Cold Hearts IC Thread

[Raizi]

The market was busy with people, it had looked like a good day to do business. Slaves were always a hot item and this time of year the ships had brought plenty of stock. The last two months had been Val'nith's most successful ever and he was gaining on his worst rival, Foernus Grimaldi.

He had a fresh stock of eleven human females, ready for selling. They had come off a ship that had raided the coasts of Bretonnia for over two years and the captain said they originally had over forty healthy slaves, but only these eleven had survived the storms that had wrecked the second ship near the port. Val'nith had had to pay over double his regular price for the stock, but he was certain he could easily triple even that when he had done his business. It was because of his infallible business sense, something that had made it possible for him to rocket up in the slave market.

But today his sense had been off. He had been sure this part of the market would be swarming with customers, but there had been just a few and the flow seemed to get even smaller when the day progressed. Even his nemesis, Foernus Grimaldi who housed his wares on the opposite side of the promenade had experienced it and was cursing loudly from time to time. It was music to Val'nith's ears, but it was made bitter by the fact that it was a shared predicament.

A strange looking corsair was walking along the promenade towards his stand and he walked to meet the man before he could be distracted by Foernus' wares. He was the oddest corsair Val'nith had ever seen and the cold stare in his eyes gave him the creeps.

"Looking for female slaves, sir? I have the freshest stock available and I can guarantee that this dozen can endure your pleasures much longer than any other."

Val'nith scouted the corsair's face and eyes if his words had sparked any interest, but found them void of emotion. Such strange eyes, almost fishlike, he thought. Perhaps he was one of those who weren't looking for long lasting toys in the first place. He decided to change his approach as he led the stranger towards his stand where he could showcase his wares. Next to his stand was the pen where he held the females chained together, bound and gagged as was proper. Eleven total, but he was sure the corsair wouldn't push the point about the dozen too much. It was just business.

"They're durable that's for sure. They all came through that storm that was here a couple of days ago and almost drowned with their ship. You could break them here and now if you wanted to, but given food and shelter they'd be sure to last a long time, if you get my meaning?"

He had wathed the corsair's face intently and the only glimpse of interest was triggered with the words 'almost drowned'. Val'nith was at a loss; if he would have to move the women to the warehouse for the night, he was sure half of them wouldn't wake up tomorrow and this promising day would turn to be a disaster.

"Thirty silver for the lot, just for you."

It was almost like a prayer, but they were as good as any words when you were wordless. If you wanted to sell something, you had to give the buyer a chance to buy it, no matter how slim the odds. Val'nith's jaw dropped open when the corsair just turned towards him and nodded. A small bag of silver coins was produced from underneath the Sea Dragon cloak and Val'nith opened it and counted to thirty.

Awestruck, Val'nith opened the pen and noticed that two ragged men in wet clothes had come next to the corsair and he seemed to give them some orders with hand signals. The two men grabbed both ends of the chain that held the eleven slaves and led them out of the market area. Some were weeping slightly, but most just walked silently, too beaten up to resist or protest.

The corsair was still loitering near Val'nith's stand when Val'nith counted his silvers one more time and scolded himself for blaming his insticts about this day. Never choose to fail without trying, always give your best. He told himsel and turned towards the corsair to thank him one more time and to assure him that he had made a good bargain, but the corsair was nowhere to be found.

It seemed like he had just vanished in thin air. A cold shiver went through Val'nith's spine and he counted his silvers one more time, just in case.

Thirty.

 

[Malochai]

Indoril had climbed to the roof of the building he had been on before, and made his way back to the high roof that overlooked the market square, and located Foernus, the merchant going about his what was likely his daily business. He was crouching low to the top of the slate-tiled roof, invisible to those on the ground ... Or so he hoped.

Regardless, he pulled ten crossbow bolts from his quiver, laying them out neatly before him in a compulsively perfect line, before pulling out two of his own poisons,one that induced mind-numbing, near-crippling pain and often had the side effect of violent outbursts, a black, viscous liquid like tar, and another that attacked the victims mobility, causing them paralysis for an indeterminable period, this one a vivid, electric blue, and unstoppered them. He then placed them before him on the roof and unslung his crossbow.

"Now, then, you conniving bastard, who wishes to do ... Business, with you today?" he muttered to himself, grinning lasciviously.

Indoril surveys the scene for anyone approaching the target

 

[Zephyr]

Still keeping his eyes on January Kelarith noticed Raniq appearing seemingly out of thin air near her. He grumbled a little at that, two of his teammates that he had to follow closely and one was a mistress of disguises and the other seemed to be able to disappear and appear at will. Great, just bloody great.
He decided to focus on January as he now knew what she looked like.

He carefully scanned the market now; its myriad stalls and slave pens like an ant-hive. There were many armed Druchii as expected but he noticed a few that clearly patrolled the area. Probably what would pass as guards here. The bigger questions was; which ones would come to the defense of Foernus?

Maybe it didn't matter anyway, he was to create a distraction after all and if some guards other than those of Foernus died it simply meant more sacrifices to Khaine. All he had to do was make sure that January and Raniq would be able to carry out their task without any interference.
He slowly moved closer towards their position but made sure he did not come too close. As soon as they were within four meters of Foernus Khaine's fury would be finally let out.

 

[Mello]

Foernus' Trading centre was of an eccentric design. While the trader himself presided behind a counter, many of his less dangerous beasts, and even rare humans, lay out in cages connected to the front of the store by very, very thick cast iron chains, evidently stealing those beasts would require huge strength, or many many people. As a testament to Foernus' typical bravado nature, the storefront itself frankly looked weaker than the chains attaching the cages to it. There also seemed to be a large amount of the store that was behind the counter, a good five metres squared, which was protected by a heavy thick set wooden door. Most likely that the more dangerous, and frankly illegal stuff was kept in there, otherwise most items for sale were sitting on the storefront, or behind the counter. The stock itself was a varied as it could be, all sorts of animals were on display: a skink cried shrilly as it lay on its side, some abnormally large glossy scorpions scuttled around a glass cage, and even what looked like a young treeman of sorts lay quietly accepting its fate.

Foernus had evidently become a wealthy man on the ever prosperous slave market here. Whether it was experience, arrogance, plain lack of awareness or maybe even deviousness, Foernus carried himself in the way a man who felt he owned the place, how much he did know was an interesting mystery in itself. Those who had carefully spied on him in the past knew that somewhere a lot of money was dissapearing...

There were some things, however, that were very clear he had spent his money on them. Foernus seemed to have two thin, bald assistants help with the selling of the livestock, with Foernus himself only joining the process near the end, taking the money or bartering a final price. There were five very heavily guards that stood amongst the caged livestock, walking around slowly, occasionally bending down to check on the produce. Every now and then, half an hour or so, one of the guards would dissapear into the crowd and return a minute later, reading a piece of paper before handing it to the other guards. Once the guards have read the paper, they rip it up and throw it at the closest hungry looking animal.

 

[The Archivist]

January crossed over towards Foernus, fervently hoping everyone was in position.
She carefully kept her eyes hooded, the usual for those who had been hunting in the snowy wastes.
"Foernus? I'm told that you are the trader for *ahem* unusual specimens. I have here-"
She thumped the side of the box hard. The water inside juddered back and forth, giving an impression of something violently fighting its bonds.
"A certain type of water dwelling monster. I was hoping that we could come to some... arrangement."
She patted a coin purse while stroking the top of the box lightly with her other hand.
"Preferably in private. There are certain hunters who are attempting to enforce some high prices, and I'd like to undercut them... you know how it is."

 

[Malochai]

As he watched the guards perform their rounds, one thing stood out in Indoril's mind - the note that appeared from a guard whom had vanished in the crowd minutes earlier. The elf watched them with interest, and a bemused look crossed his face when they tore it up, before being replaced with one of irritation. 'That could be interesting ... Secret orders?' he thought, but remained on the roof of the house of flesh and pain, gentle screams piercing the slate, before spying another guard leaving and attempting to disappear into the crowds thronging throughout the packed square.

Indoril watches the guard who leaves

 

[Chaos_Born]

Verikar looked at his two combatants with glee. They were wielding halberds, clearly wannabe black guard, and were spreading out so as to flank him and take him out from both sides. The large cathayan longsword he was holding would clearly be of no use here, the halberds were too long, so he thought he had better discard it.

The longsword sailed through the air at speed towards the guard on Verikar's right, thrown like an ill balanced javelin. The improvised missile wasn't exactly accurate or fast, but it forced the guard to dodge to the side, occupying him momentarily while Verikar ran towards his companion. The leftmost guard swung his halberd in a broad arc horizontally, hoping to force Verikar back while the reeling guard recovered his balance. Unfortunately, the move was anticipated and Verikar dived under the strike, rolling on his side and reaching the slow witted elf's legs. The elf's attempt to jump backwards was hampered by the momentum of his weapon, and that combined with the fact that Verikar had now severed his right achilles tendon meant that he toppled heavily to the floor.

Verikar looked up in time to see the blade of another halberd swinging down towards his head. Reflexively, he brought up the curved knife he had used to disable the now floorbound guard and braced it in front of himself with both hands. The force of the halberd's swing meant that the blunt side of his knife was pushed hard into his nose, but Verikar resisted enough to prevent it being broken. This was quickly followed up by a hard whack on the side of the head with the other end of the weapon. Thinking he had dazed his foe, the guard drew up his weapon again for a killing blow. But Verikar was made of sterner stuff. He quickly tossed a throwing knife from his chest vaguely at the guard as he rolled in the opposite direction, over the winded cripple, and clambered to his feet.

Verikar rose, he had a moment to collect himself as his remaining opponent extracted a short knife from his left arm. Casually flicking another throwing knife into the throat of the disabled elf at his feet. Verikar took a short sword from his waist and twirled it playfully. He knew that his opponent stood no chance now, and the guard knew it too. Although the crowd had backed off considerably the wounded elf made a break for them, hopping to disappear into them before Verikar could reach him. He failed. After the chore of fighting two trained men at once, Verikar enjoyed taking apart this man at his leisure. He closed the gap quickly and took out the fleeing elf's legs with a deft hit from his sword. As he hurtled towards the floor, Verikar brought his sword up through the elf's neck and then reversing his grip, plunging it through the heart. He momentarily watched the blood pump out of the corpse before turning away.

After recovering his longsword and the now badly damaged knife, he looked over at the carriage to confirm that the job had been done. Once he was satisfied, he quickly breezed out of the square and returned to his own carriage, waiting nearby. He spoke quickly to his slave as he passed, 'We return to the pier. I'm done here.' Stepping up into the back he proceeded to swap scabbards around, wanting to give others ago before he had to fight again

 

[Mello]

Foernus silently gazed at the newcomer, his expert eyes tracking over his new potential seller, and applied his years of knowledge. The woman stood straight enough to give the impression of courage, but was still stooped enough to maintain some form of anonymity, so maybe whatever cargo she did have was costing her her life. This should indeed fetch a good price. He pursed his lips, thinking, and grunted.

"Very well, come in." he said, his voice grating like bones over gravel; turning and opening the door to the interior of his shop, where a tidal wave of snarling, barking and growling began pouring out from.

"Vythia, take the store front!" he snarled over his shoulder as he closed the door behind his client, Foernus fingered the dagger up his sleeve, despite years of doing this, he never liked this private deals.

"Show me then"

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

Faetheran walked off into the crowd, glad to be the one off duty for the next five minutes, some of the things Foerus sold really chilled him, especially the banshees and such that he kept round the back, they really were too dangerous to be left there, and could probably leave the cages if they wanted to..

Either way, he could be rid of the place for the time being while he picked up the assassin's message. Neither he nor his fellow guards had ever seen this person, but every half hour a status update on arrivals of potential clients, purchases, and even threats that they should look out for appeared in letter form inside the same vase, just as they were told it would. The amount of detail given made Faetheran guess that this person was on the roof somewhere, watching from above, like some grotesque guardian angel. It made him feel safer.

Arriving at the pickup point, he reached in and retrieved the letter, turning around and opening it. What he read surprised and chilled him.

Somebody is on the roof watching you. I'm moving to take him out.

Faetheran ran his hands through his hair, well wasn't today exciting.

 

[Zephyr]

Kelarith snapped immediately into action as he saw the door close behind January. Hoping Indoril would watch from his higher vantage point he went straight for the guards he had seen do something with a note earlier. The exchange of notes between the guards worried him but as they were ripped up and fed to the beasts there was little he could do about whatever messages they contained.
He offered up a prayer to Khaine and hoped that he would cause more than enough chaos to let the others do what they had to.

Pushing other Druchii out of the way he charged straight at the guards whom he had seen reading the last note, drawing his Draich whilst he walked. He extended his left hand and pointed his finger accusingly at one of the guards.
"Nobody delivers such low quality to the servants of Khaine! Your so-called slaves didn't even last the few minutes it took to prepare the ritual. I am here to claim that which you have denied us...".

Without waiting for any response Kelarith side-stepped, hefted his Draich and cleanly lopped off the head of one the guards who was just reaching for his weapon. He made a full circle, moving with the force he had put put behind the first blow. This time he met resistance and steel clashed upon steel.
The guard looked at him with hate-filled eyes and it was clear to him that these elves weren't some cheaply hired low-life scum. These were professional fighters and clearly not even scared of an Executioner. Impressive.
All around him Druchii started to move; some fleeing, others coming to the defense of the guard he was locked into combat with.
This was going to be interesting after all, he thought to himself.

 

[Raizi]

Vythia was sure something about the merchant-woman was off the moment he saw her coming to Foernus' shop. She seemed too sure of herself for her own good and yet acted somewhat sheepishly at the same time. And he was sure she had never traded with Foernus before, and that was always suspicious. He wasn't sure if he was looking at a master actor or the real deal.

He had seen his share of poachers and peddlers, cheaters and thieves when working with Foernus, but he was sure none of them had had this aura around them. It left a taste of blood and iron in his mouth and Vythia had been a bodyguard for too long to ignore his gut feelings. He had also been a bodyguard for long enough to understand what knowing your place and following orders meant, so he stayed put at the front of the store while Foernus led the woman to the backroom.

Just when the door had closed, Vythia saw how an Executioner started a ruckus with his fellow bodyguards and seeing how his huge blade separated Faetheran's head from his shoulders he instantly knew what was going on. The timing was too perfect for this to be a coincidence. This could all be over before Faetheran's head hit the dust if he didn't act quickly.

Vythia unsheathed his own curved sword and vaulted over the counter and hammered his fist on the door.

"Vythia here! Foernus, open up quickly, we're being attacked. Don't speak to the woman! Open up Foernus, we need to leave immediately!"

Two seconds later he heard the door lock open and Foernus' opened the door. The baying of the hounds and other beasts was overwhelming and with a quick glance Vythia could see that the woman had put the box she was carrying on the table and was standing next to it. Vythia leaped inside, past Foernus to stand between him and the woman. He kept his eyes fixed on the woman while he spoke:

"I feel your life is being threatened Foernus, we should leave now. I'm sorry my lady, but your business here is done. Let's go, now."

Vythia turned around to push Foernus away from the backroom in front of him while covering him from the most imminent threat, that being the woman and her strange box. When he turned, he saw something that froze him. A hand crossbow was floating midair, held by a pale hand that was dripping water. Then the hand crossbow fired three bolts. Two hit Foernus, one in each eye and the third pierced Vythia's throat.

When he fell on his knees, blood pouring from the wound, he could see that a corsair with a sea-demon helm was holding the hand crossbow and his cloak was still swirling with colors. The corsair walked swiftly into the backroom, grabbing Foernus' body before it collapsed on the floor and then went to meet the woman next to the table. Vythia's sword fell from his limp fingers and when the corsair turned to meet his dying gaze, he was sure that the tentacles on his helmet were moving, gently caressing the corsair's cheeks.

 

[The Archivist]

"Thank you Raniq. Perfect timing."
January bowed.
"Now to ice the cake as it were."
She quickly and efficiently stripped Foernus of his clothes, until he was stark naked. Then she opened the barrel and removed the bag of liquid cold from the bottom. She bent Foernus into a foetal position, than rammed him in the box. The water level had reached the top, and so she took the bag of liquid cold and emptied it into the box. The water froze almost instantly.
She placed a note on top which read

"His assets were frozen by The Cold Hearts"

before closing the lid.
Taking Foernus's clothes, she dressed herself, carefully matching his figure and stance and rubbing the make up from her face before replacing it with a fresh version. It didn't have to be any good, just good enough.
She beckoned to Raniq.
"Don't forget to accompany me meekly, and vanish at the first sign of trouble."

January opened the door. The fighting still raged on between Kelarith and the guards. She took off hurriedly, acting like Foernus had and beckoning the 'demon' to follow her as she left the market. A couple of guards looked towards her, but she pointed angrily towards Kelarith and they turned back to the fight.
She turned a corner and broke into a run, her part complete.

 

[Raizi]

Raniq nodded to January and fired the last bolt from his repeater bow through a giant crab's head. The beast fell limply on the floor of the cage.

While January was busy freezing Foernus, Raniq cut off one of the giant pincers, removed some innards from it with his sword and put his hand inside it. When January left the note on the box, Raniq produced a small copper coin that had symbol descibing a kraken eating another kraken printed on it and tossed it on the note before January closed the lid. He also put a similiar coin on the forehead of the guard that he shot on the doorway.

*OFFERING* *DEEP* *GODS*

His free hand signaled to puzzled January. Raniq also made some more signs over the corpses that were not described in the small tablets he gave everyone earlier.

Then, while wearing his makeshift claw, Raniq followed January out of the shop and when January made her break for it, Raniq took a step away from the street and allowed his cloak to mask him from sight again.

 

[Mello]

Mythas smiled gently as Sylvia came back empty handed, a bit cross. Obviously the other odd things that this slave dealer owned had scared her off. She had eaten plenty today off Mythas' victim so Mythas held no sympathies today.

Turning away he stood up and warmed up a little, shaking himself down in the harsh cold, preparing himself for the return journey. Mythas glanced over at Indoril, who he had noticed earlier, and frowned, something was- there! A shadow flitted in between two chimney's. Somebody was after them!

Mythas started sprinting, he couldn't attract Indoril's attention in case he himself was discovered. Mythas neared a gap between two sides of a street, and launched himself as hard as he could. He could already see that he wasn't even going to make the edge of the roof, and slammed loudly into a window frame, where he scrabbled for purchase. Eventually finding grip with one hand, he started hauling himself up the side of the building.

Someone's not going to be happy if all of us don't return. They'll suspect me instantly..

 

[The Archivist]

January spent a little time in town, switching disguises and moving around. Soon she was back at a bar, where she drank a couple of pints as a gnarled old woman. Then she doubled back to the street an hour after the assassination, picked up the water barrel and her broomhead.

When she finally arrived back at the pier, she was dresseed as a carpenter. She made sure that the coast was clear before climbing down the hole.

 

[Malochai]

Indoril was crouched atop the building when Kelarith started the bloodshed, crossbow primed. His finger hovered over the trigger as he watched, determined he would have a kill on this mission, but most of the guards were too close to Kelarith for a clean shot, something the assassin always aimed for. Then, two people erupted from Foernus' shop, directing guards towards the servant of Khaine and hurriedly striding away. 'Looks like the shopkeep is dead,' he told himself with a sly grin, as he aimed ahead of one of the guards, the trigger beneath his finger giving some resistance before giving way and sending a bolt whistling across the square, thudding deeply into the guard's left arm. Knowing that the entire area would be in uproar, he decided to withdraw. 'If the Executioner cannot handle a few guards, he deserves to meet Khaine and explain his failings in person,' he reasoned, placing the other poisoned bolt into the recess on the crossbow and securing it, before slinging the weapon over his back and making his way towards the back of the building.

The wind changed direction slightly, and some of the clouds above moved to reveal weak sunlight, and suddenly the entire situation felt wrong, as if he were being watched. He thought back to the guard who'd taken the last piece of paper, how he'd looked around with interest, as no-one did unless they knew something ... 'Someone knows.' His knife, already coated with poison - one fast acting, the other slower, but excruciatingly painful - sprung into his hands and he looked about, moving stealthily across the roof, suddenly uninterested in escape.

 

[Mello]

The assassin looked down with grim pleasure as his 'companion' stood up, suddenly alarmed. He dropped off the chimney he was standing on, screaming in hatred. As he landed on his victim he viciously stabbed repeatedly with his beloved short sword, but his opponent was quick, dodging out of the way before he could land a fatal blow. The assassin snarled and turned towards his opponent, slipping slightly on the loose roof tiles.

 

[Malochai]

Indoril dodged his assailants attack at the last second, leaping out of the way and scrambling back a few feet, out of arms reach. He spun around, cloak billowing, and held his knives at the ready. He observed the attackers snarl, watching his movements, and when he leapt at Indoril, the marksman took a step to the side, thrusting the knife with long-lasting poison towards his opponent.

Seeing the movement, the other assassin twisted out of the way, before spinning on a foot and bringing his knife towards Indoril's back, which he only avoided by dropping onto his front. Rolling over, he crossed his blades to block the back-slash thrust of his opponent, which otherwise would have torn a ragged hole in his chest. Snarling, he lashed out with his feet, pushing the assassin backwards, where he stumbled on a loose tile, crashing to the surface like a rag doll, and a crack resounded over the pain house, causing even Indoril to wince.

Standing awkwardly, he strode over to the fallen foe, kicking his blade away, before sheathing one of his own knives and kneeling beside him.

"Now, I will ask you two questions - believe me, if you don't answer, you will experience pain the like of which you haven't even dreamed of. One; who are you? Two; why did you try to kill me?"

 

[Mello]

The assassin looked up at his soon to be killer. Well was this what the end is like. Funny, he thought he would make it through to old age, thought he had the edge. He had his whole life planned aheed of him, and now this.. He opened his mouth slowly.

"My name doesn't matter, and I am employed by a slave trader here to keep the rooftops clear of any marksmen like you. But I..." his voice cracked.

"I.. guess I failed" he sighed.

A smile twitched across his lips, and a tear ran slowly down his cheek. He closed his eyes and waited for what he knew was coming, wishing he was home right now, just anywhere but here..

 

[Johnny-Crass]

The sleek longship sat in Markus's cold black private bay, its colors painted that of the Phoenix Court of Ultuan. His scouts had told him now was not the time, but he should begin forming a team. And as the first of his assassins dropped in the cave he knew he had made the right choice.

 

[The Archivist]

"Markus, kill confirmed. Dead..."
January pulled out a cotter pin and snapped it in two.
"As a doornail."

"And that," she went on, "Is one lump of a ship. Looks too fancy. How many high guys did you have to kill to get that piece of flotsam?"

 

[Lynks]

After Iriden had slipped through the first rows of crowd and Verikar had struck, drawing the guards off Iriden faced no opposition. Most of the crowds thought she was fleeing the danger, not the scene of the crime. She even saw a few others fleeing too. Perhaps they felt that they too were in danger of death. Iriden left them be. There was no gains to be had killing any of them at this time, that would only draw more attention to her. Along the way back Iriden purchased several magazines of pre-loaded bolts to replenish her supply. She would have to gather a decent amount of contacts if she was to continue as even a simple store clerk would catch on if she bought all from the same supplier. Perhaps she could pretend to be an imitator of herself once her image became known...
The store owner quizzed her about the commotion they had heard in the distance and she simply played dumb.

Weaving her way through twisted and cluttered streets down into the secret paths Markus had somehow procured, Iriden slinked back to what passed as their base hoping that she would not be required here permanently, or at least there were parts that were a little more hospitable. She did not escape the seas to hide in a sewer...

 

[Malochai]

"My name doesn't matter, and I am employed by a slave trader here to keep the rooftops clear of any marksmen like you. But I.. guess I failed" Indoril grinned evilly behind his half-mask, and his eyes shone with a savage glee. Carefully, he backed away from the damned killer's field of vision, before drawing an clean bolt from it's quiver and checking the point, pricking his thumb to ensure it was razor sharp.

Silently, he then moved forward again, ripping his would-be killers shirt away, and then clamped his hand over the stricken mans mouth as he carved into his chest, stifling his screams.

The message read, 'I tried to kill The Marksman. This is what I deserved.' Indoril stepped back to admire his handiwork, before drawing his knife again, which glimmered in the weak light, a greasy liquid, the poison of excruciating and slow death, and underlined the message. Nodding once more, he left the elf alive, and as he fled over the rooftops, he heard the first screams, piercing the air shrilly. 'If only he knew what was to come ...' the marksman thought.

-----------------------------------------------------------​

Mid-afternoon, and he was at the docks again, mingling into the thronging crowds. He was amazed how easily he could move about, and then slip down into the tunnel even at the height of day, surrounded by people. 'The fools ...'

He emerged into the cave that Markus inhabited, and looked at him, eyes steely cold. "There was a witness. He's currently in great pain. He won't ... No, he can'y talk, and will die in the next few days. My gift to his employer."

 

[Malochai]

"My name doesn't matter, and I am employed by a slave trader here to keep the rooftops clear of any marksmen like you. But I.. guess I failed" Indoril grinned evilly behind his half-mask, and his eyes shone with a savage glee. Carefully, he backed away from the damned killer's field of vision, before drawing an clean bolt from it's quiver and checking the point, pricking his thumb to ensure it was razor sharp.

Silently, he then moved forward again, ripping his would-be killers shirt away, and then clamped his hand over the stricken mans mouth as he carved into his chest, stifling his screams.

The message read, 'I tried to kill The Marksman. This is what I deserved.' Indoril stepped back to admire his handiwork, before drawing his knife again, which glimmered in the weak light, a greasy liquid, the poison of excruciating and slow death, and underlined the message. Nodding once more, he left the elf alive, and as he fled over the rooftops, he heard the first screams, piercing the air shrilly. 'If only he knew what was to come ...' the marksman thought.

-----------------------------------------------------------​

Mid-afternoon, and he was at the docks again, mingling into the thronging crowds. He was amazed how easily he could move about, and then slip down into the tunnel even at the height of day, surrounded by people. 'The fools ...'

He emerged into the cave that Markus inhabited, and looked at him, eyes steely cold. "There was a witness. He's currently in great pain. He won't ... No, he can'y talk, and will die in the next few days. My gift to his employer."

 

[Mello]

Sylvia's loud enthusiastic caw reverberated as Mythas entered the room, footsteps echoing softly. Evidently Sylvia had smelt Markus' face again.

"All done." he spoke softly, displaying the still bloodied epieu. Red light glittered off the ceiling of the cave.

He eyed the vessel now stationed inside the cave. He didn't like this..

 

[The Archivist]

"Hey man, good job with the roof clearance. Glad I didn't recieve a bolt from the blue when I ran for my life."
January flicked a nail fragment into the air, drop kicking it into the water.
"So, what do we do now? Apart from get paid?"