Sighing, the swordsman began to eat, slowly picking apart the fish dish with his ornate chopsticks. Golden eyes darted through the back display bottles behind the bar as he watched events unfold.
What a bore lately…
A dark look crossing his face as he watched silently as the government agent killed a man. Of course he had seen deaths, but assassinations, or “executions” always seemed so pitiful. There seemed to be no skill except surprise and aim.
The young man continued to eat his food silently until looking to Serena,”After we finish we will go to a nearby inn and get a room. Hopefully no unnecessary blood with be spilled beforehand… But as long as they keep it to themselves...”
Not like a care. It is not my problem, his thoughts began growing dark.
Slowly he turned back to eating and watching. He noticed the preacher still trying to pass his message with failure. But more intriguing than the killing was the young woman… Jokull paused and looked harder, she’s blind! He shook his head and looked to the other woman; it seemed things were getting ready to light up.
I guess I might be killing tonight after all; Jokull sighed and continued to eat the rest of the fish.
Mist started to rise from the plains outside of the Port City. The only light was from the rising full moon. Shadows flickered among the fields outside the city walls. Almost blurs as the strange shadows climbed the thick tall walls. And just as quickly the Guards began to plummet to their deaths. The shadows rushed the guard houses. Still not a shout or scream. The spray of blood gleaming in the bright moonlight was the only evidence the shadows had come. And just as fast as they came they leapt onto the rooftops and began spreading out over the city.
A lone figure passed through the open gates to the city. The man pulled his strange off his aged bone colored cloak hood and glanced around. A bored expression on his face as his boot falls entered the empty streets. Mist rose about his slender figure, slowly it ebbed through the streets farther into the city.
As his boots echoed through the eerily empty street people watched through cracked shutters and doors. But they seemed to close and latch before the man’s shadow ever came close to being visible.
“Uh huh, seems like usual the populace is a bunch of cowards.”
He continued to move, his figure shrouded in the aged bone white cloak. Turning slowly to an open alley he waited. His eyes glowing a deep persimmon as they stared predator like down the dark alley.
A mocking laugh sounded from the depths of the dark portal, and slowly a figure began to shape and form, covered in a shadowed cloak, ”Hello master, you seem perturbed by my showing here. Do you not wish me to be here!?”
The man let his head loll back as a maddening laugh escaped his lips.
The white haired man shook his head slowly, ”I did not order you to be here De’Kita.” The boots began to echo again as the white haired man moved toward the open mouth of the alley.
De’Kita let out a maddening howl of a laugh.
“But lord I did not request permission. I will kill him before I let you touch him,” the feminine voice began to chuckle without control, ”Jokull Usercii the Ice Demon is my kill!”
The man stepped in close enough to the woman to peer almost through the darkness of the hood to see her face, “I will tell you what you may kill. Because last time I glanced… checked… cared to remember. I am the leader of the Ishvolk and Hand and Voice of Azurius. Or do you question our lord? Our God?”
De’Kita began to shrink back into the darkness. A nervous insane laugh began to take hold over her. “But Gestre, please… I must kill him… h-he is mine to kill. This is not fair, Gestre!”
Gestre seemed to blur and vanish. A whisper sounded through the dark alley, “I think you misunderstand me, you do not have my permission. And you have yet to beg of me what you are in want of…” The man smile as he stood behind the woman, almost looking as he leaned on her. A hand wandered over her stomach in the folds of her cloak.
“I think you should rethink how you are stating what you want.” The young man seemed far to calm as a blade appeared in his free hand. Moved over her shadowed throat and the calm alone which he held seem far too eerie in itself.
Rustling came from her figure; she was shaking with fear as his hand drifted around freely on her body. The nervous laughs can in racking sobs. “P-please Lord Gestre… Voice and Hand, of our God Azurius. I beg you to give me t-this order…”
De’Kita seemed to shrivel and fall from her once opposing stature.
The knife disappeared as well as the white haired man.
“You may have him, but first I shall speak with him. Do you understand this De’Kita?”
“Y-yes, yes I do Lord Gestre.” Falling to her knees she moved to the man and wrapped his arms around his waist.
“T-t-thank you, Gestre. My dear lover, hopefully are embrace will come again soon,” another insane laugh cracked through the air as the two vanished in the voluminous mist.
The white haired man moved back through the mists, slowly stopping at a tavern entrance. A dark look came over the young man’s usually calm face.
“Jokull, I smell you old friend… But do you I…” The strange man pressed the door to the tavern and stepped in. Wisps of mists followed and moved in behind him as he slowly closed the door.
The strange persimmon eyes glowed as they locked on to the dark brown haired man at the bar.
Ah, you dare take the girl with you… This will make matters easier with you dear sister...
The man vanished, reappearing with hood up in the stool next to Jokull.
“Keep, I will take a bottle of Oshia dark ale.” The man smiled in the shadow of his cloak hood as he softly spoke, “I smell you Jokull Usercii the Ice Demon… I also smell your girlie Serena the Chosen…” A chuckle sounded from the white haired man.
Jokull seemed to freeze, muscles tensing, his hand shattering the rising glass. Eyes began to twitch, ears flicking, his nose flaring in fear and rage as he took in the scent.
“I-I-I… smell you… Gestre Blood of the Bloody Mists!” Words barely sensible through his locked jaw. As he looked up at the man who took both mug and bottle from the keep who eyed him oddly.
Gestre slowly removed his hood and poured the contents of the bottle into his glass.
“Ah, brother it is so nice to catch your scent after so long… I see that after Elysia you just move on to the next look alike, eh? So sad she had to die… twice at that. And it seems that you were never able to save her,” the man took a long drag from his mug, “Don’t tell me… Vahni still has no clue about the two of you, does he? Even after my sister’s death, your lover. You still fear him… but it seems you have cut your chain for the time for he is not sitting here drowning in a bottle with you.”
The man downed the rest of the mug and began pouring another glass.
“It is sad, in all truth I was rather happy of the prospect of seeing him again.”
Jokull took three calming breaths, “Why are you here Gestre, this is not Nyroussia… I thought all of the relics were there!?” He slammed a fist to the bar, splinters spraying from the small gouge that the bar had acquired. The barkeep glanced over from his current customer in a suspicious manner.
“Leave now! I do not understand!”
Gestre finished the bottle of dark ale and stood slowly, “They were, but it seems there are a few who have acquired such said items. We have come to gain them. For his daughter must bless my bed and this world to kill you pitiful beings. You used to share my thoughts Jokull…”
Jokull’s stool scrapped back, barking and screeching as it clattered to the tavern floor. Most of the people quieted down to look over at Jokull and his party.
“Leave now you bastard, you killed her!”
Jokull’s blade gleamed free of the sheath in one fluid motion as he kicked the stool from underneath Gestre. A quick diagonal slash and then a spin to the floor in a horizontal finishing cut. Jokull stayed kneeling waiting for Gestre’s flesh to pill and the spray of his blood. But it did not come. A stranger stood in Gestre’s place, clutching his body. Already the coppery scent filled the tavern and soon the man could not hold any longer. He crumpled to the scrapped and scarred floor, insides spilling forth and bowels emptying.
“You bastard how could you take her, Gestre! Stop fading away from me and die!”
The white haired man smiled as he floated back, it was almost too late for him to vanish and place the man in Jokull’s path.
“I see you have been training more. That is not a pleasing thought my brother. Oh, I should tell you that De’Kita is here. And the guards are all but dead in this city… If I was you I would run. You are all dead though.”
Gestre vanished as fast as he had come.
The tavern seemed to break as screams erupted and the tavern began to empty. Jokull’s head whipped back and forth, scanning for Gestre, “Get back here!”
Pausing he glanced back, “Serena, we have to leave now, gather your things!” Panic seemed to take the swordsman as he pulled his pack on. Flicking his katana he slowly sheathed it and gripped it tightly in his left hand.
Looking to the remaining people in the bar he scowled and flinched, but it was odd for him. He was calm, collected, and never flinching.
“Anyone who wishes to stay alive for awhile longer should leave. Always stay out of the shadows and mist… they are here.” His golden eyes wavered as he read the writing in blood on the wall by the door, Ishvolk.
The wars have started again...
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