Badarby
mickilennial
Bingelly
Dyelli Beybi
Carlyle
Izurich
Qia
Master Crim
Lord Wraith
Shyria Thorne
Shyria was collecting frogs when Kadir found her. The western swamps were good for collecting ingredients, and little else. The humid heat never suited her well; her preferred clothing was built for the arid south, and in the wetlands served only to cling to her sweat and cake with mud. She had come upon her temporary 'home' to find the curtain that served the dual purpose of a front door and wall to the poorly constructed hut already pulled aside, and a number of figures waiting for her within. She left her full traps at the top of the steps, the grey sickly looking child bleeding over her floors demanding her immediate attention.
It wasn't until after she'd accept his mother's payment and begun boiling water with cloth rags that she noticed her former college, apparently quite at home going though her belongings.
"What are you doing here?"
"Oh don't mind me I have time" Kadir replied with his wonted causality, gesturing to the boy; who was barely able to stand on his own.
He had a blood disease, Shyria had deduced, after learning his wound had been open and bleeding for a number of days. After dressing the wound, she placed a rag soaked in water and Anali viper venom in the boys mouth and gave the mother horsetail to aid in any further side effects the venom could produce. The woman tried to question her, but was instead ushered out of the hut with no politeness or well-wishes for her son.
Shyria stared at Kadir, and waited for the strangers' footsteps to fade into the rest of the sounds of the swamp before addressing her 'guest' again.
"What do you want?"
"I see travel hasn't done much for your manners."
Shyria was decidedly unafraid of Kadir, he was slimy as they came; but adamantly not a killer. It was his greatest downfall and why Hennan never had use for him despite his other many talents. No, had she been born more beautiful, she would have other worries about him- but things as they were, the most Kadir was capable of was selling her location, which his showing up had already ruined any chance of.
"There's a bottle buried in the water under the stairs outside - get it for me." She didn't look for his reaction, instead pulling her gloves back on and going back to the frogs. He watched her as she took the first one out of it's trap and promptly decapitated in with a cleaver, before going outside.
When he returned she had moved to using a much smaller blade to scrape at the animal's skin.
"Leave it on the table." She instructed as she rubbed the thin sticky film that had formed on her knife into a vial. "Are you ready to tell me why you're here?"
"Yes but- could you wait until I'm gone to continue with that?" Shyria hesitated and dropped the second frog back into it's twig cage and peeled off her gloves again. She approached the table and began to pour two glasses of a pale red liquid from the bottle Kaldir had retrieved.
"Go on then."
"Someone came to me with a business proposal that isn't exactly... Well suited for me."
Shyria snorted, and offered him a glass, which he immediately refused. "Doesn't involve enough skirts for your interest? Or just too much physical effort?" She smiled and downed her own glass, sighing as the slightly cooled alcohol gave respite from the stifling heat.
Kadir frowned, and looked to the refused drink with sudden regret. "The pay is motivation enough for me to come out to this forsaken place that should say enough. Why are you even here? It hardly seems to your tastes"
"I've learned to appreciate the smell of mud and rot." She replied sarcastically. "I have things to do Kadir, get to the point."
"Someone wants Aslac Calcote dead."
"Should I know who that is?"
"An emissary from the Barbed Church, he's meeting with the druids to share knowledge about the blight."
"Politics and the Church at the same time?" She shook her head, "You know me better than to ask me to get involved with that." It was enough trouble keeping one step ahead of Vasilius' underworld, the last thing she needed was attention from even more powerful groups.
Kadir took a slow, obvious look around the inside of the tiny hut. The fireplace that let as much smoke escape into the single room as the chimney, the glass-less windows, and total lack of a front wall. "Time changes things." Was all he said before snatching the bottle from the table.
Shyria took the glass he had refused and took a small sip. "Something like that would just put more marks on my head."
"Maybe." He acquiesced, with a thoughtful nod that turned into a smile. "What if I told you something like that could get you back into Vasilius, bounty-free?"
In hindsight, she probably should have been more suspect as to how exactly Kadir had gotten the entire interior layout of Marisma's Druids tree. But the thought of a return to Vasilius, a place that was at least familiar if not home, and no longer being on the run was all too tempting. His instructions were clear and detailed, including even the emissary's eating and sleep schedule. Most importantly it mentioned the oil used in his hair each morning, kept with his belongings in his room. A mixture of monkshood, hogweed, and castor seed extract, was safely tucked against Shyria's thigh as she squeezed herself through the chimney system of the massive tree with nothing but her sense of touch and trust in her memory as guides. It had been years since she'd had to work in such a way. People had tried to hire her services since being on the run, but typically it was more profitable to simply go to the would-be victim and accept a second payment for offering the client's name, then flee. It wasn't the killing the Shyria had a problem with, it was the resulting fallout that worried her. From her experience, renowned assassin wasn't a job title that lasted long.
There were voices on her right, that when along with directions, told she was somewhere near the kitchen. It was still too early for breakfast to start but knowing that didn't put her nerves at ease. The voices were too muffled to be understood, and Shyria continued moving much more slowly. She kept her breathing controlled, slow and shallow breaths, doing her best not to cough on the soot and ash that had long since filled her lungs. Eventually she was far enough away that the sounds receded to silence; she was in the upper levels, where those of importance remained asleep.
By the time she reached Calcote's chambers, her muscles were stiff and joints ached. As such when she emerged from the fireplace with great care to remain quite, she didn't immediately make an attempt to escape when she was greeted with half a dozen figures staring at her.
Immediately she cursed which resulted in a fit of choking and coughing. By the time she recovered, no one had moved or spoken. She took the opertunity to analyze each of the figures; four were obviously there for security, armed and baring the sigil of the church of barbs, behind them was an older man richly dressed. No doubt Calcote himself. Very smartly hiding behind him was Kadir. For the first time in Shyria's memory of the man, he did not look completely at ease with his surroundings.
"I'm sorry 'Ria but this is important." He managed to blurt out.
"'Suppose this is what a deserve for trusting the most famous liar in Vasilius." With no one having moved, and no weapons being drawn on her, Shyria took a step out from the fireplace, straightening her back and scanning the room for another exit when the emissary began to speak himself.
"If you please Miss Thorne, despite what you may think, your friend truly does have your best interests at heart."
She would have laughed at that, had her throat not been clogged with equal parts fear, rage, and possibly some remaining ash. "A friend indeed."
"I didn't lie. Calcote can get you back into Vasilius. But I knew you wouldn't hear him out."
"And now I have no choice. How kind of you." Shyria looked to the old man. "It would appear I'm at your disposal my lord so speak."
"Careful." He replied, seating himself at a table in the center of the room "I can help you, but I do not have much patience for... those of your reputation." He nearly spat out the last word. A step forward from one of the guards to block the door behind her, kept Shyria from commenting back.
"I am forced here to seek aid against the blight. The druids do what they can, but they are isolationist to put it mildly. They care first and foremost for their own kind. The Barbed Church on the other hand seeks to heal all of Vassidia and her people." He paused there and poured a glass of water from a large pitcher. Shyria was so absorbed by the action alone and remark about the church's ideal died on her dry and cracked lips.
"The first attempt to search for a cure at the King's behest has so far failed to continue contact. Times are growing desperate, and time is ever more of the essence. The King has decided it best to try again."
He took a long drink of water. Shyria swallowed with him. He continued; "The King is assembling another group to go out and search for a cure, he is seeking warriors, mages, scholars, and, herbalists."
"No poison I know of acts as the blight does."
"Of course not. You're hardly the first alchemist we've approached." He dismissed with a wave of the hand. "You are however, one of those who remain, and one we could promise to the king with some assurance you would volunteer."
"How generous of you."
"I assure you it is. So long as you are working for the king, we can promise your safety in the city of Vasilius."
"And when my 'service' is ended?"
"Should you survive, and actually find a solution to problem of the blight, you will be free to go. With compensation; regardless of your previous, shall we say, indiscretion with the law."
She shook her head in disbelief "How in the hells did you end up in all this Kadir?"
Swaggering, pompous Kadir looked almost sheepish among the taller, armored men. "You've been away Shyria. You haven't seen how bad it is in the cities. I just want the blight to be over."
She did find her laughter that time. Of all the things that had come to pass in a but a few hours, Kadir's bleeding heart was the most unexpected.
"Do you have an answer?" The emissary cut her off, obviously displeased with her countenance.
"As you said my lord." She said, lowering herself in a bow so low that the grime that had accumulated from her time in the chimneys fell to the floor. "I have already volunteered."
"Good!" He clapped his hands together with enough force to make Shyria jump. The guard on her left moved to stand directly at her side. "This is Rislen. He will accompany on your journey. I would shake your hand, but well..." He let a cursory glace over the small pile of filth at her feet complete his thought. With a wave of his hand, she was hurried out by her minder.
Never before had Shyria seen the gates of Vasilius closed. It was the first and most obvious change that she noticed. She had long dreamed of her homecoming, and envisioned the city with it. In her memory it had looked nearly identical. The second obvious change was one that they'd seen in each town they'd crossed during their journery; no one was out. The once busy entrance to the city was bare of merchants, travelers, and guards alike. The capital was hardly an exception to the blight it seemed.
Shyria pulled the scarf that covered most of her face just below her nose to get a better look. From what she could tell, there wasn't anyone inside the city, though there did seem to be enough of a crowd that wanted in. How exactly was anyone supposed to differentiate between those wanted in the city and those not? She looked over her shoulder to her companion. Having long ago learned better than to try to converse with him she new better than asking. His attention was on the surrounding people. Either looking for anyone who would potentially rob them, mounted with goods as they were, or a potential escape Shyria could make herself. She had no doubt keeping her on route to the capital was just as much part of Rislen's job as keeping her alive, but the locks to her supplies having been changed and her belongings being too heavy to carry alone, neither murder or escape had ever really been an option. She doubted the man ever slept anyways.
Shyria let out a forced, dramatic sigh and slouched in her horse just precariously enough to draw attention from her companion.
"Stay still and be patient." Was all the response she received. The horse flicked its tail, apparently feeling her agitation as well.
She picked up the scarf to cover her face better again, and looked over the crowd seeing if there was anyone there she recognized. Just as a figure made eye-contact with her, but before she could place the memory of the face, the mass of people surged forwards- the gates were opening. Two guards stood at the entrance, checking for papers to let some through.
"Welcome home." Shyria silently whispered to herself, as she followed behind Rislen into the city.
