As Eliza lobbed the rock past the soldier, Phineas shifted out from behind the boulder and stood, taking aim at the soldier with his pistol as the current buffeted his back. He peered down the sights and centered his view on the target. As his finger tightened around the trigger, he paused and reconsidered. He only had six bullets left, and they hadn't even reached the campsite. But if the soldier caught sight of them, they were as good as dead, corpses in the water. He picked the gun up again for the shot, but as he did the soldier trudged back into the forest, waving his rifle in search of the source of the noise.
Phineas let out his breath in a long side, dropping his arms to his sides. He turned back and motioned to Eliza, taking her hand and settling into the current. They floated around the bend and past another, out of the range of the soldier.
Within a few minutes, they arrived at a landing near the mouth of the river. The shore was covered in small, smooth stones that had been deposited over the years. As they arrived, Phineas took in his surroundings. They were only a few hundred yards from the campsite.
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Lysander stared hard at the girl behind the iron gate. He racked his mind trying to think of her possible identity, but the few assassins he knew of within Phantom did not match her description. His body was at a standstill as they faced off across the grounds, and she waited for him to reciprocate her challenge. He knew it would be unwise to turn her down, but without a better knowledge of her identity he couldn't be sure he would survive.
Reluctantly, he dropped his arms and sheathed his katana. He avoided her gaze and then stepped back, trying to retain his confidence as he strode back into the building defiantly.
As soon as he was out of her sight, he slid his back down the wall and sat on the floor, gasping out of anxiety. Eventually he gained control of himself and stood back up, and heard voices in the hall upstairs. He took the stairs two at a time and pulled his pistol, to find Vesper and the iron-clad man from the previous day standing outside one of the doors. He jogged over to them and glanced out the window, his hand on his pistol.
"Vesper," he said, pulling the blinds apart to look outside, "There's another assassin. She's in Phantom."
Reluctantly, he dropped his arms and sheathed his katana. He avoided her gaze and then stepped back, trying to retain his confidence as he strode back into the building defiantly.
As soon as he was out of her sight, he slid his back down the wall and sat on the floor, gasping out of anxiety. Eventually he gained control of himself and stood back up, and heard voices in the hall upstairs. He took the stairs two at a time and pulled his pistol, to find Vesper and the iron-clad man from the previous day standing outside one of the doors. He jogged over to them and glanced out the window, his hand on his pistol.
"Vesper," he said, pulling the blinds apart to look outside, "There's another assassin. She's in Phantom."
Weeks is an overstatement, and I don't mean texting for RP, just for talking.
Love the attitude. Also, my internet goes through periods where I can't use it for up to weeks at a time. Should we set up an alternate mode of communication? Is text too personal?
Lysander jerked around to see a dark haired girl approaching him slowly, her fingers lazily brushing against the wrought iron gate. Her intent gaze to him betrayed immediately that she was the one behind the strange voices, but clearly she was not trying to hide it. She addressed him recklessly, and when she was finished speaking Lysander stared her down.
"So what are you, then? Clearly not Faceless. Crest, perhaps? Jin'hadai? Phantom?"
Lysander noticed her eyes flicker slightly at the mention of the latter, and could tell he had guessed correctly.
"Of course. That would explain your affinity for undead arts, and your will to kill a political figure without question." He drew his katana and dropped the sati onto the grass, trying to keep up his confidence. "But do you really think you can kill me here? Look around you." He waved his free hand in a wide gesture. "We're standing in the middle of Oculus grounds, which I have just been inducted into. If you attack me, the guild will know. You would start a war between the Guilds, Phantom would have your head, and you know it."
"So what are you, then? Clearly not Faceless. Crest, perhaps? Jin'hadai? Phantom?"
Lysander noticed her eyes flicker slightly at the mention of the latter, and could tell he had guessed correctly.
"Of course. That would explain your affinity for undead arts, and your will to kill a political figure without question." He drew his katana and dropped the sati onto the grass, trying to keep up his confidence. "But do you really think you can kill me here? Look around you." He waved his free hand in a wide gesture. "We're standing in the middle of Oculus grounds, which I have just been inducted into. If you attack me, the guild will know. You would start a war between the Guilds, Phantom would have your head, and you know it."
Don't worry about it, man. We all have our obstructions. Although, I am probably saying that because I seem to post the least.
Just as Lysander began to pull the door to his dormitory open, the lights snapped out.
Instinctively, he dropped to the floor and pulled out his pistol, aiming it down the hallway and tensing his body for an attack. However, the lights flickered back on within a few seconds. Lysander whipped his head around, searching the hallway, but there was nothing to be seen. He slipped into his room and took cover by the door.
Almost out of the air, a female voice emanated through the room.
"Do you feel safe within these walls, Lysander? Untouchable by anyone?" the voice asked. A chill ran down Lysander's back, and a candle in the hallway dropped to the ground and sputtered out. "I'm waiting." The shutters began to clatter.
Even before his exile from the Legion, Lysander had dealt with countless assassins; snipers, agile masters of stealth, gangs of murderous brutes, but this sensation was new to him. It was almost as if the assassin was taunting him. He had heard tales of men and women that killed through fear, driving their targets mad or subduing them to a state of submission and finishing them off. He suspected as much for whoever was calling him now. And yet, it was almost inconceivably stupid to inform a target that you were attacking them; assassins tried to take their victims by surprise. He concluded that the assassin was not in the building.
But even then, how was the voice so close? The killer must have somehow been throwing their voice, or projecting it with some sort of ranged equipment. As the thought entered his mind, Lysander peered around the room in search of a speaker or bug of some sort, but his eye found nothing. It was certainly hidden, and he didn't have the time to go looking.
The killer was most likely trying to draw him to a trap, Lysander thought. There wasn't much he could do, and leaving the building by conventional means was too dangerous. He peered down the hallway. At the end he had come from, a set of stairs twisted in both directions to the top and bottom floors. At the other end, a large window was open to the air, its curtains waving gently in the breeze.
The window was too high up to be a convenient entrance for an assassin. Lysander scoped it out; it almost the size of a door. He racked his mind, trying to think about what he had seen of the dormitory building's surroundings before he had entered.
Lysander took one more look around the hall and the room and, seeing nothing, tucked his weapons close to him and cursed under his breath. He sprung out from behind the door and sprinted down the hallway. As the window grew closer, he picked up speed, then jumped through the opening into the air.
He braced himself for the moment he was airborne, then hit down hard. He was on the roof of the Quartermaster Hall, adjacent to and slightly shorter than the dormitory building. He dropped to a roll to protect himself and his weapons clattered across the dully angled tin roof. Without slowing down, he snatched his katana and sati, which had come off his belt, and sprinted across the roof, jumping again and hitting the ground much harder than he had the Hall.
He gasped for air as he collected himself, pushing off the grass and looking around for the assassin. Hopefully, he thought, he had put some distance between them.
Instinctively, he dropped to the floor and pulled out his pistol, aiming it down the hallway and tensing his body for an attack. However, the lights flickered back on within a few seconds. Lysander whipped his head around, searching the hallway, but there was nothing to be seen. He slipped into his room and took cover by the door.
Almost out of the air, a female voice emanated through the room.
"Do you feel safe within these walls, Lysander? Untouchable by anyone?" the voice asked. A chill ran down Lysander's back, and a candle in the hallway dropped to the ground and sputtered out. "I'm waiting." The shutters began to clatter.
Even before his exile from the Legion, Lysander had dealt with countless assassins; snipers, agile masters of stealth, gangs of murderous brutes, but this sensation was new to him. It was almost as if the assassin was taunting him. He had heard tales of men and women that killed through fear, driving their targets mad or subduing them to a state of submission and finishing them off. He suspected as much for whoever was calling him now. And yet, it was almost inconceivably stupid to inform a target that you were attacking them; assassins tried to take their victims by surprise. He concluded that the assassin was not in the building.
But even then, how was the voice so close? The killer must have somehow been throwing their voice, or projecting it with some sort of ranged equipment. As the thought entered his mind, Lysander peered around the room in search of a speaker or bug of some sort, but his eye found nothing. It was certainly hidden, and he didn't have the time to go looking.
The killer was most likely trying to draw him to a trap, Lysander thought. There wasn't much he could do, and leaving the building by conventional means was too dangerous. He peered down the hallway. At the end he had come from, a set of stairs twisted in both directions to the top and bottom floors. At the other end, a large window was open to the air, its curtains waving gently in the breeze.
The window was too high up to be a convenient entrance for an assassin. Lysander scoped it out; it almost the size of a door. He racked his mind, trying to think about what he had seen of the dormitory building's surroundings before he had entered.
Lysander took one more look around the hall and the room and, seeing nothing, tucked his weapons close to him and cursed under his breath. He sprung out from behind the door and sprinted down the hallway. As the window grew closer, he picked up speed, then jumped through the opening into the air.
He braced himself for the moment he was airborne, then hit down hard. He was on the roof of the Quartermaster Hall, adjacent to and slightly shorter than the dormitory building. He dropped to a roll to protect himself and his weapons clattered across the dully angled tin roof. Without slowing down, he snatched his katana and sati, which had come off his belt, and sprinted across the roof, jumping again and hitting the ground much harder than he had the Hall.
He gasped for air as he collected himself, pushing off the grass and looking around for the assassin. Hopefully, he thought, he had put some distance between them.
A light rain fell over the city as Lysander exited Blood Moon Tavern. He pulled his hood over his head once more and glanced around before starting down the cobbled street back towards the Guild. It had been less than twelve hours since the last assassin had accosted him, but he still felt nervous at the sense of peace the morning had presented him. Nevertheless, he treated every passing stranger with wary contempt and quickened his pace as he made his way back to the Guild.
He breathed a sigh of relief as he arrived outside the heavy gate to the courtyard. Without bothering to look back he pulled it open, stepped inside and closed it tightly behind him. The courtyard was less populated than it had been when he had arrived the previous day, but there were still several hedge knights sparring and clerks strolling the grounds. Lysander gave each of them no more trust than he had the streetwalkers. The only person he could trust in the Guild was the green-haired girl he had met the previous day, and she was nowhere to be seen.
He crossed the grassy space to the Oculus Headquarters and proceeded up the stairs to the room where he had slept the previous night. Vesper and her owl had already left, as the wrinkled sheets indicated. Lysander had gathered his weapons before he set out for the tavern, but he'd left his bag beside the bed.
He knelt beside it and examined the opening. The piece of string he had slipped halfway inside it had not been disturbed, indicating that no one had searched his belongings. He slung the bag over his shoulder, tidied the bed, and walked back out of the headquarters. The Guild Dormitories building was just across the courtyard, a tall and wide building with a single entrance and many windows. Lysander proceeded to it and walked inside. Immediately, he was greeted by the Headmaster, who walked briskly to meet him.
"Ah, good to see you, Mr...?" the Headmaster began. The previous night they had not formally exchanged greetings.
"You can call me Grey." Lysander replied. He glanced over his shoulder. The hallway was littered with roving mercenaries and busy clerks. He constantly monitored his surroundings; the crowded space made him uncomfortable.
"Ah yes, of course. Well, Grey, or Mr. Grey or whatever you please, my clerks have found you a suitable living space in the Dormitories. If you would be so kind as to follow me..."
Lysander nodded, and the Headmaster spoke as they walked. "This will be your permanent resident within the Guild. You can feel free to store your belongings, weapons, clothing, and generally any of your possessions here. The building is under close guard." Lysander felt more at ease hearing this, but not entirely comfortable with letting down his guard. After climbing a set of stairs and walking down another hallway, the Headmaster stopped outside a door.
"This is the room we found for you. We intend to direct Vesper here as well, unless she wants otherwise. The room has four beds, so if you should form a mark-hunting party at some point you'll have space within the Guild. Make yourself comfortable. Unless you have any other questions, I'll take my leave. Find me tomorrow for your first mark, if you're ready. Good luck, and good night." The headmaster bowed and walked back down the hallway, leaving Lysander alone in front of the room.
He breathed a sigh of relief as he arrived outside the heavy gate to the courtyard. Without bothering to look back he pulled it open, stepped inside and closed it tightly behind him. The courtyard was less populated than it had been when he had arrived the previous day, but there were still several hedge knights sparring and clerks strolling the grounds. Lysander gave each of them no more trust than he had the streetwalkers. The only person he could trust in the Guild was the green-haired girl he had met the previous day, and she was nowhere to be seen.
He crossed the grassy space to the Oculus Headquarters and proceeded up the stairs to the room where he had slept the previous night. Vesper and her owl had already left, as the wrinkled sheets indicated. Lysander had gathered his weapons before he set out for the tavern, but he'd left his bag beside the bed.
He knelt beside it and examined the opening. The piece of string he had slipped halfway inside it had not been disturbed, indicating that no one had searched his belongings. He slung the bag over his shoulder, tidied the bed, and walked back out of the headquarters. The Guild Dormitories building was just across the courtyard, a tall and wide building with a single entrance and many windows. Lysander proceeded to it and walked inside. Immediately, he was greeted by the Headmaster, who walked briskly to meet him.
"Ah, good to see you, Mr...?" the Headmaster began. The previous night they had not formally exchanged greetings.
"You can call me Grey." Lysander replied. He glanced over his shoulder. The hallway was littered with roving mercenaries and busy clerks. He constantly monitored his surroundings; the crowded space made him uncomfortable.
"Ah yes, of course. Well, Grey, or Mr. Grey or whatever you please, my clerks have found you a suitable living space in the Dormitories. If you would be so kind as to follow me..."
Lysander nodded, and the Headmaster spoke as they walked. "This will be your permanent resident within the Guild. You can feel free to store your belongings, weapons, clothing, and generally any of your possessions here. The building is under close guard." Lysander felt more at ease hearing this, but not entirely comfortable with letting down his guard. After climbing a set of stairs and walking down another hallway, the Headmaster stopped outside a door.
"This is the room we found for you. We intend to direct Vesper here as well, unless she wants otherwise. The room has four beds, so if you should form a mark-hunting party at some point you'll have space within the Guild. Make yourself comfortable. Unless you have any other questions, I'll take my leave. Find me tomorrow for your first mark, if you're ready. Good luck, and good night." The headmaster bowed and walked back down the hallway, leaving Lysander alone in front of the room.
KiraVanhelsing said
"Lysander Grey huh...Prepare to meet the Reaper."
Yes.
Lysander made sure that he was not being watched before continuing with his contingency plan. He pulled his hood firmly over his head and, tucking his weapons into his belt, stepped out of the confines of the guild courtyard and into the busy streets of the city.
His destination was not far; less than a mile down the street from the Guild entrance was Blood Moon, an infamous pub popular with some of the lower denizens of the city. He made his way warily down the road, eyeing each passerby with quiet suspicion. After ensuring that he was not followed, he pushed aside the wooden door to the pub, which was riddled with decorations.
The inside of the pub was a stark contrast to the quiet street. Colored lamps bathed the main hall with dazzling light, and loud yet muffled music echoed from some unknown location. Lysander kept his hood low as he scanned the crowded tables. All over the pub there were seedy merchants, brawling mercenaries and courtesans selling their wares. After several moments, he spotted a table in the corner above which the lamp had been put out. He approached and took note of the seated patron; a hooded man wearing the traditional garb of a warrior monk.
Lysander reached the table and sat down. He spoke without introduction.
"Pray for me, brother."
"I pray for peace," came the reply, seeming almost relieved. The man tilted his head and in the dim light Lysander confirmed his identity. He was not yet old, though the gleam in his eye had long ago been replaced by the steely glint of a soldier. His features were angular, and a scar on his jutted chin served as evidence attesting to his person. The scar, the lamp and the passcode were enough to put Lysander at peace.
"What news do you bring, Quintus?" Lysander asked, keeping his voice low.
"Your men are restless. They are upset about your discharge, and Legion Command knows it. I think they will remain loyal to you through this, but it would be wise to retain doubt. Also, I've intercepted a message between two of the councilors." He glanced over his shoulder warily before continuing. "It seems that they intend to report your death prematurely to put down the unrest. Nevertheless, I expect they will send more assassins."
Lysander nodded. It was as he expected. Quintus Valerius had been one of his most trusted men during many of his campaigns abroad, and now served as a spy in the Legion. Lysander trusted his word above all else. Quintus cleared his throat and glanced around nervously.
"I'm afraid that's all I have from now. I will send a trustworthy courier with any news I can report. Where are you staying?"
"The guild Oculus. For now, at least. The entrance is between here and the Academy."
Quintus nodded affirmation and stood. "Good luck, Captain." Lysander remained silent, and Quintus exited the pub. Lysander remained seated, leaving several minutes between their departures for safety.
His destination was not far; less than a mile down the street from the Guild entrance was Blood Moon, an infamous pub popular with some of the lower denizens of the city. He made his way warily down the road, eyeing each passerby with quiet suspicion. After ensuring that he was not followed, he pushed aside the wooden door to the pub, which was riddled with decorations.
The inside of the pub was a stark contrast to the quiet street. Colored lamps bathed the main hall with dazzling light, and loud yet muffled music echoed from some unknown location. Lysander kept his hood low as he scanned the crowded tables. All over the pub there were seedy merchants, brawling mercenaries and courtesans selling their wares. After several moments, he spotted a table in the corner above which the lamp had been put out. He approached and took note of the seated patron; a hooded man wearing the traditional garb of a warrior monk.
Lysander reached the table and sat down. He spoke without introduction.
"Pray for me, brother."
"I pray for peace," came the reply, seeming almost relieved. The man tilted his head and in the dim light Lysander confirmed his identity. He was not yet old, though the gleam in his eye had long ago been replaced by the steely glint of a soldier. His features were angular, and a scar on his jutted chin served as evidence attesting to his person. The scar, the lamp and the passcode were enough to put Lysander at peace.
"What news do you bring, Quintus?" Lysander asked, keeping his voice low.
"Your men are restless. They are upset about your discharge, and Legion Command knows it. I think they will remain loyal to you through this, but it would be wise to retain doubt. Also, I've intercepted a message between two of the councilors." He glanced over his shoulder warily before continuing. "It seems that they intend to report your death prematurely to put down the unrest. Nevertheless, I expect they will send more assassins."
Lysander nodded. It was as he expected. Quintus Valerius had been one of his most trusted men during many of his campaigns abroad, and now served as a spy in the Legion. Lysander trusted his word above all else. Quintus cleared his throat and glanced around nervously.
"I'm afraid that's all I have from now. I will send a trustworthy courier with any news I can report. Where are you staying?"
"The guild Oculus. For now, at least. The entrance is between here and the Academy."
Quintus nodded affirmation and stood. "Good luck, Captain." Lysander remained silent, and Quintus exited the pub. Lysander remained seated, leaving several minutes between their departures for safety.
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