Cold Hearts IC Thread

[Malochai]

Indoril grinned when he saw Kelarith’s deadly dance. With deadly grace, he twirled and stabbed deftly, his blade piercing the warrior’s eye and deep into his brain. With a spasm, the eld died, blood pulsing, staining his face. The forest of blades was starting to take it’s toll on the assassin, the unrelenting fighting not his preferred style. Ducking beneath the swords of his assailants, Indoril punched outwards, knocking the warrior out, and he began retreating further down the alleyway. ‘It’s all coming together,’ he thought as he saw his assassins killing the elves. Slowly, he continued to move backwards until he saw an opportunity to climb the buildings. Stowing his knife, Indoril leapt up and caught a window sill, before pulling himself up and climbing to the roofs.

Once he had reached the slates, he paused for a second to catch his breath, and then surveyed the scene. A scowl crossed his face and he tore his hood off, leaving the top half of his face truly visible for the first time since he had joined the Cold Hearts. The fight was hanging in the balance; they may be outnumbered, but his assassins were much more skilled.

He scanned the participants quickly, and saw his sister. His face darkened. Comprehension was written across her face, and her two remaining knights were hurrying her away, accompanied by ten soldiers. He closed his eyes and thought. ‘They will take her back to the manse ... The captains can deal with her men ... Yes!’

“Kelarith! Get January, go to her retreat point! I’ll meet you there!” His voice penetrated the battle, and some warriors looked up at him, but he could only hope the Khainite wasn’t too engrossed in his fighting.

Taking a few steps backwards, he ran and leapt across the alley beneath him, landing easily on the other side, and then let out a piercing whistle in a complex pattern. Continuing to leap roofs, he found the soldiers he had turned, lead by their traitorous captains. Standing atop a roof, the sun behind him, he called down. “My captains! Your rightful Lord calls upon you to protect his followers. Go! They are embattled, and your captains know where!
“Do not fail me!”

With that, he turned and disappeared from sight, before slinking back and observing. The captains were splitting their troops, and marching off in the direction of Aeria’s soldiers, but they were going about it slowly. ‘They betray me,’ he told himself immediately. Cursing their fickle nature, he pulled his crossbow and took aim, snatching off five shots. Cries went up, and the captains looked up in shock. They turned, and fled. “Run, traitors! But you cannot hide from the Cold Hearts! Their reach is unmatched, their vengeance terrible!”

With a snarl, he turned and pulled up his hood, disappearing once more over the roofs and heading to where he would meet his assassins.

Enemies Remaining
Alley Way

33 Warriors (swords, shields, daggers, chainmail)

Aeria

2 Knights (swords, shields, daggers, fully articulated plate)
10 Warriors (swords, shields, daggers, chainmail)
Aeria (two swords, chestplate, chainmail, gauntlets, greaves, articulated boots)

 

[The Archivist]

January returned to the back of the fray once the last of the group had caught up. She begann backstabbing, cutting a throat to her left and stabbing a head to the right.
A third warrior went down to a shield to the head, followed by a blade through the eye. Her fourth choice missed, her spear glancing off his chainmail. With a roar, he turned on her, and though she batted his blade aside before striking true with her spear, three more had heard his cries. She backed off quickly, parrying and defending back to an alley mouth before luring them away from the fight.

Once in the maze, she had them at her mercy. More nimble, lighter of foot and with a knowledge of the terrain, she seperated and dispatched each of them.
Upon returning to the slaughter, she heard Indorils cries. She took off the spear head from her broom handle and stuck it point first in the wall. She ran back into the alley ways, glancing behind her at the melee.

[7 warriors]

 

[Zephyr]

Kelarith's Draich became a blur, he was completely lost in the moment and Khaine gave him beautiful visions of the deaths yet to come. It was with great difficulty he eventually picked up an outside voice other than the screams and cries of anguish and anger.
“Kelarith! Get January, go to her retreat point! I’ll meet you there!”

He immediately pushed forwards, redirecting his attacks from medium-high to low. The sudden change in his attack pattern surprised the three guards standing nearest him and with a long sweep that went under their shields he cut through their legs. The guards collapsed, making a mess of the battle formation. Long enough for Kelarith to leap through the crowd and make his way to January. Not without a few scratches to his armor but at least no serious blows were made against him. He cursed inwardly as he landed after his leaps and still felt his leg aching. It was much better but still not fully healed.

he almost bumped into her as he turned the last corner. Looking behind her he saw the kills she had made. Though she could not see it as his face was covered he smiled appreciatively. He spun his Draich in his hand a few times, shaking off most of the blood and viscera.
Though he had disabled a few Druchhi he had yet to make a good killing blow. Their numbers were simply too great for him to pull that off now and more needed to be be culled.

He looked around to see if Indoril was already approaching.

[3 warriors that need to crawl now :devil2:]

 

[Mello]

Meanwhile on the ship, the slave dutifully rolled up his sleeve and presented the correct mark that belonged to Markus. Mythas nodded with satisfaction.

"Ok, does your master have any means of giving a signal to the offshore.. visitors?"

Mythas was looking forward to this contract. Not only did he get to help these invaders kill druchii, but then he got to kill them too, and he got a crowd to hide in.

He glanced at Slyvia and whistled two pips. The great bird cawed irratably and went off in search of the assassins who were aiding Mythas in this contract. It was time to begin.

 

[Malochai]

Indoril sprinted over the roofs, leaping the alleys easily. He heard the groaning of dying warriors, and smelt the stench of death - blood and faeces mixing inexorably. Eventually, he looked over Kelarith and January, watching as the Khainite cleaned his sword. He smiled grimly, and then leapt from the second storey roof to the narrow alleyway floor, littered with rubbish that the Druchii felt beneath their notice. 'No doubt the slaves will clear it up,' he thought miserably. With a flourish, he drew a knife and flung it flawlessly, so it just skimmed past the female dark elf and embedding itself up to the hilt in the wall behind her, between two dark bricks which made up the building they stood before.

"They live. I thought you would be the best Cold Hearts for the job; clearly I was mistaken." He slapped January and reached past her to retrieve his knife. Turning his back on her, the ultimate insult to an angered assassin in his view, the deposed Druchii noble strode ten steps further down the alley and then back, pacing. He was clearly thinking and then he stopped, mid-stride, and snarled. His fingers curled into fists and he looked at the two assassins before him.

"They will return to the manse. It is too well guarded to infiltrate. They have a lead on us, and I am certain that my dearest sister returned to her chariot first ... Not the fastest creatures, but the naught are faster than us. I am afraid we have failed here. Unless ... You have any idea on how to beat her back to a manse at the centre of the city ... Or kill her enroute. To make up for your lack of skill."

 

[The Archivist]

January looked with hooded eyes at Indoril.
"Well, since you told us to leave her to you, I think a tally of nine kills is respectable considering my forte. As for reaching her, give me a cold one and two minutes to change into a knight's armour and I can guarantee a kill within the hour."

 

[Malochai]

"By all means, go. try and find one. But it will not take her an hour to reach the manse, and if she does it will be impossible. She has been waiting for me. And I would rather her not dead, but if it must be so, fine. Go. Attempt this."

 

[Zephyr]

Kelarith overheard the conversation and nodded. "I am not the fastest but how about I...sneak in my own fashion?" he pointed towards a manhole in the street. "I could use the tunnel system underneath the city to move faster than I normally would be able to. Of course...after all is done I still owe my Dark Lord some guards' heads."

 

[Mello]

*8 months have passsed*

Mythas sat with his knees under his chin in the cave that still served as the main base. Although Markus and many other of the original members of the order had died, their wealth had not, as proven by the steadily growing pile of gold that Mythas never used in the corner of the cave, which he was now perched upon like some draconian vulture.

He glanced at Sylvia who sat upon a fish she had just caught, stripping its flesh off vigorously, and sighed. Hopefully the remainder of the order would be arriving soon, he had recieved a new contract.

 

[The Archivist]

A cloak rustled in the wind as a guard walked slowly along the dockside.
The guard moved with a slight limp, her hair bunched beneath her helmet. She carried a longsword loosely in her left hand, and her armour was dulled.
Leaning against a warehouse wall, January watched the docks through slit eyes. It was the first time she had returned here with this express purpose in... half a year? She hadn't been paying attention to the date after that disasterous mission.
She chuckled grimly to herself at the gruesome memories: her disguise as one of the knights succeeding beyond hope and placing her in a position in the manse that would have otherwise been impossible to achieve, she had bided her time.
A week later, she had heard the news from the target herself: her brother and one of the two assassins had been executed. She had put plans into motion to wipe out the rest of the Cold Hearts, considering them a threat. January continued to wait, the cheers from her lips as loud as any other.
A month after the contract had begun, January had studied every aspect of her public and semi-private dealings and mannerisms. A few falsehoods about her bedtime habits and January was close enough to study her private habits too, albiet from a slightly subserviant position.
Two months after the contract had begun, and several deadly schemes had taken most of the Cold Heart's members. January had watched impassively from a hiding spot as the target laughed manically at the success.
Roughly four months after the contract had been started, January had ordered the guards to stand down as she entered the bedchamber. One knock-out blow and a large amount of make-up and clothing exchanges later, she watched impassively as the target was hung in a knight's armour.
A week later and she had vanished, having deposited most of the treasury at her disposal elsewhere and returning to the streets, leaving only a message to check the identity of the rotton corpse that still hung from the gallows more carefully.

Since then, January had taken on the role of an up and coming trainee guard, one of several commisioned by frantic nobles to increase security against the uncanny abilities of the thought dead Cold Hearts. She had even been considered for a captaincy in one of the less rich houses, but a couple of slit throats left her in the ignored limbo of the dock guard.
She smiled to herself as she walked out onto the pier. The events that had transpired had been slow in taking place, but one of the most ambitious kills in her career after her first had been pulled off with the only hitches being the absence of payment. Although, then again, she didn't know what the situation was: she had returned tonight for the express purpose of finding out the true state of affairs of the Cold Hearts, who had really been caught and who had secreted themselves away.

She walked to the planks she remembered from before. She scuffed the plank carefully: there was no-one around the docks at this time, she had personally slain the beggars a month ago as part of her guardswomans duties. With her longsword January cut her sharpened broomstick from where she had carefully tied it yesterday, and sheathed her sword.Feeling complete, she opened the planks and dropped down, to whatever state the Cold Hearts now lay.

 

[Mello]

Mythas heard the slap of footfall, dainty, not armoured. It was familiar enough to him now, his paranoia making him remember all the footfalls of those close to him.

"Fancy you being here January" he called out. "Thought that relative of the posh one had killed you all. Well, that makes two of us."

Mythas was secretly pleased, January was one of the less regular and arrogant elves, he didn't need to worry about his own back as much with her as he did with some of the others.

"As far as I know, all the others have been killed or simply left us. I killed our former esteemed host some weeks ago." he said, lazily gesturing to a very rotted corpse which even Sylvia had left now. Still she persisted in stripping what salvageable remains from the corpse there was.

"his incompetence and irregularity irritated me, so I saw fit to kill him." he added boredly.

 

[The Archivist]

January raised an eyebrow as she saw Mythas. She nodded her greeting, tapping her broom handle against the wall.
"So we are all that's left then? Anything unusual happen while I was gone?"

She inwardly frowned at how easily Mythas had seen through her disguise. It didn't escape her notice that he hadn't glanced at her, and she guessed it must be to do with her movements. That or she wasn't careful enough when concocting cover stories.

 

[Count michael]

"By the Gods this is the good life" thought Shevael as he drank another goblet of fine wine his arms wrapped around two voluptuous tavern girls, gazing around he took in his surroundings. The tavern was completely packed with the patrons completely enthralled by his performance hanging on his every word. "Another drink tavern master, I feel a legendary story coming on but I have a mighty thirst" he called out,while a nearby spectator rushed to obey his request.

"Who would've guessed life could be so easy after returning to his homeland from Sartosa" he thought, "the entire nation was in fear of some legendary order of assassins known as the Cold Hearts though they had to be all long dead nothing but a horror story told by nobles to scare each other he thought. One thing he loved was that with the order dead it was so easy to pretend he was one of them, no one could prove he wasn't it was brilliant and of course the foolish Druchii of the city believed anything he would say."

"where was I oh yeah, and there I was, I the mighty leader of the Cold Hearts was utterly surrounded by the evil noble and his 50 guards, my comrades of the order littered the ground dead leaving me as the sole survivor but was I daunted???? Of Course not!!!!!" pausing to gain maximum attention of the crowd Shevael took a swig from his goblet purposely keeping his audience waiting to draw out the excitement
"surrounded and wounded my enemies thought me defeated the noble even had the nerve to demand me to surrender and he would give me a quick death, how dare he!!!" bringing his fist hard down on the table receiving a squeal of shock from the tavern girls, "at that moment I pulled out my pistols and shot the fool straight in the head killing him outright, his guards were so utterly shocked they didn't know what to do, I had just killed their supposedly immortal leader who couldn't be killed by mortal hands. But they didn't count on the fact that I was no ordinary Druchii no my amazing audience for I am a demi god the son of Khaine himself destined to lead our people to greatness. With all hope lost at that moment a miracle happened Khaine himself saved me by smiting the building bringing it down to crush the guards of the evil noble leaving me unharmed. As the last member of the Cold Hearts it was my duty in continue the fight against those who would threaten our mighty nation otherwise my fallen comrades sacrifice would be in vain, and there you have it my lovely audience that was how I the leader of the mighty Cold Hearts brought down one of the greatest threats to threaten the Druchii since the sundering"

With the finish of his story the crowd let out a great cheer clapping and praising his name, "Thank you my wonderful crowd" giving a mighty bow " I have to go now they followers of that evil noble are still out there hunting for me, I must go protect these fair maidens from harm as I can't stand such beautiful ladies to be harmed goodbye"
Making his way to the alley with his companions, Shevael was so occupied on his desires that he failed to notice the group of armed gaurds slowly advance on him

"Halt assassin" the leader cried " In the name of the Vaulkhar you are under arrest don't try escaping you are surrounded surrender or you will be killed"

"Oh Crap" Shevael thought
"What!!!!!!, Gentlemen clearly this is a misunderstanding. I am just a simple traveler about to score big with these beautiful ladies, don't believe what you heard in there I only lied to get a free drink, lets not do anything hasty" trying to back away

Suddenly Shevael felt something really sharp poke him in the ribs
"Quiet you fool" the Tavern girls hissed revealing knives held in both of their hands "Your stupidity knows no bounds, for weeks you have been bragging about your exploits gaining attention, we know you are the leader of the Cold Hearts did you really think you could escape the notice of the Vaulkhar your death shall be slow and painful for your crimes, I should cut out your tongue for your blasphemy against Khaine"

Whilst his captors were preoccupied gloating Shevael quickly acted pulling two pistols out and shooting both tavern girls in the heaad
"What a shame now look at what you made me do you bastards, I was really looking forward to sleeping with them" he sighed. Unwrapping the chain around his arm he attacked the leader of the guards the chain wrapping around the fools neck, with a sharp tug Shevael broke the guards neck killing him instantly, As the remainder reeled in shock Shevael quickly acted throwing the dead Guard officer at them knocking a few over before it running away very fast to find a place to hide "You will never catch me for I am Shevael Redmane the legendary leader of the Cold Hearts only the Gods could stop me". he cried laughing sadistically before he tripped falling to the ground, quickly rising he set off once more shutting up in order to focus on his escape.

2 hours later

"Finally I lost them" Shevael muttered breathing heavily hiding behind a crate near the dockside "I don't see what's the problem so what I pretended to be some dead assassin its not like any of them are alive anymore its just a myth, to think I was this close to getting those lovely Druchii in bed" Suddenly from his hiding place he saw a Dock Guard making their way along the Docks "Hmmmm I wonder what they are up to they don't seem to be looking for me otherwise they would of searched where I am, perhaps word has not spread of my exploits... those bastards word of my greatness should be spread to the edge of the word so great am I" he thought, "Hang on if I kill them then I will have a disguise" Just as he was ready to charge the guard he noticed that the guard had opened the planks and disappeared beneath, "Strange what are they up, perhaps if I wait and investigate it might be interesting plus it could provide material for my next great story to scam people" waiting a few more minutes Shevael made his way to a vantage point on top of the warehouse providing him with a good view of the docks mainly where the guard disappeared ready to investigate once the guard reappeared.
"If only I still had some wine or some female company this could be boring."

 

[Mello]

Mythas laughed.

"Nothing in my world is unusual, surely you have realised that by now. There is however some interesting stories, whether they're unusual is up to your judgement."

He fished out a half ruined piece of paper from a pouch, and pulled his hood down to read it, idly batting Sylvia off a particularly tasty smelling corner as she tried to consume it.

"From my various, ah, sources it seems that some of our more high value targets' deaths have garnered some attention from other cities, but me not being the travelling sort I've rejected a couple of foreign contracts, notably some noble or other from the empire and.." Mythas squinted at the paper, "A ratman?" he raised an eyebrow. "Thought they were just a legend.."

"Either way, along with our new, and totally undeserved fame, we have many leeching groups and persons who are impersonating us for their own profit. While many of them get out of their depth and die amusingly, it still presents us with the problem of us losing respectability and some extremely fun contracts.

So if you don't mind, would you like to go out hunting?" an excited, feral look glinted in his eye.

"Also, if we want to take any major contract on again, we're going to need more than two of us, so if we actually find some competent killers, we can ask them to join. From their point of view they get to legitimately join the thing they didn't realise existed, so it's a plus for both of us.

Sound.. acceptable?"

Mythas had been thinking about this for a long time, and was quite proud with his solution, he wasn't the thinking type, but this plan had a certain, elegant efficiency to it.

 

[The Archivist]

January blinked slowly, a grin slowly dawning across her face.
"Impersonators. I look forward to showing them how a true infiltrator works."
She chuckled as she mimed sweeping with her broomhandle.
"Joke's on them... any preference as to how we go about this?"

 

[Get of W'soran]

Arkeith Uvrith ducked under the wild slash of the drunken corsair and buried and almost lazily slashed his blade across the other druchii's stomach.

He stepped back as the dying elf fell to his knee's gurgling blood and Arkeith swiftly stabbed his blade into the corsair's throat, killing him instantly.

Arkeith sighed as he took out a cloth and cleaned the his weapon, he smiled slightly as he looked upon his longsword, a two handed blade that could be used in one at times.

The true weapon of a Lord.

The assassin's smile soured slightly at that thought.

Arkeith looked down at the his dead target and shook his head, a mere corsair, only last year he would have been begged to go slay high profile targets and now it was becoming far more difficult. All the fool nobles wanted the so called “Legendary” Cold Hearts to serve their needs when they avoided acquiring the services of the Temple.

”Cold Hearts...blasted upstarts.” he sneered slamming his sword into it's sheath.

Come to think of it I haven't heard anything about that group in months, perhaps the Temple finally caught up with them...perhaps there will be more contracts now. he thought to himself as he left the alley and the sailor's corpse.

*51 Hours later*

”Wonderous.” he muttered to himself.

For the past two days Arkeith had travelled from Tavern to Tavern in the city looking for a new contract but there seemed to be nothing and the pittance he had been paid for killing the sodden sailor was nearly run out.

It'll have to be the docks I guess...I can usually find some job even if it will only a trifling amount.

”'Sir' Uvirith indeed.” he mocked himself before setting of towards the City Docks district.

 

[Mello]

Mythas blinked, he wasn't used to being asked for his opinions, and he had been caught off guard here.

"Well.. I imagine our first hurdle is finding the culprits, so we do what we do best, integrate in to the seething masses of this city and find some imformation."

 

[The Archivist]

January nodded.
"I'll change into something more... appropriate."
She walked round the corner into the shadows and took out her bag from under her cloak. The armour clanged as she set it down, revealing a silken body stocking. She slipped on some rags, and smeared some dirt into her cheeks. She lay her sword and armour carefully in a corner, tied her belt and returned round the corner, dressed as an old sailor.
"It's been a while since I actually went by my name in the bars. Time for an old reappearance. Meet you back here at dawn? That's when my guard shift ends."

 

[Mello]

Mythas nodded brusquely, drawing up his hood.

"At dawn then."

-----------

Mythas wasn't sure whether he moved smoothly through the crowd or the crowd smoothly avoided him, either way, he progressed towards the tavern closest to his contract drop off points, the landlord there knew where to direct any people willing to employ Mythas' services, most likely not the Cold Hearts' though. Mythas chuckled inwardly, said landlord was only so generous as to tell the employers where to leave their messages because he still thought his wife was alive. Poor idiot doesn't even have the brains to consider she was long dead.

Mythas pushed the door to the tavern open silently and slunked into a corner, keeping his hood well up. The landlord paled somewhat at the sadly familiar sight, but kept his mouth shut as any elf who wanted to live longer than a few days would. Bringing his knees under his chin as per his habit, Mythas took up position in the tavern to watch and listen.

 

[Malochai]

Indoril stalked through the city streets, cloak drawn close about him and hood covering his eyes. He shuddered instinctively. The last few months, he had travelled to the mainland and escaped his sister’s wrath, although her dogged minions had been on his heels from the get go.

‘Damned fool Cold Hearts,’ he thought to himself sourly, although he couldn’t bring himself to truly feel any spite towards them. His plan had been flawed, it was true. He had placed his trust in faithless cowards, and then blamed his comrades for it. ‘Not that anything could make me admit it,’ he thought sourly. Black-eyed Druchii tried to stare him down, but his amber eyes were stony and hard. A darkened knife flashed in his hand, and struck one through the neck, tearing out his jugular with a wicked wrench. Blood sprayed over the cobbled road, but the elf had already disappeared, his dark blue clothes breaking up his appearance and helping him to blend into the darkness.

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

‘Cheap contracts, no skill, little pay ...’ he thought morosely, hunched over his cheap drink in a mediocre drinking establishment. A fool in the centre of the room was boasting of his exploits within the Cold Hearts, claiming to be their leader. He had snorted with derision when he initially heard the claim. And yet his interest had been raised, and so he nursed his drink, taking his leisurely time to finish it. When the fool left the building, he slipped out into the street after him and watched the exchange with detachment. ‘Maybe the Cold Hearts replaced me with a boastful fool,’ he thought, before shaking his head. Regardless, the idiot claimed too much. And then he lost all trains of thought when the halfwit shot the women.

Indoril lost the boastful elf in the confusion that followed, but he saw the result of his actions. ‘Maybe he’s not as bad as he might be,’ he thought generously, then sighed. ‘Confusion and shock will give one a large advantage. I doubt he could do it again.’

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

Time passed, and Indoril left for his seat at the bar again, wracked with indecision. He was faced with a choice - return to the Cold Heart hideout, or leave the past buried. He could create a new legend for himself. ‘But ... I could have some fun, first,’ And so it was decided. Sweeping out of his seat, the elf easily passed through the masses of people in the bar and into the street. The docks weren’t far off, but he felt the patter of light rain which quickly escalated to a drenching, freezing downpour and finished just as quickly, moving off. Water had collected on top of his hood and dripped down it, after soaking through and making his hair wet. He sighed slightly. ‘Just a part of the life,’ he thought.

The docks were not too far off, and he quickly wound his way there. He looked at the assorted Druchii ships, and grimaced. His main memory of such vessels was his unqualified failure on a slaving trip. Quickly, he clambered a warehouse and looked intently at the surrounding roofs, looking for signs of observers. He didn’t see anything, but waited, knowing that his patience and stealth would keep him hidden long after other observers had grown bored or careless.

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

Finally confident that there was no-one truly interested in the comings and goings of those on the docks, and he climbed down until he was only two stories above the ground then leapt, rolling easily. He strode nonchalantly down the dock until he reached the entrance to what he had taken to thinking of as the Sanctuary. A pitiful excuse for one, but it was a sanctuary all the same.

Dropping into the hole, he realised there were scuffed footprints in the dust which had settled. Instantly, he was on his guard, knife loosened in it’s sheath and crossbow brought to bear, loaded and pointed down the tunnel. ‘Maybe we aren’t as dead as the tales would suggest ...’

After scouting the cavern system and finding it empty of most life, but with signs reminiscent of recent habitation, Indoril had changed his mind - stake out the Sanctuary and wait for whoever had been living there to show themselves.

 

[Get of W'soran]

Arkeith had spent a few hours wandering around the docks, when he had entered the district he had heard a few guards whispering about a member of the same group he had earlier cursed.

Cold Hearts.

Apparently their had been reports of this Druchii fleeing into the docks and without really thinking of it the knight had found himself wandering around the docks searching for the assassin.

Foolishness this chasing of rumours he chided himself silently.

Turning he decided to visit one of his contacts.

__________________


Arkeith pulled down his hood after he entered the tavern and ran a hand through his short dark hair.
The elf was fully aware of how much he stood out in this place.

In an establishment where the customers kept their heads down the proud looking swordsman didn't exactly fit in and for those who knew what to look for his scarred features still bore the signs of highborn selective breeding.

Sweeping past the tavern crowds Arkeith made straight for the proprietor of the questionable establishment.

The landlord looked around nervously as he saw the assassin approach.

Arkeith smiled coldly with one hand on his sword hilt and with the other he dropped a few coins onto the counter.

"Hello friend. I was wondering if you had heard of any work for me." Arkeith asked, his accent betraying his heritage.

The landlord shook his head slightly and give a nervous smile.
"Sorry dread lord there has been none." he replied using the unnecessary honorific but swept up the coins all the same making them vanish as swiftly as any sorcerer could.

Arkeith's smile slid off as he dropped any pretence of friendliness.

"That's the fifth time in a row. Remind me why I pay you at all." he growled "Infact I'm having trouble remembering why I let you live at all."

The landlord paled and opening his mouth, no doubt to give a lame excuse when Arkeith gestured for him to keep silent.

"Just fetch me a drink whilst I contemplate whether or not you'll live another day" he muttered grumpily.

The landlord relaxed as he fetched the drink, the threat was a common one when the "Knight" was melancholy.

When he returned with a mug Arkeith frowned into it as usual without drinking. After a few moments he looked up at the other elf.

"And tell me...have you heard any rumours about a member of the 'Cold Hearts' running around here?"

 

[Count michael]

Damn that was boring where did that guard go Shevael thought to himself as he wandered aimlessly around the docks his chains clanking loudly. Quickly losing interest in the stake out of where that guard disappeared he decided to take a tour of the docks to find something to pass the time like a tavern, after a while he started making his way to the exact point where he saw that guard disappeared, gazing around for any watchers cursing he couldn't see no one he tried prying off each plank to find the secret entrance to whether the guard disappeared.

Suddenly Shevael had a strange feeling he was being watched quickly gazing around he tried to locate who ever was watching him
"Come on you bastards" he loudly cried not caring about the noise he was making "I know your out there, don't you know who I am???? I am Shevael Redmane leader and sole remaining member of the Cold Hearts, fear me you fools for I am a Demi god, I have slain hundreds of foes elf, man even daemons have fallen before me " he declared gazing around for whoever was watching him seeing no one annoyed him
"how dare you not show yourselves, oh whatever I am off to a tavern Follow me if you dare" he declared storming off trying to find a tavern purposely bumping into anyone he saw in his way loudly singing of his mighty exploits.

 

[The Archivist]

January had crawled along the underside of the pier to the shore, when she heard footsteps above her. Peering at the dark figure, she listened as the figure tried planks along the pier. It seems she had been careless.
As she watched the figure from the shadows, she listened as the man ranted.

As Shevael wandered off, apparantly to a tavern, January snuck from hiding and began to follow at a sort of distance, scowling and cursing like the sailor she was disguised as and making no attempt to stay in cover or to change her pace once they had entered an area where she could have come from somewhere other than the docks.

 

[Mello]

Mythas frowned as the landlord paled while talking to a customer.

odd.. he keeps on glancing at me.. wait

Mythas struggled to keep his surprise and anger contained, they were obviously talking about him, why else would the idiot glance at him nervously so much. With a whisper Mythas stood up, hopping over the table he was sitting behind, much to the disquiet of his neighbours. He flowed through the tavern until behind the stranger before reaching out to pin both the man's arms behind his back and slam his head down on the bar-table to concuss him. The rest of the bar didn't even notice, such was the propensity for meaningless violence in this city.

Mythas leant down to whisper in the man's ear

"Who sent you?" he whispered.

 

[Get of W'soran]

Arkeith felt the elf approach before he was even touched however he instantly recognized he wouldn't be quick enough to face the newcomer. Instead he provided no resistance and allowed himself to be smashed face-first into the table.

This again. he thought to himself with annoyance.

"Who sent you?"

Well that wasn't what he had been expecting, perhaps a "Give me your money" or "You murdered my 'insert relative here'" but certainly not that.

All he had been talking about with the landlord was

Ah crap...Cold Hearts. he realised with a sinking feeling.

"Well aren't you the misinformed peasant. I have no idea what you're talking about and I have very little coin to be worth mugging." he said aloud affecting an unconcerned tone despite the blood running down his face "If you wish to have a civil conversation I recommend you release me."

Sniffing he sighed dramatically "You know I think you broke my nose."

And if you don't release me I'll just have to force myself free and make abit of a scene he added silently