Cold Hearts IC Thread

[Zephyr]

Kelarith frowned and looked upwards as if he could see through the deck. It sounded like all hell had broken loose and not soon after smoke came drifting from below deck.
He cursed and ran towards the captain's quarters. Too soon! He thought he had plenty of time but it seemed that the plan had moved forward considerably faster.

As the ship started to tilt he finally reached the captain's quarters. The door slammed open as he neared. The eyes of an angry-looking Druchii with a heavily scarred face met his own.
"Prepare to meet your bloody god you Khainite bastard!" the captain yelled, drawing two cutlasses and springing forward.
Kelarith quickly drew his Draich, barely fending off the incoming blows. This one hadn't become captain for nothing. Probably murdered his merry way to the top.

Kelarith knew that this was going to take a long time, too long for him to make a safe escape. He was certain that in the end the other Druchii's skills would be no match but with the smoke starting to fill up and the ship sinking there was little time for an honorable battle. Damn half-bred assassins.
He sure as hell wasn't going down with the captain and his ship though.

When the ship tilted even further he took advantage of the distraction, the other Druchii having to hold on with one hand to the side, and instead of doing the same he used gravity to his advantage. He slid forward, downwards and into the captain's quarters, decapitating him along the way. The head rolled after him which he quickly grabbed before it tumbled even further out of his reach. Kelarith quickly sheathed his weapon and punched through the windows of the quarters. The waterline already reached the windows and it came pouring in.
He was certain he would never make it back the way he had come anyway so he's better take his changes in the sea. The ship was as good as sinking. Damn non-Temple assassins.

He dove straight into the icy cold water, hoping his armor would not weigh him down too much...

 

[Mello]

As Kelarith starts to swim to safety, the decapitated head of his victim is like a beacon for the local wild life. Sharks and other, worse things are circling him now. One snaps angrily and attaches itself to his foot, dragging down towards the depths. Others swarm in to help.

 

[The Archivist]

January sprints for the docks. She leaps onto the side of the ship as it capsises and runs along the hull before leaping to the dock. She slams her sharpened handle into the jetty and hauls herself up. She hammers a note into the dock under cover of the chaos which read
"This captain went down with his ship, courtesy of the Cold Hearts"
before sprinting for the nearest dark alleyway.

 

[Malochai]

Indoril was skulking about the mansion for half an hour, trying to find the perfect moment to snatch one of the slaves who wandered about, their faces held low and avoiding looking anywhere except at their feet, showing the brands on their foreheads clearly, increasingly aware that his time would be running out. The assassin licked his lips lasciviously, wondering at the pain they must have borne. ‘And yet it’s nothing to what I could cause ...’

Finally, he found what he was looking for - a servant who didn’t look to be hurrying to a predetermined destination. He hid in an alcove, using the darkness to his advantage as was his wont, and drew a knife, covering the glinting metal in the folds of his cloak. He waited until the slave, a human male, was level with him and pulled him into the alcove, with his mouth covered and punched him in the temple, knocking him out. With great care, he dragged his prisoner into an empty room and barred the door, covered the windows. Another five minutes passed before the man woke up, and he stared wide-eyed at Indoril, whose face was thrust into darkness.

“You will answer my questions, understood? You do not ask your own, and you do not say anything beyond the necessary. Do you understand?” His voice was low and threatening. The man nodded and went to open his, but Indoril punched him and growled. “I said, you do not speak unless it is necessary. Do you understand?” Once more the prisoner nodded.

“Good. Now, where is your masters wife?” His voice didn’t become any lighter, still dark and threatening, if not more so.

“I ... I don’t know!” A fist thundered into his guts, and he grunted in pain.

“Not good enough,” he hissed. “Now, where is she?”

“I don’t know! I ... I’ve never even seen her! I was rarely even tasked with looking to the needs of the Master’s daughter!” A fist loomed in front of his face, and he threw up a hand to protect himself and started speaking quickly. “But! But, I have heard the others talking! They say she rarely leaves her apartments, on the east side of the building. One of the towers ...”

Indoril’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the man cowering before him on the floor. He looked terrified - ‘But too terrified to lie?’ he asked himself. A breath rasped from behind his half-mask, and he pulled his knife free of it’s scabbard once more, having sheathed it after knocking out the slave. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, the stoney quality in his voice giving voice to the lie as it left his mouth, before plunging the knife between the ribs.

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

Leaving the body spreading blood over the cold floor of the room and made his way over to the eastern side of the mansion. The guards inside were pitifully thin, and clearly they had spent far too much on protecting the exterior, disbelieving that anyone could breach it. ‘How wrong they were ... Twice in half an hour,’ he thought, shaking his head. The servants he came across bowed and scraped, clearly thinking he had every right to be there. He smirked; the poor fools were - rightly - too afraid to question him. He found himself at the base of the stairs which lead up to the easternmost tower, lit with flickering lamps. He took his first step upon the stairs, smirking. Mythas was not winning this.

 

[Johnny-Crass]

The killing blow barely missed Markus as the ship lurched to the side and with a flick of his wrist Markus removed his assailants hand. Pulling a deep red vial out of his cloak Markus shoved it in the unlucky elves mouth and with a swift uppercut the vial of sea-whale blood exploded. Another blow brought the pirate over the railing and into the teeming sea, the intoxicating whale blood spreading and chumming the waters towards the fresh body.

Sprinting along the tilting deck towards the anchor Markus looked around at the chaos, a few of his agents could be seen along with a number of non-crew elves. Reaching to anchor Markus's sword cut it in-twain with one swift motion causing the vessel to lurch further, tossing elves right and left. Taking a running leap Markus threw himself off the vessel plummeting towards the sea and dock, giving a loud cold laugh as he fell.

 

[Mello]

The ship begins to fall apart now, fire has damaged the interior of the ship too much. There was an almighty crash as the main mast collapsed onto the shore. The remaining captain seized the initiative, and jumped to the shore, taking flight, abandoning everything he had not for the first time in his life.

Larger creatures were circling in the sea now. It really didn't look safe in the water..

 

[Zephyr]

Bubbles escaped Kelarith's mouth as he let out a cry under the water surface. He started to hastily untie the severed head and hoped the sharks would pay more interest in the bloodied head than his own...

He drew his Draich clumsily, the pressure of the water slowing his movements considerably and his armor being more of a nuisance than protection. He hacked away at the shark that was dragging him down, striking the beast at its eyes and nose.

With a few hacks the shark finally let go. Kelarith's thoughts were racing, His execution of the captain hadn't been exactly pleasing so it did not surprise him that he was punished like this.
"The others are in a feeding frenzy and the severed head of the Captain will not last long. Soon they will turn their full attention on me.
Now what was it with water predators?"

Kelarith tried to remember something he once heard about not making too many rapid movements if surrounded by water creatures hell bent on eating you for an appetizer.
He slowly moved towards the surface, gasping as he resurfaced, and let himself be pulled forward by the tide rather than making strong movements himself. After a few strong waves he was beached on sandy land between other survivors and pieces of flotsam.

He tried to get up but collapsed the the ground immediately, biting down on his lip so as not to scream. A sharp lance of pain had came up from his leg, now throbbing like mad. The same leg the sea predator had pulled him down on.
Kelarith carefully checked his leg, seeing he was very lucky. Without his armor he would have certainly lost a few bits. He looked up to where the ship was and saw more creatures in the water. It weren't just sharks circling about. Many still left in the water were devoured messily and Kelarith could not help but laugh out loud like a lunatic. A growl in his head quickly silenced him. He hung his head in shame and made promises of repentance to his dark Lord.
He did not make any excuses for his poor performance that night but in the back of his mind he knew that it was all due to the plan advancing a lot faster than had been agreed upon. Damn heretic assassins.

 

[Lynks]

Iriden looked down upon Kelarith through the hair she had combed over most of her face once more as he struggled on the ground. Glancing back at the fleeing captain she noted that there was still a small window before she would have to begin a chase in order to not lose the elf in the din of the city and the chaos of the event.

Through the one visible eye it was clear that Iriden was giving a distinctly dismissive look as she called out Kelarith, "In the chaos that our illustrious leader has brought upon us it seems one of our targets flees the scene," whilst she moved closer.

Kneeling down next to the executioner she continued "With subtly no longer on the cards it seems the only option left is to hunt him down and force him to meet his end. Can I expect your company and assistance or is one man and a few fish enough to satisfy satisfy the will of Khaine?"

Throughout her speech she had tracked the captain and he had almost made it out of sight. Iriden stood up and began to run for the fleeing captain. Glancing furtively at Kelarith she added "I hope you enjoy killing more than swimming..." before charging after the elf unfortunate enough to call down the wrath of the cold hearts.

 

[Zephyr]

Kelarith's cold eyes burned into Iriden's. He normally would have killed anyone for talking that way but she was right. Khaine would not appreciate him sitting around and moping like a child about a little flesh-wound.

He got up unsteadily, trying to find his balance anew. His left leg was still throbbing like crazy but as long as he did not put his full body weight on it it seemed to hold. How the wound would behave in the near future however was something he did not want to think about.

He growled and started to go after Iriden who made chase. She was way too fast for him, even if he had not been injured, but he would be damned before showing any weakness before the others.
He made even slower progress as he hacked into the other survivors crawling out of the water. He normally did not kill on a whim but he was extremely angry and it felt good to hear others scream. Woe beware the idiot who cornered a wounded beast...

 

[Mello]

Mythas gasped for breath as he kicked down the door ahead of him, and took a step backwards in surprise. The fact he was out of breath probably should have warned him that he was going too high. He looked down in irritation as the tower he could faintly see his "fellow" assassin was below him. Still jumping distance though. With a silent mock prayer on his lips, he took a run up and jumped. That slight unnerving feeling of weightlessness was augmented by the screeching of the banshees below him. He cursed internally yet again for forgetting about them. He crashed through a large stained glass window, landing in what seemed to be a kind of mock chapel. Harpies pursued, three of them, flying into the room and perching around.

"Come on, birdies.." Mythas passed over his shoulder as he closed the heavy wooden doors behind him. One managed to get through before the doors were closed properly, but got its wing ripped off in the process. Ignoring its pain, it straightened up, baring its fangs and claws at him.

Mythas drew his epieu and spun it around his wrist a few times to warm up, then raised himself into a fighting stance and extended his left arm, holding his epieu behind his back dagger like, so that the blade was almost pointing over his shoulder. He raised his left hand and motioned to the Banshee. It couldn't take the insult anymore.

As it roared and sped forwards Mythas span on the spot before jumping a little. Just as the Banshee was about to impact, he touched the ground again and used the momentum to launch himself over the beast, slowly flipping in the process. While in the air he looked down and smiled as he carved a great furrow through the creature's back. It skidded and turned around, the pain hadn't seemed to lessen its ferocity at all. as testament to their die hard nature. Mythas sighed, he loved fights like these.

He approached again, and leant backwards to avoid a claw, continuing the motion to go to a hand stand, where he launched himself over the second claw. He spun out of his turn and sent a seething slash across its face. This time he pierced brain matter, and the banshee staggered back as even it noticed something was damaged in its body. Suddenly it lashed out again, almost impulsively, taking Mythas by surprise. He only just raised his weapon up in time as he leant forwardsm putting all his weight into it. The two hung there as the pressure between the two slowwly increased. Mythas cried out, there was no way he was going to win in this show of strength. Well he'd learnt that much by five summers of age..

Suddenly Mythas stopped all resistance and fell onto one knee, spinning once again. As the claw cut a gash out of the top of his hood, he continued his motion and sunk the epieu into the Banshees eye socket. There was a pause as the beast's brain tried to understand that it was actually dead now, then it collapsed noisily, blood slowly seeping out of its three wounds.

Hooper straightened up and tried to slow his breathing, brushing some sweat of his brow, then laughed out loud. He had forgotten how good a proper fight was. Jumping up and down a little with new youthful vigour, he took the staircase downwards into what was hopefully the target's rooms.

 

[Malochai]

Halfway up the stairs, Indoril looked up. He saw Mythas above him, and scowled. “She’s mine!” he muttered, picking up his pace. His cloak streamed behind him as he ran up the stairs, long legs taking the stairs three at a time. He heard fighting above him, and remembered the harpies he’d seen earlier, circling this tower. ‘It is definitely her’s,’ he thought, smirking once more.

The assassin passed a heavy door, of black iron bound with burnished steel, continuing upwards towards the fighting. After ten more steps, however, he paused and looked backwards. Something was nagging him, until he realised that the top of the tower would most like be an eyrie of sorts. Turning, he walked back down to the door and forced it open, putting all his strength behind it until it scraped over the floor, giving a horrendous squeal which offended the marksman’s sense of stealth.

When the gap was wide enough for him to slip through, he took a deep breath and slid through, drawing the knife covered with the thick, oily, fast-acting poison and the repeater handbow fastened to his tough leather belt. He checked the bolts and, once he was sure they were sharp and true, he continued on, stalking down the corridor, quiet as a ghost.

A guard exited a room to the right of Indoril, and instinctively he lashed out with his dagger, the needle point tip sliding between the rings of his mail and piercing the leather beneath as if it were Cathayan silk. Within seconds, the elf was on the floor, jerking gently, face turning blue and scrabbling at his throat, his only accomplishment inflicting minor wounds upon himself. Another guard appeared before him, and opened his mouth - whether to challenge the assassin or call for aid, Indoril couldn’t be sure - as he drew his sword. With impressive accuracy, the marksman had sent a bolt from his repeater crossbow, which sank into the open maw of the guard, who gagged for a second and then chocked on the blood filling his throat. With a rattle of armour and the ring of metal of stone, the elf hit the floor.

Scowling more under his half-mask, Indoril drew his cloak about him and stalked down the corridor again, until he found himself at a rather decorative door. With a triumphant snarl, he pushed it open to reveal a female elf, of painful, brutal beauty, wearing a dress of black, stark against her pale skin, which was as fine as gossamer, which glinted as if of gemstones, and left little to the imagination, slit high up against the thigh and a deep cleavage.

“Hello, my Lady,” he said sarcastically, bowing deeply, though keeping her in his sights. Knife in hand, stained with blood which glinted blackly in the flickering witchlights of the room, he approached her and put his handbow back on his belt. She glared at him hatefully as his left hand, now empty, brushed against the fabric of her dress. Her long black hair fell to her waist, but he brushed it aside as he circled her, his hand trailing across her buttocks. His hand raised higher as he came back around to the front and cupped her breasts. “You are beautiful,” he murmured, before looking her in the eyes. “A piece of artwork I’d be glad to practice on!” The grin on his face was evident in his eyes, and, with a speed she clearly wasn’t expecting, he slammed the pommel of his knife into her temple, knocking her out. Silently, he lifted her onto his shoulder and turned back to the corridor, knife still in hand.

 

[Mello]

Mythas approached an intricate wooden door, and slowed down, listening through the keyhole. He could hear Indoril on the other side. Cursing under his breath, he barged through the door, Indoril whirling around. Being completely oblivious to the woman's beauty, the first thing he noticed was how.. intact she was. Mythas raised a quizzicle eyebrow.

"You only knocked her out? I'll help you out with her as long as you promise to let me have 5 minutes with her.. It's only fair."

 

[Malochai]

When the door opened Indoril whirled around, knife in hand, poised to throw it, cloak trailing him as he moved. When he saw it was Mythas he snarled; he had hoped the harpies would kill him and save him the trouble. When the other assassin spoke, his voice grated against the marksman's senses, and he shuddered.

"You fool!" he snarled, "What kind of idiot takes his pleasure in the house of the one he is taking? With guards stalking the corridors? And as our esteemed employer wants her alive, she had to be ... Disabled." The disgust at the other elf was clear in his voice - he clearly had no idea how things worked. 'And he is naïve to believe a promise means anything in the lands of treachery and death,' he told himself, before nodding.

"You may have your five minutes with her ... After we are outside, and once I have had my pleasures. That is the only way this will work. Do you understand?" He stepped forward threateningly, dagger held at such an angle to drive up under Mythas' ribs if he disagreed.

 

[Mello]

Mythas bowed sarcastically "My thanks. Don't worry though I'd only, briefly, have some fun here. Besides," he licked his lips, "surely you know its good to save the best for later?". He coolly pushed the dagger away from him with surprising strength, or it may have just been surprise.

"Shall we depart?"

 

[Malochai]

Indoril let the dagger be moved away, he was satisfied that, for now, Mythas would work with him - he wanted his time with the lady too. "You will get your time after me ... If you still want her," he snorted, before turning his back on the other assassin, a clear sign of disdain. He would never have turned his back on someone he thought a threat. With ease, he picked the female elf up and carried her over his shoulder, her long silken black hair like a shimmering wave of jet, and the diaphanous dress glinting mesmerisingly in the flickering torchlight. Licking his lips, he thought of the pleasures he would take later ...

And then found himself back in the present, once more facing Mythas. "Well, lead the way. I can hardly keep her alive to the best of my abilities with her over my shoulder, can I?" he snarled, as if the thought was madness.

 

[Mello]

Mythas chuckled, in reality he had just wanted the pompous prick to acknowledge that he was vulnerable. Jogging forwards as quietly as possible he reached the walkway that Indoril must have taken to get here. Looking up he saw the Harpies circling far above, still trying to find a way through the door. Thankfully they were too far low now for them to put two and two together. Closing his eyes briefly in preparation, he sprinted across the bridge, as low as possible to avoid being seen. He approached the door as low and quiet as he could, and peeked through the crack.

 

[Malochai]

The marksman followed Mythas quickly, lithely staying low as he could with the woman over his shoulder. He squeezed his arm slightly, enjoying the touch of the beautiful woman he was carrying. 'Yes, she will be a work of art when I am finished ...' he told himself. With a curse, he realised his half mask was slipping. He placed his dagger into it's sheath, and moved his right hand to his face, readjusting it easily. He had caught up to the other assassin and was waiting behind, glancing around cautiously, an instinct he had honed through a lifetime of killing and stealthily avoiding his family - 'We need to hurry up ...' he thought.

Instead of drawing the knife again, he grasped the stock of his repeater handbow and grasped it firmly. He was just about to urge Mythas to hurry up when a glint of silver drew his eye. Lower down, on the roof of the main building, two guards were patrolling, crossbows in what looked to be reasonably capable hands. They looked from side to side, and stopped momentarily to look over the edge of the roof, observing the grounds. A roar resounded loudly; the hunting call of a nauglir. The guards tensed, and looked about warily, before cautiously continuing their patrol carefully.

"Keep walking, keep walking ..." he muttered to himself, the words whisked away by the wind almost instantly. He suddenly realised the air was chill, and as he drew his cloak about him, he missed the upward glance of the guard. Looking down quickly, he saw what had happened. He snarled, and snapped off a bolt, accounting for the wind with practised ease. The arrow punched through the chest of a guard, although the power would have been slightly taken out of it by the long flight. Another bolt was sent, but it was taken by the wind, and only punctured the second guards leg. A scream punctured the air. 'This is going to the hells,' he thought angrily. He pushed Mythas roughly in the back. "Get on with it, you fool! That guard's scream will have raised an alarm, ad the nauglir will find a body near the wall soon enough. Get on with it!" A third arrow was sent flying, and it tore through the armour.

 

[Mello]

As Mythas heard distant shouts and noticed Indoril was a couple of bolts down he swore.

"Oh, brilliant. Lets just tell the cold on-" the hunting call of the Nauglir changed to a scream of rage and bloodlust, they had obviously caught scent to.

"Right, screw that plan. You go through the castle, where the cold ones can't move, I'm going to draw as much off as I can. I'm sure you're more than capable of handling yourself." he said through gritted teeth, unsure whether he wanted do be sarcastic or not.

Glancing around he desperately began thinking of some plan, any plan.. His eyes lighted on a window with light streaming out of it, casting shadows on the guards below. It was one floor down, but distance wasn't a problem right now that he wanted to consider. Yelling, he launched himself off the side of the walkway, grabbing on to a jutting out Gargoyle, and climbing on top of it.

Thank god for nobles' recent gargoyle fetish..

He started hopping from one gargoyle to another and eventually reached the window as dozens of guards began pouring through the base of the main tower. Covering up the window, Mythas' huge shadow blacked out the courtyard below. There was such a frenzy that at first he thought they were so oblivious they hadn't noticed, but then some started shouting and pointing. Grinning manically, Mythas started sprinting along the gargoyles, hoping they lead somewhere as crossbow bolts started zinging into the wall around him.

Mythas spied a balcony below him and slipped inbetween a stone dragon and some granite horse lizard hybrid. Crashing onto the wooden floow, Mythas cursed as the wood splintered and cut him severely. His boots protected his legs from impact but not a thousand wooden daggers. He vaulted over the banister and ended up on a roof only a couple of stories high. Below him Nauglir were running left and right. A horrible, stupid idea formed in his head. Stupid..

Damning the consequences, Mythas stepped off the roof and drew his Epieu.

 

[Malochai]

Nodding at the other assassin's plan, Indoril kicked the door open awkwardly as a bolt flew past him, but a hairs breadth away. 'Damned contract. Why'd she have to be alive?' he asked himself angrily. Once he was inside, he tried to move quickly and stealthily down he stairs, listening intently for the sounds of boots on the cold stone steps. More roars started echoing around the confines of the circular tower, bouncing erratically and distorting the sounds. Growling, Indoril ploughed on steadily, his long legs easily taking the steps - it was much easier down than up.

Five minutes later, and he was on a level with the second floor of the main manse, and planning to continue downwards, when the metal tramp of metal boots resounded up to him, and the sounds of elven men shouting orders reached his ears. Whilst alone he might have won free, with the woman one or the other would be cut to pieces. Cursing silently, he forced open another door, which led into a stone corridor across to the main building. A spear flashed past his head, and in an instant he had put a bolt through the offending guards face, through the eye socket. Snorting in disgusted derision, he kicked the body and moved on. This floor of the building was crawling with guards, and he had killed two more when he ran out of bolts. Looping it back onto his belt, he drew the knife and held it, blade down, as he stalked the corridors.

A faint moan brought another snarled curse to Indoril's lip, and then the body he was holding started to squirm. He barged his way into a room and, upon seeing it empty of life, he closed the door, threw the Lady onto the floor and barred the door before she could react. The judge's wife was finding her knees when he turned back to her. He smirked. "Just the right height, lady!" he taunted, and she turned her face up to him, a perfect porcelain face, marred only by the mottled purple, yellow and green bruise which had formed. She spat at his feet, and stared angrily back at him. Her eyes were entrancing, he thought, deep purple and full of malevolence. "How do we get out of here?"

 

[Mello]

Sadly, the cold one's rider didn't feel anything as he died, it was too instantaneous. Mythas sighed a little inside as his epieu sank through the rider's back with only a little blood. He was promptly brought back to reality as the cold one beneath him went bezerk. Mythas balanced himself on the saddle carefully as the second cold one rider was staring at him in disbelief. Mythas hopped over the clumsy spear, not designed for stationary combat and stabbed the rider through the centre of the head, mentally giving himself some brownie points for his accuracy, Launching himself off the second cold one Mythas landed on the ground, spinning to face the two cold ones. As befitted their nature the pair instantly started charging him. Mythas winced as he attempted to dodge, a cold, serrated tooth shearing up the left hand side of his armor, making a horrendous noise as leather was ripped and a tiny cut was created. Dodging these wasn't going to work then. He glanced in front of him as a huge group of guards rounded a corner, and formed up into a phalanx of sorts, sealing the exit, with their spears glistening menacingly. Behind him the cold ones were circling around, their momentum increasing again.

With a cry of frustration Mythas started running towards the druchii, still unsure as to what he was going to do. His eyes were searching everywhere, anywhere for some sort of exit. Finally he found one, a plank of wood rested on the side of a wall. Yelling in triumpth he darted up the rope as the cold ones sped past, not really caring now that they had a much juicier meal in front of them. The cold ones barreled into the group of men as if they were a pile of wet leaves, sending them flying asunder. Mythas glanced over his shoulder and laughed out loud, this really was his lu-

Mythas' expression turned from one of amusement, to one of shock. He grabbed his shoulder and sure enough, a crossbow bolt was sticking out of it, he was hanging off the wall by one arm. With a snarl of frustration, he dropped onto the floor again heavily, and turned. A lone crossbowman remained from the phalanx, snarling triumphantly as he drew his sword. Mythas drew his epieu and yelled in return, pulling the dart out. Not poisoned. He sprinted towards the druchii, he was angry now.

 

[Johnny-Crass]

The sound of a carriage and braying of horses can be heard outside of the main gate.

 

[Mello]

Mythas screamed with rage as he launched himself at the soldier, who was faster than he had hoped, parrying easily. Mythas landed behind the soldier and turned around as fast as he could. Just a moment too late, the sword sped past his head, the guard was slowing down his sword, ready for another strike. But Mythas was too fast, as the soldier raised his weapon an epeiu burst through his chest. The guard looked down in shock, almost distaste. He sank to his knees. Mythas twisted his epeiu violently and the guard shuddered to the floor.

 

[Malochai]

The druchii lady sneered again, revealing perfect, sharpened teeth, "Once my Lord returns, your life is forfeit, fool. What made you think you could take me alive? After the death of our daughter, stupid wench that she was, the guard has been doubled. You'll never make it out alive,"

In a fit of anger, Indoril lashed out again, and the hilt of his knife scored a jagged cut across her right cheek, and a bead of blood bubbled to the surface, and trickled down her perfect skin, the globule of vibrant, crimson blood a stark contrast to the pale white of her face. She merely sneered again. Switching blades, he gently stabbed through the material of her dress just below the swell of her breast, whilst snaking his hand over her body almost sensuously. The blade barely touched her skin, but he knew it was enough - the poison would be absorbed, but as long as the blade didn't pierce the skin, it wasn't lethal. He grinned, only to snarl when a hand scratched at his face with devilishly sharp nails. "You bitch!" he whispered, pushing her away from him, and saw her sprawled inelegantly across the cold stone of the floor - even like that, she looked inexpressibly divine and he found his lusts rising.

That stopped when she started to spasm gently, her back arching and limbs jerking. A grin etched itself on his face - 'She'll regret everything,' he thought. She started to scream, and cursing he quickly strode to her side and tore off a strip of her dress, which was already starting to rip in several places, and pushed the bundled up strip in her mouth. So muffled, only he could hear her cries of pain.

After ten minutes, he pulled a small vial off of his own belt and unstoppered it, leaning down and allowing a single drop of the watery concoction to fall into her mouth. Within another minute, she had stopped thrashing and was just staring at him malevolently whilst she tried to regain the ability to speak; she had attempted to and just devolved into a coughing fit. After another five minutes, she was talking - "What do you want?" she snarled, although it was now edged with a tinge of wariness. Hauling her to her feet, he looked her in the eye.

"Revenge ... The death of my sister ... To take what is mine!" As he said this a finger slid down her side. "But, for now, I'll settle for escaping this damnable manse." The voice was snarled. His hand gripped her hip strongly. She nodded, her eyes ablaze and filled with a desire for vengeance.

"You will regret this, Assassin," she stated clearly, and he shook his head.

"You can try and make me ... But the fun I'll have with you, will more than make up for any inconvenience later. And the price you command - alive - is princely." Shaking slightly with rage, she glared at him, before nodding and turning on her heel. Not towards the door, but the wall adjacent to it. Muttering slightly, she pressed her hands against the stones, and druchii runes, previously invisible to the naked eye, lit with a fell, blue-white light that hurt his eyes. Moments later, the stones melted from view and there was an entranceway, a thin corridor between the room they were in and the next.

 

[Lynks]

By the time Iriden had rounded the corner the captain was almost halfway up the short street. It was clear he hadn't made it out unscathed, loping away clutching his right side. Given that the crowds on the street expected such an elf to be fleeing something, the cold, uncaring nature of Druchii crowds meant that those on the street mostly remained parted and allowed her to gain some ground with relative ease. Seeing her barrelling after him, cruel whip in one hand and pristine hand-bow in the other, the now former captain spurred himself into greater motion, crying out in pain as he ripped his wound open more but not letting the pain slow him down.

Just before the captain was hidden behind another corner and potentially lost in the street's crowds or the city's maze-like passageways Iriden levelled her Hand crossbow and opened fire, bolts clattering off stone and cart. The captain squealed in pain as he finally ducked out of sight, however the whimpering didn't fade off into the distance. Reaching the intersection, it was clear Iriden had Hit her mark. The bolt had sunk cleanly into a wide gash that ran down the Captain's side and the pain caused him to writhe on the floor.

Glancing at the crowds around her, perhaps she could use recent events to her advantage. Iriden stowed her weapons and calmly walked over to the man on the ground, stooping down to yank the bolt out of him.

"For your crimes against the house of our esteemed judge, the murder of his daughter and an assault on his houses, and for breaking my collar of service I'll drag you back kicking and screaming you pitiful worm." she stated, wiping the blood off the bolt as she did and spitting on him for good measure.

"what, I, I didn't, you.." the elf started to retaliate before receiving a swift kick to the teeth, flooding the elf's mouth with blood and crippling his ability to speak.

"The likes of you don't deserve the luxury that the city guards will afford. It's off to my master's torture chambers you whining street rat." said in quick succession. Lifting up the elf and throwing him over her shoulder she attempted to carry the elf away without struggling or swaying, so as to not appear weak to the crowds but Iriden was able to make her way into a secluded street unscathed. Hopefully her theatrics in the street would lead to even further pain and suffering for the judge.

With great effort and time Iriden managed to claw her way up to the rooftops of one of the tallest buildings in the area with the elf still in tow, barely hanging on to the threads of life. as she held her knees panting from her efforts she remarked that from the fight, the chase and the blood soaking from the elf's wounds Iriden looked much the same as she did when she arrived. Perhaps it would be useful to embrace a second moniker she mused. After quickly ruffling her hair and staining it with blood from the captain's wounds Iriden carefully wrapped her chain around the elf, almost like the funeral wrappings of a nehekaran mummy.

With her task complete she slowly dragged the elf towards the edge, ensuring he stayed alive along the trip. ripping a flag of a nearby pole, she wrapped the final extra length of chain around it to use as purchase then stood up for all to see. With a Hard kick the din of the city was almost entirely drowned out to Iriden as the elf rolled off the edge. the barbs in the chain bit in to his skin in every conceivable place, tearing and shredding as gravity slowly forced the whip to unwind around the tumbling elf. After about half the fall the chain-whip had run out of length and Iriden flicked it to bring it back up. There was a loud thud from the ground below and the cries of pain ceased in their entirety. Moving closer to the edge, Iriden stared down at the crowds below, imbuing her eyes with a flickering magical fire, a simple trick but intimidating none the less. She stood there for a moment before turning and hiding from the crowd's line of sight behind the angled roof. Weaving her way back to the sewers her employer liked to call home she thought sweetly about the crowd removing their eyes from her and returning them to the body at their feet, entirely unrecognisable with any defining feature completely torn away by the crude and barbaric flaying procedure that had been implemented. The only thing that made this corpse remotely unique, apart from it's obvious cause of death, was the word 'cold' chiselled in over the left side of it's chest...

 

[Johnny-Crass]

Pulling himself onto the dock Markus took his first deep breath of the sticky sea air. Grabbing the board and pulling it away he dropped into the cave and made his way down a side passage to his private quarters to change and ready payments.