Cold Hearts IC Thread

[The Archivist]

January had dressed up in a low key grey cloak with as many different pockets as she could fit on the inside. She used her broom handle as a walking stick, hiding the sharpened end with a little bronze cap. Her outward demeanour was calm and collected as she walked through the door of the warehouse she had collected her disguise from.
"This is such a bad idea. It's a trap, it's a trap, it's a trap... This is such a bad idea, I feel like I'm going to snap..." she sung softly to herself as she walked through the back alleys.
She turned onto a main street and checked her face in a puddle. Her makeup obscured her face as far as possible, making it unobtrusive and forgettable. She was also wearing fake spectacles, just for the extra disguise, and her hair hung loosely under the back of the cloak.
January spotted the inn at the far end of the street and looked up at the rooftops. The signals that other Cold Hearts had taken a position were there, and she felt a little more secure. Not that she'd ever admit that.
The door of the inn lay just ahead when a particularly drunk woman staggered out. January carefully avoided contact as the elf threw up before stepping inside.

 

[Mello]

It took some time for Jan's eyes to adjust to the gloom of the tavern, and her lungs to stop heaving at the smoke. Something definitely potent was being passed around here.

The bar was... brown. Haze hung over everywhere and the walls seemed alive with god knows what fungus. The room was arranged with a central bar, with round tables lining the walls and a central dining table. The patriots of the bar looked no better. Hunched over, most ugly, one human was even spotted drinking.

At the very back of the room there was an empty table with a piece of paper on it. The bar man had already stopped a couple of drunkards from going anywhere near it with his dagger.

 

[Get of W'soran]

Arkeith had made his way directly to the Tavern and as such was already seated amongst a number of drunks, in his armour and cloaked the druchii appeared as any number of sellswords the city was home to.

"One good point about getting rid of the plate armour anyway." he thought to himself.

Hearing the door open he lazily glanced at the woman as she entered, realising it was Jan he looked away casually and sighed into his glass.

The truth was he wished he could say he hadn't been in this dump before but sadly these where the kind of establishments the noble visited these days. In fact it had come as no surprise when the barkeep had wordlessly supplied Arkeith with his usual disgusting drink.

The knight took another sip of cheap, watered down wine and grimaced.

This was going to be a long day.

 

[The Archivist]

January wished that the barmaid she usually co-opted in the bar was around, but she took it in her stride. She hadn't been in here for over a year after all.
The abnormality of the note was obvious, almost painstakingly so. The barman seemed awfully protective of it too.
She wandered up to the bar and waited for the barman to reach her. She looked up at him with the usual stance of a pub-goer but her voice was hard and very out of character for her disguise.
"One order of information, please, with a little explanation on top. Chuck in that note in the corner there and I'll avoid paying you an assassin's tip."

 

[Mello]

The bartender raised his eyebrow, a few specks of mud and grit falling off them as he did so.

"What month were you born in?"

He spoke like he wasn't actually speaking to her and muttering to himself instead, while he attempted to clean a grimy glass. It looked like he was making it dirtier.

 

[The Archivist]

January raised an eyebrow.
"I'm the youngest of twelve, wouldn't you know, and January was the only month left. It wouldn't seem right to be born at any other time."
"Now, about that order..."

 

[Malochai]

Indoril was laying on the roof of the building opposite the door to the Inn, his stomach pressed uncomfortably against the wet, black tile, his cloak wrapped tightly around him as a cold, sleeting rain began to drizzle.

The elf was staring down the iron sight of his crossbow, pointed at the Inn's door, having just watched someone he was sure was January enter the bar. "Why the hell am I helping this stupid woman ..."

 

[Mello]

The man nodded brusquely.

"Good, go and sit down, he'll be with you soon."

---

Indril's back felt a light pressure, then it was releived and a familiar over-sized crow hopped down onto the side of Indoril's shoulder. She looked at him expectantly.

 

[Malochai]

At the pressure on his back, Indoril tensed for he a second, before relaxing and trying to find out which direction the threat was in, before it was released and he saw Sylvia hop onto the roof beside him. He scowled, not wanting to make the bird draw attention to his position.

Whispering, he shooed at the bird angrily - "Get away!" The words were almost a hiss. "Go on, scram!"

 

[The Archivist]

January walked across to the note, reading it as she sat at the empty table. Every so often she glanced up, expecting either for him to arrive or for someone to draw a crossbow on her.
He had never been good at disguises, but excellent at planning. He'd also had the oddest sense of humour, even though he'd insisted that they should leave a calling card of such.

 

[Get of W'soran]

Arkeith finished his wine and waved his hand at the barkeeper.

"Another!" he growled slurring his words very slightly to give the faintest appearance of intoxication.

'Although how anyone could get drunk on this swill is a mystery.' he thought to himself miserably thinking of the watery alcohol.

The knight also had his left hand hidden under his cloak only inches away from one of his daggers, although now he thought about it he had done the same the last few times he'd frequented this place.

Arkeith appeared as unhappy as every other downtrodden occupant of the tavern...it didn't take much acting.

 

[Mello]

A hooded figure descended the stair from behind the barkeep and looked at January pointedly. Nodding he returned back upstairs, with a vague guesture for her to follow him.

 

[Zephyr]

Kelarith stood a few street blocks away, he had left minutes after the others did. He had seen them all enter a bar and was waiting for...well anything really. He wasn't exactly stealth and had told them he would not be of use. But he had secretly followed their steps and waited out of sight.

He had this strange feeling that a mass combat would erupt and he would be needed. He didn't want to see any of the Cold Hearts members die...yet. Some he had figured for plain heretics from the start and beyond any redemption. He was here to watch them operate on Temple orders so watch them he did. And maybe, maybe he would be able to spill some blood, it wouldn't be the first time things went horribly wrong.

 

[The Archivist]

January gripped her broom handle tight.
Was that him? He seemed taller, but then it had been how long?
She nervously stood and moved towards the stairs, almost inconsequentially tapping Arkeith's chair with her stick as she passed before swinging it towards the door.
She reached the stairs and popped the cap off her broomstick, slipping it into a pocket. She advanced nervously, trying to tell if there was someone lying in wait.

 

[Mello]

A hood landed unceremoniously on Jan's head, before a rope tightened around her neck to keep it on, her broom being snatched out of her hands.

---

Downstairs two hooded men took a hooded figure out of the bar, the figure was struggling.

 

[Get of W'soran]

Arkeith threw a few coins to pay for his drink on the counter and stood giving the appearance of swaying as if slightly drunk.

"Best be cautious." he thought to himself.

Keeping up inebriated act he followed the kidnappers outside, keep his cloak in place so that he could keep a hidden hand on one of his daggers.

 

[Mello]

Despite everyone's best efforts, a large crowd of similarly dressed strangers congealed around the trio, this crowd meandered the street until they dissapated without warning, leaving no one behind.

-----

The hood was slowly lifted off Jan's head, this time with much more care.

"Hello sister." a familiar voice rung out melodically, with a hint of chaos.

OOC: It's best you describe him physically Archi, I got the character nailed though

 

[Malochai]

Indoril spotted the struggling figure, and frowned at it, tilting his head, and tried to keep an eye on it as they marched up the wide road and mingled with the other pedestrians, but he soon lost them, and then when he looked back to see Kelarith leave the inn, he scowled slightly and withdrew from the edge of the roof, before standing and making his way down to street level on the other side of the building.

'Ah, well,' he told himself, 'It's her own fault; not my problem. I should probably head back to the cave ...'

 

[Get of W'soran]

Arkeith sighed as the trio vanished from sight.

"I suppose I could run after them...perhaps catch them." he thought to himself.

"Screw it." the knight muttered.

Leaning against the wall next to the entrance of the Tavern he decided to wait a few moments to see if the others showed up.

 

[The Archivist]

January blinked as she returned to the light.
"December?"
Her eyes cleared and she saw her brother clearly.
December had grown taller since she had last seen him, but he was still a touch shorter than her. He had turned away for a moment, and all she could see was the back of his short, jet black hair.
As she tried to see how she was bound, December turned and stared at January, his blue and red speckled eyes the lively feature on his otherwise impassive face. Square chin set, left ear still set with a steel earring, dark black clothing and hands ink stained, he looked as if time hadn't past since she had last seen him.
"Finally picked up on my jokes, huh?" she said. "Where've you been all this time?"

 

[Zephyr]

Kelarith shook his head as if doing so would make the other cloaked figures vanish into thin air. Clever, there was no way to follow the original trio. This had been carefully planned. His eyes fixed on one of the hooded figures and figured that any one would do.
He was barely able to keep up with the person...agile little bastard.

After a while of zig-zagging through the streets however the figure looked around and his eyes widened. Not what he had expected probably.
Kelarith drew his Draich and at that moment the Druchii went for a real sprint. Kelarith muttered a curse under his breath and used all his strength and speed to try and catch up.

Luck was with him as the figure's cloak got stuck behind a piece of debris, slowing him down just enough in order for him to catch up. He made a quick prayer to Khaine for forgiveness, turning his Draich so that he used his weapon as a means to knock the other Druchii out. A strange 'thwop' sound came from it and the Druchii went down sputtering curses. Not knocked out enough.
Kelarith shrugged to himself, not like he was used to doing this stuff. He gave a good kick against the head and this time the spluttering died down. He checked for breathing, still alive. Hopefully alive enough.

He returned to the inn where Arkeith still stood and dropped the body from his shoulders unto the ground.
"Will this do?"

 

[Get of W'soran]

Arekith grimaced as he saw the Executioner approach, the temple guard made him extremely uncomfortable.

"Only because you envy him." an annoying thought told him.

Pushing such musings aside he glanced down at the unconcious man.

"We'll soon find out. Let's take him back to the hideout, we can meet up with the others there." Arkeith growled, lacking his usual good humour.

Glaring darkly at the captive he looked back at the executioner suddenly unsure if he should be giving directions to the other elf, he was a longer-term member of the assassin group.

 

[Zephyr]

Kelarith shrugged and picked up the body again, slinging it over his shoulder. He had never minded taking orders, it had been beaten into him.

He would not slavishly obey anyone though, especially outside the Temple, but as long as he did not have to perform things that would make no sense whatsoever he did not care.

He started walking back back towards the hideout, punching the Druchii in his face when he started to stir too much. He hoped he had not done permanent damage...

 

[Mello]

December smiled in his usual understandable way.

"What do I always do January? I plan. After we were... Parted I spent some time on my own to consolidate myself.". His eyes flickered some place elsewhere.

"Think of it as self exile. Still, all I've managed to do is be the puppeteer of many major figures nowadays, what have you been up to sister?" he stood up in what Jan had only just noticed was a very lavish room, and untied her from the seemingly only uncomfy chair in the room. Continuing his journey he glided over to a cabinet and started pouring some wine of some sort.

"You're much older now so you can drink. What's your poison?" he smiled in his sly way.

 

[The Archivist]

"Hemlock does best when applied sparingly," January grinned. "Right now, I could do with an aged Brettonian white."
She looked around a little.
"As for what I've been up to? Apart from heading to ground recently, you must have picked up on my puns. A target here, a target there, a handsome sum deposited fresh into my lap. I carried on doing what we did to the rest."
Shaking the pins and needles from her arms, she stretched before wandering over to where her brother stood. A slight tremor entered her voice as she began to speak faster and more forcefully.
"Why speak up now? And why not then? Where were you Dec? Do you know how long I searched for you? Do you know how many soldiers and thugs I kidnapped and tortured to find out whether they'd killed you that night?"
She coughed as she finished speaking intensely.
"No, don't answer Dec. Just... just get on with it."