Rhaevnn Xeno Member
Caster of Shadows
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- Rhaevnn Xeno 11 yrs ago
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Floor is yours, Merc. :P
Shien, where would I be without you? Thank you! :D Also - post is up. Have fun, Merc!
Ixion's retort had mildly surprised Morgan. However, the surprise was due to Ixion's reaction, rather than the red hood's confession of knowing his opponent's race. After all, Morgan had feasted in broad daylight. This one has fast eyes, I see. But something else brushed aside the now known fact about himself: The vampire's insult had actually struck a chord. At least, this was the conclusion, judging by the sell-sword's body language and his spirit's sudden change of energy. It was heated by anger, edged with personal hurt? The corner's of his mouth lifted in minor amusement, despite the circumstances that lay before Thrainsson. Well, well - looks like he does have emotions If a vampire could purr, Morgan would have, if the following events had not soured the mercenary's reaction.
The sell-sword did not make an offensive move against Red, much to Morgan's displeasure. Perhaps, he too does not wish to tangle with someone so powerful…. At the moment, the sniffer was feeling disappointed, angry, and maybe even a little betrayed, but so had the chips fallen. Someday, your soul shall be delivered for the one you stole, assassin. Morgan vowed. Clearer thoughts began to pour into the sniffer's mind as he attempted to pay attention to conversation unfolding in front of him. Now that he knows… things could get… messy. To those who would die quickly, Morgan made no attempts to hide his real self: a vampire. But to those who would walk and live to tell a tale: This needs to be contained. Morgan gave a subtle, small nod to himself. This "Ixie" needed to die. Unless some sort agreement or professional courtesy was bestowed on the vampire, which Morgan highly doubted. The sniffer was no mercenary, sell-sword, or assassin - just a creature of the night driven by his hunger, his need for blood. But then again… Honor is a strange thing.
Any other rapid fired thoughts were halted but the mention of Red's true identity (at least it was assumed to be true, as "the Fixer" did not deny the title). Indeed the rumors are true. While Morgan was more than likely less informed about such an individual, the passing whispers among people, in the market space or tavern had reached the sniffer's pale ears in passing. If the stories were true, Morgan was actually relieved he had not chose to fight the red bound man. Soon… The thought echoed as The Fixer pushed another theory away. His purpose was unclear, at the moment, but it was to be undoubtedly revealed in the next few moments.
The Fixer plummeted from view, as if he were taking a stroll through a beautiful park. Morgan's light feet padded to the roof's edge, observing The Fixer's next actions with a growing interest. The accent is false. A fact stated in Morgan's inner workings. There was no surprise, no other reaction than a factual statement, as if a schoolboy was stating a learned fact. In fact, it was somehow not surprising that this man did not seem to be who he was - already, such things that were assumed true had been false, such as how great his power was, or his initial response to the two threats that were before his person.
Blue's story was sad - terrible even. Despite his predisposed lack of emotion, the sniffer could not help but have one or two heart strings pulled at. Cursed to be a slave of some cause forever. Morgan's mouth frowned deeper as The Fixer went into the details of Blue's life, Once like myself. Roots of a deep set hatred began to gnaw at Morgan's psyche as his mind turned these facts over and over in his mind, Both of these men work for the Duke? A side glance was cast at The Red Hooded before refocusing on the scene below, And they stand for this system?
The Fixer closed his book, more or less the burial rights that Morgan had assumed before hand. The added personal note gently brushed away the rage that was beginning to cloud Thrainsson's mind, refocusing him to a new task. The Wanderer freed her, as he freed me to do his bidding. Morgan's eyes hardened, reflecting like polished rubies as he realized his next mission from his master, Those who imprison the soul should be dealt with, such my captors and the many others - the hand of death will guide them - all of them - to their fate. The sniffer's grip tightened around his weapon, but he knew that this was not the place, nor the time to smite these two in the name of The Wanderer.
His face would return to normal, as The Fixer reached for Blue's scabbard, and yet another question popped into his mind's eye. Wasn't it strange for Blue's murderer to give her burial rights? It was practically almost a ceremony, complete with her history and the killer's own personal thoughts about his now dead prey. Was he too trapped? Was the man on the same roof as Morgan in the same position? Perhaps Death would avoid punishing the tools that lead to Blue's demise (and more than likely all the other colored numbers similar to her path of life), but as the questions began piling, Morgan would not be deterred from his original thought.
Soon. Soon you will meet my master.
The sell-sword did not make an offensive move against Red, much to Morgan's displeasure. Perhaps, he too does not wish to tangle with someone so powerful…. At the moment, the sniffer was feeling disappointed, angry, and maybe even a little betrayed, but so had the chips fallen. Someday, your soul shall be delivered for the one you stole, assassin. Morgan vowed. Clearer thoughts began to pour into the sniffer's mind as he attempted to pay attention to conversation unfolding in front of him. Now that he knows… things could get… messy. To those who would die quickly, Morgan made no attempts to hide his real self: a vampire. But to those who would walk and live to tell a tale: This needs to be contained. Morgan gave a subtle, small nod to himself. This "Ixie" needed to die. Unless some sort agreement or professional courtesy was bestowed on the vampire, which Morgan highly doubted. The sniffer was no mercenary, sell-sword, or assassin - just a creature of the night driven by his hunger, his need for blood. But then again… Honor is a strange thing.
Any other rapid fired thoughts were halted but the mention of Red's true identity (at least it was assumed to be true, as "the Fixer" did not deny the title). Indeed the rumors are true. While Morgan was more than likely less informed about such an individual, the passing whispers among people, in the market space or tavern had reached the sniffer's pale ears in passing. If the stories were true, Morgan was actually relieved he had not chose to fight the red bound man. Soon… The thought echoed as The Fixer pushed another theory away. His purpose was unclear, at the moment, but it was to be undoubtedly revealed in the next few moments.
The Fixer plummeted from view, as if he were taking a stroll through a beautiful park. Morgan's light feet padded to the roof's edge, observing The Fixer's next actions with a growing interest. The accent is false. A fact stated in Morgan's inner workings. There was no surprise, no other reaction than a factual statement, as if a schoolboy was stating a learned fact. In fact, it was somehow not surprising that this man did not seem to be who he was - already, such things that were assumed true had been false, such as how great his power was, or his initial response to the two threats that were before his person.
Blue's story was sad - terrible even. Despite his predisposed lack of emotion, the sniffer could not help but have one or two heart strings pulled at. Cursed to be a slave of some cause forever. Morgan's mouth frowned deeper as The Fixer went into the details of Blue's life, Once like myself. Roots of a deep set hatred began to gnaw at Morgan's psyche as his mind turned these facts over and over in his mind, Both of these men work for the Duke? A side glance was cast at The Red Hooded before refocusing on the scene below, And they stand for this system?
The Fixer closed his book, more or less the burial rights that Morgan had assumed before hand. The added personal note gently brushed away the rage that was beginning to cloud Thrainsson's mind, refocusing him to a new task. The Wanderer freed her, as he freed me to do his bidding. Morgan's eyes hardened, reflecting like polished rubies as he realized his next mission from his master, Those who imprison the soul should be dealt with, such my captors and the many others - the hand of death will guide them - all of them - to their fate. The sniffer's grip tightened around his weapon, but he knew that this was not the place, nor the time to smite these two in the name of The Wanderer.
His face would return to normal, as The Fixer reached for Blue's scabbard, and yet another question popped into his mind's eye. Wasn't it strange for Blue's murderer to give her burial rights? It was practically almost a ceremony, complete with her history and the killer's own personal thoughts about his now dead prey. Was he too trapped? Was the man on the same roof as Morgan in the same position? Perhaps Death would avoid punishing the tools that lead to Blue's demise (and more than likely all the other colored numbers similar to her path of life), but as the questions began piling, Morgan would not be deterred from his original thought.
Soon. Soon you will meet my master.
This may be going over my head (or somehow I missed it in the OldGuild OoC), but who is the "Grand Master?"
The pages turned. It registered in the vampire's mind, even as his eyes shifted between the two present men. The red clad man's book had been perused (which Morgan could not read - the script impossibly hidden into the color of the book), the holding hand moving with same nonchalance as the annoying accent or even as the actions of Morgan's target - or lack there of. If doubt had been worming itself into the sniffer's mind, it had fully seeped done so now. 'He hadn't even flinched. This man, he just kept reading his book as if nothing were even happening. Morgan's stance stiffened in an attempt to keep his reaction sharp, if need be, but his judgement that had been once so firm in the belief that this man needed to die, here and now, now had been moved to the point of heavy hesitance and growing hatred. 'How can he be so arrogant? He has two battle-tested beings before him, and yet, he stands there like--' Morgan's thoughts were interrupted by the assassin's heavily accented speech, the tone of his voice hard pressed, as if he were growing impatient, or even bored with the whole situation:
"Look, so'y I went 'n' ruin'd yer fight wi'h Blue 'n' stuff, but can't we just, y'know, not fight? The boss-man'll be right mad wi'h me if I went 'n' kill'd one of his 'investments in continuous profits', Ixie, 'n' I real don't wanna kill whoever yer mate is while he's still this weak. What'd'ya say, eh? We just walk our separate ways, eh? No one gets hurt, eh?"
'Ixie?' Crimson eyes darted over towards the blade for hire and then quickly back to "Red," 'These two know each other?' The vampire's weight shifted as took taking the information in as his thoughts continued to whirl, 'So, he won't hurt the sellsword... but won't fight me because I'm...' The space between his eyes tighted, furrowing into lines of anger, but only for the briefest of moments, struggling to finish the thought, 'Weak?. But how could he be weak? He was a vampire, a feared creature in all of the Planes. After all, stories of attacks were not whispered among the frightened people for no reason. On top of that, Morgan was a sniffer! Trained in the art of hunting peoples of magic and helping eliminate them! 'Thus, the question remains: who does this arrogant son of a tarke think he i--'
Suddenly, a singular fact hit Morgan like a pile of bricks. Perhaps it was the sole purpose of revenge that had blinded him to it, or maybe puzzling manner that this assassin had portraying himself in, but this fact would slowly bring the sniffer out of his defensive stance to one of normality, eventually causing the vampire to appear without threat, even to point of being relaxed. Red was something that Morgan knew, without a shadow of doubt, that he could not face, at least not alone. 'Maybe not even together.' the vampire thought doubtfully. The smilng mask's light soul flowed as smoothly as a breeze, but as violently as a tornado. The amount of this man's magical capacity was tremendous, even impressive. Only once or twice had Thrainsson felt such a presence in his days of hunting for the Secularian army - these souls had left an impression on Morgan's memory, and such memories were far from pleasent.
In his chance of stance, however, Morgan struggled to issue words from his mouth. The want, the need to kill this man was one that would not be easily set free. He did not want to say it, but if Ixion had not stated something other than mutual agreement between time it took the vampire to shift from his defensive stance to his relaxed stance, Morgan would feel forced to to spit out the following words, his voice grating over the air as his staff ground into the roof's tiles with audible crunching, "Agreed - we walk our seperate ways."
However, if Ixion decided to make a move against Red, the vampire would be able to shift his stance swiftly...
"Look, so'y I went 'n' ruin'd yer fight wi'h Blue 'n' stuff, but can't we just, y'know, not fight? The boss-man'll be right mad wi'h me if I went 'n' kill'd one of his 'investments in continuous profits', Ixie, 'n' I real don't wanna kill whoever yer mate is while he's still this weak. What'd'ya say, eh? We just walk our separate ways, eh? No one gets hurt, eh?"
'Ixie?' Crimson eyes darted over towards the blade for hire and then quickly back to "Red," 'These two know each other?' The vampire's weight shifted as took taking the information in as his thoughts continued to whirl, 'So, he won't hurt the sellsword... but won't fight me because I'm...' The space between his eyes tighted, furrowing into lines of anger, but only for the briefest of moments, struggling to finish the thought, 'Weak?. But how could he be weak? He was a vampire, a feared creature in all of the Planes. After all, stories of attacks were not whispered among the frightened people for no reason. On top of that, Morgan was a sniffer! Trained in the art of hunting peoples of magic and helping eliminate them! 'Thus, the question remains: who does this arrogant son of a tarke think he i--'
Suddenly, a singular fact hit Morgan like a pile of bricks. Perhaps it was the sole purpose of revenge that had blinded him to it, or maybe puzzling manner that this assassin had portraying himself in, but this fact would slowly bring the sniffer out of his defensive stance to one of normality, eventually causing the vampire to appear without threat, even to point of being relaxed. Red was something that Morgan knew, without a shadow of doubt, that he could not face, at least not alone. 'Maybe not even together.' the vampire thought doubtfully. The smilng mask's light soul flowed as smoothly as a breeze, but as violently as a tornado. The amount of this man's magical capacity was tremendous, even impressive. Only once or twice had Thrainsson felt such a presence in his days of hunting for the Secularian army - these souls had left an impression on Morgan's memory, and such memories were far from pleasent.
In his chance of stance, however, Morgan struggled to issue words from his mouth. The want, the need to kill this man was one that would not be easily set free. He did not want to say it, but if Ixion had not stated something other than mutual agreement between time it took the vampire to shift from his defensive stance to his relaxed stance, Morgan would feel forced to to spit out the following words, his voice grating over the air as his staff ground into the roof's tiles with audible crunching, "Agreed - we walk our seperate ways."
However, if Ixion decided to make a move against Red, the vampire would be able to shift his stance swiftly...
Ah, ok. Thanks for the explanation, DJ. I figured as much, but I just wanted to make sure I wasn't missing anything. Post should be up tonight or tomorrow (unless Merc wants to post first).
*Edit*
I grew too excited. :c Post is up! Also, Merc, if you want to post first the next round, let me know and I shall happily oblige.
*Edit*
I grew too excited. :c Post is up! Also, Merc, if you want to post first the next round, let me know and I shall happily oblige.
Dammit. It haaaaad to be the Fixer. (Great way to introduce him though, DJ).
I do, however, have a small question: would Morgan be able sense anything unusually "strong" about the Fixer, mostly in the magic department. Does the Fixer just drip with power or would he be skilled enough to hide such an aura (if he has one so large).
Also, another thought. How far can Sniffer's abilities go? I understand that they can sense magic through things such as auras and whatnot, and that they automatically dampen their own aura, but can they do other things? For example, dampen others' auras, weaken spells, or even prevent spells from being cast in a certain area? (Somewhat like a black hole - all energy gets negated?)
I do, however, have a small question: would Morgan be able sense anything unusually "strong" about the Fixer, mostly in the magic department. Does the Fixer just drip with power or would he be skilled enough to hide such an aura (if he has one so large).
Also, another thought. How far can Sniffer's abilities go? I understand that they can sense magic through things such as auras and whatnot, and that they automatically dampen their own aura, but can they do other things? For example, dampen others' auras, weaken spells, or even prevent spells from being cast in a certain area? (Somewhat like a black hole - all energy gets negated?)
Morgan's plan of attack was to be flawless. It was sudden, alarming, acrobatic - everything needed for to turn this black humored assassin on his head and gain the upper hand. But when Ixion's illusion flew at the vampire, practically appearing from no where, Thrainsson's attack was altered with alarming speed. Just as the vampire's flipping form pulled his legs over his head, peripheral vision warned Morgan of the dark form's foot, causing the sniffer's eyes to widen under his mask and forcing Morgan to go on the defensive.
The staff that had been whirling over head was brought down, as if the vampire were trying to make his weapon a flagstaff, his fully covered body brought to a smashing kneel as the butt of the knobbed wood planting itself firmly at an arm's length in front of Morgan. The red bandaged man would not be in danger of the initial blow, for the moment, for Morgan's speedy assault had abruptly ended, the vampire rising up speedily into a defensive stance, staff brought before Morgan's face, his empty hand spread before him as his legs bounced into a crouching position. The robed sniffer had placed himself at an angle, so that his crimson eyes may watch both assassin and mercenary, though his shuttered eyes were focused on the red hooded man and his stinging words:
"You idiot! This very moment in time is not the time for those stupid actions. Besides, you inserted yourself in my fight. You didn't deserve the right to kill her."
Morgan's blank face began to turn into a deep frown as the blade-for-hire turned his attention to Morgan's intended victim, continuing his words, "And neither did you. You do what you need to do, but you made it my business when you got yourself involved.”
"Your fight?" Morgan monotone voice called out to the red hooded man, possibly interrupting the red clad assassin, "Your fight became my fight the moment her magic blinded me." A gloved hand pointed accusingly at Ixion, the vampire's voice now grating behind clenched teeth, the pitch of his lashing words dropping an octave, "I have every right as you to claim her--" Crimson eyes gleamed from behind his mask's concealing shuttered eyes as Morgan's attention refocused on his original target, "--and him as my kill," Morgan's finished his retort with venom, gaze redirected back at Ixion, "filthy demonspawn."
Morgan's gloved hand tightened around his staff as he prepared to whirl around onto the red assassin, but something tugged on his mind. Yes, this man stole Blue's soul from his delivering hands, but why go to the trouble of burial rights? At least, this is what the vampire could only assume from such a small book. Unless it was something else… Maybe this sellsword was correct in his logic - ask questions now, spill the assassin's blood later? Attentions again redirected at the bloody, smiling mask, Morgan looked at him, and then his book. What secrets lay on its pages? Yes, burial rights was indeed an option, but what if it were a spell of destruction or something else that bid ill for the vampire? 'Is it a risk worth taking?'
Tension was rising, a decision was to be made. But the brief pause between talk and violence was enough for anything to happen...
The staff that had been whirling over head was brought down, as if the vampire were trying to make his weapon a flagstaff, his fully covered body brought to a smashing kneel as the butt of the knobbed wood planting itself firmly at an arm's length in front of Morgan. The red bandaged man would not be in danger of the initial blow, for the moment, for Morgan's speedy assault had abruptly ended, the vampire rising up speedily into a defensive stance, staff brought before Morgan's face, his empty hand spread before him as his legs bounced into a crouching position. The robed sniffer had placed himself at an angle, so that his crimson eyes may watch both assassin and mercenary, though his shuttered eyes were focused on the red hooded man and his stinging words:
"You idiot! This very moment in time is not the time for those stupid actions. Besides, you inserted yourself in my fight. You didn't deserve the right to kill her."
Morgan's blank face began to turn into a deep frown as the blade-for-hire turned his attention to Morgan's intended victim, continuing his words, "And neither did you. You do what you need to do, but you made it my business when you got yourself involved.”
"Your fight?" Morgan monotone voice called out to the red hooded man, possibly interrupting the red clad assassin, "Your fight became my fight the moment her magic blinded me." A gloved hand pointed accusingly at Ixion, the vampire's voice now grating behind clenched teeth, the pitch of his lashing words dropping an octave, "I have every right as you to claim her--" Crimson eyes gleamed from behind his mask's concealing shuttered eyes as Morgan's attention refocused on his original target, "--and him as my kill," Morgan's finished his retort with venom, gaze redirected back at Ixion, "filthy demonspawn."
Morgan's gloved hand tightened around his staff as he prepared to whirl around onto the red assassin, but something tugged on his mind. Yes, this man stole Blue's soul from his delivering hands, but why go to the trouble of burial rights? At least, this is what the vampire could only assume from such a small book. Unless it was something else… Maybe this sellsword was correct in his logic - ask questions now, spill the assassin's blood later? Attentions again redirected at the bloody, smiling mask, Morgan looked at him, and then his book. What secrets lay on its pages? Yes, burial rights was indeed an option, but what if it were a spell of destruction or something else that bid ill for the vampire? 'Is it a risk worth taking?'
Tension was rising, a decision was to be made. But the brief pause between talk and violence was enough for anything to happen...
@DJ
Ah, ok. I read it as Ixion sent the illusion after the chokehold was executed (as Morgan wouldn't have said his second sentence until "Red" was on his back) but I can work with it. Expect a post up sometime today (more than likely after 5pm EST, as that's when I get off work)
Ah, ok. I read it as Ixion sent the illusion after the chokehold was executed (as Morgan wouldn't have said his second sentence until "Red" was on his back) but I can work with it. Expect a post up sometime today (more than likely after 5pm EST, as that's when I get off work)
@DJ
I actually thought I would wait to post Morgan's reaction to Ixion's spell simply because I'm not sure that "Red" would be swept by Morgan or not. But, if it is a guaranteed sweep, I'll be posting up sometime today.
I actually thought I would wait to post Morgan's reaction to Ixion's spell simply because I'm not sure that "Red" would be swept by Morgan or not. But, if it is a guaranteed sweep, I'll be posting up sometime today.
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