and history, he could tell there was nothing special here. If anything he just felt sorry for the blades, they were so ill maintained that he almost wanted to buy them all so that he could take proper care of them.

But he wasn't here to buy. He was merely looking at the weapons because it looked like a natural thing for one such as him (coated in weaponry) to be doing. Really he was listening carefully for the clattering of a coach and horses coming from the market behind him. Each time he heard it he would turn and examine, and he knew anyone watching him carefully could piece together his intent. He didn't really care though. 'Let them come' he thought to himself with a smile

 

[Johnny-Crass]

The clatter of hooves and the jingle of bells resounded through-out the market square. Vendors and peddlers looked up with hungry glee and began preparing their finest and most expensive wares; after all, the lady had arrived.

The coach was of a heavy man made design, far from its sleek elven cousins. A guard stood by each wheel and a driver sat up top. A small grill with a wide tray underneath garnished the door, making it hard to see the occupant. A thin whispery voice of a girl could be heard from inside "Let them approach!"

 

[Malochai]

Indoril sat atop a building which overlooked the south of the market as the sun grazed the tops of the buildings, throwing thin, weak rays towards him and casting deep shadows over the huge market square. He had his legs crossed and eyes closed, resembling a statue, the only thing moving was his cloak, fluttering like a banner in the bitterly cold, strong wind that always seemed to flow over the city. 'I cannot believe I've been driven to this,' he thought to himself, mentally shaking his head and reflecting on the last time he'd set foot in his home ...

The huge doors of the Nerefteen city house oozed open, black steel seeming to absorb the weak northern light of the sun. He looked in, seeing vast pools of light and even larger areas of shadow. Guards stood every ten paces or so, and he entered. 'Not much has changed,' he told himself, but just looking around it was obvious that much had. Shaking his head, he strode forward and mounted the right hand set of stairs, one of two parallel staircases that led to a grand ballroom, where he saw his sister, Aliisha, sat upon a throne-like chair of black marble. 'She always had a sense for the dramatic.'
A snarl marred her cold, beautiful features, and he saw his mistake immediately. "How dare you come crawling back here!" she screamed, "You should have known better!" With a flick of her wrist, all of the guards in the room started, moving like automatons, spears and swords at the ready ...

The memory was driven from his mind when the sunlight glinted off something metal in the market and was reflected onto his closed eyes, the odd sensation breaking his concentration. Blinking his eyes quickly to restore his vision, he noted the height of the sun. 'Damn it,' he told himself, already on the moving; spinning and making his way to the back of the building. The narrow street below him was filthy, with throngs of slaves making their way about their masters business before they themselves came to the markets. His facial expression was hidden by his half-mask, but his eyes were hard and cold. With a disdainful snarl, he backed up a few steps and made the leap over the street, easily making the jump, and started straight off, using the width of the building he was on to build up his speed and jump the next intersecting lane, almost with disrespectful ease. He strode to the edge of the building and crouched, watching the few people using the road and awaiting his new-found associates arrival. 'How easy it would be to kill them all now ...' he told himself, and found himself reaching almost automatically for his crossbow, before stopping himself just short. 'Not now.'

 

[Zephyr]

Kelarith made his way through the streets that started to fill up with locals. It was easy for him as all gave him plenty of room, nobody wanted to come near him.
He had thought about the fact that he would be standing out like a clean spot on bloodied armor but figured this could work to their advantage. With all eyes focused on him the other more silent killers would be overlooked, or at least such was his hope.
Kelarith grunted disapprovingly to himself for letting such a word slip through his mind, hope was for the weak.

He positioned himself on a corner of the street they had chosen as a rendez-vous point, keeping a close eye on his surroundings. Awaiting a sign, any sign from the others.

 

[Lynks]

Iriden had been working her way through the crowds, trying to gauge where the carriage was going to stop and she had been relatively close to the mark, as she worked her way through the crowds and made it to edge of the wide birth that it had been given. Stealing a quick glance around she could not tell if the others were prepared, and while the horses and driver were unprotected, the guards looked quite tough to crack, and the distance between them could be easily closed.

"let them approach" said a weak voice from within the carriage. It would have to be now before the crowds moved in. Iriden threw into the air a small ball of paper that unraveled as it rose and fell, spraying a mixture of flour and spice. Completely harmless but of vibrant colour and provided a signal to the others that their attack was beginning.

Quickly checking the mechanisms of her crossbows one last time, she leapt in front of the slowly advancing crowd and shouted "Dearest lady! A gift from a cold heart." opening fire upon horse and carriage the moment after she finished. One horse died outright with a bolt between its eyes, the other wounded and agitated by it's peppering kicked and bucked in a panic as it struggled vainly to loose itself from it's harness. The driver, not quite dead had fallen to the ground from his perch with a bolt locking his arm. Quickly recovering from the sudden assault and nimbly avoiding the writhing of horse and elf, the guards coordinated their approach, with the closest two charging towards and the others close on their heels.

Iriden turned and ran, forcing her way through the crowds and hoping that Verikar had not deviated from the weapons stand or was on his way, attempting to holster her handbows as she went. there was little point killing more than what was needed as that would only take time and agitate the city guards further when four coach guards were more than enough for now.

 

[Chaos_Born]

Verikar saw the carriage when it drew up and began to approach. When he heard Iriden's words, he broke into a dramatic run. 'Move!' he bellowed to the milling crowd, who quickly parted in fear. He spotted Iriden with guards in tow and halted, placing his hands on the hilt of his sheathed Cathayan longsword. He took a breath and smiled in anticipation. As Iriden flashed past and the guards drew close, Verkiar took advantage of their unreadiness and threw himself at them, his blade lashing out repeatedly. They made admiral attempts to parry, but by the time verikar had hit the floor they were both staggering back with weapons slipping from their grasp. It was the work of a moment to decapitate the pair of them.

The other two guards paused and brought up their weapons to face him. 'This should be fun' thought Verikar to himself and strode towards them, blades twirling.

 

[Malochai]

Seeing Kelarith appear, Indoril glanced around quickly to make sure that the way was relatively quiet, and then slid over the edge of the building, landing easily on the road and made his way up to the Khainite.

"Damn them," he murmured as he approached, looking around for the other two. The fingers of his right hand beat a tattoo on the hilt of his dagger, coated with fast-acting poison, ready to grasp it and drive it home in an instant, and his left hand was lightly holding his repeater handbow. Approaching Kelarith, he nodded slightly. "I suggest we begin. I will not waste an opportunity because they cannot stick to an agreed time."

 

[Zephyr]

Kelarith looked at Indoril, pleased with the other Druchii's eagerness to spill blood.
"I do not doubt this task is actually beneath us and that we will do fine just on our own but we cannot risk the target escaping. I say we stick with the distraction and assassination combo only now you are the hidden blade."
He looked around for any sign of the others but gave up knowing that he had not even spotted Indoril until he had been close to him. Too close if he was honest to himself. He had to observe these Druchii he worked with more carefully, learning how they could stay out if sight so well. Khaine would not be pleased if Kelarith would die in some darkned back alley by a hidden blade. He could not simply rely on his armor.
Stealthy killers, hidden away. He never knew whether to honor those tactics(and did the Temple not teain in these ways too?)or find them somewhat distasteful.

"Or we could wait one more hour..."
Kelarith's voice trailed off and his fingers curled as if holding his weapon, clearly trying to keep himself under control.
He was a disciplined warrior but being so tantalizingly close to an actual kill even he had difficulty controlling himself now.

 

[The Archivist]

January arrived at the alleyway where they had agreed to meet. She had with her a large box, which she carried in front of her like a trashcan. She was dressed in slave clothes again, but her broom was strapped to her back by her bag.

 

[Mello]

Mythas hung off the side of his vantage point now, waiting for the signal. Sylvia had anticipated the oncoming death, a trait that had kept her alive with Mythas for so long, and had retreated to a nearby window, where she sat silent and stood vigil, shifting her claws impatiently.

Hanging off the ledge, Mythas twisted round and looked over his shoulder at the bustling market place a couple of stories below him. Even from this low height, no-body even bothered looking up a couple floors. But then again, what is there normally to see?

At last, Mythas saw a puff of brightly coloured smoke could be seen in the crowd!

Releasing his hand, Mythas launched himself off the side of the building, and twisted around to face forwards. Again, the deafening rush of wind greeted his ears, and for the first time in too long Mythas felt the split-second adrenaline of free fall.

He crashed onto the roof of the carriage, his clothes billowing around him as he landed, as the ceiling cracked under his weight. Recovering from the jarring pain in his legs as fast as possible, Mythas swung over the edge of the carriage's roof and launched through the window of the carriage drawing his epeiu as he did so. Landing heavily in what seemed a very comfy bench, but he barely had time to register this as he was aware now only of the pale, thin creature sitting opposite him.

As the first shrill tones of a thin scream began, Mythas stabbed the knee of the girl, and used that to sever the knee cap off the poor thing. As she fell to the floor Mythas grabbed her by the throat and raised her off the ground, as she barely weighed anything. Breathing heavily, Mythas stared deeply into her eyes. Fear, not just fear of death, but the sudden realization that all that she had worked for, power, wealth, status, it was all irrelevant, this person here with so much less than her was her master now, although he was vastly inferior her life was now his to control, and no amount of money can get you that leverage. The girl's lower lip trembled..

"p.please.."

Mythas slowly raised his epeiu to the girl's face. It hovered there motionless, centimeters from her delicate nose. The girl's eyes darted around, looking for something in Mythas' to find pity.

Mythas thrust the epuei forwards and stabbed the girl through the eye with a quick incision, drawing out the blade equally quickly. The girl clutched her face and slowly sank to her knees, dying over the course of a couple of seconds. Mythas watched and smiled. He knelt down and lifted up the profusely bleeding corpses' head, and stared into its lifeless eyes, now frozen in excruciating pain. He planted a little kiss on her lips through his face mask. Pretty little thing.

Mythas blinked as he left the carriage, while Sylvia landed enthusiastically and hopped in through the broken window. It had been surprisingly dark in there. The crowd had fallen completely silent and stared at him. No-one was even paying attention to poor Verikar, who was still engaging the remaining two guards. Mythas could see it in their faces. Why kill this innocent girl, what did she ever do to get this sort of money? But why these weaklings cared for innocence in this society Mythas didn't know. The crowd parted silently as Mythas ran at the nearest wall and disappeared onto the rooftops. Mythas smiled to himself, he was loving this already.

 

[Johnny-Crass]

Markus rapped his gloved fingers on the table, every hit as painful as the last 'What was taking them so long?'.

Just as this thought flashed through his head a slave ran up "I....I have a message my lord..." Without waiting for his masters aproval the slave continued "The lady is dead... They killed her.... I know not of the slaver though...." Stammering the slave trailed off.

Markus reached and took a vial from under the table and a glass, motioning the slave to sit Markus poured a warm looking liquid into the glass and offered it to the slave. "Thank you, take this for a job well done."

As the slave writhed on the ground his insides burning as the liquid ate through his stomach lining Markus looked up at the roof of the cave 'So one team can be trusted..... I wonder'

 

[The Archivist]

January tapped her feet. The day was getting on uncomfortably long, and sooner or later someone would notice that this particular slave was sweeping up and down the street. She stopped and swore. Grabbing the bin she had lugged over, she withdrew a large bag which she touched to confirm it was still cold. changing quickly into a craftswomans outfit, she began carving the outside into the crude fake of a runic containment unit, used for transporting deadly slaves and beasts in an unconcious state.

She signalled to Indoril and Kelarith to move off into position. Where on earth was Raniq with the water?

 

[Zephyr]

Kelarith suddenly saw January as she signalled to him and he unclenched his hands. He nodded his head quickly at her and Indoril and moved further down the street to where he would follow behind her and Raniq though there was no sign of him yet.

Knowing fully well it was impossible for him to blend in he boldly stepped through the crowd, already drawing most of the attention away from January so she could set up their...well whatever it was.
When they had met earlier in the morning and planned their assassination he had trouble focusing on their words. He was used to spending his time before a premeditated kill in a trance-like state. Khaine's voice blotted out most of the surrounding sound anyway but he felt that, being the good servant he was, he needed to drown out all else and focus solely on his Bloody Lord's whispers.
He would stand still as a statue next to the altar and focus on his Master's voice and the scent of sweat, incense, burned flesh and old blood would further heighten his altered state.

Kelarith had found it almost physically painful that this had been denied to him but he also understood fully well it simply could not be done in this situation. This wasn't a ritualistic Temple sacrifice. Besides, Khaine would be pleased with the kills he would make and he could always visit the local Temple afterwards.

He stared down a Druchii that let his eyes linger for just a few seconds too long and Kelarith quickly dismissed the flicker of bloodlust welling up.
"Not yet", he whispered, his breath escaping in puffs of steam in the cold air. Killing in this way was new to him but like any other method he would learn from it and improve.

 

[Raizi]

Suddenly the wall near January rippled and the illusion that Raniq's cloak had woven was shattered. Raniq took two steps to January and dropped the half-filled barrel of water she was expecting to her feet. Raniq looked to her with an apologetic face and signaled with his hands:

*RANIQ* *DEEP* *SLUMBER*

Then, he gave a shrug and took a long look around him to see where the rest of their team was scattered and focused on the mission at hand.

 

[The Archivist]

January breathed a sigh of relief.
"The others are already getting into position. I'll wait half an hour for you, then I'll start."
She continued carving.

Half an hour later she was ready to go. The box now resembled a rough and ready containment box, used for containing various dangerous creatures.
January changed quickly. She strapped on frost-bitten leather garments, scrubbed dark makeup into her face to resemble ingrained dirt. Lastly she withdrew a speartip from the barrel and fastened it on the end of her broom handle in the place of the head, which she discarded.
She tipped the water into the box. It was hard to lift, but she had carried worse before. Anyway, it was better that she only handle it.
Leaving the barrel behind, she fastened the lid and carried the box with her as she strode towards the marketplace.

Once there she scanned the crowd. She spotted Foernus, and, once she caught his eye, she signalled the intent to trade across the busy slave market.