Two moons marked the night, one a ghostly blue and the other merely white. Other moons might grace the sky above on any given night, but the Elders and scholars kept all in sight. Master Nazeek took note, yet of it he rarely spoke. A weathered assassin watching the skies comparing his experience to their theories, their lies. And truth. Notes scribed fast, explanations built from the past. Nazeek wrote and showed how to use that special sight which explained all that might, above. Yet the master never spoke of stars. He stated as fact, expecting all to act, until just like that all the bravado and tact, stopped. Simeon left behind, still listening, following -- waiting under two moons that marked the night.

Sogna passed over the calm waves and prepared to dock. Night fell some time ago, longer these days as Autumn took hold of Léva, and the ship's crew worked silently. At the bow stood a tall, bearded man with a captain's cap which he held in a hand, waving toward whatever he ordered to be done. A hand fell on his shoulder. The owner drew close to his ear, shared a few words, and made his way down the steps. This man stood shorter than the captain with dark skin, like most of the crew, and countless dreadlocks tied back and spilling over his shoulders. Each step went without sound, each movement precise and intentional. He stepped up onto the rail of the ship with a hand gripping some taut rope rising toward the sails. As soon as the dock neared he stepped forward onto the mossy, wooden planks. The captain leaned against the rail and let a short and low whistle.

"The ticket, uh," the captain fell quiet and cringed, a thin paper held out in hand. "No disrespect, Simeon. Just, what should call you?"

Simeon lowered his head and took the paper. Nearly six months since the passing and he hadn't claimed the title. A courtesy, not asking this long. Simeon smiled, and quietly replied, "My name. I'll see that the order is filled along with our return. Be ready to cast off in an hour?"

At the captain's nod, Simeon raised his hood and left. The moss covered docks made of weathered stone spoke to the very character of Annwn. An old region built up centuries upon centuries ago left to wither and to die and to rot. Structures of a variety of shapes appeared here and there, half crumbled, yet still liveable. Dwarves claimed that the surface had merely been an experiment. A thing of little value let go at the smallest risk. Their pride lie beneath the earth in the districts of the city below. And so were their mythos, their narratives of power and mastery over earth. Simeon knew the stories, but held no strong opinion. He chose this region for how its people lived. Most kept below and those who lived above were mostly hunters, smiths, and folk of the land in scattered villages -- nearly all jobs for the day. The village he walked through first started immediately off the dock. A line of wooden structures sprawled out from a taller, older ruin furthest from the sea. Very few stood in the streets and none by their windows. There were lights, but most seemed content in their homes, eateries, and taverns. He remembered the captain called the village Arberth.

Simeon approached the only lamp unlit on the street. The black metal cage held glass walls, one a door, and a plate on which to set a candle or Lef-infused stone. From what he could tell his message had arrived. Every lamp glowed a bright blue akin to the larger moon above. Smiling at the sight, Simeon reached beneath his cloak and brought out a ball of thick cloth. He placed the thing in the lamp and took the cloth out along with his hand. Before Simeon could fully turn around a bright white appeared. By the time he stepped back into the center of the path others had emerged. No one gawked or investigated, they merely confirmed the light and changed their own. A few moments later and Arberth was cast in a harsh and surreal white.

"I take it you're the customer," a woman roughly Simeon's height asked from a nearby building. She stood with a rag hung over her shoulder, her hair loosely tied into a bun.

Simeon nodded and handed her the purchasing note. Raising a brow, she pursed her lips and continued, this time quieter, "When we received the order I thought it some royal banquet in the south, maybe Ludgate. Maybe sizeable orders all over to satisfy one big party. But royals spend wildly. Only pirates demand so much for so little. Only lords rouse the fear I've heard about this order. What manner of pirate are you, then? Hm?"

At the word pirate, the barkeep had leaned so near Simeon tasted her on his breath. Her perfume a mix of gin, vermouth, and whiskey. Those eyes soft and determined for an answer. She leaned lower, her scoop-neck blouse revealing her breasts propped all too intentionally against an arm. She let her lips part a hair before she glanced down. "I think," she said softly, leaning even lower until Simeon could see a tattoo. "You're him."

The barkeep raised and drew a knife with the propped arm. Before completing the slash Simeon caught her elbow, shoving her hand back toward her. That skinny knife, a black stiletto, cut deep until the hilt. She gasped and pulling her back into a lean, Simeon kissed her. Though her lips struggled he persisted. Eventually her little cries reduced to whimpers and to silence. He propped the body against the rail and retrieved his note. In the night and that dark blouse, the blood was invisible.

When Simeon looked back to the road he spotted the first of this new sect some ways up the road. He stepped away from the propped corpse, gesturing a wave as if goodbye, and began his approach. Things were already amiss -- he would not daddle.

Samantha’s steps were soundless, the fur on her heels avidly swallowing their breath. Her walk had the hidden grace of a killer, each step taking her just far enough so as to not let the cloak covering her shoulders crease treacherously over the handles of cold steel. A salty breeze blew across the streets, lifting dust and pieces of scribbled thoughts worth no more than that into the air. Her pale-blonde hair flared to life as the divine breath or nature reached her, locks shining white in the light of the beacons, making her look ethereal and unreal. Unreal was also the ruby swaying gently on her neck, hidden beneath her cloak, ashamed of its flawed nature. It lacked the pink hue of the best of its kin, or even the purple one of the more common ones. Instead it was near-black, tainted only by a tinge of red the colour of dying blood. However, even when hidden its presence could not be masked to the well-attuned senses. Its light pulse of power would confuse said vigilant observer like the beating of a second heart…

As the dark navy cloak settled calmly in place, so did Samantha. Her steps died out slowly like the wind as the stranger who was no stranger came close enough for silent words to reach. A ghost of a smell tickled her nose, one she’d felt oh-so-often, one she hadn’t expect to find right here and now. Her eyes the colour of molten steel shifted slightly to look over his garments, looking for signs of his recent sin. There were none, a job clean done. Only then did a light bow travel though her body, lowering her head and arching her back, but only slightly, just enough to not raise suspicion by any on-lookers.

“I see death has released you, Master T.” Her voice whispered in a sigh. She knew his name well, even if they hadn’t often interacted, and she knew it had no T in its initials. She also knew, however, that there was no Master Nazeem Thorne anymore. And even though she would still need time to fully commit to the new Master, she was ready to give him a chance to prove his right to be such. Browsing shortly through the folds under the cloak she took out a small purse full of a months’ worth of silver and offered it discreetly to Simeon, finally lifting her gaze to meet his eyes. “A small gift, for new beginnings. And may they be successful.”

She was frightened to go into the city. It had to be done. Of course it had to be done. Cities frightened her. Forests were sparse of people. Temples too. At least, her home had been. Too many people makes too much mess. Eats all the food. People were full of greed. Greed was not her territory. It was not written into her code. Greed was for people who were fortunate enough to experience luxury. Rosa DeLune was not fortunate. Not in any way. Her home had been a place of peace, yes, but not of plenty. There was little food to be had in the Spine of Léva, and much of it was too tough, even for her. She could live off of stolen energy for a long time, but it could not sate the gnawing in her gut that did not let her sleep, and willed her toward death.

As of recently, she could not call herself by name anymore. No, now she had a title. She was Rose, the Thorned One. She could not be touched, for her touch was dangerous. Her name, too, was dangerous. It was not an alias, truly, because nobody knew her name anyway. But it was her oath to Selene. An oath that demanded action tonight. Action, of course, in the city.

Dwarves in the city were friendly enough, but they sneered at her. Perhaps they had a grudge against humans, or maybe elves. Rose was sure they had a grudge against mutts like her. Everyone did, in the end. The city folk had welcomed her in, but judged her with their gazes whenever she was around. She could feel it on her back.So she had spent time in the forested areas outside the city, feasting on whatever game she could find. But the city lights were impossible to miss. That's what it said in the note, something about a light. Rose had received the note when she swore her oath. Apparently there had been a plan in the works for some time. A plan that would be set into action when the white moon and the blue moon hung in the sky together. Tonight was that night, and she could not avoid the city any longer. Its lights flicked on, and Rose was already walking toward where her contact would be waiting.

Are you prepared, Rosa? Her soul whispered inwardly. When Manos spoke, it felt as though she was talking to herself - such was their symbiotic relationship. Maybe it would feel strange. Supposedly it was supposed to be frightening. But it seemed completely natural to her. Tonight is the first night of the rest of your life. Of our lives. We will learn about the underbelly of the world now, and with time we will incorporate it into ourselves. You'd better not screw everything up.

Rose shook her head quickly. No, she would not make any mistakes. Manos always spoke dramatically, but he was right. Her past life was over, and nothing would be the same after tonight. In what way, she was not sure, but if these people could help her fight off the ticking time bomb that was her own starvation, that would be enough. She could promise her loyalty to people like that... That went without saying though. She already had promised that very thing. Like snapping a twig under too much pressure, Rose's mind reverted to her usual hunter's mindset, and thoughts fired quickly, like arrows aimed only loosely at a target. Manos' influence calmed her mind and allowed the formation of longer thoughts, but since that was not necessary for survival, it only seemed to happen when he wanted it to. Usually Rose's own mind worked in short bursts.

The city was a bright shade of white. Not what she expected. Was this the signal to light the way? The way was indeed quite light. Perhaps something had gotten confused? Maybe something went wrong. What was she supposed to do if it did? Run? Hide? Attack? Too many options meant that she continued at pace. No way but forward. Priests used to say 'If you move under your own convictions, you will find the strength to pull through.' Rose followed this creed. She was strong. She could make a way. Tonight, she had to make a way.

The meeting is not called off, I am sure of that. We must simply look harder. Use your senses, Rosa. Your hunter's eyes and ears.

All was quiet, and all was strangely bright. Down the road a bit two people were talking. Nothing out of the ordinary. There were people in cities, and they talked together.

Hold on... Her partner stopped her train of thought in its tracks for some reason.

Everything was night. Would all the lamps be on? Maybe. Would people be standing on the street? Maybe. Conversation, then? Maybe... But maybe not.

It was easy. Risk free. She was looking for an inn. Lost girl. Arrived in city late. Could force normal speech for a while. She did not know what she was looking for, but maybe someone was looking for her instead? She knew little about the group she had just joined. Would have to bank on chance. Chance, senses, and skill.

Quietly, and outside of direct contact with the light, Rose approahed the pair. The woman offered the man a large sum of money in such a way that it would not be obvious to onlookers. But Rose had been looking for a sign. Something almost exactly like that. This boosted her confidence.

This was it. She didn't know why she knew, but she knew. Maybe Manos figured it out. Maybe he knew what to look for. Either way, this was the man she was supposed to meet. She approached slowly and non-threateningly, though she would be ready to strike if she was attacked, like a snake. She had nothing to say, so she didn't speak. But she looked directly into the larger man's eyes with her own blazing red ones. Something she rarely did. If he was expecting her, he would know what her look and those eyes meant. If he had not been expecting her, he would not. Her eyes would frighten him away. And she would have revealed nothing. For the elf he was interacting with, she spared not a look, nor even a thought. Surely she would be condescending the poor girl with human blood. Perhaps both of the pair were. But it wasn't worth talking to someone who didn't like you. If they were in the same boat, Rose could grow to like her. But if they were not, it was not worth the effort.

Rhus stood up from his table finally after twenty minutes of waiting. Bullshit, he thought. He'd been waiting there for a drink, waiting for that damned woman to bring his his drink. He'd sat there, watching as she made her sultry ass out of the bar, being one of the only servers that were available. She was lucky she had a good body, so he wasn't too mad. Of course, a woman with a good pair and and even better rear could do anything and he'd be fine with it...

Well, not everything.

He walked with an air of swagger as he made his way through the crowd of people. How long had he been here? His head felt blurry... how many drinks? Seven. Yeah, seven... probably. Rhus grunted as he leaned against the cobblestone wall, closing his eyes for a second. Those dwarves sure were short, but they could brew a fine drink. Plump Helmet Ale was probably in his top ten favorites, even if it was a little odd to be made out of shrooms. He opened his eyes, the many people drinking and drinking their day away were still blurry. He left, wiping his brow for sweat.

He'd gone to this dump of a city eight weeks ago, and been bored out of his mind ever since. No jobs. No extravagant wines. No nothing at all, and for what? A silly little message that told him to be here when there were two moons? Of course, not like he wouldn't have come. It'd been too long since he had participated on a mission. He wondered if he'd be meeting with someone. Before he could think much about it, a glint of fair skin caught his eye.

"Ah, fair maiden, I've been waiting for your attention... You see, my cup has gone empty, and I..." He froze for a moment. As soon as he approached close enough, he saw enough. Compared to her dress, the blood was barely distinguishable, but a keen eye, and one who had seen much of blood, knew what to expect. "A shame..." he said, grimacing. He'd killed plenty of people, but none had been a woman, and who had killed this one? A tiny blur caught his eye as soon as he turned. A small girl was rushing through the streets, fairly far from him.

Rhus gave a kiss to the dead woman, oh what a waste. He followed the girl, sticking to the long shadows cast by the strange lanterns that were erected in clear cut parameters, to light the streets up. A relatively knew technology, as far as he knew, but he wasn't paying attention to that. What he did pay attention to was the girl. She had the whitest skin he had ever seen, but had pointed ears... elf? No, half-elf. Rather beautiful, he might add.

She stopped after a small while, and he stopped as well.

He quickly saw what she was seeing, standing high over her shoulder. Two people, exchanging a small bag of coins, he might guess. It would have been a normal exchange, had he not known the face in front of him. He never forgot a face. And this one was an important one, none the less. Simeon Cythera, a name quite known among the Night Kiss. Certainly he had been the one to give him the message. Still, the girl had his attention, but he knew she wasn't the killer. Of course, a good spook might not be so bad, and it would give him a laugh.

He slowly approached and laid a hand on her shoulder, speaking in the most haunting tone he could manage. "It isn't wise to be watching others do business, girl."

“I see death has released you, Master T,” the woman greeted, her voice hushed to no more than a sigh. Simeon studied her, an elf, and vaguely familiar. “A small gift, for new beginnings. And may they be successful.”

Simeon cringed, even if briefly, before offering a small smile and accepted the coin purse with a small nod. Rather than responding, he instead turned to the rest of the group and a quiet word, "If you're done frightening the halfling, I've a small carriage loaded with jugs by the bar. Bring her with. Day Breaks, Brother."

A half-breed, an elf, a human, and two left unaccounted. Two who could be traitors to the sect. The cost of loyalty often came in bushels of khat or jugs of wine, but even a noble member's been turned if a weakness sat exposed. Nazeek enjoyed cryptic messages and the clock-and-dagger meetings. Perhaps the attraction was more than just for theatrics. Regardless, Simeon followed the same code and used the same language. Codes laced in words, not necessarily direct meanings, but it didn't take a scholar to note the opposite of 'Night' and 'Day' or the symbolism that could follow. Something was amiss and Simeon's mind had little interest in slowing. He'd met one of the two absentees before, Dez. Neither he nor the prosthetic-girl had served five years. That meant neither knew, the threat remained only in the here. Now. The rest though, he glanced over them, not a bad group. Smaller teams meant quieter missions, perhaps with the illusion of some grand force at their backs. Master Thorne would say a small knife required equal measures of articulation and creativity. If this was the weapon he'd wield, he'd take the words to heart.

While Rhus Lancia followed orders, Rose in tow, Simeon gestured for the Wisp to follow. Reading each member's oath revealed much, but keeping them straight proved a challenge. He looked over the pale elf once more for clues. The glimmering necklace about her neck and her complexion said all he needed, the Wisp, as in the Puppet Master, a necromancer. Chances were Rhus and the half-blood, the Chakra Savant, would run into trouble. A commander of the dead might've helped. Simeon glanced about the buildings lining the main road as he and Samantha made their way back toward the docks. Though the street lamps glowed the eerie, disorienting white, not a single face peaked from their windows. Nazeek had described Arberth as loyal, not daftly obedient. No, this was wrong. The bartender had expected a person this order and the name he'd used was a dead man's.

"Listen. Don't interrupt. I need to think and the best comes aloud, well, quietly, but aloud. Mark discrepancies and show them, understood?" Simeon rapidly explained. He spoke to Samantha while still scanning over every home, alleyway, and rooftop. When he continued, he cut her off.

"Iplacedanorder.Andorderinthenameofadeadman.Supposedlydead.Deadtoher.Tothem?Toher.Butthetattoo,markofathem?Whosemark?Tangent,backtoher,
sheknewthename.OldenemyofNazeek?Ifanenemy,poorlyinformedone.Orwellinformed,supposedlydeadandallthat.Suppoedlydead,supposedbyher,
andmakingsurethejobisdone.Ormerelyuninformedandagrudgefromtoolongago.Ortargetingme.Us.Who'stargeting?Justher?Anythingabouther?"

Each word came too fast for a breath or even a moment's break. Were they written, they'd be in a child's hand without even the smallest of spaces to separate one word from the last. Yet, impressively, also strangely, the Wisp looked anything but befuddled. Simeon allowed himself to study her once again, to meet eyes with the woman. Reading a dossier for one who raises the dead roused a variety of images and he'd not seen a one quite like her. Amidst everything that felt just a second off right, here, in this woman, the Wisp, was something he'd never seen.

Caught up in understanding his new comrade, Simeon missed the looming figures. They had passed the formed village and entered a small area obscured by darkness. Easily within range of a rifleman or archer from the Sogna or rooftops, but blanketed in the night.Simeon could hear muffled clanging and a tired wheel squeaking fast. Off the main road, but he thought parallel to their path back to the docks. With Master Nazeek Thorne's passing gift awaiting them at the dock, the ship of the line frigate, Sogna, the closer to the ship the more lit they'd become. In other words, if they stood still, their attackers would attack close or blindly fire. Running back into Arberth or to the Sogna meant becoming a target. Wonderful.

"Stand close, back to back," Simeon whispered and crouching close to the earth. "We are betrayed and cornered, but invisible, Samantha. You raise the dead. There's a body down the road, maybe seventy steps. We need a distraction if we're to make it to the ship. Can you do this?"

"It isn't wise to be watching others do business, girl."

Her hackles raised, hearing the male voice from behind her. She had not expected anyone else, and she almost lashed out at the man. Partially out of fright, partially out of instinct. But that would be thoughtless. No, this man was an ally. Had to be. He was city-bred, but not in this city. Not local. Definitely with her new 'family.' This fact alone stayed her fist. His tongue was smooth, like Manos. Reminded her of him. Combat ability... could not be judged. But he was fancy.

"I-..." She began to retort, but apparently her contact chose this time to speak. There was no grand introduction. Perhaps they were short on time. She and the human who had spoken to her before were sent to bring some supplies with them to the docks. It was not far, and would be an easy journey, but she could not ignore the sounds of rustling clothes and equipment around them.

Perhaps treachery already lies within our midst...? Manos posed boredly. For a demon, it was within margins of error. Betrayal was an easy prediction to make when it lay around every corner.

"We don't know that..." Rose whispered almost silently to herself "We don't know anything yet."

But enemies are a certainty.

"...Yes."

She didn't spare any fancy words for her demonic companion. He already knew them all anyway. But her human companion probably required a little more. She lifted her head and spoke to him as they made their way to the carriage, forcing a valiant attempt at proper speech.

"My name is Rose... in case you wanted to know." It stuttered and stopped, but it was speech. "If we are to be a-allies, I thought you would need my... my name."

It was easy to see what Simeon had wanted them to bring back. The cart was loaded with jugs full of... something. Possibly water, if they were travelling by boat. Either way, it looked like one person could roll it if they focused, otherwise the two of them would have no problem together. Rose didn't know their destination, other than 'the docks' but it would not be hard to figure out once they were there.

The problem, then, is the smell of burning. Like gunpowder. You could hide in the shadows, but you could not mask the strong scent of the black powder. Guns... Possibly more weapons she could not judge. How many people... she could not judge. But if guns were present, it was enough to raise alarm. She couldn't tell what her partner was thinking, so she decided to fill him in quietly, as a precaution. Since her mind was on other things, her usual way of speaking slipped in without realizing it, but the point got across.

"We've been ambushed. Group... unknown. Reason... unknown. Fighting is possible. We may be able to stay hidden... Will you fight? Will you run? Hide?"

For a moment, it seemed that the halfling in front of him was going to strike him outright. But, she seemed to gain control over herself within a few moments, probably awfully spooked at his random appearance. He stared as she examined him, or at least that was what he thought.she was doing. Just giving him a look over. He grinned a little bit, readjusting the velvet cloak he wore. He could use something to drink, but thankfully Simeon had decided they were all here.

He informed the two that their mission was to retrieve some carriage full of drinks. Ale, he hoped. He still wondered why the halfling was invited, she didn't seem like much. Just a lithe and small girl. Good for quickly sending messages, maybe, but not what their organization was made for. Killing. He shrugged and waved a hand to the girl, speaking up and saying, "Come along now, girl."

Rhus heard the girl whisper something to herself, what she said, he could not know. He wasn't known for perceptive ears. But she did speak her name. Rose. He responded with his own. "And mine is Rhus Lancea, may your days be bereft of hangovers, and nights filled with drink." He let her babble as they made their way down the street. It was fairly easy to find the cart, loaded to the brim with jugs and barrels. Grazing next to the cart were two chestnut mares, eager and ready to go. He gently ran a hand down one of their manes, admiring their beauty.

Something set the halfling off. Of course, even his blunt nose could smell what she noticed. She had an odd way of speaking when it came to asking what he would do. He reached into his cloak, taking out a hand and a half dagger, eager for blood, and made of Valyrian Steel. It couldn't cut through water, but it could damn well come close. He looked at the silver steel and grunted. "Well, it would be extremely rude of me to leave such a young women as yourself to the catches of some devilish brigands, would it?" Rhus twirled the dagger, barely even counted as that. You could probably just call it a short sword and be done with it, but it had a thicker blade than a short sword, and was a little bit too short to be a sword. "Of course, if the fair maiden wishes to run, that is my command. It will be a shame to leave behind the cart."

He grabbed one of the skins off of the cart, opening it and grinning as the sweet smell coursed through his lungs. He took a deep quaff of the ale, tasting it in his mouth for a few seconds before swallowing. Simeon didn't have the greatest taste, but it would have to do.

Samantha nodded silently without a word. Concentrating her attention on her hand she quickly started channeling the Lef from the soil to her body to a near-physical presence in her hands. Her fingers seemed to bleed out a translucent liquid that was then combined as she joined her fingers to form small beads resembling water. Pulling her fingers and the spheres apart created five shiny strings that she then started weaving around her fingers as if life and death was a mere game of strings. Bending a body to her will was indeed like child’s game, as long as she had enough energy to spare, but this time, she noticed, the situation was slightly different. For one, she didn’t have physical contact with the deceased, which always helped to attach the strings. Secondly, the abundance of Lef both inside and around her, made it difficult to make the Lef invisible. Checking the results out critically she merely twisted her index finger a millimeter and could see the image of the ground below distort by the Lef fibers like a ray penetrating through thin glass. Under normal circumstances such a small imperfection wouldn’t mean much. Under normal circumstances she wouldn’t find herself under siege. And Sam knew better than to underestimate the risk. It was going to take a few precious seconds longer but everything had to be done perfectly.

Carefully transferring the web from both hands to just one, she used the other to carefully remove the ruby around her neck and the bracelet featuring two other shiny gems. Instantly the web seemed to vanish in her hand – an optical illusion treacherous as the night. Gently she settled the jewellery in the warm dirt and pushed them away from herself. She glanced at Simeon. “Can you take those? They’re full of Lef.” She wouldn’t have spoken if it wasn’t a valid and important question. He was a dark elf, and as such he might well have a higher sensitivity to the magical essence than herself. Still, she hoped he could take them for now – they were more precious as gold and she could only control the body as long as she was linked to it and giving out Lef towards moving it. Simeon held the rubies in open hands, loosely cupping them with a drawn scowl. If she wasn't distracted, she might thing he was in afraid of the thing, even in pain.

Leaving the matter to the side she directed her gaze to the alley where she knew the body had been placed not so long ago. Her fingers extended and she sent out the Lef to soundlessly slither to the body, coil around it, trap it, imprison it in her will and make it alive again. However… there was some resistance met. Something stood up against the threads, pulling them away, pulling them.. back. Sam’s lips parted letting out a silent curse but a smile prayed at them non the less. The resistance wasn’t strong enough to completely reject her access but it was strong enough to fragment her control. Once again she glanced at her companion, her expression as vexed as it was amused. “Next time if you want them moved, leave them clean. That body would have been empty if it weren’t for you linking yourself to it. Now your proximity alters my control over it. Move a bit, please, as far away as you can manage.”

As the man did so, Sam cast both her hands out like a puppeteer, sending out an impulse of Lef strong enough to jerk the body upright. Her strings were still being pulled back by the dark elf and it took more of her own energy than it should to control the dead woman onto the main street and a few uncertain steps closer to her master. As it seemed, the rising was nothing short of a clumsy improvisation, bad enough to be called an excuse, where it should have been mere child’s play. It was fragile and it took too long – she could already hear the danger looming over them in the rustle of cloth and clicking of metal. Furthermore, the body had to be moved at least a hundred steps to actually serve any real purpose, and the energy required for that might well render Sam unable to run at full speed, even if she managed. Things looked quite grim… or did they…?

“Be ready to dash.” She warned with a crooked smile. Then, she took a deep breath and held her mouth open as if to scream… But.. no sound came out of her throat. Instead, it came out of another.

A loud wail was heard from the raised, inhuman in its volume and pitch, enhanced by the Lef and distorted by death. I boomed up and washed over the town startling animals and stunning humans. The sound preyed on their fundamental fears, reminded their very souls of their own mortality and they couldn’t defend themselves against the horror of it. Samantha held on to her control for a few seconds longer, injecting the fear deeper into anyone who heard this, anyone who didn’t know death as intimately as the Night Kiss did, anyone who feared it more than they did and revered it less. Then, with a sudden twist of her hand she broke off the strings, setting both the body and herself free. With no more than a glance at Simeon she knew that he’d follow and she dashed. She could only hope that this excuse of a distraction would serve long enough for the bullets fired to miss their targets.

The phantom's song echoed throughout the night city. Knowing his partner meant for the sound and aware of her abilities did not help Simeon. His partner said dash, but the otherworldly shriek drowned her out with one instinctual message, run. Suddenly the chilling numbness spreading from the rubies in his hands fell from thought. There was only now and the shriek and the shadows twitching in fear.

Simeon smiled as four failed shots fired far off target. No troop carried too many rifles and experience suggested maybe two left primed. He palmed Samantha's left shoulder enough that they veered in their run together. Another volley, this time two shots and an arrow flew close by killing an unsuspecting barrel. The two ran through the cloud of wood dust and ale before again drifting aside. By his count Simeon expected the more seasoned nearly finished loading the next volley. Despite the thinning cloud and the dark he could see lights pacing the outline of the Sogna just forty yards ahead.

At thirty yards the ground shifted from packed dirt to weathered stone. Barrels, crates, nets, and unattended wooden stands littered the terrain making a challenge of just running to safety. Heart pounding high in his throat, Simeon struggled to maintain long, deep breaths. Samantha appeared out of breath too, but youth favoured his companion. With the report of a single rifle a nearby stand lost a support, its awning collapsing immediately. Several small, dark balls descended from the stand and rolled out ahead of the two. Simeon jumped over a small grouping of them alongside Samantha. Before the two landed barrels behind and beside them burst, vomiting plumes of dust and spilling their innards. Fifteen yards and every shot seemed closer to their mark. The hull of Sogna glistened in faint light of Arberth. What were floating lights at
forty yards transformed into gathered torches standing ready at the rails. Hope and power just a moment's sprint away.

Not ten paces after the thought, Simeon's shoulder jerked forward and he stumbled. Before Samantha could register the cause, he exclaimed gruffly, "To cover!"

In one fluid motion the Wisp hopped over a curving section of the stone rail that fed into the wooden portion of the dock. Quite unlike her, Simeon met the section head on, merely rolling over shoulder and landing hard beside her. Simeon sat further ahead of the wall than her and took a deep breath. It was dark, but as he looked to meet her gaze he saw only an arched brow as if to say 'and this is him?' Pursing his lips, Simeon opened his fists and dropped the rubies in front of Samantha. He felt the burns in his hands where they'd touched, but paid them no mind as he reached for his shoulder. With a skill not unlike the Wisp's dive, Simeon gripped arrow protruding through his shoulder and snapped it in half. Wincing, he slouched forward with a hand tucked at his side as if exploring within his cloak.

"A thirty count until they're on us, is that fair?" Simeon asked, straightening himself once more and drawing out from his cloak. The pistol curved out from his hand with a circular gears on both sides and black veins running along its entire length. He could see the recognition in Samantha's eyes and wondered just how deeply she'd looked into Master Nazeek. "One of the Master's twin wheel-locks, indeed, and I'd be happy to tell you all about them -- later. I need you to form something to glow. Something that I can shoot and will flash above us. If you honestly can't manage that I suggest you take arms."

It was good. This Rhus Lancia would fight. Rose's opinion of the man grew just a little for his bravery.

"Orders are orders. We must not leave the cart."

Since this was an ambush, it was not likely they would be engaged close up. Most of the enemies would have ranged weapons. Rose had no ranged weapons on her, and it seemed as though her partner didn't either.

"Enemies in the shadows. Watch out for bullets and arrows... the rest is up to our strength."

Rose whipped around to the other side of the cart, trusting Rhus to direct the cart from the front. He would know the city better than she, after all.

Rhus grunted gruffly. He didn’t like their position. Too exposed, and to be caught off guard defending a stupid little cart was a little over rated. Rhus looked back at the small girl, giving her a look. He shrugged and walked to the front of the cart, gently taking the reigns of the chesnut mare. “Ghit.” She whinnied, and started moving forwards.

“You seem to be pretty smart. Got lots of tactics up in that head of yours, eh?” He waved the dagger still in his hands. He was about to tell her something about the broad headed bandits he’d encountered in this town, but an ear-wrenching scream pierced his head, making him flinch. The horses started whinnying even more, stopping straight in their tracks. He hoped it wasn’t a demon.

The otherworldly wail was the signal to start running. Rose did not know the origin of the sound, and it frightened her, but it would serve as a great distraction.

Rhus slapped a hand on the rear end of both horses, starting them onto a quick trot. It was a bit difficult to keep up, but he could manage. He kept an eye on the girl who also ran. They needed to catch up to Simeon, maybe offer him some assistance. Of course, their progress was quickly stunted. A whizzing noise erupted and he ducked behind the cart, wooden bolts flying towards their position. Another horrible scream, this one equally as horrifying, but came from the horse in front of him.

A bolt had pierced its neck, blood gushing out of the newly created hole as the horses stopped. It floundered about, eyes full of panic and quickly going out. He uttered a quick curse, thinking the death of such a beautiful horse a waste. He peered around the cart, spotting the glint of a metal firearm. “Rose, get down under the cart! I’ll handle the ruffians!”

He grabbed one of the potted jugs, three of the cowards approached them from the shadows. He threw the jug as one of them aimed to fire. It smashed, sending shards and water everywhere. The rifle let out a crack as it fired, however, its new target was directly above them. The wielder gasped and dropped the firearm, tearing a sharp looking longsword out of his sheath as the others did so as well. Seems they wanted a fair fight.

Rhus wasn’t going to decline their invitation.

Three men with swords closed in on the pair. Rose thought that it was good. Hopefully it meant that the shooters would stop firing from the sidelines for a bit. They had lost a horse, but if they could still keep the cart moving, it would be a successful mission.

"The same as usual?" Her silent partner suggested.

"No choice. We must fight. Three opponents... one too many." Thoughts were rushing in her head rapidly. Louder than before, she called to Rhus. "You must kill one of them!"

"Not showing much faith in your partner's abilities, are you?"

"...Only what needs to be done."

As Rose slowly circled around to where the men were closing in on them, she let her thoughts go blank, focusing on the gnawing, aching pain that was always present in her abdomen. She hopped up and down very slightly, flexing and stretching her muscles, before tightening her fists and rushing at one of the men.

She must have been faster than he expected, because he swung his sword down far too late, giving her access to his arm. With a sharp exhale, she targeted his sword arm mercilessly, grabbing his elbow and driving her thumb into the crook of his arm, where she knew an important blood vessel ran. Circulation was tied to the flow of chakra, so the major points of both usually coincided. And unfortunately for this man, she had a hold of him in the right spot. A flash of red light consumed her vision, though it would not be visible to anyone else, and she felt his energy rush into her body through her hand. A successful hit, thankfully. She had not siphoned much, since she had used a point so far from his core, but it was enough to throw her opponent off guard for just a split second more, allowing Rose to land one more solid hit against his solar plexus. There was no better point than this, and as the light flashed in her eyes once more, she knew she had landed a great hit.

The man staggered back and fell to the ground. His body weight had changed, and his balance was affected as a result. Still, he must have been warned to expect magic, because he regained his composure as quick as a trained soldier, and once again had his sword pointed at her.

The second man had his sword out as well, and moved around to Rose's side to flank her. He was not aware of what happened to his comrade, but he would not be surprised in the same way. With a pang of regret for her impulsiveness, Rose realized she had lost track of the third man. If he was behind her, it would mean trouble... She would need to rely on Rhus, whom she had also lost track of.

~~

Ignoring his suggestions, Rose did the opposite of what he wanted. “Son of a…” No time to reprimand her for getting in his way. Two of the men seemed to veer towards the easier target, as Rose yelled out for him to at least kill one. He bit his lip. Why would she be giving him orders? The first man approached him, the one he had thrown the pot at.

Rhus could see the small fragments of hardened clay sticking out of several spots on the man, and the fierce glare he was giving him. Good. He’d take advantage of the man's’ anger.

Rhus stayed back, keeping a bit of distance between the two as they circled. The man suddenly started, running towards Rhus. A big mistake, the long sword swung down towards Rhus, but he sidestepped, the sword slicing through air and not flesh and bone. The man however noticed this and quickly recovered, swinging back up at Rhus, who brought up his dagger.

A flash of steel and a numbed arm gave Rhus an opportunity. He quickly swung the dagger inwards, keeping a good grip on the blade. It pierced the mans’ chain mail, cutting into the soldiers’ side fairly deep. The soldier gasped in pain and pulled back, cursing like a sailor as he recovered. Rhus ducked under a swing of the sword, his hair getting ruffled by the close proximity of air. He rushed forwards again, this time stabbing the soldier right in the heart, managing to pierce the cuirass covering his chest. He got his face close as he twisted the dagger, grinning slightly as he pulled out, dropping the body onto the ground. He grabbed the sword out of the tight death grip of the soldier and turned back to his comrade.

She had both of them surrounding her, a flanking maneuver set up to overpower her. Rhus, being a gentleman, wouldn’t stand for such a tragesty. He swung the longword with a powerful overhead blow, but the soldier heard him approaching and blocked the swing easily. Rhus however had an off handed weapon, and stabbed the crook of the mans’ arm, severing the muscles of his sword hand.

“Trying to gang up on a woman, aren’t you? Think again, devilish fiends!”

Rhus beheaded the man, though it was clumsy and rough with the sword. He preferred daggers a helluva lot more than swords. With a thud, the head dropped onto the ground, rolling away. His comrade would be able to clean up the last one.

With a rough sound, Rose turned quickly to see the second man meet his violent end, leaving only the one that she had already siphoned energy from.

"More reliable than you thought, isn't he?"

"No... just more reliable than I needed." She had actually had high hopes, and was happy that Rhus was able to deliver on them. For a human, he really wasn't bad.

"We must hurry. We are expected."

Rather than wait to be attacked, she once again slid up to the man at top speed, slamming her now heavier weight into his gut. He reeled backwards, but was able to grab one of her arms as he fell, pulling her off balance. As they both veered to the side, the larger man recovered more quickly, and drove his sword towards her, still with a hold on her arm. He obviously knew what he was doing. The way he slashed left little room for her to use his momentum against him like she usually would.

"This will not be pretty, but you must end it here."

"...I know." The course of battle was already plotted out inside her head.

The sword that threatened to pierce her chest slid just short of its target. Rose had been able to writhe just enough that it glanced off of her ribcage, and she immediately snapped her free arm down firmly against her chest, holding the sword in place against her body. She twisted, and felt the edge dig into her side, but this action threw her attacker just off balance enough that she could wrench her other arm free. He would not think to let go of his sword, so now it was Rose that had a hold on him. Just as she wanted.

Focusing her energy away from her wound and into her fist, she landed three punches against his chest at full strength, each one taking away a portion of his mass, and making each subsequent punch stronger than the last. Finally, she let go of the sword and planted a roundhouse kick directly against his gut, sending him sprawling backwards across the ground. He would not be getting up. Only then did she allow other thoughts to flow into her brain. Manos' influence ended and her own thoughts darted quickly around in her head.

"Rhus Lancia! Move now! Drive! Pull! Anything!" She rushed to where she was before, behind the cart. Her new mass added greatly to the amount of force she could use to push things, and hopefully her efforts would help balance out the carriage which now had lost its horse.

Rhus watched as the girl apprehended the final combatant. Rather odd way of fighting, just using her fists. Something seemed rather odd. Magic? The man seemed to grow weaker and… smaller, maybe? He couldn’t tell, but ignored it.

Still, she wasn’t too much of a great fighter. She took a deep cut to deliver the final blow. It wasn’t wise to throw your dice onto a move like that. Rhus stammered for a moment as she finished the man off, eager to get moving. He rolled his eyes and did so. After a few moments, he retied the ropes the lone horse left to the cart, but using up precious time.

He ducked as the harsh retort of rifles sounded. He slapped the horse again, getting it to go forwards. Thankfully, all of the shots went wide, the balls fired out of the miniature cannons bouncing off the cobbled streets underneath his feet. The cart urged forwards, slower now that there was only one horse pulling, but it seemed the girl was extremely helpful. She seemed much heavier, by her foot falls, and the way she had a some control over the carriage.

Rhus managed to wisen up, and grabbed one of the rifles before they were too far away. Still, he had no idea where the shots were coming from. The roof tops?

A shadow moved across one of them. Yes, they were there.

Of course. It was still a long way to the pier.

“This can’t be happening” thought Samantha as she realized her companion had been shot mid-stride. She hadn’t let it slow her down. He hadn’t let it slow him down either.

Still, as they found cover she looked at him and there was no hint of sympathy in her eyes. Only doubt and resentment and accusation. She couldn’t believe he had allowed himself to be injured like that. She couldn’t believe they had ended up being cornered again. How could he let that happen?
“He was shot from behind.” She tried to remind herself. He couldn’t have foreseen it. “And he was weakened by none other than you.” The guilt tried to lace itself around her as he dropped the rubies and she took notice of the burns they had left on his skin.

The woman reached out to the arrow but Simeon was quicker. He grabbed the end of the weapon and easily snapped the wood in two – something he made look effortless. He also knew better than to try and pull the rest out, knowing it could result in severe bleeding or worse. She felt some of the resentment die down.

Samantha left the jewelry on the ground between them and puffed some air out of her nose with obvious displeasure at the next request her new leader posed. “I need you to form something to glow. Something that I can shoot and will flash above us.”
“I am no fey and concentrating Lef without a shell isn’t as easy as it sounds.” She opened her mouth to protest but then came his next words. “If you honestly can't manage that I suggest you take arms.”
The Wisp bit her lip. It would have been better if it was an order. Now, with the way he said it, it sounded like… an offer. A proposition, to make herself useful or not stand in his way. It played on her pride and her pride wasn’t something to be played on. She wasn’t a team player but even when she had to be she would never allow herself to be useless.

She quickly repeated the process of shaping Lef into a loose ball, this time making no attempt to cover the glow of its strength under the moon. In fact, she even concentrate so much of it into the ball that it was beginning to illuminate her face and everything around. To make something that glows wasn’t that hard, in this sense. To make it breakable upon impact and to make it flash bright enough to really serve any purpose, that was harder. It was something that she assumed the people at Léva were studying. She wasn’t good at weaving Lef into elements. Even if she had known how to do so once, she had forgotten it long ago and to remember would definitely take longer than the set time-limit of 30 seconds.

But what she could do was use existing light. There was a lantern only a step away from them. She sneaked up next to it and touched it, letting the heat and light of the fire transfer from it to the ball, illuminating it from within. Then she quickly drew a stiletto and ran it over the back of her hand, easily drawing blood and peeling skin. Those substances then stretched out and over the sphere in her hand, dimming its glow and making its outer walls susceptible to physical contact.

Pulling her arm back Samantha glanced at Simeon, gave him a nod and threw the sphere into the air. She really hoped he was a good shot.

Simeon steadied left wheel-lock just above the glimmering sphere. Faint light betrayed it against the deep night, but pain and intensity sharpened his senses. Experience guided every breath and all of him focused. The hand adjusted to the eye, which followed the black veins running from around the gears to the narrow mouth of the barrel. A small click sounded as the gears twitched and the left twin roared.

A flash from behind the stone wall where the assassins hid. Greater, however, was the explosion of pure light above. What attention allowed the shot to fly true left Simeon all too aware of his wound. Yet, despite him, the Wisp divided her glances between the spectacle above and their assailants now bathed in her light. When she finally looked to Simeon, she found the mad dog smiling and looking opposite the threat.

“I wouldn’t trust the crews’ marksmanship. You should duck,” he grumbled, following his own advice.

What faint lights hinted at the Sogna before were nothing compared to the false-sun above. Like rain, light streamed down from the sky from the still glowing smoke of the explosion. Brilliant and magnificent and unapologetically revealing, those falling beams showed the tooth of the Sogna. Two dozen rifles shouldered, leveled, their triggers now pulled. A series of shots and white smoke boomed from the line. The sound echoed in the corner where the assassins hid, yet the shots continued forward. Several figures staggered, a mist glistening behind them as they fell.

By the time Simeon stood with his sword drawn, half a dozen of the crew had joined them. A pistol hung on the hip of half of them, but each stood with curved swords drawn. Darkly clad like Simeon, their tattered, loose attire looked a more casual sort of deadly. They gathered like professionals around their charge, reporting what they saw as if on sea. And like that, they fanned out.

Only a few of the assailants remained. Nine held their wounds or had given into blood loss already. Once Simeon and Samantha joined the fray, the crew had already dispatched four more. Simeon weaved between the fighting with the right twin drawn. A reaper, he walked from body to body, hovering briefly while looking them over. He’d come to the tenth body when he heard relieved sighs and sheathing swords.

“Many thanks to all of you. Four of you, keep on guard. Expect two comrades trucking a cart. Don’t fire on them, they’ve got the wine. If I could trouble the rest to bring her aboard,” Simeon pointed the pistol to a wounded woman cupping a shot to the left bicep. “Check for weapons. Keep her alive.”

He turned to Samantha then, a broad smile as he tipped his head toward the Sogna, “Posh lightshow.”

Samantha stood quietly and worked on reattaching the rubies back around her neck and wrist. Her eyes examined the crew of the ship and followed them as they joined Simeon, followed them as they spread out, followed them as they started wounding and killing. They worked with diligent confidence, like multiple hands of one creature, of one mind. They trust him. she realized and the thought made her both proud and ashamed. Sometimes she was forced to realize just how important trust was for completing a mission. Her eyes darted back to Simeon, his hand wounded from her jewels and his shoulder pierced, possibly for the same reason. Guilt edged on her but didn’t reach far. It didn’t matter whose fault it was that they had ended up cornered and wounded. None of them could predict how things worked out and they had made it non-the-less. They had survived.

And despite herself she had to admit the chances of her walking out unscratched from such a situation would have been slim without Simeon’s caution. Samantha had underestimated the number of their opponents, she realised now as she watched more and more wounded and dead appear. She would have been rash, let arrogance get to her and get her killed. She had to accept the feeling of respect form for the new leader. Things could perhaps have been smoother, but they were smooth enough for now. Him approaching her with a smile on his face only sealed that impression.

“Indeed it was.” She agreed with a thin smile of her own, unwilling to thank for a compliment that felt unjust and only partially true. He had his own marksmanship to thank for the ultimate result. “Is there a way for me to help you with those?” She asked, pointing in the general direction of his wounds.