Taris was ready for this to be over. He just had to stomp this human into the dirt and he could get out of this damn sun, his skin felt like it was smoldering. His opponent stood indolently leaning against a post, the crowd a roar in the background. The herald gave the signal to begin the last round, this time they would fire five shots each, at a single target 175 paces away. Kasca sneered at the Shadow Elf, “So I must face a damned elf. What a disgrace. Your filthy kind aren’t worthy to lick my boots.”
The Shadow Elf merely glared and gestured towards the target. He was still fuming after his last match, and in no mood to trade barbs with this man. Kasca laughed and stepped to the line, his first shot taking the third ring solidly. Taris took his turn, drawing back and lining his shot. The arrow sailed straight and true, right over the target. A hush slammed through the crowd like a warhammer, the section of elves the most stunned. Taris blinked. He missed?
A rumble of laughter came from the majority of the crowd, alongside the hearty guffaws of the assassin’s opponent. As the elf blinked his eyes to try and clear the sting, the man took his next shot, landing another in the third ring. He turned around, “I hear your kind don’t do well in the sun, perhaps you’ve been out too long.” Taris nocked his next arrow, trying not to wince. His skin was agony. He tried to use the pain to focus his mind, his match against Kentaro had angered him so much he was having trouble ignoring the taunts being thrown his way. The shot hit the target this time, but only barely, sticking in the edge of the fifth ring. Hoots and jeers came from the crowd this time. His opponent smiled in malicious glee. He took his time with his third shot, dragging out Taris’ misery, but landing his shot on the line of the bull’s-eye and the first ring. The crowd erupted in cheers.
Taris pulled his arrow back, working through the pain to get in a decent shot. The arrow flashed out and stuck solidly in the first ring, to the cheers of the elves off to the side. Kasca clapped slowly, mockingly. “A good shot,” he said, “maybe you’ll actually offer me some competition.” The man looked up to the dais and smirked, “I hear tell, that you’ve met the good Princess Aera. A fine piece of meat, for an elf, I’m sure you would agree. Won’t be too long before I have her writhing under me, mark my words.” His fourth shot landed clearly inside the bull’s-eye. He bowed with a flourish, “Your shot, sir.”
Taris nearly put his arrow through the man’s skull, holding his temper only by remembering his years of discipline. But he was in no condition to make a shot, he knew this. Still, he could either bow out and concede, or continue through. He drew back once more, again taking his time. It didn’t matter, as once more his arrow completely missed the target. This was not going well at all. Kasca laughed once more, “This is pathetic. Enough with dragging this out, I’ll just put you out of your misery.” His last shot was very near the center of the bull’s-eye.
The crowd was wild now, to see the elf that had shamed their prince cowed. Taris couldn’t believe it, he’d not lost an archery contest in many years, and never to a human. He looked over the crowd, searching through the faces… there. The little girl that had brought him water, she had a look of such naked pain on her face he nearly couldn’t stand it. He looked to the dais, at Aera, who was watching with a look of concealed hope. Taris calmed his breathing, he still had a shot.
The elf nocked the arrow. The world seemed to dissolve into two points, the tip of his arrow, and the bull’s-eye. He’d have to hit dead center to win. Taris breathed in as he drew, pulling to his absolute limit. With practiced ease he slowly exhaled as he sighted down the shaft. A heartbeat passed, then two. The bowstring snapped against the leather bracer. The arrow lit towards the target with the sweetness of a shot that one just knew would hit its mark. The arrow sliced into the very center of the bull’s-eye, sinking down to the fletching.
The elves in the crowd went wild. Taris stood straight and bowed to his opponent, the very face of a graceful winner, before walking to where the little elf girl stood with a large smile on her face. “Get me a large towel, and lots of water,” he told her. The smile vanished, she nodded and ran off, and the assassin stepped inside the tent he’d used before. The girl returned shortly, with a few friends. Taris grimaced as he took off his cloak and tunic, his torso and arms were scattered with raw cracks in the outer layer of skin. He took the towel and draped it over his shoulders, motioning the young elves to pour the water over the towel. Lady, the relief was wonderful. “Please keep watch for me, and let me know if someone is coming, little one.”
- Last Seen: 5 yrs ago
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- NightlordKrusnik 11 yrs ago
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Hello Darkness, my old friend...
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I'll tell you where they're not..... Safe....
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Bio
Basically I'm like nobody you've ever met before.
Unless you've met Carantathraiel, whom I am essentially a carbon copy of, excepting of course that whilst she has girly parts, my parts are decidedly male
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Taris made his way to the shade of a nearby tent. The sun was killing him. Literally killing him in fact. His kind were meant to stay in the shadows, out of the sun and lighted areas of the world. His eyes burned and his skin tingled, even beneath hood and cloak. The elf looked around the field at servants running back and forth, bringing the other contestants water to cool off. None came near him however, and he sighed. It seemed the powers-that-be wanted him off balance. He glanced to the dais where the royal family was seated, but couldn’t find Aera.
The assassin pulled his hood down further, and looked through the shadows for her. It didn’t take long, he found her just outside some tents beneath some trees. Seemingly from nowhere a brown-cloaked figure joined her, and a genuine smile lit her face. Enlor`Lei, he’d have to remember the name when he gave his report. The man in the cloak removed his mask to reveal he was sister clan to Taris, though Taris’ own clan hailed from far more distant lands. They began speaking. In elvish, he thought to himself, how long has it been since I’ve heard, since I’ve spoken my native tongue? After a moment it became clear he was eavesdropping on a very personal moment for Aera, and he felt somewhat guilty. Wait, what? Why should I feel guilt? I’ve seen more personal moments than this…
Despite that he let go of the shadows, and raised the lip of his hood. He quickly registered that someone was waiting just outside the tent, and called out, “Enter.” The figure’s shadow jumped and quickly stepped inside. She was just a little waif of an elf, and Taris could very nearly smell the tunnels on her. A thief then, or at least an initiate. She was nervous, and held a pouch in her hands. “What is it, little one?” he asked in elvish though it felt somewhat strange on his tongue. She looked up, and held out the pouch, which he could now identify as a waterskin, “From your fans, Master Archer, we wish you luck in the tournament.” The girl bowed and started to exit the tent, pausing by the flap. She turned back, “Please win.”
Taris smiled, “Of course, milady.” She giggled and ran off, leaving Taris alone. He always was good with kids. After pulling out the stopper he took several long draughts from the skin, and dumped the other half over his face to cool the burn of his eyes. He could hear the herald calling for him and the Prince to step forth, and he readjusted his hood before stepping back out into the hated sun. The Prince was already waiting, and he could see that his target had been moved back a few more paces. Glancing at the dais, he could see Aera had returned to her seat. Taris bowed low to Kentaro, who merely sneered. The elf could smell the wine on him, and was further disgusted with him. The Prince’s first shot hit only the fourth ring.
Taris had had quite enough. From someone that was said to be a skilled huntsman to only hit the outer rings, he must be quite drunk. And he refused to consider that the other contestants were more inept than a drunken royal, they must have thrown their shots wide. Not Taris, he pulled his own bow, sighted down the shaft and let fly. The arrow sank several inches into the target, right on the edge of the bull’s-eye. He nearly spat on the ground, held in check only by the knowledge that such an action would surely land him in the dungeon. Kentaro’s next shot didn’t even hit the target. Taris scowled behind the mask, his second shot slicing in beside his first. The Prince was frowning in confusion, visibly pulling himself together before his last shot. The third arrow at least hit the outer edge of the first ring. The assassin wasted nothing, he’d already beaten the man, but still he drew, his final shot sinking near the very center of the bull’s-eye.
The crowd was almost silent, at this elf that had so soundly beaten their Prince. Even Taris’ new fans kept still. The Dark Elf bowed low, “Well shot, Your Highness.” The Prince opened his mouth, and closed it, the elf had just given him a chance to retain his dignity. He curtly nodded in response, and the elf rose and turned away to where the little elf-girl was waiting with another water-skin. The near silence became a low thunder as the crowd began to mumble to each other as the servants collected the used targets. It was to be the last round, the only opponent left was Kasca.
The assassin pulled his hood down further, and looked through the shadows for her. It didn’t take long, he found her just outside some tents beneath some trees. Seemingly from nowhere a brown-cloaked figure joined her, and a genuine smile lit her face. Enlor`Lei, he’d have to remember the name when he gave his report. The man in the cloak removed his mask to reveal he was sister clan to Taris, though Taris’ own clan hailed from far more distant lands. They began speaking. In elvish, he thought to himself, how long has it been since I’ve heard, since I’ve spoken my native tongue? After a moment it became clear he was eavesdropping on a very personal moment for Aera, and he felt somewhat guilty. Wait, what? Why should I feel guilt? I’ve seen more personal moments than this…
Despite that he let go of the shadows, and raised the lip of his hood. He quickly registered that someone was waiting just outside the tent, and called out, “Enter.” The figure’s shadow jumped and quickly stepped inside. She was just a little waif of an elf, and Taris could very nearly smell the tunnels on her. A thief then, or at least an initiate. She was nervous, and held a pouch in her hands. “What is it, little one?” he asked in elvish though it felt somewhat strange on his tongue. She looked up, and held out the pouch, which he could now identify as a waterskin, “From your fans, Master Archer, we wish you luck in the tournament.” The girl bowed and started to exit the tent, pausing by the flap. She turned back, “Please win.”
Taris smiled, “Of course, milady.” She giggled and ran off, leaving Taris alone. He always was good with kids. After pulling out the stopper he took several long draughts from the skin, and dumped the other half over his face to cool the burn of his eyes. He could hear the herald calling for him and the Prince to step forth, and he readjusted his hood before stepping back out into the hated sun. The Prince was already waiting, and he could see that his target had been moved back a few more paces. Glancing at the dais, he could see Aera had returned to her seat. Taris bowed low to Kentaro, who merely sneered. The elf could smell the wine on him, and was further disgusted with him. The Prince’s first shot hit only the fourth ring.
Taris had had quite enough. From someone that was said to be a skilled huntsman to only hit the outer rings, he must be quite drunk. And he refused to consider that the other contestants were more inept than a drunken royal, they must have thrown their shots wide. Not Taris, he pulled his own bow, sighted down the shaft and let fly. The arrow sank several inches into the target, right on the edge of the bull’s-eye. He nearly spat on the ground, held in check only by the knowledge that such an action would surely land him in the dungeon. Kentaro’s next shot didn’t even hit the target. Taris scowled behind the mask, his second shot slicing in beside his first. The Prince was frowning in confusion, visibly pulling himself together before his last shot. The third arrow at least hit the outer edge of the first ring. The assassin wasted nothing, he’d already beaten the man, but still he drew, his final shot sinking near the very center of the bull’s-eye.
The crowd was almost silent, at this elf that had so soundly beaten their Prince. Even Taris’ new fans kept still. The Dark Elf bowed low, “Well shot, Your Highness.” The Prince opened his mouth, and closed it, the elf had just given him a chance to retain his dignity. He curtly nodded in response, and the elf rose and turned away to where the little elf-girl was waiting with another water-skin. The near silence became a low thunder as the crowd began to mumble to each other as the servants collected the used targets. It was to be the last round, the only opponent left was Kasca.
Taris calmly listened to the herald read of the pairings for the first round, each round to be the best of three shots, with the targets moved further back between each round. The elf was in the last pairing against a hedge knight of little repute. He took his place when their turn came, offering the other man the chance to shoot first. He was a big man, smug in the face of this skinny elf that was his opponent. The knight drew back, and let fly his arrow, which stuck in the fourth ring. There was a mixture of laughter and cheering through the crowd, and Taris smiled behind his mask.
He set himself into the archer’s “T” and quickly drew both his bow and breath. The arrow flashed out and thunked into the bull’s-eye. A chorus of jeers came from the crowd, undercut by a cheer from the elves from the small Grey-Quarter of the city. The relatively small crowd was cordoned off from the stands, instead occupying a section far down the side of the archery field. Taris gave a bow in their direction, and took his second shot, his opponent’s shot having only hit the third ring. Another bull’s-eye for the elf. He could see the rage building his opponent. The man was nearly shaking with it as he took aim once more, and this time his arrow didn’t even hit the target. In fury the man snapped his bow over his knee and stalked off the field to the sound of raucous laughter. Taris lazily took aim, his last shot finding its place just outside the bull’s-eye, in the first ring. With a flourish, he bowed to the now wildly cheering elves to the side, before turning back to the raised stand where the Royal Family was sitting and bowed once more, his red eyes catching Aera’s purple ones, even from this distance.
The closer targets were carried off the field as the herald read the second round pairings. Once more the assassin took his position. This time his opponent was a rather young knight named Haxfur. The women in the crowd went wild as he stepped up and took his shot. The distance had doubled, from fifteen paces to thirty, but the arrow found a mark in the third ring. Taris gave a nod of respect to his opponent, who had the grace to return it, and positioned himself when he was interrupted by a shout from the Royal stand. When he looked he saw the young princess leaning back from her mother, who nodded and stood.
The entire crowd fell silent when she raised her arms, “Attention my people, but we all know the skills of an elf with the bow. As an act of fairness, I ask our contestant, will you accept a five-pace handicap?”
The crowd cheered at this, and his own little cheering section stayed wisely silent. To boo the queen was never wise, anywhere. The assassin bowed low gesturing with his bow, and servants sprinted to the field to move his target. Once they were clear, he nocked his arrow, and took aim. This time he placed his shot in the exact same spot as his opponent’s. Haxfur’s looked darkened only a moment, but he grinned and took another shot, this time hitting the first ring. A massive cheer went up, and Taris took aim again. Once again he placed his shot in the same place as his opponent’s arrow. Now Haxfur openly scowled and took his last shot, hitting the edge of the bull’s-eye.
When he stepped back, he paused next to the elf, “Nobody can mimic two shots by accident, so I know you did that on purpose. Take your shot elf, and be quit of this mockery.” Taris bowed his head a moment, “My apologies, ser, the mockery was not directed at you.” He straightened and drew his bow. This time he was not playing, and he sunk his shot dead center. The crowd erupted in boos, many women throwing curses his way. Again he listened to the herald read the lists, and smiled behind the mask.
His next opponent was Kentaro.
He set himself into the archer’s “T” and quickly drew both his bow and breath. The arrow flashed out and thunked into the bull’s-eye. A chorus of jeers came from the crowd, undercut by a cheer from the elves from the small Grey-Quarter of the city. The relatively small crowd was cordoned off from the stands, instead occupying a section far down the side of the archery field. Taris gave a bow in their direction, and took his second shot, his opponent’s shot having only hit the third ring. Another bull’s-eye for the elf. He could see the rage building his opponent. The man was nearly shaking with it as he took aim once more, and this time his arrow didn’t even hit the target. In fury the man snapped his bow over his knee and stalked off the field to the sound of raucous laughter. Taris lazily took aim, his last shot finding its place just outside the bull’s-eye, in the first ring. With a flourish, he bowed to the now wildly cheering elves to the side, before turning back to the raised stand where the Royal Family was sitting and bowed once more, his red eyes catching Aera’s purple ones, even from this distance.
The closer targets were carried off the field as the herald read the second round pairings. Once more the assassin took his position. This time his opponent was a rather young knight named Haxfur. The women in the crowd went wild as he stepped up and took his shot. The distance had doubled, from fifteen paces to thirty, but the arrow found a mark in the third ring. Taris gave a nod of respect to his opponent, who had the grace to return it, and positioned himself when he was interrupted by a shout from the Royal stand. When he looked he saw the young princess leaning back from her mother, who nodded and stood.
The entire crowd fell silent when she raised her arms, “Attention my people, but we all know the skills of an elf with the bow. As an act of fairness, I ask our contestant, will you accept a five-pace handicap?”
The crowd cheered at this, and his own little cheering section stayed wisely silent. To boo the queen was never wise, anywhere. The assassin bowed low gesturing with his bow, and servants sprinted to the field to move his target. Once they were clear, he nocked his arrow, and took aim. This time he placed his shot in the exact same spot as his opponent’s. Haxfur’s looked darkened only a moment, but he grinned and took another shot, this time hitting the first ring. A massive cheer went up, and Taris took aim again. Once again he placed his shot in the same place as his opponent’s arrow. Now Haxfur openly scowled and took his last shot, hitting the edge of the bull’s-eye.
When he stepped back, he paused next to the elf, “Nobody can mimic two shots by accident, so I know you did that on purpose. Take your shot elf, and be quit of this mockery.” Taris bowed his head a moment, “My apologies, ser, the mockery was not directed at you.” He straightened and drew his bow. This time he was not playing, and he sunk his shot dead center. The crowd erupted in boos, many women throwing curses his way. Again he listened to the herald read the lists, and smiled behind the mask.
His next opponent was Kentaro.
Taris glared out of the shadow he hid within. First the Prince made too easy a target leaving for the hunt, and now he returned drunk. The elf almost buried an arrow in his heart out of sheer frustration. But no, the assassin decided, he would find a way to rattle him, to terrify the bastard. It was just a matter of finding the right moment. Still flowing through the shadows, he moved to another shadow closer to the Prince so he could hear the conversation between him and his friend.
He quickly wished he hadn't. The man beside Kentaro was asking when the last time he mounted Aera was... and offering to take care of that for him. Taris wouldn't mind that himself, but in pleasure, if nothing else, he put himself second. This man, from the way he said it and the leer he gave, like she was just a piece of meat, something to possess, was trash. By the Lady he hated humans sometimes, Taris at least had a code of honor, of sorts. Aera had approached by then, a younger girl that bore a striking resemblance to the prince beside her, and they greeted the man. A sister then, and Taris had to smile at the verbal jab she directed at her brother.
After a short exchange Kentaro and his friends walked off towards the castle, leaving Aera alone. She stood there for a moment, naked longing on her face as she looked at the gate. Go, Taris thought, but she turned and followed after the men. The Shadow Elf sighed. A missing Princess, even an Elven one, would cause a fair bit of stir within the castle. At least that’s what he told himself.
Taris finally stepped out of shadow behind a row of tents shortly before the sun had reached its zenith. The crowds had finally filled into the stands, and a dull roar of murmurs became constant companion. The archery competition would begin soon he knew, but he had one last thing to do before he joined the other contestants. He waited another second before reaching out from behind the tent and pulling a young girl behind it with him. Paytin would have screamed had he not clamped a hand over her mouth.
“Taris,” she said once he lowered his hands, “what are you doing? Has something happened?”
He shook his head, “No, no, Paytin nothing. I just needed some information, about a man that went hunting with Kentaro, he has dark hair and eyes…”
“Kasca. The man’s a pig, even worse than the Prince, if you can believe it. Thinks that a woman’s place is on her back… Why? You need to kill him too?”
Taris scowled, “The idea has crossed my mind.”
Paytin looked at his face, and decided not to push the matter. Instead she pushed a loose strand of hair out of her eyes and said, “Kentaro takes him out on his little whoring trips into town. You might get them both in a nice little package, if you plan it right.” A smile lit her face.
The elf’s brow furrowed, “You may be on to something there. Any chance you know where this brothel is?”
At that the smile faltered, but not by much. “Not at the moment, but I could by tonight. You’d be amazed at what some guys let slip after a little bed-play. I know just the guardsman too…”
“Spare me the details. But I’d appreciate it.” He handed her a small note, “This is where I’m staying, it’s a small inn, room 8. The innkeeper is a friend to our guild. Find me there when you have the information.” Paytin nodded and rushed off to finish her errands. Taris reached inside his hood and pulled a mask of cloth out to cover his lower face, tying it to strings inside the hood. He pulled the edge of his hood down lower to keep the sun off and made his way to the archer’s range as trumpets started a fanfare.
He quickly wished he hadn't. The man beside Kentaro was asking when the last time he mounted Aera was... and offering to take care of that for him. Taris wouldn't mind that himself, but in pleasure, if nothing else, he put himself second. This man, from the way he said it and the leer he gave, like she was just a piece of meat, something to possess, was trash. By the Lady he hated humans sometimes, Taris at least had a code of honor, of sorts. Aera had approached by then, a younger girl that bore a striking resemblance to the prince beside her, and they greeted the man. A sister then, and Taris had to smile at the verbal jab she directed at her brother.
After a short exchange Kentaro and his friends walked off towards the castle, leaving Aera alone. She stood there for a moment, naked longing on her face as she looked at the gate. Go, Taris thought, but she turned and followed after the men. The Shadow Elf sighed. A missing Princess, even an Elven one, would cause a fair bit of stir within the castle. At least that’s what he told himself.
Taris finally stepped out of shadow behind a row of tents shortly before the sun had reached its zenith. The crowds had finally filled into the stands, and a dull roar of murmurs became constant companion. The archery competition would begin soon he knew, but he had one last thing to do before he joined the other contestants. He waited another second before reaching out from behind the tent and pulling a young girl behind it with him. Paytin would have screamed had he not clamped a hand over her mouth.
“Taris,” she said once he lowered his hands, “what are you doing? Has something happened?”
He shook his head, “No, no, Paytin nothing. I just needed some information, about a man that went hunting with Kentaro, he has dark hair and eyes…”
“Kasca. The man’s a pig, even worse than the Prince, if you can believe it. Thinks that a woman’s place is on her back… Why? You need to kill him too?”
Taris scowled, “The idea has crossed my mind.”
Paytin looked at his face, and decided not to push the matter. Instead she pushed a loose strand of hair out of her eyes and said, “Kentaro takes him out on his little whoring trips into town. You might get them both in a nice little package, if you plan it right.” A smile lit her face.
The elf’s brow furrowed, “You may be on to something there. Any chance you know where this brothel is?”
At that the smile faltered, but not by much. “Not at the moment, but I could by tonight. You’d be amazed at what some guys let slip after a little bed-play. I know just the guardsman too…”
“Spare me the details. But I’d appreciate it.” He handed her a small note, “This is where I’m staying, it’s a small inn, room 8. The innkeeper is a friend to our guild. Find me there when you have the information.” Paytin nodded and rushed off to finish her errands. Taris reached inside his hood and pulled a mask of cloth out to cover his lower face, tying it to strings inside the hood. He pulled the edge of his hood down lower to keep the sun off and made his way to the archer’s range as trumpets started a fanfare.
Ah, it seemed Paytin was right, she was determinedly faithful to the Prince. Taris gave an internal sigh, but kept his smile firmly in place. "Of course, Your Highness. Please forgive me, I forgot myself. Please believe it was not my intention to seduce you away from the Prince." Yes it was, and i'm going to kill him as well, he shook the thought out of his head. Such thoughts had no place here. If she wouldn't let him warm her bed, at least she hadn't had him thrown out. It was enough for now. His eyes met hers and a genuine smile lit his face, "But i hope you wouldn't begrudge me my opinion on that dress. It just seems so... human. Something grey or blue would fit you much better."
From outside in the yard an enormous cheer went up. Taris looked to the nearby window and hissed in pain as the sun seared his eyes. He took a moment to blink the spots from his eyes, damn but he hated the sun. Had so much time passed already? "It seems your husband has returned, Milady." Was that a flash of disappointment across her face for a second? "I fear that I must excuse myself for the time. I have things I must attend to for the tournament. With your leave of course." He bowed over her hand once more, this time leaving a carefully measured kiss.
"Of course, Taris, perhaps we shall see each other at the banquet tonight? Good luck to you in the tourney," Aera said.
Taris gathered his bow and quiver, and gave a last bow with a flourish. "Thank you Your Highness, I eagerly look forward to tonight," he told her, before stepping back around the bookcase, and pushing through the wards into shadow.
From outside in the yard an enormous cheer went up. Taris looked to the nearby window and hissed in pain as the sun seared his eyes. He took a moment to blink the spots from his eyes, damn but he hated the sun. Had so much time passed already? "It seems your husband has returned, Milady." Was that a flash of disappointment across her face for a second? "I fear that I must excuse myself for the time. I have things I must attend to for the tournament. With your leave of course." He bowed over her hand once more, this time leaving a carefully measured kiss.
"Of course, Taris, perhaps we shall see each other at the banquet tonight? Good luck to you in the tourney," Aera said.
Taris gathered his bow and quiver, and gave a last bow with a flourish. "Thank you Your Highness, I eagerly look forward to tonight," he told her, before stepping back around the bookcase, and pushing through the wards into shadow.
Taris smiled at her, letting a small chuckle escape. He leaned back in his seat, "Confidence, eh? I wish i could say it was that, but no. I fear i'm a fool for being here, but I find myself unable to resist archery competitions, they are a passion of mine. Among other things." His eyes flashed over her body at the last words, locking on her face. For a moment he had an image of a pale hand against a black chest... that was right. He'd almost forgot about the Sun's Curse, rumor was she was the first in many years to be born with it. Taris took a glance at her gloved hands, according to his people's legends, the Moon Elves used the ability against his people in the war that split their races long ago. Still, something to be said for a dangerous woman. Taris let his body relax into an air of quiet self-assurance, his eyes sparkling.
"Part of me wants to believe you're here for another reason," she told him and her eyes locked into his. The assassin grinned again and let his fingers trail over her arm for a moment. "Actually," he began, "I do have business in the castle and city for a couple of months. I had actually hoped you might want some company while I was here. For my part, I find you a wonderful companion." It was a lie, Taris was enchanted by her. Damn, she's gorgeous, he thought, and her skin is just... "I'm sorry if I seem forward, Your Highness, it's just, beautiful women entrance me... and I've never met anyone as beautiful as you..."
"Part of me wants to believe you're here for another reason," she told him and her eyes locked into his. The assassin grinned again and let his fingers trail over her arm for a moment. "Actually," he began, "I do have business in the castle and city for a couple of months. I had actually hoped you might want some company while I was here. For my part, I find you a wonderful companion." It was a lie, Taris was enchanted by her. Damn, she's gorgeous, he thought, and her skin is just... "I'm sorry if I seem forward, Your Highness, it's just, beautiful women entrance me... and I've never met anyone as beautiful as you..."
Taris watched her go appreciating the grace of movement, if not the gaudy dress. Still if the dress had one good point it made it easy to imagine her in something better, or nothing at all. Upon leaving the Palace doors, he quickly slipped out of sight of the guards and into the nearest shadow. It was very bright by now, and the shadow wasn't very dark, so it took a little more effort to shift into the Shadow Realm. When he emerged, he was on the second floor of the castle, down the hall from the library. Only one of Aera's handmaidens remained, the one with the brooch. Perfect.
He made his way to her, raising his fist, and the symbol on it. She straightened a bit and nodded, surreptitiously glancing to make sure they were alone. “Greetings, guild-sister,” Taris said casually when he reached her. “You must be the agent our master told me about. What’s your name?” He coolly gazed over her, she was young, but not too young. She realized she was staring at his body, and quickly raised her eyes to his with a blush.
“Paytin,” she answered, “and you have to be Taris… Master warned me about you, but I still didn’t think…” She trailed off, and to make matters worse the elf moved right up against her, pinning her against the door. Her hand came up, but less to push back than to explore the contours of his body. Taris laughed a bit and stepped back, leaving Paytin breathless and flushed. “You are cruel,” she said.
Taris chuckled, “You’re right, I’m sorry. I assume this is your test, haven’t yet had a contract?” She nodded. “I need an excuse to be inside the castle for a couple months. And I heard a rumor that the Princess isn’t happy in her marriage, think I could take advantage of that?”
Paytin’s face darkened, “That’s putting it lightly. Kentaro doesn’t even touch her lately. I mean, she seems to love him, but now he barely gives her any attention. He just wanted the exotic, but now that the dazzle is over, I don’t know. He… he needs to be in control, needs a woman to fear him to get any pleasure... and she willingly goes to him, and he can’t stand it. So he goes, elsewhere.” She quieted at the last sentences.
Taris scowled, “Did you, and he…” She nodded and replied, “I had to, or risk losing my cover. I...” Paytin faltered again and the elf continued for her, “A lowly maid can’t deny a prince, right? Was he, was it your first?” A bit personal, perhaps, and unusually concerned for him, but he always had a soft spot for pretty girls.
As it was, she shook her head and her voice became fierce, “No, no he didn’t get the satisfaction of taking that from me!” The girl took a breath, “But that was months ago, now he goes to a brothel in town every few days, one that caters to his unique tastes. But you wanted to know if you could use Aera. I’m not sure honestly. People call her ‘Elven Whore’ behind her back, but she’s always stayed faithful to Kentaro, gods only know why. But I can tell this at least, she’s lonely. At the very least she could use a friend.”
Taris smiled, “Thank you Paytin, I’ll be sure to tell our Master that you helped me.” He kissed her cheek and stepped back into a shadow behind a suit of decorative armor, amazing the girl as he melted away into the darkness.
He came out in a corner of the library gasping, the castle was warded against Shadow Walking, and Taris had to spend far more energy to travel such a short space. He could handle it, but it explained why he had a hard time entering the shadow outside. He’d thought it was just the amount of light at the time. The assassin stared into the shadow again, using it as a window to other areas of the library, at least the ward didn’t protect against scrying the shadows. Aera was in another corner of the library, just reading, and the rest of the giant room was empty. Taris scaled a bookshelf, and made his way on the tops of the shelves until he could see her. For a long time, he just watched her, wondering how he was going to make his next move.
Finally he hopped down behind the bookcase, slowly walking around it into her view. Aera smiled slightly as he saw him and rose from her seat. “Your Highness,” he said quietly, bowing over to kiss her hand. If he let it linger a moment or so longer than was proper, well…
He made his way to her, raising his fist, and the symbol on it. She straightened a bit and nodded, surreptitiously glancing to make sure they were alone. “Greetings, guild-sister,” Taris said casually when he reached her. “You must be the agent our master told me about. What’s your name?” He coolly gazed over her, she was young, but not too young. She realized she was staring at his body, and quickly raised her eyes to his with a blush.
“Paytin,” she answered, “and you have to be Taris… Master warned me about you, but I still didn’t think…” She trailed off, and to make matters worse the elf moved right up against her, pinning her against the door. Her hand came up, but less to push back than to explore the contours of his body. Taris laughed a bit and stepped back, leaving Paytin breathless and flushed. “You are cruel,” she said.
Taris chuckled, “You’re right, I’m sorry. I assume this is your test, haven’t yet had a contract?” She nodded. “I need an excuse to be inside the castle for a couple months. And I heard a rumor that the Princess isn’t happy in her marriage, think I could take advantage of that?”
Paytin’s face darkened, “That’s putting it lightly. Kentaro doesn’t even touch her lately. I mean, she seems to love him, but now he barely gives her any attention. He just wanted the exotic, but now that the dazzle is over, I don’t know. He… he needs to be in control, needs a woman to fear him to get any pleasure... and she willingly goes to him, and he can’t stand it. So he goes, elsewhere.” She quieted at the last sentences.
Taris scowled, “Did you, and he…” She nodded and replied, “I had to, or risk losing my cover. I...” Paytin faltered again and the elf continued for her, “A lowly maid can’t deny a prince, right? Was he, was it your first?” A bit personal, perhaps, and unusually concerned for him, but he always had a soft spot for pretty girls.
As it was, she shook her head and her voice became fierce, “No, no he didn’t get the satisfaction of taking that from me!” The girl took a breath, “But that was months ago, now he goes to a brothel in town every few days, one that caters to his unique tastes. But you wanted to know if you could use Aera. I’m not sure honestly. People call her ‘Elven Whore’ behind her back, but she’s always stayed faithful to Kentaro, gods only know why. But I can tell this at least, she’s lonely. At the very least she could use a friend.”
Taris smiled, “Thank you Paytin, I’ll be sure to tell our Master that you helped me.” He kissed her cheek and stepped back into a shadow behind a suit of decorative armor, amazing the girl as he melted away into the darkness.
He came out in a corner of the library gasping, the castle was warded against Shadow Walking, and Taris had to spend far more energy to travel such a short space. He could handle it, but it explained why he had a hard time entering the shadow outside. He’d thought it was just the amount of light at the time. The assassin stared into the shadow again, using it as a window to other areas of the library, at least the ward didn’t protect against scrying the shadows. Aera was in another corner of the library, just reading, and the rest of the giant room was empty. Taris scaled a bookshelf, and made his way on the tops of the shelves until he could see her. For a long time, he just watched her, wondering how he was going to make his next move.
Finally he hopped down behind the bookcase, slowly walking around it into her view. Aera smiled slightly as he saw him and rose from her seat. “Your Highness,” he said quietly, bowing over to kiss her hand. If he let it linger a moment or so longer than was proper, well…
Taris looked her up and down, just once. The dress she wore did not fit with her body, she wasn't a human. No, she would have looked much better in pale blues, something that fit better to her lithe elven form. For that matter she would have looked better in nothing at all, but such thoughts were dangerous distractions in this place. He looked into her eyes, good, there was no recognition there, and sought permission to rise. Granted by a nod, he rose, and found himself of equal height with the Princess.
"Your Highness," he began with a smile, "I have business with the Spymaster, but it seems he is busy at the moment and has asked that I meet him after the banquet. In the meantime, I had sought to take my measure against the finest archers in the realm." Behind Aera, a handmaid stood nervously glancing him over, hovering between fear and interest. Taris gave her a small smile and she timidly adjusted a small brooch on her clothing. The corner of the Shadow Elf's mouth twitched just slightly at the sight of the brooch, and his master's words came back to him. Agents inside the palace indeed, he thought. Bringing his attention back to Aera, he bowed slightly, "Is their anything else you require of me, Your Highness?"
"Your Highness," he began with a smile, "I have business with the Spymaster, but it seems he is busy at the moment and has asked that I meet him after the banquet. In the meantime, I had sought to take my measure against the finest archers in the realm." Behind Aera, a handmaid stood nervously glancing him over, hovering between fear and interest. Taris gave her a small smile and she timidly adjusted a small brooch on her clothing. The corner of the Shadow Elf's mouth twitched just slightly at the sight of the brooch, and his master's words came back to him. Agents inside the palace indeed, he thought. Bringing his attention back to Aera, he bowed slightly, "Is their anything else you require of me, Your Highness?"
Taris stepped aside quickly as the dozen or so riders thundered out of the gates, to the cheers of those inside the walls. A hunt, if he had to guess, given the look not only of the steeds but the riders as well. He nearly laughed, for he recognized Prince Kentaro at the head of the party. It would be too easy to nock an arrow, pull back, and his greatest target would be eliminated...
But that was too easy. An assassin like Taris couldn't bring himself to take so simple a shot. No challenge begat no pleasure. And to be sure, Taris enjoyed his work.
The guards at the gate we're busy enjoying the sights, women rather, but not so distracted that they could fail to notice an armed, ebon-skinned stranger approaching the gate in the pale morning light. Immediately they leveled halberds at his neck, and the bigger of the two barked a challenge, "Where do you think you're off to, Dark Elf?"
A small inward bristle at the name, the assassin merely smiled. "Good morning, fellows," Taris said jovially, "I hear there is to be a tourney today and I've come to participate. As you can see I've brought my own bow..." The guards only growled at him. The assassin's smile faltered, "I assure you sirs, that I am here by invitation. The Royal Spymaster is expecting me." That did it, he could see by their faces. The smaller one lowered his weapon by a degree and nodded to his partner. The big one shouldered his own halberd and gestured inside, "You come with me, we'll see if you're telling the truth."
Taris nodded graciously and fell into step alongside the big man, carefully keeping his hands neutral and in sight. The Palace was a labyrinth to the unfamiliar, Taris would need to learn the layout if he wanted to make the kills here. His mind wandered a bit, though his eyes took in every detail. What name did she know me as back then? Mycah, wasn't it? He smiled to himself, it seemed he couldn't get the Princess out of his mind.
After several minutes of walking, the guard stopped in front of a pair of imposing solid oak doors, banded in iron. He pushed open one of them and motioned the Shadow Elf forward. Inside stood a tall sinewy man bent over a set of maps. He turned around when the guard cleared his throat, cocking an eyebrow in question. The guard cleared his throat again, "Sorry to bother you sir, but this Dark Elf says he is here at your invitation."
Taris stepped forward and clasped his fist over his heart, giving a small bow and muttering, "Milord." When he straightened a symbol glowed faintly, briefly, on the back of his hand. The Spymaster turned and grabbed a pendant, tossing it to Taris with an air of boredom. "I'm busy at the moment, come see me after the banquet tonight. In the meantime, wear that pin, and you should have no more trouble from the guards."
Taris bowed again and gestured to the, now respectful, guard that had brought him here, "Lead the way."
But that was too easy. An assassin like Taris couldn't bring himself to take so simple a shot. No challenge begat no pleasure. And to be sure, Taris enjoyed his work.
The guards at the gate we're busy enjoying the sights, women rather, but not so distracted that they could fail to notice an armed, ebon-skinned stranger approaching the gate in the pale morning light. Immediately they leveled halberds at his neck, and the bigger of the two barked a challenge, "Where do you think you're off to, Dark Elf?"
A small inward bristle at the name, the assassin merely smiled. "Good morning, fellows," Taris said jovially, "I hear there is to be a tourney today and I've come to participate. As you can see I've brought my own bow..." The guards only growled at him. The assassin's smile faltered, "I assure you sirs, that I am here by invitation. The Royal Spymaster is expecting me." That did it, he could see by their faces. The smaller one lowered his weapon by a degree and nodded to his partner. The big one shouldered his own halberd and gestured inside, "You come with me, we'll see if you're telling the truth."
Taris nodded graciously and fell into step alongside the big man, carefully keeping his hands neutral and in sight. The Palace was a labyrinth to the unfamiliar, Taris would need to learn the layout if he wanted to make the kills here. His mind wandered a bit, though his eyes took in every detail. What name did she know me as back then? Mycah, wasn't it? He smiled to himself, it seemed he couldn't get the Princess out of his mind.
After several minutes of walking, the guard stopped in front of a pair of imposing solid oak doors, banded in iron. He pushed open one of them and motioned the Shadow Elf forward. Inside stood a tall sinewy man bent over a set of maps. He turned around when the guard cleared his throat, cocking an eyebrow in question. The guard cleared his throat again, "Sorry to bother you sir, but this Dark Elf says he is here at your invitation."
Taris stepped forward and clasped his fist over his heart, giving a small bow and muttering, "Milord." When he straightened a symbol glowed faintly, briefly, on the back of his hand. The Spymaster turned and grabbed a pendant, tossing it to Taris with an air of boredom. "I'm busy at the moment, come see me after the banquet tonight. In the meantime, wear that pin, and you should have no more trouble from the guards."
Taris bowed again and gestured to the, now respectful, guard that had brought him here, "Lead the way."
The sun was rising, and Taris pulled the curtains closed to keep the damnable thing out of his safe-house. His purple-flecked red eyes would always hate the light of the sun, because of his nocturnal blood. He’d lost the whole night carousing with his previous mark, but he wasn’t fazed. He pulled out a small bottle from a nearby cabinet opening it and taking a small sip. The potion rushed like fire down his throat, invigorating him, reviving his tired mind and muscles. He could go days without sleep using the potion, though to do so could be dangerous.
A bath first, he thought, discarding his dirtied robes and stepping into the next room where a steaming tub lay ready. His mind wandered as he rinsed off the grime of the previous night. I wonder if she would remember me, even though we hardly met. Aera was very pretty, wasn’t she? Taris shook his head, his long, horizontal, pointed ears swaying just slightly with the movement. Best not to go there right now. His master was quick to say his biggest weakness lay in his arrogance, but Taris knew better, and the irony of the thought did not escape him. But no, his biggest weakness was a beautiful woman. One would be the death of him, he was sure of this, and had accepted it. He finished his bath and stood, water still gleaming on his jet black skin, causing his muscles to stand out more clearly. As well as his scars.
He took a moment to dry off, before opening a cabinet and selecting a pair of ash-grey trousers and tunic. After putting those on he selected a white bowman’s cloak with a loose, wide hood that accommodated his ears. He retrieved his prized bow and quiver last, before closing himself in the dark of a closet-sized room. Once more the shadow welcomed him into its embrace allowing him the freedom to travel between shadowed places. He emerged in the shadow between two shops, mere steps away from the Palace gates. Once inside he could easily explain his presence as a contestant or servant of the Spymaster should the need arise, but there was no need to walk the streets in daylight, under the hated sun and gathering the stares of a people that hated him for his races crimes, not merely his own. He found it amusing, being hated for raids he’d never had a part of, them not knowing the extent of the crimes he HAD committed.
Taris made his way towards the gate.
A bath first, he thought, discarding his dirtied robes and stepping into the next room where a steaming tub lay ready. His mind wandered as he rinsed off the grime of the previous night. I wonder if she would remember me, even though we hardly met. Aera was very pretty, wasn’t she? Taris shook his head, his long, horizontal, pointed ears swaying just slightly with the movement. Best not to go there right now. His master was quick to say his biggest weakness lay in his arrogance, but Taris knew better, and the irony of the thought did not escape him. But no, his biggest weakness was a beautiful woman. One would be the death of him, he was sure of this, and had accepted it. He finished his bath and stood, water still gleaming on his jet black skin, causing his muscles to stand out more clearly. As well as his scars.
He took a moment to dry off, before opening a cabinet and selecting a pair of ash-grey trousers and tunic. After putting those on he selected a white bowman’s cloak with a loose, wide hood that accommodated his ears. He retrieved his prized bow and quiver last, before closing himself in the dark of a closet-sized room. Once more the shadow welcomed him into its embrace allowing him the freedom to travel between shadowed places. He emerged in the shadow between two shops, mere steps away from the Palace gates. Once inside he could easily explain his presence as a contestant or servant of the Spymaster should the need arise, but there was no need to walk the streets in daylight, under the hated sun and gathering the stares of a people that hated him for his races crimes, not merely his own. He found it amusing, being hated for raids he’d never had a part of, them not knowing the extent of the crimes he HAD committed.
Taris made his way towards the gate.
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