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"ATTENTION ALL CITIZENS. IT IS WITH DEEP REGRET THE CITY WISHES TO INFORM YOU THAT YOUR EMPRESS HAS BEEN MURDERED. THE HIGH PRIEST FINGAR WILL TAKE HER PLACE UNTIL A TRUE HEIR CAN BE FOUND AND HAS BEEN PROMOTED TO CHIEF INVESTIGATOR OF THIS CASE. HE CONSIDERS THE SAFETY OF HIS CITIZENS HIS UTMOST PRIORITY AND HAS THEREFORE ISSUED A CURFEW. YOU HAVE FIFTEEN MINUTES TO RETURN TO YOUR HOMES. ANY CITIZENS CAUGHT ROAMING THE STREETS AFTER THIS TIME WILL BE ASSUMED TO BE INVOLVED IN THE EMPRESSES' MURDER AND WILL BE SUBMITTED FOR QUESTIONING. TRANSMISSION OVER."
The old man had just finished spinning out the Story of Creation as the announcement was blasted out across the city. All around him, people began to gasp at the sound of their Empress having been murdered and some cried out in disbelief, refusing to listen to the words of the calm female voice of the announcement. Nerom himself couldn't help but feel both admiration and fear towards the people that had accomplished this task. To sneak into the Palace itself was a near impossible feat, but to actually pull off the assassination of the Empress...He shook his head to dismiss his thoughts and stood up, unbalanced a little from the alcohol he'd digested that day. The inn was almost empty now, the patrons listening to the warning of the curfew and returning to the safety of their homes, though some were now questioning how safe they really were. Kathar was supposed to be one of the safest cities in Sythus due to the amount of guards roaming around, but tonight's events had unravelled the peoples trust in the City Guard and the great walls that surrounded this city. If assassins could penetrate the near impenetrable Palace, what else were they capable of? Sighing and rolling his eyes at the people around him muttering curses at the supposed lack of protection they were forced to live with, he turned away from the table at which the old man was still sitting and paused as he spotted someone he recognised across the room. A fellow assassin of the Guild, Jonah, had seemingly joined the crowd along with Nerom who, upon seeing his fellow companion, gave a slight nod of acknowledgement. Unsure of what the assassin was up to, Nerom headed towards the door, pushing it open with the smallest of forces.
The cold night air hit him like someone had placed a well aimed kick on his chest and winded him. With each breath he drew, it felt like he had a nest of bees swarming inside his lungs, constantly lashing out with their razor sharp stings. The knock to his system was a surprise, and he found himself leaning against the wall of the inn and gasping for air. A few guards were walking nearby and spotted him struggling to breathe, but they simply turned and walked away. Typical, he thought to himself, knowing full well the only reason they left him there was because they knew who he was. Almost every guard in the city knew he was a member of the Assassin's Guild, but they could never find solid evidence with his involvement in the crimes he committed, so they were forced to let him go if they ever captured him. And so, naturally, each and every one of them hated his guts, and they loved to cause him pain whenever they could, this being a prime example.
It took him a while but Nerom finally managed to catch his breath, and after a few hacking coughs he was back on track to traversing the winding streets to the place he called home. The city now was as busy as it was during the day, almost everyone who had attended the Parade was out and about, hurrying to get home before the curfew started and they were locked up simply for looking suspicious. He thought it odd that Fingar would place a curfew like that, but thinking nothing of it he continued his walk down the people filled cobblestone street he was in. It wasn't until he was practically outside his own house he remembered he should be elsewhere tonight. He felt around in the bag he was carrying and pulled out a neatly rolled piece of parchment, tied together with a silky blue ribbon. He unravelled the paper and scanned through the letter again, still not believing the Empress would contact him, of all people, to carry out her final request. He found the location he was meant to be near the bottom of the letter and his eyes widened. The Rusty Brewer was on the other side of the city, and even at his fastest sprint there was no way he'd get there before the curfew started. He'd be caught by the guards and locked up for sure unless...Unless I take to the rooftops. He finished his thought and looked around him, checking the street was empty before he looked up and worked out a route to the roof. It was easier than he thought it would be, and with a well aimed jump, he started on his way up. He wondered if the person who built the house was perhaps a thief or assassin much like himself, because the way up was easy to find. Window ledges were placed perfectly for his feet, and stone bricks poked out from the wall here there and everywhere, making the perfect handhold. It was as if the house had been designed to be climbable. Not that he was complaining, it made his life a lot easier.
He reached the roof with ease and looked around him, using the landscape to get his bearings. The Palace was directly in front of him, spanning from the east wall to the west, and taking up just under a half of the city's land. It was the pride of Kathar, and many people flocked from all around simply to stand outside in awe of its beauty. But Nerom didn't have time to admire the Palace and instead turned his eyes to the west, spotting the tall spire of the church on the far side of the city. That was where he needed to get to, The Rusty Brewer lay just opposite the church building. Backing up a little, he took a deep breath and charged forward, leaping as he reached the edge of the roof and landing safely on the roof of a house on the other side of the street. From there, it was a simple walk across several more rows of houses, as the architects of the city had rejected the idea of too many detached homes. Nerom didn't mind, it saved him jumping across huge gaps every time he walked from one side of the roof to another, and he enjoyed walking more than leaping around. It was a tad colder up here, however, and he drew his cloak around him to keep in as much warmth as he could.
He was just over halfway to his destination when he heard the sound of a church bell in the distance. The sound repeated itself four more times before silence fell upon the city once more. Nerom decided the bells were a sign the curfew had started, and he quickened his pace. He wasn't exactly able to hide himself up on the rooftops of the city houses, and he didn't exactly want to get caught outside during the curfew. Unfortunately, his efforts of speeding up were in vain, because he spotted several guards stationed on rooves as he hurried by, and all of them were soon shouting at him to stop as they chased after him. He broke into a run, leaping across another gap in the rooftops and speeding away from the guards. He got thrown off course a couple of times as a crossbow bolt buried itself in a nearby chimney or roof tile, not too far from one of his limbs. You could say a lot of things about the City Guard, but they were a damn good shot with a crossbow. It didn't take long for him to ditch the roof idea and drop down into the city streets, using the twisting alleyways and his knowledge of the city to his advantage. A few minutes later and he'd managed to lose the cohort of guards that were after him, and he started on his way back towards the church, this time using more caution and keeping an eye out for any more trouble.
It seemed luck was on his side because he soon reached the church and, looking across the street, spotted his destination. He clung to the shadows surrounding the church building and was about to sprint across the cobble street when he spotted a pair of guards outside the pub, talking to man standing outside. "Get inside Yurik. You heard the announcement" he heard one guard say to the man, who appeared to be outside enjoying a smoke of his pipe. "What, a man can't smoke outside his own front door now? What kind of world are we living in?" Nerom smirked at Yuriks' response, unable to help himself feeling a little admiration toward the man's lack of fear with the guards, "What's Fingar put a damn curfew on for anyways? Ya really think them assassins that killed old Catherina are gonna stick around? They had any sense they'd be long gone by now." Yurik had a puff of his pipe before looking at the guards and continuing, "Oh piss off will ya? I'm not doing anybody no harm out here. Cart me off to the jails if ya want, but I ain't doing nout wrong and you know it." The guards looked at each other and shrugged, turning away and walking back down the street. Peering out to make sure they'd gone, Nerom burst out of the shadows and sprinted to the other side, stopping just short of Yurik who was leaning on the door into the bar. "An' I suppose you're here to see old limpy in there?" Yurik asked as he approached, moving aside and opening the door, "He's upstairs. First door on ya left. And don't think about stealing nothing. I know 'sactly what's in there." Nerom frowned at the mention of 'old limpy' unsure of it's meaning, but he nodded at Yurik and stepped inside.
The interior of the pub was much warmer than outside, and he found himself removing his cloak simply to try and cool down a little. The small fire in the corner seemed to heat up the building like a furnace, despite it's lack of size. Hanging his cloak on the coat stand, he walked across the wooden floor and made his way upstairs. Finding the door he wanted, he gripped the polished wooden handle, twisted it and pushed the door open gently. It creaked ominously as it swung open, revealing a dimly lit room containing nothing more than a few chairs and a table sat in the darkest corner. On the other side of the table sat what looked to be a man, his face hidden under the hood of his cloak. A small candle sat next to him, but it did nothing to help Nerom distinguish any features. He cleared his throat and spoke quietly into the darkness, "I'm here in search of Lukas. I'm assuming that's you?" His tone was, quite simply, nothing but blunt. He had trekked all the way across the city and risked both death and imprisonment to get here, and he hadn't wanted that trip to be for nothing, so it wasn't surprising he was being short with the occupant of the room. "Yes, yes," came a voice from under the hood. It sounded frail and Nerom guessed the owner was the other side of middle aged, "Please, take a seat. We're expecting a few others, but as soon as they're here I will explain everything. You have my word." Unsure what his word was worth, Nerom shrugged and took a seat in the furthest corner away from the man, not wanting to appear too friendly. "Well let us hope they don't take their time then."
Aurora - Streets of >> Kathar
Aurora looked around as she saw many exit the Inn hurrying as they run into there homes. She turned a woman bumping into her as she exclaimed, " THE EMPRESS HAS BEEN MURDERED! " She said as she turned around running into a random direction. Aurora spine chilled, " What in the blazes " she said..looking towards the castle that settled, high upon the city. She turned around..walking back towards her house, something was defiently up and it wasn't good. She proceeded towards her house quickly, opening the doors stepping inside as she quickl locked her doors. She sighed hearing the sounds of foot-steps and boots clacking onto the rocks of the streets. She sighed quickly removing her light pink scar, plopping herself down onto her chair. She only sat there for a moment as she stood back up going up stairs. She saw the bed in the middle of the room everything seemed fine at the moment.
Aurora looked around, quickly moving to the side of the room opening the chest that had all her clothing and items. She grabbed a dress and a simple red cloak, settling them onto the ground. Looking back in the chest as she jumbled clothing and items around. She sighed finally grabbing her little scepter, " Alright.. " she said with a little smirk. She gribbed onto the letter she had recieved a few hours ago....she was ready for what was ever to come. She slowly took off her current clothes as she switched to the dress she had laying on the floor. Grabbing her cloak as she swung it around her neck, putting the hood over her head she grabbed the scepter and proceeded down-stairs, exiting her home as she began walking towards her destined location.
Aurora looked around as she saw many exit the Inn hurrying as they run into there homes. She turned a woman bumping into her as she exclaimed, " THE EMPRESS HAS BEEN MURDERED! " She said as she turned around running into a random direction. Aurora spine chilled, " What in the blazes " she said..looking towards the castle that settled, high upon the city. She turned around..walking back towards her house, something was defiently up and it wasn't good. She proceeded towards her house quickly, opening the doors stepping inside as she quickl locked her doors. She sighed hearing the sounds of foot-steps and boots clacking onto the rocks of the streets. She sighed quickly removing her light pink scar, plopping herself down onto her chair. She only sat there for a moment as she stood back up going up stairs. She saw the bed in the middle of the room everything seemed fine at the moment.
Aurora looked around, quickly moving to the side of the room opening the chest that had all her clothing and items. She grabbed a dress and a simple red cloak, settling them onto the ground. Looking back in the chest as she jumbled clothing and items around. She sighed finally grabbing her little scepter, " Alright.. " she said with a little smirk. She gribbed onto the letter she had recieved a few hours ago....she was ready for what was ever to come. She slowly took off her current clothes as she switched to the dress she had laying on the floor. Grabbing her cloak as she swung it around her neck, putting the hood over her head she grabbed the scepter and proceeded down-stairs, exiting her home as she began walking towards her destined location.
[Kathar - The Palace >> Kather - The Rusty Brewer]
Cerise pulled up her robes as she walked briskly down the halls. In one hand, she balanced the Empress's evening tea, jasmine infused with arnica, a medicinal herb. As she neared the door to the Empress's chambers, the volume of guards grew heavier. Some eyed her with trained suspicion. Others with mild curiosity and a glint in their eyes, a look she had grown used to over her time at the palace but had never quite become comfortable with. As she approached the door, Cerise raised her free hand to knock, and then slowly lowered it. The Empress had told her years ago never to knock, as she was always welcome, but to this day she still went through the motions of knocking each time she approached the door. It felt particularly odd and unmannerly opening the door with all the guards' eyes on her, but they didn't stop her. They knew her face well enough by now.
The room was surprisingly dark, with all the curtains drawn. Cerise found this strange, as the Empress always loved to watch the sunset in the evenings. Taking a sharp breathe, Cerise began to sense that something was not right. Something was very, very wrong.
"Your Highness?"
Cerise's voice came out shaky, and she placed the tea down on a table next to her to avoid spilling any from her shaking hand. There was no answer and Cerise approached the bed, where something smelled rather repugnant. Perhaps the Empress had felt ill tonight and had decided to go to bed early? But if she had been ill, Cerise was sure she would have been summoned. From her pocket, Cerise retrieved a tinderbox and carefully lit the lamp she knew to be beside the Empress's bed. She looked down. Everything felt numb after that, but Cerise was sure she heard a woman scream, only to realize moments later that it was herself. She stumbled back from the bed as the guards rushed in around her. Strong arms found her own, and she was quickly ushered back to her living quarters.
Cerise sat on the edge of her bed, recalling what had happened just moments ago. In a flash, she saw the blood gushing from the Empress's neck, staining her satin sheets a brilliant, deep red. Her eyes were still open wide, as if she stared right into her murderer's face moments before he killed her. Cerise held her hands to her head and took a deep, cleansing breath. Who could do this? Having worked closely to the Empress for years now, Cerise saw much kindness in the woman. She had never done anything to enrage her citizens, and Cerise had never seen this coming. Apparently the Empress had, though. Cerise stuck her hand between the mattress and the bed frame, feeling around until her fingers made contact with rough parchment. She slowly pulled the scroll out from between the mattress, careful not to rip it. Her eyes scanned the letter that the Empress had quietly slipped her after her midday check-up several months earlier. The Empress had instructed her not to read it until the time was right. As she read, Cerise realized that the time was, indeed, very right. But it was also so, so wrong.
The letter instructed Cerise to journey to the far west corner of the city to The Rusty Brewer, a joint Cerise had never more than walked by on errands. Knowing she had no time to waste, Cerise pulled herself off the bed, grabbed her satchel from the far wall, and shoved the letter into it. Her eyes moved to the far corner of the room, where her staff lay against the wall. She rushed over and grasped it tightly, feeling the cool, smooth wood grow warm from her touch. If ever there were a time for it, it was now. Cerise went to the door and turned the knob, only to find that it wouldn't budge. She turned harder, and the lock resisted her. Someone had locked the door from the outside. But why? Suddenly, Cerise heard footsteps and voices growing louder outside her door. She held her breath and listened.
"You have ensured that all the Palace doors are locked?"
"Yessir."
"Good, that will surely enforce the curfew without question."
The voices faded as the made their way past Cerise's door, until she could no longer make out conversation. A curfew, huh? She would have to get creative. Cerise made her way to the window beside her bed and gave it a firm pull. Only a thin screen divided her from the Palace gardens, which were a safe fall below her window. Cerise pulled the screen out and looked outside. There were, of course, guards posted all around the garden's perimeter. Cerise took a deep breathe, pulled up her hood, and muttered to herself. "Disguise me." Her staff glowed brightly for a moment, and then dimmed. The world around Cerise grew foggy, but she was not alarmed. She knew that the guards would not see her now, but she would have to be silent, because they could still hear her. With that, she slipped through the window, landing on her feet with a quiet thump. A few guards looked in her direction, but upon seeing nothing, turned away. Cerise smiled slightly, and with a tight grip on her staff with one hand, and the other hand pressing her satchel to her side, she made her way to the west Palace gate.
Upon arriving at the gate, Cerise was less than surprised to find it shut. She stood several feet away from it, trying to decide how to get around it. Before she could scheme something, a group of men in dark robes approached the gate from the other side. They muttered something to the posted guard, and the gate began to creak open. Cerise jumped back in surprise, letting out a small, involuntary gasp. One of the cloaked men swung his head in her direction and she covered her mouth. He walked right up to her so that he was so close she could feel his warm breathe on her neck. Thinking for sure she was caught, Cerise readied herself to fight. However, after several moments of staring right at her, the man was beckoned by his group to return to them, and he turned and walked away. Cerise looked towards the gate, which was now slowly closing in a foggy blurr. Uncaring at this point whether she was heard, Cerise ran through the gate just as it was closing, and slid across the dirt road to the other side. Now outside the Palace, she knew there wouldn't be any more barriers in her way to the bar. As she continued to walk west, farther into the outskirts of town, her intended location came into view. Upstairs, she could see a dim light glowing through one of the windows. Checking to make sure there were no guards around, Cerise uncloaked herself and made her way to the front door, where a man stood smoking. He eyed her with surprise but said nothing. Cerise cleared her throat and spoke up first.
"I'm here to see um--" She recalled a name from the letter she had just read. "Lukas."
The man broke out a smile, which slowly turned into a smirk as he responded.
"You? I dunno what that man is thinkin'... Go ahead, I 'pose. Upstairs. First door on ya left."
He clearly did not recognize her from the Palace. Cerise rarely made public appearances, so this was not all that surprising. To him, she probably looked frail and unassuming, not up for whatever adventure lay ahead of her upstairs. To prove him wrong, she quickly pushed past him without further hesitation, made her way upstairs and found the room the man had directed her towards. She stood in the doorway and slowly removed her hood, noticing that there were already two men present, one hooded, but no other women. She wondered for a moment if the bartender was right to be surprised she had been invited to whatever kind of meeting this was. Taking a deep breath once again, she spoke up.
"My name is Cerise Mansfield. I have been summoned here by a man by the name of Lukas, on behalf of the late Empress."
The hooded man spoke up. Asking her to please take a seat and wait patiently. Cerise cautiously entered the room and took a seat a few away from the other man in the room. She eyed him for a moment, noting his strikingly dark skin and pointed ears, making it clear that he was most certainly Elven. Then she looked away, down at the staff that lay across her lap, and wondered what she had just gotten herself into.
Mind of Madness Sanity overrated
Member
Seen
6 yrs ago
[Kathar - The Winking Dragon Inn >> Kathar - The Rusty Brewer]
Jonah stood there for a moment taking in the news of the Empress death knowing that they had failed, the old man had stopped his banter and he saw Nerom stand and peer over at Jonah. Nerom nodded at Jonah before he left hastily out the front door, Jonah stood for a moment in the stunned crowd assessing the situation. The curfew would start soon and the Empress had told him and Nerom both that she had something for them to do if she were to die, Jonah began to move silently out the back door of the, "Rats Tail" bar. He could pick out people quickly moving to their houses as the curfew was about to enact anytime now, he left his illusion behind and proceeded in his normal form his dark leather armor bound in belts. He pulled his dark grey bandanna over his scarred face so only his eyes and soft white hair showed in the brisk breeze.
Jonah pulled out a tightly rolled parchement with a blue ribbon tyed through the center and tore the blue ribbon free of its package, he knew not why him and his fellow assassin Nerom were chosen for the Empresses final request for they were men of murder and deceit. He read over the parchment absorbing the information before he continued down the alley way, he heard a ruckus in the streets in front of him sounding like guard yelling he quickened his pace. He would prefer at the moment to not be caught by the guards, not for his worry but for the guards who would never see the light of day after seeing Jonah. Jonah turned into an even smaller alley then the one that he was walking much more crowded with trash then the previous one, he kept his eyes peeled for guards then he began hearing foot steps moving towards him. He continued walking not looking behind himt o give away he had heard a pursuer instead he used the window pane of a building that he was passing that was angled to reflect what was behind him. It was three guards crossbows loaded and ready to strike down their foes.
He knew they could see the back of him which he didn't mind them seeing it was his face and eyes he cared about that no man had seen and lived to tell about, he heard the bells of a church toll four times the guards looked up in the air distracted for a moment. Jonah didn't hesitate before he dipped his index finger into a pouch at his thigh and removed three white balls the size of marbles, he twisted catlike and threw the white balls at the guards as they were distracted. The white balls exploded into blinding white light that Jonah was immune to, he then proceeded to juking to his right down another alley towards the church that bells had just rang. He could now hear the guards behind him yelling and the sound of more guards ringing there hand bells signaling someone was on the run, Jonah smiled beneath his bandanna having been in innumerable amount of chases like this before. Having not got his nickname Ghost for no reason. He mumbled silvery words under his breath, a spell he used that would give him a burst of speed. He ran like lightning twisting and turning through alleyway avoiding the sounds of the hand bells the guards were ringing.
Finally he could see the church and knew the pub that was the meet up location was near, but the only problem was that there were at least twenty guards stalking about in the square infront of the church. Jonah analyzed his predicament knowing he could simply kill all twenty of the guards but he was far to close to his destination it would bring attention to the pub. Jonah sighed before he again mumbled his ancient language, his skin seemed to crawl like millions of ants as the magic went into effect. He suddenly looked like a guard as armor broke the surface and concealed his regular appearance, they would find it suspicious if I come out looking like a guard I should be fine. In his left hand he held a handful of black and white marbles which were smoke and flash bombs. He walked out into the square, the guards ignored him as he walked towards the front of the pub that was within reach. He tossed the handful of bombs over his right shoulder all around the opposing guards, he could hear yells of surprise as the explosions of the bombs went off stunning and blinding them. He reshaped back to normal as he proceeded into the pub.
Jonah spoke to the barmen of rusty brewer who had come to talk to on different times before hand on other matters, he had tipped Jonah multiple times to different targets he was to kill. The man smiled a small smile before directing him to the room upstairs on the left at the top, Jonah ignored his smile not caring for kindness for the day was dark and smelling of blood. Jonah hastily moved up the stair case listening carefully hearing a women voice at the top of the stairs coming from the room the bar man had directed him to. Jonah thought to himself for a second he could change shape and go into the room but then of course Nerom was most likely already in there and if he was in there then there was nothing to worry about. He lowered his bandanna showing the scars that crossed his jaws over his lips and jagged up the bridge of his nose. Besides if they turned out to be foes and revealed his face to the guard he could always kill them at a later point.
Jonah reached the top of the stairs and pushed the door to his destination open, three people were inside the room, one he knew Nerom a dark skinned Dark elf a fellow assassin. One was a hooded man that he assumed was Lukas who sat in a dark corner of the room a candle was lit nearby by on the table next to the hooded man it barely glowing giving nothing away for Jonah of the man before him. Finally a woman sat in a chair not to far from Nerom, her hair was fire but he could not see her face for it was staring down at a staff the she had clasped in her hands. Jonah moved into the chair between the two of him exchanging a look of acknowledgement to Nerom who sat quietly to his left, "I have arrived." He said in a quiet voice to the hooded man who seemed to nod from under his hood. He waited quietly for what would happen next not knowing what would be that event.
Jonah stood there for a moment taking in the news of the Empress death knowing that they had failed, the old man had stopped his banter and he saw Nerom stand and peer over at Jonah. Nerom nodded at Jonah before he left hastily out the front door, Jonah stood for a moment in the stunned crowd assessing the situation. The curfew would start soon and the Empress had told him and Nerom both that she had something for them to do if she were to die, Jonah began to move silently out the back door of the, "Rats Tail" bar. He could pick out people quickly moving to their houses as the curfew was about to enact anytime now, he left his illusion behind and proceeded in his normal form his dark leather armor bound in belts. He pulled his dark grey bandanna over his scarred face so only his eyes and soft white hair showed in the brisk breeze.
Jonah pulled out a tightly rolled parchement with a blue ribbon tyed through the center and tore the blue ribbon free of its package, he knew not why him and his fellow assassin Nerom were chosen for the Empresses final request for they were men of murder and deceit. He read over the parchment absorbing the information before he continued down the alley way, he heard a ruckus in the streets in front of him sounding like guard yelling he quickened his pace. He would prefer at the moment to not be caught by the guards, not for his worry but for the guards who would never see the light of day after seeing Jonah. Jonah turned into an even smaller alley then the one that he was walking much more crowded with trash then the previous one, he kept his eyes peeled for guards then he began hearing foot steps moving towards him. He continued walking not looking behind himt o give away he had heard a pursuer instead he used the window pane of a building that he was passing that was angled to reflect what was behind him. It was three guards crossbows loaded and ready to strike down their foes.
He knew they could see the back of him which he didn't mind them seeing it was his face and eyes he cared about that no man had seen and lived to tell about, he heard the bells of a church toll four times the guards looked up in the air distracted for a moment. Jonah didn't hesitate before he dipped his index finger into a pouch at his thigh and removed three white balls the size of marbles, he twisted catlike and threw the white balls at the guards as they were distracted. The white balls exploded into blinding white light that Jonah was immune to, he then proceeded to juking to his right down another alley towards the church that bells had just rang. He could now hear the guards behind him yelling and the sound of more guards ringing there hand bells signaling someone was on the run, Jonah smiled beneath his bandanna having been in innumerable amount of chases like this before. Having not got his nickname Ghost for no reason. He mumbled silvery words under his breath, a spell he used that would give him a burst of speed. He ran like lightning twisting and turning through alleyway avoiding the sounds of the hand bells the guards were ringing.
Finally he could see the church and knew the pub that was the meet up location was near, but the only problem was that there were at least twenty guards stalking about in the square infront of the church. Jonah analyzed his predicament knowing he could simply kill all twenty of the guards but he was far to close to his destination it would bring attention to the pub. Jonah sighed before he again mumbled his ancient language, his skin seemed to crawl like millions of ants as the magic went into effect. He suddenly looked like a guard as armor broke the surface and concealed his regular appearance, they would find it suspicious if I come out looking like a guard I should be fine. In his left hand he held a handful of black and white marbles which were smoke and flash bombs. He walked out into the square, the guards ignored him as he walked towards the front of the pub that was within reach. He tossed the handful of bombs over his right shoulder all around the opposing guards, he could hear yells of surprise as the explosions of the bombs went off stunning and blinding them. He reshaped back to normal as he proceeded into the pub.
Jonah spoke to the barmen of rusty brewer who had come to talk to on different times before hand on other matters, he had tipped Jonah multiple times to different targets he was to kill. The man smiled a small smile before directing him to the room upstairs on the left at the top, Jonah ignored his smile not caring for kindness for the day was dark and smelling of blood. Jonah hastily moved up the stair case listening carefully hearing a women voice at the top of the stairs coming from the room the bar man had directed him to. Jonah thought to himself for a second he could change shape and go into the room but then of course Nerom was most likely already in there and if he was in there then there was nothing to worry about. He lowered his bandanna showing the scars that crossed his jaws over his lips and jagged up the bridge of his nose. Besides if they turned out to be foes and revealed his face to the guard he could always kill them at a later point.
Jonah reached the top of the stairs and pushed the door to his destination open, three people were inside the room, one he knew Nerom a dark skinned Dark elf a fellow assassin. One was a hooded man that he assumed was Lukas who sat in a dark corner of the room a candle was lit nearby by on the table next to the hooded man it barely glowing giving nothing away for Jonah of the man before him. Finally a woman sat in a chair not to far from Nerom, her hair was fire but he could not see her face for it was staring down at a staff the she had clasped in her hands. Jonah moved into the chair between the two of him exchanging a look of acknowledgement to Nerom who sat quietly to his left, "I have arrived." He said in a quiet voice to the hooded man who seemed to nod from under his hood. He waited quietly for what would happen next not knowing what would be that event.
Aurora - Outskirts of Kathar >> Rusty Brewer
Walked through the city cautiously, seeing as two guards protected the game from in and out. She kept her face covered the gate was opened and free to pass. Smiling she would exit the city seeing as the guards looked at her oddly. She walked on the dirt paths seeing as the sun was beginning to set. Leaves rustling and the cold breeze coming in. Thoughts raced through her mind. She exhaled her eyes jittered as she walked hearing the sound of stick breaking as she walked. Stopping for only a moment she looked around, " Whos there?! " she said with a loud boom, " Dare to harm my and your hearing will die out.. " she said as she gripped the wooden scepter. Turning towards random directions as she looked towards the sound. She saw a man slowly come out with his hands raised, " Heh..woman what ye doing out here ? " he asked with a sly face. Aurora uncovered her self looking at the man, " Why are you here? " she asked and over course she knew that the man wouldn't tell but only tell a white lie. The man smirked, " Heh.. " he said unsheathing his sword the dangled from the side of his hip.
Aurora smirked staring at the man with caution, " Fighting is never the answer.. " she said with a loud, booming sound. The man charged as he jabbed with his sword, dashing towards the woman. Aurora moved to the side seeing as the man stabbed the tree instead, " You should of striked to the side " she said chuckling. The man grunted leaving the sword attached onto the tree, " You bitch! " he exclaimed as he grabbed out a dagger from his right hip, striking from the sides. Aurora backed away as he striked. She needed time to activate spells, " Aeros! " she said with a booming noise, screeching sounds echoed through out the area. The man covered his ears, dropping his dagger onto the ground, " ..Y-...Ou " Aurora looked at him smirking once more, turning as she ran to the nearest town. Aurora sighed her hand raising as she wiped off the sweat from her forehead. She saw the inn, " The Rusty Brewer "
Bobbing her head it only took a few moments to reach the door, opening it as she saw a live croud, cheering and seeing drunk men flirt with over women. Aurora simply sighed walking towards the bartender, " Excuse me..." she looked to her side, grabbing out the leter, " I am looking for....Lukas The bartender smirked setting down the cloth rag from his hand, " Follow me " he said. Aurora was still cautious, seeing the bartender open a door as she saw another woman a redhead to be exact. The bartender left the door right open as he returned back to his position. She entered the room closing the door as she took a seat near the woman, looking towards the hooden man, his hood bulging of his pointed ears, " I am Aurora, Mage of 'Banshee.." she recalled her self the mage of the banshee for her powerful tone. She wondered why she was her and why she decided to come well...maybe it was for the empresses..sake.
Walked through the city cautiously, seeing as two guards protected the game from in and out. She kept her face covered the gate was opened and free to pass. Smiling she would exit the city seeing as the guards looked at her oddly. She walked on the dirt paths seeing as the sun was beginning to set. Leaves rustling and the cold breeze coming in. Thoughts raced through her mind. She exhaled her eyes jittered as she walked hearing the sound of stick breaking as she walked. Stopping for only a moment she looked around, " Whos there?! " she said with a loud boom, " Dare to harm my and your hearing will die out.. " she said as she gripped the wooden scepter. Turning towards random directions as she looked towards the sound. She saw a man slowly come out with his hands raised, " Heh..woman what ye doing out here ? " he asked with a sly face. Aurora uncovered her self looking at the man, " Why are you here? " she asked and over course she knew that the man wouldn't tell but only tell a white lie. The man smirked, " Heh.. " he said unsheathing his sword the dangled from the side of his hip.
Aurora smirked staring at the man with caution, " Fighting is never the answer.. " she said with a loud, booming sound. The man charged as he jabbed with his sword, dashing towards the woman. Aurora moved to the side seeing as the man stabbed the tree instead, " You should of striked to the side " she said chuckling. The man grunted leaving the sword attached onto the tree, " You bitch! " he exclaimed as he grabbed out a dagger from his right hip, striking from the sides. Aurora backed away as he striked. She needed time to activate spells, " Aeros! " she said with a booming noise, screeching sounds echoed through out the area. The man covered his ears, dropping his dagger onto the ground, " ..Y-...Ou " Aurora looked at him smirking once more, turning as she ran to the nearest town. Aurora sighed her hand raising as she wiped off the sweat from her forehead. She saw the inn, " The Rusty Brewer "
Bobbing her head it only took a few moments to reach the door, opening it as she saw a live croud, cheering and seeing drunk men flirt with over women. Aurora simply sighed walking towards the bartender, " Excuse me..." she looked to her side, grabbing out the leter, " I am looking for....Lukas The bartender smirked setting down the cloth rag from his hand, " Follow me " he said. Aurora was still cautious, seeing the bartender open a door as she saw another woman a redhead to be exact. The bartender left the door right open as he returned back to his position. She entered the room closing the door as she took a seat near the woman, looking towards the hooden man, his hood bulging of his pointed ears, " I am Aurora, Mage of 'Banshee.." she recalled her self the mage of the banshee for her powerful tone. She wondered why she was her and why she decided to come well...maybe it was for the empresses..sake.
Torack The Golden Apple
Member
Seen
16 days ago
Bruce Tamehart
[Kathar - The Rat Tail >> Kathar - The Rusty Brewer]
The old man's story was cut short when a woman's voice blasted the news of the Empress's death which quickly caused the patrons within the tavern to express shock that eventually turned into panic as they rushed out of the building. The news was a shock to Bruce and he looked at his old gang mates, and current underlings, with concern. "Head to the Palace and inform them I sent you," Bruce said, standing from his seat. "Ask for the captain of the guards and get an assessment of the situation, then report to your immediate superiors."
"Yes, sir!" They exclaimed before walking out of the tavern. Once they were out, Bruce produced the letter he had recieved just after his dine with the Empress and opened it, reading it's contents. A sudden dread washed over him as he crumpled the paper in his fists and walked out of the tavern, a few guards spotted him and turned away. Everyone had heard of the curfew, but he was a general in the army and far outranked any of the city guards. To them, it would seem he was patrolling the streets along with them, and even if they considered him a suspect, they'd have to involve Fingar which he assumed would be too much trouble for them to be bothered with, and so he walked down the main roads towards the Rusty Brewer when he heard shouts of several guards in one of the alleyways.
Perhaps they found themselves a suspect, he mused as the church's bell rang above him. The loud ringing noise causing his teeth and insides to jitter. He wondered why they had to make the damn bell so loud, it annoyed him and from his distance it might as well ring right next to him. He put a finger to his ear, trying to relieve tha pain as a few guards rushed past him into the alleyway, drawn in by their colleague's voices no doubt. Whatever it was though, he was they were capable enough of handling it, and he hoped it wouldn't require his intervention.
Bruce eventually approached a man smoking his pipe in front of the Rusty Brewer and greeted him with a smile on his face, "hello friend! I'm supposed to be meeting a man who goes by Lukas."
"He's been waitin' for ya. Upstairs first to ya left," the man said and Bruce nodded walking past him into the inn and going into the room the man had told him about. Once inside, he noticed four people within, he recognized Cerise and he raised an eyberow in confusion. It made sense to him, however, Cerise was trusted by the Empress and she was one of the closest people he knew to her. Shrugging internally he took a seat that faced the door while at the same time allowing him to glance at the windows and almost immediately started thinking of an exit strategy. Strange habits die hard, he sighed to himself.
[Kathar - The Rat Tail >> Kathar - The Rusty Brewer]
The old man's story was cut short when a woman's voice blasted the news of the Empress's death which quickly caused the patrons within the tavern to express shock that eventually turned into panic as they rushed out of the building. The news was a shock to Bruce and he looked at his old gang mates, and current underlings, with concern. "Head to the Palace and inform them I sent you," Bruce said, standing from his seat. "Ask for the captain of the guards and get an assessment of the situation, then report to your immediate superiors."
"Yes, sir!" They exclaimed before walking out of the tavern. Once they were out, Bruce produced the letter he had recieved just after his dine with the Empress and opened it, reading it's contents. A sudden dread washed over him as he crumpled the paper in his fists and walked out of the tavern, a few guards spotted him and turned away. Everyone had heard of the curfew, but he was a general in the army and far outranked any of the city guards. To them, it would seem he was patrolling the streets along with them, and even if they considered him a suspect, they'd have to involve Fingar which he assumed would be too much trouble for them to be bothered with, and so he walked down the main roads towards the Rusty Brewer when he heard shouts of several guards in one of the alleyways.
Perhaps they found themselves a suspect, he mused as the church's bell rang above him. The loud ringing noise causing his teeth and insides to jitter. He wondered why they had to make the damn bell so loud, it annoyed him and from his distance it might as well ring right next to him. He put a finger to his ear, trying to relieve tha pain as a few guards rushed past him into the alleyway, drawn in by their colleague's voices no doubt. Whatever it was though, he was they were capable enough of handling it, and he hoped it wouldn't require his intervention.
Bruce eventually approached a man smoking his pipe in front of the Rusty Brewer and greeted him with a smile on his face, "hello friend! I'm supposed to be meeting a man who goes by Lukas."
"He's been waitin' for ya. Upstairs first to ya left," the man said and Bruce nodded walking past him into the inn and going into the room the man had told him about. Once inside, he noticed four people within, he recognized Cerise and he raised an eyberow in confusion. It made sense to him, however, Cerise was trusted by the Empress and she was one of the closest people he knew to her. Shrugging internally he took a seat that faced the door while at the same time allowing him to glance at the windows and almost immediately started thinking of an exit strategy. Strange habits die hard, he sighed to himself.
VoiD Perpetually mediocre
Member
Seen
2 yrs ago
Haljon
Streets of Kathar → Palace of Kathar
"...the Empress has been murdered..."
The words reverberated across Haljon's mind even as his body went numb as stared slack-jawed towards the palace. It was all he could do to remain astride Grendel, his warhorse, as he trotted down the street. Haljon idly took in his surroundings: the expressions of panic, shock, and despair; the marching of the city guard; the shuttering of windows and locking of doors. Clarity took him then, along with a cold sense of certainty. This was the "special event" the letter had spoken of, he was sure of it. Haljon shook his head, objectifying his thoughts as feeling returned to his limbs. He leaned forward in his saddle, taking the reins firmly in his hands as he uttered a sharp cry to urge Grendel forwards. Grendel took off immediately, shifting into a thundering gallop which caused many a passerby to dive out of the way. Haljon took no mind of them, steering Grendel towards the palace even as his mind raced at the implications of the Empress' death.
It was a race now, he realized. A race between his enemies—the forces moving against them mentioned in the letter—and his fellow Followers. To whomever could react decisively first would be the victor of this first battle, one of many in the war Haljon was certain was coming. And it was unlikely any but a few would know it had ever occurred at all. Haljon contemplated whether or not if he was at a disadvantage. It was apparent to him that the majority of the battles he would be fighting from now on would not be fought on the open field as he was accustomed. No, his struggles—their struggles, he had allies now—would be fought in secret.
Bells began tolling suddenly, tearing Haljon away from his thoughts. He and Grendel were nearly at the Palace now, travelling uphill through the wealthier districts. Evidence of the celebrations were strewn across manor and street alike, though the celebrators were nowhere in sight. All shut inside their homes, He thought. Waiting for the curfew to end. Haljon noticed a patrol of guards further up the street, and one shouted out at him and raised a crossbow to his shoulder, but his comrade pushed it back down. Haljon guessed that they had orders not to fire on anyone approaching the palace. He wondered if any of them knew the reason behind those orders. Probably not.
He slowed Grendel as they approached the palace gates, patting him affectionately on the neck and murmuring words of thanks in his ears. His steed panted in response. Haljon spotted a guardsman peering down at him from atop the gate, and so Haljon called out to him. "Ho, guardsman! I was told to announce myself here, and that I would be taken to the Throne Room. My name is Haljon, mayhaps that would help you verify my story." He waited patiently for a response, but one never came. The gates opened, and a different guardsman saluted Haljon, telling him to leave his steed behind and follow him. He nodded as he dismounted, and handed off Grendel's reins before following the guard.
I hope I know what I've gotten myself into to... He thought, as they entered the palace.
Streets of Kathar → Palace of Kathar
"...the Empress has been murdered..."
The words reverberated across Haljon's mind even as his body went numb as stared slack-jawed towards the palace. It was all he could do to remain astride Grendel, his warhorse, as he trotted down the street. Haljon idly took in his surroundings: the expressions of panic, shock, and despair; the marching of the city guard; the shuttering of windows and locking of doors. Clarity took him then, along with a cold sense of certainty. This was the "special event" the letter had spoken of, he was sure of it. Haljon shook his head, objectifying his thoughts as feeling returned to his limbs. He leaned forward in his saddle, taking the reins firmly in his hands as he uttered a sharp cry to urge Grendel forwards. Grendel took off immediately, shifting into a thundering gallop which caused many a passerby to dive out of the way. Haljon took no mind of them, steering Grendel towards the palace even as his mind raced at the implications of the Empress' death.
It was a race now, he realized. A race between his enemies—the forces moving against them mentioned in the letter—and his fellow Followers. To whomever could react decisively first would be the victor of this first battle, one of many in the war Haljon was certain was coming. And it was unlikely any but a few would know it had ever occurred at all. Haljon contemplated whether or not if he was at a disadvantage. It was apparent to him that the majority of the battles he would be fighting from now on would not be fought on the open field as he was accustomed. No, his struggles—their struggles, he had allies now—would be fought in secret.
Bells began tolling suddenly, tearing Haljon away from his thoughts. He and Grendel were nearly at the Palace now, travelling uphill through the wealthier districts. Evidence of the celebrations were strewn across manor and street alike, though the celebrators were nowhere in sight. All shut inside their homes, He thought. Waiting for the curfew to end. Haljon noticed a patrol of guards further up the street, and one shouted out at him and raised a crossbow to his shoulder, but his comrade pushed it back down. Haljon guessed that they had orders not to fire on anyone approaching the palace. He wondered if any of them knew the reason behind those orders. Probably not.
He slowed Grendel as they approached the palace gates, patting him affectionately on the neck and murmuring words of thanks in his ears. His steed panted in response. Haljon spotted a guardsman peering down at him from atop the gate, and so Haljon called out to him. "Ho, guardsman! I was told to announce myself here, and that I would be taken to the Throne Room. My name is Haljon, mayhaps that would help you verify my story." He waited patiently for a response, but one never came. The gates opened, and a different guardsman saluted Haljon, telling him to leave his steed behind and follow him. He nodded as he dismounted, and handed off Grendel's reins before following the guard.
I hope I know what I've gotten myself into to... He thought, as they entered the palace.
SillyGoy Goius Sillius
Member
Seen
2 yrs ago
Sergeant Jan Helmski Krazowicz
[Kathar - City Walls and Immediate Fields >>> Kathar - The Rusty Brewer]
Jan’s breath steamed in the nighttime air as he, mounted on his trusty steed Zarogiem, crested over a grassy hill and beheld the great walls of Kathar, the capital city of the Empire and home to the palace wherein the Empress resided. At the sight of this, he stopped for a moment, and pulled up the visor of his sallet helm as he decided that he was in a safe place. The sweat from his battle with the assassins mere hours ago was all but gone, and deliberately had he slowed his pace for Count Saffeud, Corporal Askopov and the others to catch up, even stopping at times and at length, but no-one in his party rejoined him, no matter how long he waited. Thus, he found himself arriving at Kathar alone.
“Come on, boy,” he spurred his steed forwards and descended from the hill. Lonesome, Zarogiem’s individual hoof-falls were loud and stark against the damp loam, and Jan could hear his chainmail mesh clattering against the plate as he bobbed along with his steed. As he drew closer to the walls, following the road, he began, little by little, to feel dwarfed by them. Their Brobdingnagian proportions utterly rendered him as tiny and insignificant before their mighty breadth. Hell, some of the bricks were even larger than him and his horse combined! Arrogant towers with pointed spires caught the silver light of the full moon and cast stark shadows which bathed Jan in a midnight black as he passed through them. The gates were closed, as was the norm during nighttime, but security was uncomfortably tighter than usual as he, upon reaching those gates, was subjected to an unnecessarily long questionnaire to prove his identity as a soldier under Count Saffeud’s service. When those grand double doors of iron and wood were inched apart for his entrance, Jan voiced his concerns at the nearest armsman:
“Why is security so tight tonight?”
The young city guard made a look of incredulity, scowling. “Why wouldn’t it be?”, he spat.
“What do you mean?”, Jan replied, truly ignorant and making himself look rather dumb.
“You don’t know?”
“Don’t know what?”
“The Empress is dead!” The words rolled off of the armsman’s tongue cleanly, surprising himself that he didn’t stutter as Jan absorbed this terrible news and helplessly hung his jaw agape for the briefest of moments as he tried to gather the words to say next.
“The hell? Since when?”
“‘Bout ten minutes ago. Assassins done her in, in her Palace -- at least, that’s what I’m hearin’.”
Jan looked away and put an armored finger to his chin in thought, before whipping his head back to the gate guard.
“Wait,” he smirked, “are you pulling my leg, armsman?”
“Oh sod off. The hell would I be jokin’ about something like this? Damned curfew’s been put in place for all civilians. Gon’ be five minutes until the city guard’s gonna be rolling down the streets, plucking out every man out of armor for questioning. Good thing you’re wearing plate.”
Jan sunk his head to muster up whatever feelings of grief he had for the death of his ruler. Yet, he could find none, for the palace, the dukes, the kings and the princes and their princess whores -- they were all so removed from his simple life of a soldier. So, he simply shook his head with a halfhearted, dismissive frown curling his lips.
“Well, that’s a real damn shame. I think I liked the Empress.”
“Yeah, she was a real beaut, that one.”
“You've seen her before? I haven’t.”
“Just could get a glimpse of her at noontime during the Parade. Let me tell you -- she looked like a real angel! Don’t know why anyone would want to cut up skin that white.”
“She doesn’t have a son, does she? No heir?”
The gate guard shrugged. “No heir as far as I know, but an announcement came that they were looking for a ‘true heir’. I don’t know why they deliberately said ‘true’, and I’m no clever man, but frankly, this all sounds like that petty war between Lord Saffeud and Stoutheart. Noble greed, you know? Speaking of which, isn’t that the Schmertzen seal? You one of Saffeud’s men?”
He pointed at the swords-and-lion symbol stenciled onto Jan’s right pauldron which he had managed to make out in the somewhat dim torchlight, with his chin. “That I am,” the sergeant confirmed. “Saw combat in that war, too.”
“What’s it like?”
“What’s what like?”
“War,” said the armsman. “What’s it like?”
“It’s good,” Jan immediately answered. “It’s exciting. There’s competition in the battlefield: it’s either you or the bastard before you who dies that day, and you feel this rush, you know? It’s a great feeling. The loot is great, lots of gold to be had on the bodies of the fallen. And to drink from the cup of glory when you and your lord are victorious is a sensation which I believe not even the finest whore in all of Sythus can rival.”
The armsman smiled. “That sounds nice.”
“How old are you, guardsman?”
“Sixteen. Volunteered for the city guard. Haven’t seen combat myself, though. But I hope I will. Being a guard and wearing armor like this is nice and all, but admittedly, it’s pretty damn boring. The only people I get to spear are drunks who can’t fight back. I want real opponents, people who can give me a challenge.”
Jan grinned at the young boy’s enthusiasm. By the Nine, the Land needed more boys like this one right before him!
“If this whole thing does end up in a war for succession, then there will be plenty of blood to spill. Keep that spear close; sleep with it at your bedside. You will need it. Oh, and, by the way, before I forget -- where might I find The Rusty Brewer?”
“Round the stables to the right and walk right up by the old church. Big sign over the door, you can’t miss it.”
"Thank you. You have a good night now, gate guard."
"You too, cavalryman."
And with that, Jan entered the city proper, dismounting, and then parking Zarogiem at the gate stables, soothing the beast by brushing its snout. This being the entrance of the city, it was both a commercial and residential district of sorts, where market stalls, abandoned due to the time of day, sat by the sidewalk, and the first floors of many houses were stores all their own, proudly displaying businesses ranging from medicine to smithwork. Candlelight from the windows of surrounding buildings and from the streetlamps bathed glum stonework in orange. He paid no particular attention to the bell tolls that enacted the curfew just newly impressed into the city.
Jan’s armored heels clattered on the road of brick and cobble as he searched for his destination, which he quickly discovered and made way towards. A group of guards walked down towards him from the pub, with whom he exchanged salutes and greetings with.
“Evening, guardsmen.”
“Evening to you, comrade. What’s your business here?”
“I’m here on orders from Lord Saffeud. You will thus understand why I shan’t tell you anything more.”
“Ah. Carry on then, sergeant. Have a good night.”
“You as well, guardsman.”
Jan found himself just before the front door of the pub. He paid no heed to the old man partaking of tobacco as his armored hand reached for its handle, but he felt his wrist grasped, and he whipped his head to the side to see that the old man had moved against him.
”Hold on fer a minute, boy,” Jan found his accent strange. ”Curfew’s been put in place. You can’t drink at this time, unfortunately.”
The sergeant took a moment to think. “Are you the bartender?”, he asked.
”That I am.”
“Then I am looking for a man named Lukas.”
The old man shifted his pipe to the other end of his mouth. ”Go upstairs, first door to your left.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Yurik made a strange face in response. ”What’re you thankin’ me for? Hahaha! You’re too polite. Go on up there, laddy, you’re a bit late.”
Jan, now paying little mind to him, entered the warm interior of the pub, fully decked in partial plate armor. It weighed down on him and heated him up, yet, he did not want to take it off, as he did not feel secure. He felt that he was about to involve himself in a mess perhaps as tangled as that hunt for the Erthanti cult, and had second thoughts on participating. But he squashed those, for he had sworn an oath and his sense of loyalty refused, scoffed at the thought of even disobeying an order, especially when he himself was hand-picked by his lord to accompany him in this quest. He thus decided with finality that would rather fall on his sword than be branded a dishonorable coward and shamed for life! And so, he lifted himself upstairs. He gripped the door handle firmly and pressed the door open, stepping inside the room and taking a glance around to discover a variety of personalities, most of them looking rather sinister in their own way.
“Well,” he began, initially unsure of what to say. “I am Sergeant Jan Krazowicz of the Dradovkan 2nd. My lord has tasked for me to find a man named Lukas in his place.”
He retrieved the Empress’ letter from a pocket he had sewn into the underside of his surcoat, and waved it about.
“He may or may not be dead, but I assume he is, forgive my insolence. We were ambushed by assassins in Ullanski Forest. I humbly ask for the man named Lukas to enlighten me to the situation. I do not know the contents of this letter as I cannot read. I'll...,” he thought, "then immediately ride back to Schmertzen Castle and, in the event I don't happen upon him living, or not at all, inform Lord Saffeud's family of... whatever my lords and ladies before me are planning."
[Kathar - City Walls and Immediate Fields >>> Kathar - The Rusty Brewer]
Jan’s breath steamed in the nighttime air as he, mounted on his trusty steed Zarogiem, crested over a grassy hill and beheld the great walls of Kathar, the capital city of the Empire and home to the palace wherein the Empress resided. At the sight of this, he stopped for a moment, and pulled up the visor of his sallet helm as he decided that he was in a safe place. The sweat from his battle with the assassins mere hours ago was all but gone, and deliberately had he slowed his pace for Count Saffeud, Corporal Askopov and the others to catch up, even stopping at times and at length, but no-one in his party rejoined him, no matter how long he waited. Thus, he found himself arriving at Kathar alone.
“Come on, boy,” he spurred his steed forwards and descended from the hill. Lonesome, Zarogiem’s individual hoof-falls were loud and stark against the damp loam, and Jan could hear his chainmail mesh clattering against the plate as he bobbed along with his steed. As he drew closer to the walls, following the road, he began, little by little, to feel dwarfed by them. Their Brobdingnagian proportions utterly rendered him as tiny and insignificant before their mighty breadth. Hell, some of the bricks were even larger than him and his horse combined! Arrogant towers with pointed spires caught the silver light of the full moon and cast stark shadows which bathed Jan in a midnight black as he passed through them. The gates were closed, as was the norm during nighttime, but security was uncomfortably tighter than usual as he, upon reaching those gates, was subjected to an unnecessarily long questionnaire to prove his identity as a soldier under Count Saffeud’s service. When those grand double doors of iron and wood were inched apart for his entrance, Jan voiced his concerns at the nearest armsman:
“Why is security so tight tonight?”
The young city guard made a look of incredulity, scowling. “Why wouldn’t it be?”, he spat.
“What do you mean?”, Jan replied, truly ignorant and making himself look rather dumb.
“You don’t know?”
“Don’t know what?”
“The Empress is dead!” The words rolled off of the armsman’s tongue cleanly, surprising himself that he didn’t stutter as Jan absorbed this terrible news and helplessly hung his jaw agape for the briefest of moments as he tried to gather the words to say next.
“The hell? Since when?”
“‘Bout ten minutes ago. Assassins done her in, in her Palace -- at least, that’s what I’m hearin’.”
Jan looked away and put an armored finger to his chin in thought, before whipping his head back to the gate guard.
“Wait,” he smirked, “are you pulling my leg, armsman?”
“Oh sod off. The hell would I be jokin’ about something like this? Damned curfew’s been put in place for all civilians. Gon’ be five minutes until the city guard’s gonna be rolling down the streets, plucking out every man out of armor for questioning. Good thing you’re wearing plate.”
Jan sunk his head to muster up whatever feelings of grief he had for the death of his ruler. Yet, he could find none, for the palace, the dukes, the kings and the princes and their princess whores -- they were all so removed from his simple life of a soldier. So, he simply shook his head with a halfhearted, dismissive frown curling his lips.
“Well, that’s a real damn shame. I think I liked the Empress.”
“Yeah, she was a real beaut, that one.”
“You've seen her before? I haven’t.”
“Just could get a glimpse of her at noontime during the Parade. Let me tell you -- she looked like a real angel! Don’t know why anyone would want to cut up skin that white.”
“She doesn’t have a son, does she? No heir?”
The gate guard shrugged. “No heir as far as I know, but an announcement came that they were looking for a ‘true heir’. I don’t know why they deliberately said ‘true’, and I’m no clever man, but frankly, this all sounds like that petty war between Lord Saffeud and Stoutheart. Noble greed, you know? Speaking of which, isn’t that the Schmertzen seal? You one of Saffeud’s men?”
He pointed at the swords-and-lion symbol stenciled onto Jan’s right pauldron which he had managed to make out in the somewhat dim torchlight, with his chin. “That I am,” the sergeant confirmed. “Saw combat in that war, too.”
“What’s it like?”
“What’s what like?”
“War,” said the armsman. “What’s it like?”
“It’s good,” Jan immediately answered. “It’s exciting. There’s competition in the battlefield: it’s either you or the bastard before you who dies that day, and you feel this rush, you know? It’s a great feeling. The loot is great, lots of gold to be had on the bodies of the fallen. And to drink from the cup of glory when you and your lord are victorious is a sensation which I believe not even the finest whore in all of Sythus can rival.”
The armsman smiled. “That sounds nice.”
“How old are you, guardsman?”
“Sixteen. Volunteered for the city guard. Haven’t seen combat myself, though. But I hope I will. Being a guard and wearing armor like this is nice and all, but admittedly, it’s pretty damn boring. The only people I get to spear are drunks who can’t fight back. I want real opponents, people who can give me a challenge.”
Jan grinned at the young boy’s enthusiasm. By the Nine, the Land needed more boys like this one right before him!
“If this whole thing does end up in a war for succession, then there will be plenty of blood to spill. Keep that spear close; sleep with it at your bedside. You will need it. Oh, and, by the way, before I forget -- where might I find The Rusty Brewer?”
“Round the stables to the right and walk right up by the old church. Big sign over the door, you can’t miss it.”
"Thank you. You have a good night now, gate guard."
"You too, cavalryman."
And with that, Jan entered the city proper, dismounting, and then parking Zarogiem at the gate stables, soothing the beast by brushing its snout. This being the entrance of the city, it was both a commercial and residential district of sorts, where market stalls, abandoned due to the time of day, sat by the sidewalk, and the first floors of many houses were stores all their own, proudly displaying businesses ranging from medicine to smithwork. Candlelight from the windows of surrounding buildings and from the streetlamps bathed glum stonework in orange. He paid no particular attention to the bell tolls that enacted the curfew just newly impressed into the city.
Jan’s armored heels clattered on the road of brick and cobble as he searched for his destination, which he quickly discovered and made way towards. A group of guards walked down towards him from the pub, with whom he exchanged salutes and greetings with.
“Evening, guardsmen.”
“Evening to you, comrade. What’s your business here?”
“I’m here on orders from Lord Saffeud. You will thus understand why I shan’t tell you anything more.”
“Ah. Carry on then, sergeant. Have a good night.”
“You as well, guardsman.”
Jan found himself just before the front door of the pub. He paid no heed to the old man partaking of tobacco as his armored hand reached for its handle, but he felt his wrist grasped, and he whipped his head to the side to see that the old man had moved against him.
”Hold on fer a minute, boy,” Jan found his accent strange. ”Curfew’s been put in place. You can’t drink at this time, unfortunately.”
The sergeant took a moment to think. “Are you the bartender?”, he asked.
”That I am.”
“Then I am looking for a man named Lukas.”
The old man shifted his pipe to the other end of his mouth. ”Go upstairs, first door to your left.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Yurik made a strange face in response. ”What’re you thankin’ me for? Hahaha! You’re too polite. Go on up there, laddy, you’re a bit late.”
Jan, now paying little mind to him, entered the warm interior of the pub, fully decked in partial plate armor. It weighed down on him and heated him up, yet, he did not want to take it off, as he did not feel secure. He felt that he was about to involve himself in a mess perhaps as tangled as that hunt for the Erthanti cult, and had second thoughts on participating. But he squashed those, for he had sworn an oath and his sense of loyalty refused, scoffed at the thought of even disobeying an order, especially when he himself was hand-picked by his lord to accompany him in this quest. He thus decided with finality that would rather fall on his sword than be branded a dishonorable coward and shamed for life! And so, he lifted himself upstairs. He gripped the door handle firmly and pressed the door open, stepping inside the room and taking a glance around to discover a variety of personalities, most of them looking rather sinister in their own way.
“Well,” he began, initially unsure of what to say. “I am Sergeant Jan Krazowicz of the Dradovkan 2nd. My lord has tasked for me to find a man named Lukas in his place.”
He retrieved the Empress’ letter from a pocket he had sewn into the underside of his surcoat, and waved it about.
“He may or may not be dead, but I assume he is, forgive my insolence. We were ambushed by assassins in Ullanski Forest. I humbly ask for the man named Lukas to enlighten me to the situation. I do not know the contents of this letter as I cannot read. I'll...,” he thought, "then immediately ride back to Schmertzen Castle and, in the event I don't happen upon him living, or not at all, inform Lord Saffeud's family of... whatever my lords and ladies before me are planning."
GM
Nerom heard a voice enter the room, and he looked up in time to see a robed figure removing the hood that obscured the face. From behind the darkness the cloth created, came into view the face of a young woman, with hair a few shades darker than scarlet red. His brow furrowed slightly as he tried to place her face, before his faintly glowing red eyes widened with realisation. It was Cerice, the Empresses' personal healer. He'd heard the girl had been plucked from Ronin after certain circles in Kathar heard of her potential and she'd been forced to leave her home to work under the house of nobles. Certainly, the move must've been hard on her, but living in the palace would have no doubt made up for that. It's not often one is thrown into a life of luxury, he thought to himself quietly before casting a smile on his face and greeting her, "Good Evening Cerise. I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting?" The dim light in the dark corner of the room made it hard for anyone to see his face, though he was certain she would be able to make him out, with a little squinting, of course. He wondered how his greeting would settle with her, it's not often one hears their name mentioned by a stranger and, indeed, Nerom was a stranger to her. But it was his business to know about everything the happened in Kathar, and Cerise was certainly no exception to that.
It wasn't long before the pair were joined by another, though this one Nerom knew a little better. it was Jonah, a fellow member of the Assassin's Guild, and the pair of them had been assigned to several missions together, though they rarely spoke and neither knew much about the other. Some would say their relationship didn't stretch past acquaintances, though Nerom doubted it had even reached that far. He returned the nod, however, and remained silent whilst his comrade sat next to him and stated his arrival. Yes of course you've arrived you fool, his thoughts echoed in his head, Even with a hood the man can see that. If it weren't so dark, Jonah may have noticed Nerom rolling his eyes, but thankfully the darkness of the room hid him from the embarrassment of admitting to the action.
Yet another arrived, making up four supporters of the Empresses' cause, a cause they were still yet to be informed of, though Nerom didn't allow his eyes to wander over the newcomer. The moment she had announced herself as a mage, he had tutted and made a point of keeping his head looking in any direction but hers. Though it was true he dabbled in a bit of magic from time to time to help him improve his skills, he usually held a grudge against most who specialised in the art, mainly because he's incapable of performing anything more than the simplest spells.
The next person to enter heralded a raised eyebrow from Nerom. Of course, he understood why a war general, especially one trusted by the Empress, had been invited here today, but he doubted a general would have much use here. Though they had no idea what was going on, he found it very unlikely war would break out, at least not this early. Shrugging away his thoughts, he simply looked the general over, the man he knew as Bruce, until his attention was drawn away once more.
Another raised eyebrow was drawn from the elf as the next man walked in, one he knew to be a sergeant that had fought in some war he had decided not to involve himself with. Wars were messy, too messy for an assassin like him, he much rather preferred the silent life his profession had led him to lead. It appeared the man was unable to read, and Nerom, again, questioned why those who choose to partake in war were needed so early on in the introductions of whatever the Empress wished to tell them all. But the sergeant had raised a valid point, they were all waiting for Lukas to enlighten them on the situation, and it was now the elf turned his gaze to the hooded figure in the corner. Clearing his throat, he spoke up with a friendlier tone than before, "Indeed, Lukas, it appears we are all here. What, pray tell, have you called us here for?"
[Kathar - The Rusty Brewer]
It hadn't taken them long, not long at all. Lukas was surprised at how quickly the group before him had gathered after the news of the Empresses' death had broken out, though he did not show it. He sat, waiting in the corner, at a table upon which sat one candle and a sheet of rolled parchment. When they had seemingly all arrived, he leant forward and removed his hood, revealing his face in the candlelight. They would see him as a typical elder, he was sure of that. His bald head and scraggly grey beard being the main features that would tip them to decide on that stereotype, and he knew they would not be wrong. The years had not been kind to Lukas, though he rarely admitted that in person. He cleared his throat, in a similar fashion to the elf in the corner, and addressed them all, "Nerom, Cerise, Jonah, Aurora, Bruce, and Jan. I would like you each to know the others names. We will all be working together for a while, and I think it only courtesy you acquaint yourselves with each other at least. Now, I suspect you are all wondering why you have been asked to meet here?" His words were met with expectant looks, and the old man smiled as he continued.
"As you know, some of you more than others, our dear Empress has been murdered, in her own palace no less. Unfortunately, this was not simply because of a grudge. I'm afraid there's a much darker reason behind this heinous crime. There are forces gathering, dark forces that wish to set free an ancient evil upon the land of Sythus. Catherina stumbled across this knowledge not long before she died, and she contacted me to help her confirm these rumours, and do something about it. What with her being ill, the research was left down to me, and what I have uncovered is...well, most terrible." He stopped to cough and clear his throat, the noise echoing around the silent room, "It appears these dark forces wish to break down the magical barriers left by our most holy Immortals, and set free the five Shadowlords that Erthantis created with the last of his power after he was banished. Naturally, you all know why this cannot be allowed to happen. Were the Shadowlords to escape the Shadowlands, they would plunge this world into darkness, enslaving the living and causing great pain to any who defied them. Fortunately, I managed to uncover the ritual they plan to use to carry out their plan, and I've found a way to ensure their plan does not go ahead. But, before you all agree to help, before I explain any further, you must all know something. This quest will not be easy. There will be many obstacles that will test you, your relationships, your strength, even your very sanity. I cannot guarantee your safety, nor can I promise you will all come out of this alive. You will all be hurt at some point, and there will be nothing I can do to stop it. This adventure is certainly not for the faint hearted, so I will tell you now. If any of you do not like what you are hearing, then you are free to leave. But be warned, if you stay to hear me out, there is no going back. You will all be bound to carry out the Empresses' last request and give your lives for the sake of Sythus. So I ask you, stay or go, which do you choose?"
[Kathar - Palace - Throne Room]
Fingar had sat himself on the throne, a cruel sneer on his face as his glowing red eyes glided over the occupants of the room. As High Priest, upon the Empresses' death, the throne fell to him while the palace officials hunted for an heir of the late Empress to relieve him. He found it funny, though, that everyone in this room bowed their head and followed his orders the minute he entered, despite him having sent the order to murder the Empress in the first place. Of course, none of them knew it was him. In fact, not even the assassin's he'd sent for had any idea who the order had come from. All they were told about was the job, and he was certainly surprised they had managed to pull it off so well. He made a note to send them a payment much better than he had promised them.
His thoughts were interrupted by a guard entering the Throne Room, shortly followed by the man he had called for in the letter he'd sent out. "Ahhh, Haljon," he almost cooed to the man, "I see you received your letter I sent you." He heard whispers from the people in the room, each asking another what the High priest was possibly talking about, and it was only then that it occurred to Fingar he should have dismissed them earlier. "Be gone, all of you! I wish to speak to our guest in private," his tone was sharp and blunt, and his words pierced them quickly enough for most of them to run from the room with haste. Smiling gleefully as they fled the room, he turned his attention back to Haljon, "I do hope you are well, my boy. Though I expect you're wondering as to why I called you here? I was hoping there'd be more of you but, apparently only you wish to truly serve our Dark Lord." His eyes lingered on the door a while, as of expecting them to burst open with a few more like the man that had just entered, but it was not so. Shrugging slightly, Fingar stared down at the warrior of a man before him and spoke in a hushed tone, though his words would sound as if he were standing right next to him.
"No doubt you heard of the tragic, tragic new of tonight?" the sarcasm and drama in his voice was clear enough for anyone who didn't know him well to pick up on, "Our poor Empress, murdered in her own bed. Just tragic. But, enough of that. Let us move on to why I asked you here tonight. I assume you have heard the Story of Creation? And you're familiar with how our Lord of Darkness was betrayed by his brothers and sisters, banished to the Shadowlands and warded from the world of the living? Well upon researching the topic, following up on an interest of my own, I have discovered something...wonderful. Believe it or not, I have found a way to take down the wall of magic the Immortals cast around the Shadowlands down, and release the ever growing darkness within. Of course, in doing that we'd be sealing our fate as slaves to the forces that lay within, and that's just a foolish thing to do. But! What if I told you there was a way to not only unleash that darkness, but control it? Take hold of it and force it to do our bidding, make it listen to our commands and follow any order we give it. Does that not sound like a wondrous thing? His eyes were glowing a bright red, his excitement clear on his face, "Of course, you may think me a madmen and wish to leave, and by all means you are free to do so. but I ask you to think upon what you're turning you're back on if you do. I understand you may need to hear more before you swear your loyalty to me and our master, and I'll gladly tell you more. But first I must know, do I hold your interest?" A cruel smile spread across his face, revealing his perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth, which glinted mischievously in the light of the room.
SillyGoy Goius Sillius
Member
Seen
2 yrs ago
Sergeant Jan Helmski Krazowicz
Kathar - The Rusty Brewer
Jan, genuinely surprised that people how many miles away from his hometown actually knew his name, intently listened to Lukas, but halfway through, he was getting restless just by standing still. Thus, he walked to the side to grab a wooden chair by the back that he could place his rump upon, a tall one, but it creaked and the joints wobbled in his gauntleted grip. Letting it go, he reached for another chair, but he was not confident that its short legs could support the weight of an armored man. He was about to look for yet another seat when he realized that he was being rather discourteous by pacing around like this while an old man was trying his best to get his lengthy point across. And so, he clasped his hands together in front of his waist and resigned himself standing to a speech whose length yet remained undetermined.
He spoke of the coming end of the world, the old man, and Jan’s brow furrowed in incredulity. What’s more was that he had based it on a part of the Story of Creation, which made it somewhat more ridiculous. Yet, Jan’s conscience reasoned, he was here, in place of his lord, summoned by the Empress herself posthumously with a letter written by her own hand, along with other people whom she trusted. Considering the wildness of his circumstances, perhaps the end of the world was coming. He did not particularly like the fact that in the event that it did, he would be at the center of it. Jan pursed his lips and licked them wet; he wasn’t very sure how to feel about this ominous prophecy and quest.
But when Lukas had started warning the party of what they were about to face, Jan noticed that he was still holding the Empress’ letter, its seal unbroken. He opened it with curiosity and beheld woefully squiggly symbols of blue he knew very well he could not make heads or tails of, but looked at them anyway for a few seconds, eyes glancing about the paper without purpose. In the current context, he was quite sure that his count, Saffeud, did not mind him opening a letter that wasn’t meant for his eyes.
Then, the old man had finally finished. “Which do you choose?”, he asked -- to fulfill the Empress’ last wishes, or to leave like a coward? The latter option, for Jan, was, of course, unacceptable, unavailable, unthinkable. Yet, his position was rather complicated. As Jan spoke, he had a habit of pausing at times, looking to the side, and then thinking, perhaps, of what to say next:
“About that, milord Lukas,” he said, tapping the edge of the late Empress’ letter against the palm of his other hand, not noticing his impoliteness. “The letter, I believe, is meant for my direct lord and master, Count Saffeud of Schmertzen Castle. Plus, I am sworn directly under him. Be assured, my lords and ladies, I am more than willing to spill blood for Her Majesty, the Empress -- praise be her name, Immortals bless her soul -- but I am afraid I’m not allowed to decide that for myself. We can…” he stopped and thought for a moment, “... wait for him -- if I am so bold as to suggest -- see if the count had escaped the ambush at Ullanski. I assume this is all classified information, thus, if he is dead, then… I can join you out of my own volition.”
Jan, at that time, did not know that he was the sole survivor of his party of 21. Kasloz Saffeud had been slain, along with nineteen others.
Kathar - The Rusty Brewer
Jan, genuinely surprised that people how many miles away from his hometown actually knew his name, intently listened to Lukas, but halfway through, he was getting restless just by standing still. Thus, he walked to the side to grab a wooden chair by the back that he could place his rump upon, a tall one, but it creaked and the joints wobbled in his gauntleted grip. Letting it go, he reached for another chair, but he was not confident that its short legs could support the weight of an armored man. He was about to look for yet another seat when he realized that he was being rather discourteous by pacing around like this while an old man was trying his best to get his lengthy point across. And so, he clasped his hands together in front of his waist and resigned himself standing to a speech whose length yet remained undetermined.
He spoke of the coming end of the world, the old man, and Jan’s brow furrowed in incredulity. What’s more was that he had based it on a part of the Story of Creation, which made it somewhat more ridiculous. Yet, Jan’s conscience reasoned, he was here, in place of his lord, summoned by the Empress herself posthumously with a letter written by her own hand, along with other people whom she trusted. Considering the wildness of his circumstances, perhaps the end of the world was coming. He did not particularly like the fact that in the event that it did, he would be at the center of it. Jan pursed his lips and licked them wet; he wasn’t very sure how to feel about this ominous prophecy and quest.
But when Lukas had started warning the party of what they were about to face, Jan noticed that he was still holding the Empress’ letter, its seal unbroken. He opened it with curiosity and beheld woefully squiggly symbols of blue he knew very well he could not make heads or tails of, but looked at them anyway for a few seconds, eyes glancing about the paper without purpose. In the current context, he was quite sure that his count, Saffeud, did not mind him opening a letter that wasn’t meant for his eyes.
Then, the old man had finally finished. “Which do you choose?”, he asked -- to fulfill the Empress’ last wishes, or to leave like a coward? The latter option, for Jan, was, of course, unacceptable, unavailable, unthinkable. Yet, his position was rather complicated. As Jan spoke, he had a habit of pausing at times, looking to the side, and then thinking, perhaps, of what to say next:
“About that, milord Lukas,” he said, tapping the edge of the late Empress’ letter against the palm of his other hand, not noticing his impoliteness. “The letter, I believe, is meant for my direct lord and master, Count Saffeud of Schmertzen Castle. Plus, I am sworn directly under him. Be assured, my lords and ladies, I am more than willing to spill blood for Her Majesty, the Empress -- praise be her name, Immortals bless her soul -- but I am afraid I’m not allowed to decide that for myself. We can…” he stopped and thought for a moment, “... wait for him -- if I am so bold as to suggest -- see if the count had escaped the ambush at Ullanski. I assume this is all classified information, thus, if he is dead, then… I can join you out of my own volition.”
Jan, at that time, did not know that he was the sole survivor of his party of 21. Kasloz Saffeud had been slain, along with nineteen others.
Cerise had grown silent since she announced her entrance, still staring down at her staff and running her index finger along the small creases in the wood, so she was taken by surprise when the voice a few seats away from her spoke her name. She looked up at him again, trying to lock her bright green eyes on to his own. She had to squint to make out his face amongst the darkness, but even upon identifying him she did not recognize his face. His attire suggested that he was a member of the Assassin's Guild, a group she had little to no contact with. No doubt, however, he knew her. But she wasn't too put-off by this fact, she had begun to realize over the past year or so that she was almost a celebrity in Kathar, being the Empress's only personal healer, and quite young to be so. The man was polite enough to introduce himself, but she still had not learned his name. Cerise leaned her staff against her left leg and stretched out her right hand behind the chair between them to offer a shake.
"Good evening. It's a pleasure to meet you, despite the tragic circumstances of our meeting. May I ask your name?"
She said with the utmost formality. Her years working in the Palace had shaped her vocabulary considerably, as well as her mannerisms.
As she waited for a response, the man at the front of the room, assumed to be Lukas, began to address them. As Cerise listened to what Lukas had to say, she felt her mind wander away from this room, to Ronin, to her family. If what Lukas was saying was true, they could be in great danger. She yearned to see them, as she usually did on this day every year when the traveled to Kathar for the celebration. Do to all the commotion today, she hadn't seen them yet, and she doubted now that she would get the chance to again. She wanted so badly to take this opportunity to return home, and spend borrowed time with her family, now that she had no Empress to serve.
"So I ask you, stay or go, which do you choose?"
Lukas's words echoed in Cerise's head seconds after he spoke them. She knew she had to go. She may never see her family again, but she owed it to the Empress, to her nation, to support this cause. She finally understood, after all these years, why the Empress had always insisted on her training her magic to defend herself or others. A simple healer would not need those skills, but the Empress urged her nonetheless. She had always known that Cerise had a greater purpose, a role to play beyond being a caregiver. She found herself nodding in agreement with Lukas's request. She would do all she could to stop the spread of darkness, even if she didn't make it out alive.
She stared standing at the entrance for only a moment. Observing the different faces that were in the room. Sighing she would walk towards a free chair that was near a fire haired woman. She looked towards the woman she seemed familiar seeing her in the castle only once she could only suggest that she was the Priestess of the lands. Her head turned towards the War General it wasn't suprising that a general would be here he came to avenge the queen were all doing that right now. She focused towards the hooded man slightly cautious inside the room, feeling a little bit nervous she would sigh, gripping her scepter as she did.
She stared at the hooded man. Odd it was she saw bulges of his ears telling that he was some kind of elf species. She sighed waiting for the oldman to say something..or do something. He uncovered himself and she suggested it was Lukas he seemed old and very wise, " Ello.. " she said quietly as she started to hear names of each character, returning her focus as she heard her name being called out.
Lukas began to speak nodding, focused almost staring at his eyes. Knowing the dangers the obstacles that were going to soon be upon us.
Finally she heard the last words of his speach, "So I ask you Stay or Go...which will you choose?" She stared at the man..an odd silence came flowed for only a few seconds as she began hearing multiple voices hearing 'Yes' or something else she decided to go, " Aye... " she said faintly a wide grin appeared on her face. She was ready to battle what ever comes in her way.
Mind of Madness Sanity overrated
Member
Seen
6 yrs ago
Jonah had seen Nerom roll his eyes after he had announced his arrival he didn't care to bring it up lest he say he was seeing things so he had ignored the dark elves response not caring much either way. Jonah had worked with Nerom on missions prior to this one and was aware that he was at least a century older then he was he only respected the fact that he was a damn good assassin, elder respect be damned. He made sure to keep information on important people within the city, Nerom was closer and as such didn't require spies to keep tabs on him. He knew he enjoyed killing as did Jonah enjoy it taking it almost to a sadistic level taking special requests for the targets he killed often torturing them before ending their miserable lives. Nor did Nerom show mercy to his foes, this much he gathered from working with him and needed no further information for both were in the assassins guild and didn't have target related to one another.
Now Cerise was a different story he knew of her for he has had targets that were related to her line of work, maybe not as close to the Empress as she was but corrupt priests that had strayed the path have been dealt a killing blow by his hand. From what his spies had gathered from with in the palace she was pretty stuck within herself almost had an egotistical style way of seeing herself, nothing of relative importance. He kept tabs on her for the fact that she was high on the hierarchy tree and needed to make sure she didn't interfere with his line of work, Jonah shifted in his seat as a new person entered the room. He was a war generalk, a well known one at that, very close to the Empress as well. He watched the general take a seat facing the door and eyeball the window of the room oddly, he thought similar to Jonah in that standard as Jonah had already figured out ten different ways he could escape this room in a few moments. It also flew through his mind how it "Could" be done to kill all of these people in this room if it came down to. Jonah had killed soldiers that were out on the field but none that were under his command so he had never really desired to get information on him he regretted it now.
Next person into the room was another Soldier one he didn't seem to know either, if he had known that people he didn't have filed into his memory he would have done so, but then everyone would have looked into other people if they knew who were coming and probably call the guards on us as well. Well if they could get any information on Nerom and Jonah that is. The last person entered this one but a child very young, she wore an odd outfit he had never seen people wear and had a staff. She was very spirited he could tell from watching her, so young and yet here with a bunch of killers well aside from the Cerise he thought. He looked down at his leather clad boots studded with metal studs, he was wondering why the Empress needed all these people. He assumed that each person here was very strong even overestimating them, better to overestimate then to underestimate people. He knew that him and Nerom were the best in their guild and that was probably why they were here, Cerise was strong in healing, and he assumed the Soldiers were strong with there own desired weapons, he didn't know much about the young child but that worried him the most her appearance was deceiving.
"So I ask you, stay or go, which do you choose?"
Jonah absorbed the idea of traveling with others, not an idea he enjoyed a group of people attracted a lot of attention something he was not fond of. Though everyone here now knew what he looked like and that was something he couldn't stop now unless he were to kill everyone here which would be a very, very difficult task to do. This would be the first time he has ever allowed such a thing to happen to himself. He heard Nerom speak to Cerise, being friendly to a priestess of light?! We are patrons of night, the idea made him sick he had seen many priests and priestesses let him lay in the gutter with a knife in his gut and do nothing to help him, he worried about himself now ever sense his mother died some one-hundred and twenty years ago. Cerise held her hand out to in front of Jonah to shake Neroms hand, disgusted slightly Jonah stood pushing aside Cerises hand before Nerom could react. He pulled his Bandanna up and walked to stand next to the window of the room.
Jonah would take this mission for the sake that he failed the Empress today, but he refused the idea of making friends of those he could kill with out a second thought. His eyes darted about the room assessing everyone wondering if it came down to it who would be the hardest to kill, if anything he figured Nerom would be sense he used the same style of fighting he did and had superior age to all of them. He turned back the window keeping his left hand close to his dagger at his hip, Jonah pushed the window open with his right hand letting a cool brisk air into the room, he pulled out his letter from the Empress and laid it out in front of him. He pulled his glove off revealing silver scars large and small covered his hand and forearm, Jonah whispered into the night elvish for, "Come my servant.". An albino crow landed on the sill its red eyes staring at Jonah waiting to bare its package, Jonah bit suddenly down on his thumb a sudden gush of blood splattered. His thumb covered in blood he quickly pressed it down on the letter over the Empresses name, then he healed his thumb with a cream he kept in his pouch and replaced his glove on his right hand, then taking the blue ribbon he tied it to the leg of the crow and told it to take it back from where he came telling the guild he had accepted a new mission.
.
Now Cerise was a different story he knew of her for he has had targets that were related to her line of work, maybe not as close to the Empress as she was but corrupt priests that had strayed the path have been dealt a killing blow by his hand. From what his spies had gathered from with in the palace she was pretty stuck within herself almost had an egotistical style way of seeing herself, nothing of relative importance. He kept tabs on her for the fact that she was high on the hierarchy tree and needed to make sure she didn't interfere with his line of work, Jonah shifted in his seat as a new person entered the room. He was a war generalk, a well known one at that, very close to the Empress as well. He watched the general take a seat facing the door and eyeball the window of the room oddly, he thought similar to Jonah in that standard as Jonah had already figured out ten different ways he could escape this room in a few moments. It also flew through his mind how it "Could" be done to kill all of these people in this room if it came down to. Jonah had killed soldiers that were out on the field but none that were under his command so he had never really desired to get information on him he regretted it now.
Next person into the room was another Soldier one he didn't seem to know either, if he had known that people he didn't have filed into his memory he would have done so, but then everyone would have looked into other people if they knew who were coming and probably call the guards on us as well. Well if they could get any information on Nerom and Jonah that is. The last person entered this one but a child very young, she wore an odd outfit he had never seen people wear and had a staff. She was very spirited he could tell from watching her, so young and yet here with a bunch of killers well aside from the Cerise he thought. He looked down at his leather clad boots studded with metal studs, he was wondering why the Empress needed all these people. He assumed that each person here was very strong even overestimating them, better to overestimate then to underestimate people. He knew that him and Nerom were the best in their guild and that was probably why they were here, Cerise was strong in healing, and he assumed the Soldiers were strong with there own desired weapons, he didn't know much about the young child but that worried him the most her appearance was deceiving.
"So I ask you, stay or go, which do you choose?"
Jonah absorbed the idea of traveling with others, not an idea he enjoyed a group of people attracted a lot of attention something he was not fond of. Though everyone here now knew what he looked like and that was something he couldn't stop now unless he were to kill everyone here which would be a very, very difficult task to do. This would be the first time he has ever allowed such a thing to happen to himself. He heard Nerom speak to Cerise, being friendly to a priestess of light?! We are patrons of night, the idea made him sick he had seen many priests and priestesses let him lay in the gutter with a knife in his gut and do nothing to help him, he worried about himself now ever sense his mother died some one-hundred and twenty years ago. Cerise held her hand out to in front of Jonah to shake Neroms hand, disgusted slightly Jonah stood pushing aside Cerises hand before Nerom could react. He pulled his Bandanna up and walked to stand next to the window of the room.
Jonah would take this mission for the sake that he failed the Empress today, but he refused the idea of making friends of those he could kill with out a second thought. His eyes darted about the room assessing everyone wondering if it came down to it who would be the hardest to kill, if anything he figured Nerom would be sense he used the same style of fighting he did and had superior age to all of them. He turned back the window keeping his left hand close to his dagger at his hip, Jonah pushed the window open with his right hand letting a cool brisk air into the room, he pulled out his letter from the Empress and laid it out in front of him. He pulled his glove off revealing silver scars large and small covered his hand and forearm, Jonah whispered into the night elvish for, "Come my servant.". An albino crow landed on the sill its red eyes staring at Jonah waiting to bare its package, Jonah bit suddenly down on his thumb a sudden gush of blood splattered. His thumb covered in blood he quickly pressed it down on the letter over the Empresses name, then he healed his thumb with a cream he kept in his pouch and replaced his glove on his right hand, then taking the blue ribbon he tied it to the leg of the crow and told it to take it back from where he came telling the guild he had accepted a new mission.
.
GM
Nerom listened with curiousity as Lukas spoke of a dark power plotting a plan to undo life as he knew it. He sat, with a raised eyebrow, through the old man's speech and let his thoughts drift away, wondering what sort of foul creatures could possibly undo the work of the Gods. When he was little, he had often been read stories of the Shadowlands. He was told tales of the Nine and how they had banished the great evil there, casting a protection spell so powerful even they had to step back from it. As convincing as Lukas was, Nerom doubted very much it would be possible to break such a spell, but he knew he should never rely on impossibilities. In his line of work, anything he thought impossible to go wrong, often had gone wrong, and it had led him to always doubt himself when he thought something impossible. And that's why, when he heard Lukas ask the question, as he heard the balding old man ask them if they would choose to rally their support or flee, Nerom stood proudly and spoke loudly.
"The Empress gave her life so that we may protect this land. Her dying wish was that this group, her chosen allies, would come together and use all their skills to fight off this growing darkness. And fight it off, we shall. You can all count on my support." It was clear he was not used to speaking publicly, and his sentences faltered slightly as he thought up the next word to say, but he was sure he got his point across well enough.
In the room, he heard others also joining the Empresses' cause. The first to speak, Jan as he had been called, seemed confused that the letter should be addressed to him and not to his Lord, but he noticed Lukas was prepared to meet his question and so he remained quiet. The next was Cerise, who remained silent, merely nodding her head. Nerom's brow furrowed as he stared at her face, hoping to gain insight to the clearly troubled look she was expressing. It only then occurred to him he had ignored her earlier question and not given her his name. Though Lukas had spoken since then, Nerom was never one to be unchivalrous, and so he opened his mouth to reply, just as Jonah stood up with a clearly disgusted look on his face, swiftly followed by a quiet "Aye" from the girl in the corner, the one Nerom had ignored since she had entered. Raising an eyebrow slightly, Nerom watched as his fellow assassin went through his personal ritual of informing the guild of his new quest. It wasn't required of the members to do such a thing, often contracts would be forced to wait if the chosen assassin was otherwise preoccupied, but Jonah had always stuck to the tradition of communicating with the guild. The elf shrugged and let the man get on with it before turning his attention back to their summoner.
"So tell me, Lukas," he said in a much quieter tone than before, "Exactly how do you plan to stop this ritual taking place?"
[Kathar - The Rusty Brewer]
Lukas sighed deeply as Jan asked his question, but he drew a smile upon his face and answered in his kind tone, "My dear Jan. The letter is meant for you, and you alone. The Empress recognised you served a master, but she felt you would do better on this mission as a free man. Word was sent to your Lord that the Empress commanded you be free from your contracts, but alas, Saffeud was killed in his last battle. Were you not told of this?" Lukas nodded his head slightly, "You have my condolences"
""Cerise," his smile widened at the Empresses' healer, having heard cherished stories of her over the years, "The Empress would indeed be proud that you accepted this invitation. She always was very fond of you. I do hope you realise." To anyone else in the room, it may appear to be favouritism towards Cerise, but Lukas had been friends with the Empress Catherina for years, and they often shared evenings together telling stories of the others lives. Catherina had spoken highly of Cerise, and Lukas merely wanted to show her appreciation towards the girl, despite what others may think.
The next to stand up was Jonah, and Lukas couldn't help but tut as he pricked his thumb and bled onto Catherina's letter. "[/b]You shouldn't defile your body like that, boy,[/b]" he almost hissed at him, "Despite your remedies to repair the damage." Lukas said nothing else to the assassin, instead turning his attention to the other assassin that had just stood up. "Thank you, Nerom," his tone had quietened back down to his kindly voice, "I extend the same gratitude to you as I have to the others who have agreed. As for your question, this is how we will defeat the opposing side. There are shrines in his world, dedicated to each of the Immortal Nine. At each shrine is an artifact, said to have once belonged to the God the shrine is dedicated to when they once walked this earth. As much as it pains me to say this, I must ask you all to travel to each of these shrines in turn, and destroy the artifacts they hold. Indeed, we could steal them away, but I'm afraid only destruction will ensure this ritual will never go ahead. But I'm afraid it won't be as simple as walking in and stamping on a piece of armour or the like. It is said that a fearsome guardian guards these shrines, though nobody knows exactly what form this guardian takes. I'm afraid it will be down to you to figure that one out, as the time comes for you to face it. No doubt you will be an equally fearsome match for it though, I'm sure your with you all using your skills together you can fight off anything the Nine throw your way." Lukas settled back in his chair and crossed his arms gently, awaiting whatever response he may receive from the room.
Aurora >> Kathar Outskirts >< Rusty Brewer
Once the olds mans speech was done, agreeing to the quest. She was still in silence as she began to hear the old man thanking the fire-headed girl known as Cerise she smiled, exhaling as she wasn't the only mage and woman here or..she would be midly uncomfortable. Tapping her foot against the chair her head raised as she looked towards Nerom.
He seemed 'scary' but not in a bad way he was quiet, real quiet and he made a face that he didn't seemed interested in the quest. She only sighed, random thoughts going through her brain until the heard the old mans voice once more. She looked up once more, seemingly quiet until the old man began to speak.
She listened carefully as the old man explained the quest.
Once he was done..she just stared. Silent nothing more than a quiet sounds of the night, birds flying into trees tending to there home and baby and the crickets making there usual noise. Her mouth opened as her jaw felt like it was going to drop onto the ground then she began to speak, " Guardians? Do we know there weaknesses? " she said with a light tone hoping that the old man would hear her words.
Aurora was defiently scared and didn't want to die by some beasts hand or weapon. She trembled in fear but still believed in herself. She stayed quiet waiting for something or someone to say anything. Aurora was..defiently not ready once she heard about the 'Guardians'. But some parts seemed simple about the quest for one, Destroying arficafts that were held into the shrine. She wasn't so sure about the quest but she will still go for the Empress Sake.
Once the olds mans speech was done, agreeing to the quest. She was still in silence as she began to hear the old man thanking the fire-headed girl known as Cerise she smiled, exhaling as she wasn't the only mage and woman here or..she would be midly uncomfortable. Tapping her foot against the chair her head raised as she looked towards Nerom.
He seemed 'scary' but not in a bad way he was quiet, real quiet and he made a face that he didn't seemed interested in the quest. She only sighed, random thoughts going through her brain until the heard the old mans voice once more. She looked up once more, seemingly quiet until the old man began to speak.
She listened carefully as the old man explained the quest.
Once he was done..she just stared. Silent nothing more than a quiet sounds of the night, birds flying into trees tending to there home and baby and the crickets making there usual noise. Her mouth opened as her jaw felt like it was going to drop onto the ground then she began to speak, " Guardians? Do we know there weaknesses? " she said with a light tone hoping that the old man would hear her words.
Aurora was defiently scared and didn't want to die by some beasts hand or weapon. She trembled in fear but still believed in herself. She stayed quiet waiting for something or someone to say anything. Aurora was..defiently not ready once she heard about the 'Guardians'. But some parts seemed simple about the quest for one, Destroying arficafts that were held into the shrine. She wasn't so sure about the quest but she will still go for the Empress Sake.
Cerise continued to listen to what Lukas had to say with a stoic look on her face. She had heard stories of the Shadowlands and the Immortal Nine from her mother as a child, but always considered them fairytale-like, not something that would ever affect her life in such a real way. Lukas made it clear that the group would have to rely on each others skills to survive, but Cerise doubted how useful she could be in battle. She had only held a sword once or twice before, and she wondered how well she would be able to use her magic under pressure. She sighed deeply, concerned with her usefulness to the group. She was always very confident in her job, but this was nothing like what she had spent the past six years training to do.
When Lukas addressed her directly and praised her talents and favor in the eyes of the Empress, she felt her cheeks warm. She imagined that they were a similar shade of red as her hair by the time he was done speaking about her. She lowered her head in embarrassment and turned just her eyes up towards Lukas, as not to be rude.
"Thank you for your kind words, sir."
She said quietly before he continued.
As he continued, the flush in her face faded, and soon turned pale. Traveling the kingdom? Destroying artifacts? Fighting terrible beasts? This was certainly not what she was expecting. But she had already committed herself to the cause, and she wasn't about to back down now. She tried to look at is as a chance to finally travel outside of Kathar. Since she had moved here six years ago, she had rarely left the Palace gates, let alone the city. The only other place she knew was Ronin, and the blur of forests and grasslands that she traveled with the soldiers between the two cities. She never imagined she would get the opportunity to leave Kathar again. She found herself nodding in acceptance of this challenge. Her life was pretty boring here, so she came to the conclusion that it would be better to die traveling and fighting for her kingdom than stay and wait for the Palace walls to come crumbling down.
"So, when do we leave?"
Cerise inquired, her voice sounding a lot more confident than she felt.
VoiD Perpetually mediocre
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2 yrs ago
Haljon
Palace of Kathar
Haljon did not know what he had expected to find when he arrived at the palace, but it certainly had not been the High Priest upon the throne. He realized it made sense—who else would act as regent in the absence of an emperor or empress?—but what truly surprised him was the realization that they were on the same side. It was very encouraging indeed, to know that men of such power were his allies. It gave him a new sense of confidence and security in their cause, dispelling any ill feelings he had previously held for it.
And those eyes...! Haljon thought, as he gazed into their crimson color. They are more than disconcerting.
He kept a stoic expression on his face as he listened to Fingar speak, but his mind reeled at the implications of Fingar's words. To release the Shadowlords was one thing, but to control them as well? Haljon rubbed his temple, the very thought giving him a headache. He had, not too long ago, believed the Shadowlords to be no more than a fairy tale; told to children at night to keep them from mischief. But of course, that had all changed when he was approached in the tavern by a stranger for the second time. Haljon shook his head slightly. Best not to dwell on that too long. He thought to himself. If what Fingar said was true, and that it was possible to control the Shadowlords, it was apparent to him that it might finally be possible to exact the revenge he had long been seeking. Haljon waited for Fingar to finish speaking, then knelt, his sword planted in front of him.
"While lesser men may think you a madman, I do not. You speak of a power that would grant me the ability to finally repay the Immortals for the wrongs they have committed to everyone whom I ever cared for. He paused, gritting his teeth before continuing. "I shall swear any oath, accomplish any deed, and slay any foe you wish of me, should it bring us closer to obtaining this power. You have my word of honor as a Knight."
Palace of Kathar
Haljon did not know what he had expected to find when he arrived at the palace, but it certainly had not been the High Priest upon the throne. He realized it made sense—who else would act as regent in the absence of an emperor or empress?—but what truly surprised him was the realization that they were on the same side. It was very encouraging indeed, to know that men of such power were his allies. It gave him a new sense of confidence and security in their cause, dispelling any ill feelings he had previously held for it.
And those eyes...! Haljon thought, as he gazed into their crimson color. They are more than disconcerting.
He kept a stoic expression on his face as he listened to Fingar speak, but his mind reeled at the implications of Fingar's words. To release the Shadowlords was one thing, but to control them as well? Haljon rubbed his temple, the very thought giving him a headache. He had, not too long ago, believed the Shadowlords to be no more than a fairy tale; told to children at night to keep them from mischief. But of course, that had all changed when he was approached in the tavern by a stranger for the second time. Haljon shook his head slightly. Best not to dwell on that too long. He thought to himself. If what Fingar said was true, and that it was possible to control the Shadowlords, it was apparent to him that it might finally be possible to exact the revenge he had long been seeking. Haljon waited for Fingar to finish speaking, then knelt, his sword planted in front of him.
"While lesser men may think you a madman, I do not. You speak of a power that would grant me the ability to finally repay the Immortals for the wrongs they have committed to everyone whom I ever cared for. He paused, gritting his teeth before continuing. "I shall swear any oath, accomplish any deed, and slay any foe you wish of me, should it bring us closer to obtaining this power. You have my word of honor as a Knight."
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