Cold Hearts IC Thread

[Lynks]

After leaning against the wall and watching in on the scene before her, Iriden walked over to her chest while others were busy bickering over contracts and conduct. flicking the lid she looked down and saw a wealth of currency. Scoffing at the display, she drew close to Markus.

Iriden spoke softly so that only he could hear, "I'll make your accident but from here on I want to be paid solely in gold or gems..." picking up the packet she left before there could be any discussion on the matter. Reading the contents of the packet as she weaved her way to the surface, she tried to formulate a plan in her head. With no particular skill in stealth, making someone die and make it seem like anything other than murder would be a strain on her skills, but the opportunity to work by herself gave her the much needed freedom to conduct some 'extra curricular' research in addition to her contract. Plus, it'd help to prove that she was a force to be reckoned with.

 

[Malochai]

Indoril was looking over the manor complex, taking in the numerous details before him. The judge’s house was massive, set back in grounds and surrounded by walls two stories high which cast shadows over slave shacks, little more than large, filthy sheds, and shimmered with an unnatural light, skeins of Aethryic energy wending their way gracefully over the stone barriers. The marksman noted only one large gatehouse, with what looked to be smaller gates, maybe sally ports, by the gardens, although why a judge would need sally ports at such a home bemused him.

He then scanned the manor itself, the three-story high building overpowering surrounding area. There were numerous balconies, all on the top floor, all with deadly looking spoked protrusions sprouting from them, and he was sure there were rooms underneath the house itself; he himself had lived in a complex much like this and the guards never slept in the main manor - to a noble-elf, the thought was disturbing. Lights pulsed inside the building, shining through dark windows.

Next, Indoril started making note of all the various guards he could see. Dozens of warriors lined the walls, fully armoured with the judge’s emblem emblazoned on their shields, with viciously barbed spears in their hands and cruel swords sheathed at their waists. On the roof, even more soldiers were positioned, armed with repeater crossbows, and moving ceaselessly on prescribed routes. The shrieks of unnatural creatures far above made his heighten his gaze, and what he saw froze his already ice-cold heart, before he steeled himself and concentrated. On the thermals above the city, twenty harpies soared, screaming and cackling in their cruel, evil way, circling above the vast house.

There was one obstacle, which shocked even Indoril - two groups of five nauglir circled the building, each ridden by a warrior in full druchii plate; shields depicting their own emblems and the same emblems flying from pennants on their lances. They rode easily, but their casual positions belied their awareness.

The marksman cursed; this one was going to be more than difficult. Still lying on his stomach to keep his presence hidden, he crawled forward before clambering down the side of the building he was on. With a sigh, he pulled his hood down over his eyes and pulled his cloak around to cover his quiver. He moved with practiced grace across the empty, dark street. ‘Let’s get this done.’

 

[Mello]

As night fell, the roof tiles clacked softly as Mythas tried to stay as quiet and low as possible on the roofs. There were certain places one never goes in this city, and he grudgingly admitted that this was one of them. As he drew the castle with awe, Sylvia cawed subduedly, and hopped off his shoulder, retreating slightly. Mythas glanced at her quizzicly, and then followed her gaze to the harpies, climbing high up, which is undoubtedly where the woman would be, is not an option for him then, but nethertheless he scanned the main tower itself, looking for any climbable route up the outside of the tower. Maybe not to the top, but at least partially some way up..

Mythas started searching the edges of the compound, looking for a rooftop close enough to the wall so that he could jump off to get inside. He may not reach the target, but maybe he could quietly reduce these repeater crossbowmen's numbers...

 

[Lynks]

The ship was very easy to distinguish from the others, its hull was jet black, and silky, giving it the impression of an almost metallic sheen. As the ship rose up and down in the gentle waves, it glistened menacingly. On board the ship's crew seemed pretty nonchalant at the moment, moping here and there, some scrubbing the deck, some leaning over the edge of the ship boredly. There did seem to be a bit of work being done though, in the form of heavy crates loaded on and off the ship, and some activity up near the crow's nest, and argument of some sort between two crew.

With her own sailing garb utterly destroyed on her way to the city, Iriden had contemplated purchasing another to stand out less at the docks. In the end she decided it was worth it, however the clothes were new, still slightly stiff and poorly fitted. While the ruse might work at a glance, on closer inspection one could tell that these hadn't been worn in and most would think her a rookie sailor despite her knowledge from personal experience. If someone were to question her she would have to hope that the ship was hiring new crew. Most vessels changed ranks when they docked, but not always.

Iriden tried to blend in with anywhere that there was a crowd on the street, sailors playing dice, crowds watching a brawl before the watch came or even those just hanging around a port-side tavern. The purpose was to get as good a view of the ship's layout and it's crew as possible. If she was to achieve this contract without her own fatality, there would need to be a lot of planning involved.

 

[The Archivist]

January switched her garb in the shadow of a barrel. She emerged stooped, long hair draped in front of her face, dressed in rags. She prints a temporary ink dock ownership stamp on her hand, grabs a bucket and her broom, and drops flint and tinder in her boots wrapped in oilskins and paper.
She walks towards the ship. She scrubs the inside of a dinghy before moving silently onto the main ship, mopping everything with the usual, broken obsession that many slaves possess.
January attempts to make her way towards the entrance to the slave quarters.

 

[Mello]

The guards to the entrance of the ship were too busy trying to look tough to notice January's entrance. The transition.. was not a subtle one.

The first thing to hit you was the smell, like a wall of rotten, diseased, flesh slamming into you. Then the lack of light hit you, the entire place was a dull crimson, blood flowed freely here amongst the tears and sweat that created puddles on the floor. In front of her lay row upon row of slaves, chained together by handcuffs and by the ankles. Every now and again, a corsair entered from behind and to the right of the entrance and took a line of slaves, who's screams became muffled and then faded into silence. Looking back, she saw a crate rise out of the hold. At the other end of the room was a staircase leading down.

 

[The Archivist]

January grinned evilly. She settled down in a dark corner, put on some broken manacles and waited.

 

[Malochai]

On the road, Indoril walked about, looking for a section of wall that was less well patrolled than the rest, if one existed. Upon finding that it wasn't going to be so easy, he decided to make his own opening. Leaning down and picking up a rock, he moved into the shadows on the other side of the wide street, and took aim, throwing it well to the left, at one of the guards.

It connected with a solid clang as it bounced off of the helmet of a guard. In the confusion that ensued, with guards shouting orders and gathering around the attacked guard. With ease, Indoril scaled the wall, only to be confronted with a sour-faced elf. Luckily, he managed to punch him in the throat, cutting off the imminent call to arms, before pushing him over the other side into the grounds and drew his knife as he fell, slitting the unfortunate elf's throat. 'With a less skilled opponent, he might have survived ...' Indoril thought with a self-indulging smile, before he remembered that, if he didn't move quickly, it would be for naught - the nauglir would pick up the guards' scent without any difficulty, and then the alarm would be raised.

Glancing from side to side and ensuring the way was clear, he ran across the open space between the wall and the manor proper and concealed himself in the shrubbery, before calculating the best way to scale the ornate building, which had various outcroppings and handholds all the way to the roof. However, he didn't plan on going quite so far - he didn't fancy his chances against the harpies, which had started circling and dipping. With a determined look on his face, he took his knife shaft between his teeth, the acrid smell of the poison coating the blade and the blood it was interspersed with filling his nose due to the proximity, and then started to climb, hand over hand, foot over foot, stopping every few seconds to listen for signs of his discovery and decide on his next few steps.

 

[Mello]

Mythas grinned as he eventually found a rooftop close enough to the wall to jump across. Taking a few deep breaths, Mythas sprinted forwards and whistled through the air, landing on the outside of the wall. Using his feet as buffers, Mythas ended up hanging on the outside of the wall, out of sight of any guards, thankfully the wall was high enough to illicit any strange looks from below. He began shimmying along the outside towards the main section of the complex.

Suddenly Mythas heard footsteps and he stopped, trying to slow his breathing. The footsteps halted too, and after a brief pause became louder. Mythas cursed under his breath and prepared.. When the footsteps became unbearable, Mythas sprang up on top of the wall, drawing his epieu to find a guard staring at him. The guard simultaneously started opening his mouth and aiming his crossbow, but sadly neither managed to be completed as the epieu's blade went through the guards stomach. Mythas grunted and lifted the guard off the ground with his epieu, causing the guard to groan a little as he slid down the blade a little more, and deposited the body over the side of the wall. Quickly checking around him he stepped off the wall and landed softly, a soft plume of smoke rising as he impacted the ground.

He sighted a small window about two stories up the main building, and proceeded to sprint up the side of the wall, and with a final hop just grabbed on to the edge of it. He pulled himself in.

 

[Johnny-Crass]

Markus paced in the cave waiting, how he hated waiting. The pointless tick of time passing with nothing but slaves to keep him company. He needed out, he needed to do something so he began packing his overcoat with all manner of vials and his fire starting kit.

With his bag packed Markus grabbed his heavy wooden cane from under his chair and checking to make sure the blade inside it was still sharp he began limping towards the docks.

 

[Malochai]

With ease, Indoril mounted the banister of a balcony on the top floor, and just before he’d entered, he noticed Mythas on the wall and growled, eyes narrowing to slits. Smoothly, he drew the repeated handbow he was carrying and shot a couple of bolts at his peer. Not checking to see whether or not they struck, Indoril slid through the unlocked double door and took stock of where he was, taking in the plush, plum-coloured upholstery of the more elegant pieces of furniture, as well as the hooks and manacles that hung from the ceiling, before he heard the howling growl of one of the nauglir outside. ‘Damn it; must have found the body,’ he thought, and launched into action.

Handbow still raised, clutched in his right hand and knife held in a guard position across his chest in his left, he nudged open one of the doors carefully and came out into a long corridor, which must have stretched the entire length of the house. Creeping at a reasonable pace, the marksman realised how uncomfortable he was inside, so close to his targets. ‘What have I allowed myself to get into to ... ?’ he thought aggressively, shaking his head. His thoughts cleared when he heard the slap of an armoured foot on the floor, and he reacted quickly as he saw the shaft of a spear appear from around a corner further down the corridor. Spinning easily, he ensconced himself in the deep entryway of a large door, cloak floating out of sight just as the guard rounded the corner.

Tensing, he listened to the footsteps approach, a cold shiver running down his spine; the thrill of bloodshed was starting to get to him. ‘Closer ... Closer ... Closer ...’ He was listening so intently that he didn’t hear the guard behind him until a voice rang out - “You! Halt!” and the sound of a sword being drawn from it’s sheath. He instinctively flinched and turned, a dark look on his face. Flicking his wrist around, the marksman let a bolt fly, which embedded itself in the chest of his foe, and then he felt the spear of the guard he had originally been waiting for collide with his back, and he was thrown off balance, falling forwards. He managed to tuck it into a roll, and came up to his knees and spinning, throwing the knife with unerring accuracy into the guards neck, and for a second watched the blood spurt, a crimson fountain, as the body fell to the ground and the knife clanged against the floor solidly, jarring him back to life with its ringing.

Scowling once more, he turned on his heel and wound his way deeper into the house, dodging more successfully into alcoves as guards and servants approached, and trying to judge the correct time to snatch one of the servants.

 

[Johnny-Crass]

Markus arived at the dock next to the targets dock and began his work. He strode the length of the dock leaving a thin trail of blackish powder in his wake. He boarded a vessel dumping a vial of clear liquid on the deck then turned back around and trailed the powder all the way back down the dock in two thin black lines.

Moving swiftly he struck a spark on both lines and the flames happily at up to powder as they raced down the dock. Doubling his pace Markus sped up the target dock towards the vessel. As he was halted by the two corsair guards the ship the next dock over exploded into a massive plume of fire and burnt ship.

In the confusion that followed Markus freed his long blade from his cane and swiftly relieved one of the guards of his head. The second spun on his heel and pulled out a shorter curved blade and hopped out of Markus's range. Taking up a fencers stance Markus smiled under his mask, his distraction had begun.

 

[Mello]

Mythas hissed as arrows flew past him from above, nearly losing his hand hold, dangling by one hand as he tried to stay as close to the wall as possible. That damned posh-boy was really inclined to get this target it seems. His eyes narrowed in sadistic glee. Better to reach her first then.

He pulled himself in to a less well decorated room. A store room by the looks of the crisply built crates and rows of barrels, so why had the window been left open? Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement and he span, epieu in hand instantly. A young servant girl, must have been around 17 stood rigid still, scared beyond her wits. A letter was in her hand, and a small writing table was set up in the corner, away from sight. Mythas frowned and glanced at the windowsill. Bird droppings. Mythas smiled softly and approached the girl, a love affair obviously. Mythas rested a hand on the girl's shoulder and she relaxed a little, a flicker of a smile on her lips. Then her smile flickered and a faint tearing sound was heard. She looked down and then looked up at Mythas, eyes wide open. A large portion of her mid-riff had gone. As the collapsed to the floor bleeding messily, Mythas took the letter and dipped it in her blood, leaving it for her messenger to pick it up.

Mythas approached the door leaving the place and peered through the key hole. It seemed to be clear so he continued.

Emerging in a cold stone corridor, it seemed he had turned out in the lesser guards' quarters, as it was habitable but not too fancy. Breaking into a soft job, Mythas hugged the wall, taking every staircase upwards that he could. Indoril had the height advantage now..

 

[Zephyr]

Kelarith strolled through the crowds on the docks unopposed. His new black cloak dancing in the wind, the runes of murder glimmering like the souls of the damned. One thing bothered him above else; the obvious lack of harpies in the sky. He knew there had to be at least some. It was not like he had left civilization altogether and there had been stories of harpies on the streets he had picked up, but still...there were none to be seen. An ill omen or were they simply lying in wait?

Kelarith made his way further up the docks, onwards to the ship where a captain thought himself above death. The decided upon plan had been much to his liking. Khaine would welcome another soul tonight.

 

[Mello]

As Kelarith paces forwards he sees the ongoing fight between Markus and a couple of guards next to the target's ship, a dozen or so are streaming out of the ship and forming a circle around Markus, lowering their wickedly sharp spears and keeping their distance. Soon he would be surrounded.

Below decks guards can be heard rushing to the deck, a guard bursts out of a door from the side of the slave chamber and sprints upstairs, foolishly leaving the door open.

 

[Johnny-Crass]

Markus let a cold humorless laugh escape what was left of his lips. The next bit of his trick always stung his skin. "My dear pirates! It seems you have cornered me, but alas it only seems that way. Let us see who can swim faster."

With that Markus tossed a smoke bomb at his feet and shut his eyes. With a loud bang grey smoke billowed around him and whipping out a vial of Lustrian acid he poured it beneath his feet. The acid hungrily ate the wood until there was a decent size hole in the planks. Markus dropped into the hole, screaming silently as the salty water made contact with his skin.

 

[Zephyr]

Kelarith frowns as he watches the fight between Markus and the guards for a while. "He's playing with them", he whispers.
He suddenly notices the door the guards have left open and all of them were still staring confusedly at the smoke screen Markus left behind.

Kelarith quickly sprinted towards the door, trying to be as quiet as he could with his fully armored body. It didn't seem like the guards paid him, or anything else for that matter, much attention anyway. They were still cursing and prodding their weapons into the thick smoke as if ot was some beast they could slay. Good.

He made his way through the door and deeper into the bowels of the ship, certainly the captain's quarters would be the biggest one. Now he would just have to find them and dispatch any guards still patrolling inside.

 

[Lynks]

After watching and planning her strike for so long Iriden stared in awe as Markus literally blew any sense of secrecy out of the water. It seemed impossible to make her assasination seem like an accident anymore but perhaps she could still kill her target without it seeming like they were the intentionally assaulted. Were she to cause enough damage and perhaps loot the ship's stores Iriden could make it seem like her target was merely caught in the crossfire of some raid on the ship.

She turned to the group she was playing dice with and shouted, "look lads! the vessel's under attack! Let's take them by surprise and pillage it for all their worth whilst the other ship burns!" lightly lacing her voice with her simple magic to make her words seem slightly more appealing. She threw the dice and snatched up her previous winnings before standing up and running head-first towards the ship, uncoiling her barbed chain-whip as she sprinted. As she drew back the whip and prepared to strike at the closest of the boat crew she turned around to see whether any of the elves from the dock had succumbed to her combination of greed and magic. It would make her job far easier, not to mention safer if they helped to turn the battle on the ship into a swirling melee.

 

[The Archivist]

January was irritated. There was a lot of commotion above and no knocking below. She sighed, and settled down to the task. A couple of slaves whimpered as she began setting fire to the ship just below the waterline.
It took a couple of trys, but eventually the fire caught. The screams of the slaves that noticed weren't louder than usual, and she slipped into a crewwoman's garb in the smoke. She sat, a damp cloth over her face, waiting for either a knock on the side of the boat or a commotion from above.

 

[Mello]

The gambling crew hesitated a little, then as one mass yelled out in enthusiasm and sprinted forwards. However, a little bit more interest than planned had been acquired and a crowd of fifty or so druchii slammed into the on going combat and onto the ship. Chaos reigned as bodies were thrown off the ship, and elf fought elf over any small possession. The ship's captain emerged with an elite group of guards, and began viciously cutting down anyone he saw. The first mate was barking orders from half way up a sail, to gain a better vantage point.

The blood and dead bodies in the water had a secondary effect however, the predators of the sea had been attracted to the ship. Fins and tentacles were visible from the surface.

 

[Lynks]

With a reaction far larger than she anticipated, Iriden was left with an utterly unruly force. This put her in an awkward position, especially when she had no true position of command. for that purpose she had to prevent the enemy form becoming organised itself. Her whip wrapped around someone's neck and she tugged fiercely as she ran across the deck to the sea facing side. As her whip unwound from the now corpse falling into the water she quickly flicked it and rolled it into it's coil, attaching it again to her belt.

"The captain and his pretty ponces are here to ruin our fun, HAVE AT THEM!" She screamed out, drawing her crossbows as She did. Iriden opened fire upon the first mate, peppering the sails with holes, hoping she would score enough of a hit to at least make the first mate fall and throw the ship's crew into disarray. Seizing upon her years of boating experience she kicked and de-stabilised any who came near her, furthering the feeding frenzy as she knocked more elves off into the waters below while reloading her crossbows.

After locking the arms of the hand-bows into place she forced her way to the open cage and peered down into the hold amidst the chaos on deck, spying for anything that could be helpful, in particular she spied for any of the precious dragons-fire globes designed for setting fire to enemy vessels.

 

[Johnny-Crass]

The salty water burned Markus's lidless eyes and as it turned red he rose to the surface. Swiftly swimming to the anchor line he began to shimmy up it, the sounds of battle growing as he moved up the ship.

Pulling himself on deck Markus began hacking down any elf standing in his way, moving towards the captain and his guard. As his thin blade hummed through the air a seamless parry jarred his arm; the elf that stood before him swung back forcing Markus too sumersault away.

 

[Mello]

As Iriden looked for fire charges below deck, it seemed she didn't have to. Wisps of smoke started seething through the floor boards, and soon the ship started vibrating lowly. Explosions could soon be heard, rumbling deep under the ship. The maelstrom on the surface of the ship still continued, as yet more people piled onto the ship. The captain and his entourage had started to work their way towards the long plank of wood that served as the connection between the ship and the shore, obviously trying to prevent any more people from entering. Suddenly there was a much louder explosion and the ship listed sharply. As dozens of people started slipping over blood and falling into the water screaming, including the first mate as the sail he was hanging onto tore with a wet ripping sound, it became apparent that whatever the fire was doing down below, it wasn't good. The anchor was undergoing increasing strain also, cracks were showing in the wood that connected it to the ship.

There was another almighty crash and the ship tilted sharper than ever, almost at a 45' angle. everyone was hanging onto handrails and sails now, but now flames were appearing on the deck, and the captain of the watch was yet to be found..

 

[The Archivist]

January smiled as the ship began to capsize. She took her broom and rammed the burning wood three times until it breached. She turned and ran up the now very tilted stairs, hoping to see Kelarith completeing his job.

 

[Lynks]

It seemed that her cause was lost, it was clear that this vessel would not last under the heavy strains any longer and with no sight of her target Iriden had to bail and hope he was killed in the mess that had been caused. scrambling along the tilted vessel using anything and everything for purchase, Iriden made her way back towards to dock edge, fending off assailants who thought there was still value in protecting their ship or stealing from the people aboard it.

As she left off the ship she turned and saw January climbing the stairs out of the hold. She would have been cleverly disguised were it not for the broomstick which so obviously gave her away. Landing amidst a crowd of two types of people, those eager to get away and those still eager to get involved, Iriden piced herself up and drew one of her hand crossbows with her left hand. With her right she reached for the blade-tip of her whip and dragged her finger across the flat of the blade. Raising the now blood soaked finger to her face, she traced her lips, painting them with the deep red of dark elf blood.

Iriden slunk further to the back of the crowd, but still in sight of those who were leaping from the sinking ship just as she did. If her target escaped the sinking vessel she would kill him, if he didn't he would die and if he already escaped... well, with Markus' intervention on deck and what she could only expect were January's actions beneath the deck, it was certain Iriden was not to blame for this escapade.