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Post by Argoth/Maximus on Dec 10, 2012 22:02:04 GMT -6
(Okay, so I have a new idea on how to run this thread. Its going to be graphic and gruesome so if you cant handle that than you shouldn't be here. Anyway, for those of you who do join you will be taking over the thread, not me. Whatever happens in here is entirely up to you. However, I will be playing the villain in the background. It'll all make sense when it starts. So just find some reason for your character to be here and have at it:))
Screams filled the dark underground cellar of the Skulltula House as he knelt in front of a young woman chained to the stone wall. He slowly fidgeted with a fine sharpened fillet knife while the woman begged for her life. As she pleaded he tuned her out, focusing in on all of her voluptuous features: the way her hips invited a curve that surged upward toward her magnificent breasts, her sensually inviting neck, the facial features of a goddess. Now all that beauty had been squandered by vicious cuts that left the woman's extravagant purple dress in shreds. Blood slithered down her forehead and over her brow. Her dress was torn almost completely off revealing much of her upper body which also harbored several open slices gushing out more of that precious red liquid. Several torches illuminated the cold damp room that facilitated his ominous deeds. It was small but had two separate rooms and it was comprised entirely of concrete. There was a stone table in the center of the first room with leather restraints bolted accordingly.The second room was empty.
His eyes were half closed while he stared at her, entranced by his own sick fantasies. Nothing the woman had screamed at him made it anywhere past his ears; it was merely a muffled jumble of nonsense that he had heard a thousand times over. At last he halted her senseless rambling by placing the knife over her lips. "Darling, please. Save it. Nobody is going to save you from me, and nothing you can say is going to make me set you free." he explained harshly in a hushed reassuring tone. Not reassuring for her of course, but for him. This was his sinister profession, his eager desire to scratch the ever persistent itch in the depths of his mind, and knowing that his itch could be successfully scratched without anything or anyone interfering made him feel ecstatic. "W-why are you doing this to me..?" she managed to say through her hysteric weeping. Tears streaked her face so hard they had dug trenches into her cheeks. This was the part he loved most. The explanation. Nobody ever understood him. Perhaps that was what he was really looking for, he thought, but the thrill of explaining himself before coldly ending this woman's life sidetracked him. His eyes lifted up as his mouth did revealing authentic smile of pleasure. "Why, you ask?" the inflection upon the word 'why' suggested a long practiced speech that was given many times. He stood up, sucking in a deep breath as he began pacing. "Because this world is colorless! Artless! Bland! Boring! Lifeless! It sickens me!" Every one word shout produced a dramatic wave of his arm, "Everything that can be considered art in this world is completely and utterly without life! Pictures, sculptures, paintings, all of it lacks the one thing that makes art so great! But where you might ask, can such beauty and magnificence be found? There is only ONE form of living art on this planet... as his speech slowed down he knelt in front of the woman again, placing his forearms on his knees. His knife dangled from his fingertips and as his speech continued he focused not on the woman but on his knife. "Humans, the goddesses answer to such an artistically inept world. Living, breathing art!" As his speech picked back up again he stood up, towering over his victim. "The one piece of brilliance that when harnessed one feels as if the has transcended all others, becoming the only real artist this world can conjure! And the only way to actualize the art of people is to slowly drag it out of them in the only way possible. With their life." he knelt down once more and began to whisper, "Do you understand? The only real art is art that can talk to you, feel what you are doing to it, respond accordingly, and when it is spent, there is always more." His eyes wandered to the wall the woman was chained to. He stared at it for quite some time, losing himself in more of his wicked fantasies. The speech had riled him.
The woman never stopped weeping through the entire monologue, but when he was finally done staring at the wall he swung his hand around and violently latched onto the back of her long brown hair. Pulling it back to expose her throat he placed the knife right above her carotid artery. The woman let out a shrill scream as he yanked her head backward. "Do you understand?" he repeated. She didn't respond, slamming her eyes shut while tears streamed down the sides of her face. She was bracing herself for the worst. But it never came. The man let out a sigh and placed the knife on her cheek instead. There was still a patch of unmarked skin until he dragged the tip along it opening up another gash. Blood spewed down her cheek, trailing down to her neck and then to her chest. She flinched and sucked in a breath of pain as he cut her. "You know what I think?" he whispered in her ear, "I think your artistic value has just run out."
Soul shattering fear exploded from the woman. Shrieks of horror and pleads of "Please! Goddesses no don't kill me!" immediately sprung forth from her like a waterfall. Hatred and sadistic pleasured burned behind her killers eyes as he savagely began stabbing her in the abdomen over and over and over. Pure exhilaration boiled up from his stomach and filled his entire body as he stabbed his latest victim. An adrenaline rush like no other took over and he lost count as to how many times he stabbed the poor woman. The pitiful cries for help slowly dwindled as the remaining life drained from her body. On the last stab he ripped open her stomach letting her innards plop onto the floor. Her body sagged forward, helplessly, chained up by her wrists. Blood pooled around her exposed guts that were now splayed out before her corpse. The thrill was over, her artistic value was spent.
He returned to his feet letting out a deep sigh of satisfaction. A smile stretched from ear to ear as he silently swiped a cloth from the stone table behind him. He wiped the knife and hands clean and tossed it behind him. Turning his head this way and that as if to inspect the place he began to remove all evidence of himself. Every loose hair, every nail, every skin cell, was removed from the premises with a special chemical he developed himself. It was specifically designed to attach itself to his genetic sequence and break it down into non traceable compounds. After every murder he would spray the room and any evidence that could be used against him was erased. The only thing he left was his work of art.
(Oh, when you enter the thread, just enter kakariko village, not the skultulla house)
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Azrael/Iris
Administrator
A drunk monk who hates social events and worms
Posts: 933
Sexuality: Yes
Relationship: Single
Played By: Your mother
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Post by Azrael/Iris on Dec 11, 2012 22:02:59 GMT -6
The moon sat high up in the sky as a hooded figure wandered into the village. A blade rested on his belt, which he kept a bandaged hand around. Black and white hair peeked out from under the hood and red eyes glowed within.
It had been a long while indeed since Azrael had visited Kakariko Village. His travels took him to many places. Mostly outside of Hyrule and to the countries beyond.
The grass was wet as it had rained earlier, an event that still was rare to the Monk. His desert home hoarded it's water jealously.
Despite it's peaceful setting, Azrael knew better than anyone that all was not it seemed.
What disturbed him the most was the absolute silence of the dead. That may be a relief to others, but not to Azrael who grew up with spirits and had the power to communicate, work with and even use their powers in battle with.
"What scares you, my friends?" he whispered softly as he rounded the corner.
Few people were out this late... the only ones who roamed the streets were drunks, one nocturnal merchant, thugs and bandits and a guard or two.
Most people did not mess with Azrael. His Order... despite mostly being wiped out... still had a large influence on the country. He remembered hearing tall tales of his Order's powers and even going so far as to saying they could enter dreams.
Azrael allowed himself a small smile and shook his head as he continued walking, almost walking into a drunk.
"Ayyy... watch where you're... hic! Walking, friend!" he drunkenly said, letting out a loud belch before continuing on his merry way.
The sound of music and laughter reached the Desert Monk's ears, looking in that direction and saw a tavern.
"Perhaps I could pick up some information from there..." He muttered to himself, he made his way towards the tavern. He had to walk over several passed out men on the way, he entered and ducked as a bottle flew over his head and into the night.
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Eldrin/Vai
Administrator
Kaepora Gaebora
Posts: 646
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Post by Eldrin/Vai on Dec 13, 2012 7:15:07 GMT -6
"HAHAHA! YOU GOTTA BE YANKIN' MY CHAIN!"
"-AN' THEN- HAHA! -AN' THEN I TELLS 'ER! I TELLS 'ER, 'I AIN' GOT NO PEG LEG'!"
"BWAHAHAHAHAHA! AN' WHAT'D SHE SAY?!"
"NOT A WORD! NOT A GODDESSBLESSED WORD!"
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH-"
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-"
"-AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-"
"-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-"
"AH, SHUT IT, YA IDJITS!"
Eldrin paused his fit of laughter just long enough to chuck his bottle of rum at the man who'd just spoken, missing by a longshot. The bottle flew out the door and nearly hit somebody. This only made him laugh harder...
The thief was seated at a booth near the back of the tavern, his feet resting crossed on the table, his right shoe tapping against one of many empty bottles to the rapid rhythm of a slightly off-tune fiddle. Next to him, in the same booth sat a man and two women. The women sat on either side of the man, both gorgeous in their own right, and both clothed in fine-tailored gowns of flowery satin and lace. They were ladies of the night, courtesans, whores, hired by the man for the evening, and Eldrin for the scam. The man was a pudgy fellow of a ruddy complexion, now made ruddier by the extensive amount of alcohol he'd had so far. His clothes told of wealth, and had been the original source of his sudden popularity. He had an arm around either hooker, and was in the middle of having the night of his life. As far as he'd known, Eldrin and the girls had been keeping up with his drinking, but after the sixth bottle, they needn't even try. He was far too drunk to notice he was the only one still drinking, or to see the meaningful looks being exchanged.
"You know what? I think you ain't got the muscle for neither of those ladies you got yourself." Eldrin said lazily, not even bothering to make eye contact. In his drunk state, the man was playing right into his hands.
Sure enough, the man needed only that sentence to be provoked. He jumped forward, eyes bulging with anger. "You tryna say somethin'?!"
Eldrin smirked, winking at Hooker Number One. "Nothin' I ain' already said," the thief muttered with a challenging grin. A moment later, Avarice dropped to the table. He rolled his sleeve up slowly, deliberately. Finally, with a dramatic flourish, he slammed his elbow onto the table, holding his arm up, his hand ready to grasp his opponent's.
The man pounced at this clear opportunity to show off in front of the women. His locked his sweaty hand with Eldrin's, causing the other to noticeably grimace. Immediately, it was clear that the drunk had an advantage over the thief, as their hands tilted toward his side. Still though, it was obvious that Eldrin wasn't about to give up without a fight. Not yet, at least...
Hooker Number One waited until she was sure the drunk was sufficiently distracted before she set to work. She pulled up her frilly sleeve up just enough to reveal a small leather bracelet, a large imitation diamond resting atop it. Digging her fingernails under the jewel, she popped it out, revealing a fine white powder underneath. She quickly emptied a measured dose of this powder into the man's drink, before replacing the fake diamond. Hooker Number Two stirred the drink with her finger as Number One cleared her throat pointedly and pretended to fix her hair.
Suddenly, Eldrin's strength apparently gave out as his hand smashed painfully into the table. The drunk let out a raucous cry of victory, raising his mug. The whores and Eldrin raised theirs in response. All drank deep, and all were smiling, three for different reasons than one... "One, two-" Eldrin began, refastening Avarice to his arm.
"What the- Why you countin', boy?!"
"-three, four- Just makin' sure I remember how... -five, six-"
"AHAHAHAHA- hic! -HAHAHAHA! You're one helluva freak, kid, ya know that?!"
"-seven, eight- Huh? Oh, sure... Whatever. -nine, ten-"
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Eldrin's focus had shifted to a man that had recently entered the tavern. A cloaked individual who seemed oddly familiar. "-eleven, twelve-" The way he stood. The serene aura he seemed to cast. The piercing red eyes... "-thirteen, fourteen-" That's when it hit him. Azrael. He chuckled to himself. Had it been that long that he could hardly recognize his own cousin? "-fifteen, sixteen-" He considered calling him over, but decided against it. He was a bit busy at the moment. "-seventeen, eighteen-" Not to mention, he'd probably learn more about what Azrael was up to by watching, rather than approaching him. After all, the monk was quite the mysterious one... "-nineteen, twenty."
"-half a dozen lions, all of 'em hungr-"
Eldrin turned right on cue to watch the man pass out midsentence. The thief and the whores shared a laugh before Number Two slid the man's wallet across the table to Eldrin, while Number One set to work removing the man's sparse jewelry and clothing. Eldrin picked through the wallet's contents, removing two orange rupees and a purple. He slid these back across the table and pocketed the wallet. Number Two picked up the rupees just as Number One finished stripping him. Eldrin called the bartender and told him that the bill was on the drunk (and now naked) man.
Their job done, the three split ways. Number One to sell the man's clothing and jewelry, Number Two to look for more (and this time legitimate) customers, and Eldrin to meet his cousin. He'd decided that he didn't feel like waiting and watching.
He made sure to approach Azrael from behind. It was rare that he managed to surprise the monk, but it was worth a try. "And what draws you from the sands, dear cousin? More business of the dead? Or have you finally taken to the living?" Eldrin asked from behind Azrael, leaning casually against a table. Of course, he hardly even noticed the fact that the table was in use, or that its occupants were quite unhappy with his presence.
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Kadina
Administrator
If you're bored then you're boring.
Posts: 379
Played By: MOjO
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Post by Kadina on Dec 14, 2012 16:06:33 GMT -6
A winter breeze blew through the alleys of the quaint and typically quiet village of Kakariko. Chills commandeered the bodies of every street side whore and homeless riffraff creating a chorus of chattering teeth and snotty sniffles. Winter had come late but was making a grand entrance with temperatures below freezing. It took a certain desperation to brave the frigid night. That, or insanity.
A crate sat in the middle of an alley between a pub and a hardware store. Bottles trashed the perimeter of the narrow passageway. Some whistled with pitch as the wind blew through. The resonance was accompanied by the boisterous drunken voices of carpenters, gamblers, and other saint-by-day and schmooze-by-night commoners that surrounded the crate. Kakariko had its secrets, no doubt. The biggest of those were its inhabitants.
A new sound joined in on the music of the night. It was the light chiming and jingling of jewelry and the faint pattering of footsteps maneuvering over litter as not to stumble. There was a playful and confident bounce in every step as if amused by this little game. “Hmm hmm hmm,” the cloaked figure hummed a whimsical soprano tune as she watched her feet miraculously miss a bottle with every tipsy step. “The grace of the goddesses...” She whispered to herself pulling a bottle to her lips and swigging the last drop. The hood of her cloak fell as she threw her head back. It was that good for nothing bandit thief Kadina...
Upon finishing the last of her whiskey, she held the bottle directly out to her side and released it. The shattering of glass went off like a gun as shards shot out into a million broken pieces and startled the mob of low life. Silence filled the cold air as they all looked in her direction and cleared to the sides. A man sat on the opposite side of the crate, glaring at Kadina with a thick furrowed brow and a snarled lip. He had one arm crossing infront of him atop the crate as he leaned forward in aggravation, his other hand bawled into a fist upon his knee as he sat with his legs spread apart.
“What d'ya want!?” He shouted through the cleared path of people and down the alley. Kadina brought her forearm to her lips and wiped them dry then approached the man with confidence and a false sobriety.
“Is that a real question? You suppose there's any other reason a girl like me would be out in this weather than for a good gamble?” She walked right up to the crate and placed her hands on her hips. Her cloak fell back behind her shoulders revealing the wallet she kept tied around her waste. The burly man's eyes shimmered at its notice and he sat back and crossed his arms. “Ya know the rules?” He smirked and looked up at her. A lantern sitting on the corner of the make-shift table illuminated her young face.
Rules. Kadina didn't know what the term even meant. Rules to her were more like guidelines more often forsaken than followed. She knew the game and she knew how it was played, but as far as she was concerned, there were no rules. There were never any rules.
“Would I be betting my entire wallet if I didn't?” She untied her rupees and dropped them on the table with a clamoring thud then pulled a nearby barrel up for a seat. She pulled her cloak back around her for warmth. Whispers filled the circle and other bets were exchanged among the crowd for who they thought would win. A few sexist statements where slurred, but Kadina paid them no mind. She had her head in the game.
The man's fist held to his knee contained two dice. He rolled one across the table to Kadina. “First, we roll for order. Highest number goes first. Black sphere, automatic loss. This is yer last chance to opt out, m'lady.” He chortled huskily.
Kadina smiled back sarcastically and began shaking the die in her fist. He joined in. “Three... two... one.”
The dice hit the crate top and the crowd closed in to see the results.
Gambler: 6 Kadina: 4
Rupees were exchanged around them. A few people stomped the ground and threw a fit. They had lost their bets, but Kadina wasn't down and out just yet. Her eyes were fixated on the man's pile of rupees from his earlier games, but that wasn't enough.
“Let's make this more interesting.” “Oi, lass. You've already lost the toss up. Ye sure ye feelin lucky?” She avoided the question. “Rupees are nice, but these are hard times. We'll all need more than that to get us by. What else do ya have?” The man sat back and rubbed his beard staring at Kadina with intrigue. She assumed he had never been challenged by such a young women before. It was an unladylike sport.
“Wolf pelt boots. I doubt they'd fit yer dainty feet. All I've got is this 'ere blade an a real fascinatin' bracelet. 'course I can't wear it meself, and it sure as 'ell won't get you through the win'er.” He was trying awfully hard to persuade her for it to have no value... “So then it's useless. To both of us.” “Yeh, well its a pre'y thing, init? Like a li'ul work of art. All art is useless. Jus' some'in ta look at.” He held the bracelet up in the light. A braided silver band with an amethyst looking jewel in the middle and tiny spheres of opal encircled it. It was indeed very pretty, but useless. Unless sold.
“Weapons. Now those are real works of art.” She placed her dagger on the table and he followed suite placing his sword. She saw a sort of relief wash over him as he placed the bracelet in his pocket. Perfect.
This is how the game works:
-There are two die and a pack of cards. -Each player draws three cards from the deck in the center of the table and places them facing upward infront of them. That is their official hand. -The first player will take both dice and try to roll the sum of their cards. -If the player has a jack, king, or queen in their hand, they are safe from the black sphere on the dice.
**The black sphere acts as an 8 ball. If it's rolled, it is an automatic disqualification.
-If the dice is rolled and equals greater than the sum of cards, another card must be drawn to replace one. -If the dice is rolled and equals below the sum, one of the cards must be “burned.” -If a player gets down to one card and the card is a safe card (J,K,Q) then the player must roll double numbers or they lose. -Whoever rolls their exact sum wins. -If an ace is drawn, the player may steal an opponent's card, but an ace can never be part of a hand.
Because Kadina's opponent was going first, she would deal. She hit the cards against the table to straighten the edges and began to shuffle. Kadina took this as an opportunity to entertain their audience. She shot cards into the air and caught them in a stack, flicked them in and out of file with her lithely finger. She bridged the deck and split the deck and did just about every fancy trick in the book before passing the cards out one by one.
Kadina then placed the deck of cards face down in the middle of the table, their backs decorated with a skull kid in a funny purple mask.
It was the moment of truth. Time to reveal their hands. She glanced up at the man and smirked without an ounce of remorse for what she might do. These people were drunk and oblivious. It would be a good night.
Gambler: 4 of hearts, 8 of spades, and a jack. Kadina: 2 of spades, 7 of clubs, and 10 of diamonds.
“Dammit...” The audience gasped and began to laugh and chatter. She would have to burn a card, but he would have to roll two 6.
Neither was in more favor of winning over the other. It was going to be an interesting game.
“I should've bargained for yer jewels.” He spat and cackled as he took up the dice feeling rather lucky compared to her and shook it in his cupped hands. "Nah... you don't care for jewels. Remember?"
He grinned at her revealing a golden tooth then released the dice above the table and rolled a 5 and a 3. Instantly knowing he had come up short, he burned his 4 of hearts and pushed the dice over to Kadina.
She smiled arrogantly and grabbed the dice. However, before picking them up, Kadina held her own pair of dice in hand. Two without spheres. Instead, they had two faces of 2 on opposite sides so that she wouldn't roll a one and get busted for cheating. She clenched the cheat dice between her fingers while her hand was cupped hovering over the originals before picking them up. Strategically, she would then release the cheat dice and make the switcheroo before handing it over to the gambler.
It was like clockwork. Her plan worked like a charm, and not a single surrounding inebriate noticed a damn thing. She rolled a 5 and a 6, burned her 10 of diamonds, and replaced the dice without a single flaw.
Gambler: 8 of spades, Jack Kadina: 2 of spades, 7 of clubs, and an ace up her sleeve...
Rules shmules
She had let the ace slide down into her sleeve while shuffling them into the air. No one had noticed a thing and her winter wear offered perfect hiding places for such deviance.
Her opponent rolled a 6 and a sphere, but he was safe. Because he was saved by his jack, he neither drew another card nor had to burn one. Instead, he slid the dice to Kadina. “Lucky man,” She reassured him, though she knew it wasn't true. Their audience exchanged more rupees and either quailed or celebrated after every roll. They were betting by the rounds, a more dangerous feat. Kadina, on the other hand, had a victory in her control.
She was about to blow on her dice for luck, but hiccuped on them instead and rolled a 6 and a 4. So close, yet still so perfect! She was above her sum by one count. It was time to play her ace.
She held her hand over the deck, hiding it under her palm. Her ace slid out of her sleeve and she pretended to draw it from the deck, everything happening so quickly.
“Ha!” She turned the card around to face the gambler and the color washed from his face. “Your Jack, please.” She held her other hand out infront of her and motioned for him to give up his security. He placed the jack in her palm and watched as she slipped it into the bottom of the deck.
It was his turn. If he rolled an 8, he would win. If he rolled a sphere, he would lose.
The man gulped loudly as he reached for the dice. There were a lot of rupees on the table...
“Wait!” Kadina snatched a bottle of rum from the nearest vagrant. “This game can go in either direction. A toast.” She smiled and held the bottle up towards him. A prostitute handed her flask to the gambler then grabbed his head and kissed it, her cleavage nearly suffocating him from the side. Kadina grimaced momentarily in disgust then cleared her throat. The two hit their containers of alcohol with a clink then chugged what they could as the crowd cheered.
Now or never.
The gambler let the flask fall to the ground beside him as he took the dice in one hand and wiped the rivers of excess booze from the corners of his mouth and chin. Rattling the dice in his hand, he chanted “Gimme an eight!” and with that, he released his fate.
A 6 and a 2. The man had won. He had won the game... but not the prize.
The crowd went wild. They cheered the man and slapped him on the back as he threw his arms around his earnings and slid them towards him.
During the ruckus, Kadina had released a bombchu. It snaked down the alley and went off around the corner causing an eruption that ceased the celebration and shook the ground. As the crowd scurried in fear, Kadina stealthily pick pocketed the gambler and slipped the “pre'y li'ul bracelet” onto her wrist. She grabbed the weapons that lay upon the table and made haste running out of the alley with the other frantic scoundrels.
Back in the alley, the gambler (who was too drunk to notice his pocket had been picked) grabbed Kadina's wallet and opened it to pour his own rupees inside. To his dismay, the pouch was filled with sea shells. He growled and went to draw his sword but forgot that he had bet it on the table. It was gone. He had been bamboozled by the evasive bandit girl. “That crooked li'ul wench!!” _________________________________________________
Kadina fled to the perch of Kakariko. She sat up in the watch tower holding her new bracelet to the moon and admiring it. “A work of art...” She repeated from her memory as she added it to her adorned wrist of other artistically crafted jewelry. The cold metal sent chills down her spine as it touched her skin.
No... wait... it wasn't the cold metal. It was a scream in the night.
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Mike/Garen
Hylian
Do not... underestimate... him.
Posts: 160
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Post by Mike/Garen on Dec 15, 2012 15:44:45 GMT -6
The office room of the Potion Shop was suspended in silence. It was the sort silence where nothing needed to be said because everything seemed right. The room, dimly lit with only two lanterns dangling from the wall, carried a small sense of anxiousness. Something was going to happen, but it required time to pass.
Jaru Arthis sat hunched over at his desk, filling out the business ledger. Recording each transaction and counting every rupee to be sure everything balanced out. Doing the math in his head, he would mumble the numbers from time to time.
"... 30 rupees. Two red potions, 40 rupees.," he murmured.
Garen relaxed in a chair in the corner. He immersed himself in a newspaper; the headline was "Captain Kidnapped". Of course, this refers to Mike's sudden capture in this very village a while ago.
(Yes, I know I still need to finish The Bookkeeper's Cure. It'll be done on Christmas break.)
Jaru finished his calculations and closed the ledger. He looked over to Garen,
"You still readin' that article, boy?" he asked.
"Making sure they've got their facts straight," Garen replied.
"Have you considered the General's offer?" When Garen returned to Castle Town after Mike's accident, his superior, General Pymarth Kallick, approached him and offered to reinstate Garen as a captain.
"I'm still thinking," Garen answered. "After all, I left for a reason."
"You believed there was more adventure to be had outside Hyrule and Termina. Look how that turned out," Jaru argued. "You wandered about aimlessly, nearly died of starvation and your search proved fruitless. Now look, Hyrule has is becoming more like hell by the day. There's plenty that needs to be done; it's worth all the regulations and other bullshit."
"You've made your point, father. But this isn't your decision, Garen discarded the newspaper and rose from the chair. He stretched his limbs and strut out of the shop. "Why is he so anal about this?" Garen wondered.
He trekked slowly down the moonlit road to his home in pondering his decision. Only a shimmer of light from a jewel broke his train of thought. He gazed up at the rooftops from where the flash originated. However, it was gone as soon as it came. Shortly after, a soul-ripping scream tore through the silence of night. Faster than any guard could hope to respond, Garen barreled through the streets toward the shrill wail.
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Post by Iona on Dec 16, 2012 18:32:31 GMT -6
Clink. Clink.
One perfectly triangular ear twitched.
Clink. Clink. Clink.
Two green orbs opened, reflecting the scant light from the crescent moon perfectly. Lithe body languidly unraveling from an immaculately curled state, its coloring blending in with the utter blackness of the corner of the alley.
"...An' I swore I saw her! Wearing nothing, practically!"
"Sure....an' she was gorgeous, wad in't she? All curves an' big eyes an' bigger--"
"Yes! Yes she was! Wearing....wearing nothing but jewels, oh all kinds of them, Robby. Well, she might've 'ad something to cover those knockers! ....She....She was Lady Luck!"
"Oh stop. Just shut up. Just stop; its the drink and gambled off money talking."
"You know, there are the Goddesses--"
"Of course, idiot--"
"But, she was the fourth one! It makes sense! She was beautiful, more than the others, if you ask me. 'An, 'an dressed in gold 'an had powers!"
"You must be confusing 'er with the mysterious lady ghost in the graveyard the kids are talking about. Hmph. Get back home, to the wife. Don't bother showing up tomorrow--"
Clink-clink-clink-clink-clink-clink-clink
"What's--"
Crash!!
"...Maow." Two green orbs blinked balefully back at the two at the front of the alley. The two men jumped in drink-induced late response to the thunderous noise, then Robby sighed.
"It's late. Too fucking late, that's all," muttered Robby with a clap on his drunken companion's shoulder. They turned away from the alley.
...ting!
The two men froze. Then turned around slowly. All bare legs, torn pants and jewels, two amber eyes, lit by moonlight, stared back at them in slight embarrassment.
"Moo!" Robby and his buddy stared back in shock at the jeweled scantily clad woman, mooing back at them at such an ungodly hour. The woman was indeed beautiful and gorgeous, or as much as the fourth Hylian goddess could be in with her divine and just as beautiful bottom stuck in a small crate. Lady Luck jumped to her feet and tried removing the collapsed crate from her momentarily unfortunately the ideal woman's rump. In most cases, it would seem the fourth goddess would be proud of her admirable gluteus maximus, but not in removing a crate.
"Moo! Moo!" Robby's raised brows lowered slightly in confusion. Apparently, the Goddess of Luck wasn't so versed in her knowledge of wildlife. The cat suddenly started and a blood curdling scream sounded clearly through the chilled air. Both men turned around once more.
The scream ended and a man burst out through the streets with astonishing speed."That's the bloke I mentioned, he looks like he would be a guard, right? Right? I told you!" Robby's companion said, slapping his arm. Robby slapped his companion's arm harder. "That all you care about?" His friend didn't answer, instead giving a slow, drunk happy grin, and Robby shook his head, turning back to the alley. Both cat and Goddess were gone. She didn't seem to have accomplished getting the crate off either.
"Let's follow 'im," suggested Robby's nameless drunken friend. Robby, as always, simply dutifully dragged his companion back home.
But upon the rooftops, a certain black haired Gerudo, ragged, sparks jumping from her small ringed fingers, stared at the at the direction of the scream and shivered, not from the cold she relished in, but...something else. She shrugged and swiftly waddled as the crate would allow her across the tiles, doing just as Robby's buddy suggested, clinking and clanking with purpose all the way.
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Azrael/Iris
Administrator
A drunk monk who hates social events and worms
Posts: 933
Sexuality: Yes
Relationship: Single
Played By: Your mother
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Post by Azrael/Iris on Dec 16, 2012 19:57:13 GMT -6
"Ah... cousin. I sensed someone approaching from behind. But I didn't expect it to be you. Lucky... I would have knocked a couple of your teeth out as well as your lights if you were anyone different." Azrael replied, turning around as he spoke and allowing his kin a small smile.
"To answer your question... it does involve my line of work... or rather... LACK of..." he moved around the table to Eldrin and pulled him close so he could whisper.
"It's as quiet as a graveyard... no pun intended. It is as if they are very frightened of something... or someone." he pulled away and moved out of the way as a whore and her client walked past.
Azrael was about to ask if Eldrin had heard or seen anything interesting when something inside of him urged him to return outside.
"Eldrin... join me." Azrael said in a serious tone of voice to his cousin. He pushed his way through the crowd of drunks back to the cold outside. He managed to get outside into the cold as a scream pierced the night.
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Post by Argoth/Maximus on Dec 16, 2012 21:15:03 GMT -6
A twisted chill of pleasure traveled down his spine as he inhaled the luscious metallic smell of blood that filled the room. It would have been overpowering to the average insipid human, but he wasn't by any means average. For several moments after cleaning up did he gaze upon his creation, eyes half open, thinking of nothing but the sheer amount of beauty he had extracted from the woman. Another surge of ecstasy coursed through him and he leaned back against the stone table behind him to admire his work some more. He just couldn't get over it; the unfathomable thrill that filled him as he actualized this woman's artistic value. He needed more. A lot more. And he wasn't going to get it standing around. A new found excitement boiled up inside him and he almost sprinted for the exit to begin another hunt when the cold and calculating part of his brain quelled his eagerness.
The scream she had let out most definitely had attracted attention, he thought. If someone were to come investigating and find him here they would suspect nothing less than him as the murderer. His brain began sorting his options. The way he saw it he had 3:
1. Head toward the door and hope nobody sees him exit.
2. Play the role of a surviving victim as whoever entered the room.
3. Face them and let whatever consequences befall him.
Immediately the third option was thrown out. He would not submit while there was work to be done. The first option seemed quite risky. If someone were to see him leaving and then enter the building to find his masterpiece, then they would come looking for him. On the off chance that he did manage to leave without being seen, he would need to make his way to somewhere less suspicious quite quickly should anyone round a near corner. The third option presented a greater amount of work with less payout. For it to work he must create a vivid and believable character, and that wasn't like him at all. He wouldn't squander his work with an act of desperation to continue it. Lowering himself to such filth would also require undesirable human interaction. He hated conversing with people, especially when he was forced to, but he was nonetheless extremely good at masking his (what he thought to be) enlightenment. To others it would seem nothing but mere homicide, which he understood, but in his mind he knew that he had been given a gift from the goddesses.
After much debate with himself he decided to just walk out the front door. It was still relatively early since he had given this community a stellar new piece of art, and perhaps there was still time. With great caution he made his way up the steps of the Skulltula House and out the front door. As he left he felt as if he should be experiencing fear, but in fact it was the exact opposite. He felt anxious, excited, jittery, he couldn't wait for someone to marvel at his new piece and it immediately extinguished all fear of being caught. If fear was ever there in the first place.To his fortune not a soul was around, and he quietly slipped into the shadows just as a sprinting man rounded the corner of the street and two men exited the bar in his direction. As far as he knew, he was safe to kill again.
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Eldrin/Vai
Administrator
Kaepora Gaebora
Posts: 646
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Post by Eldrin/Vai on Dec 17, 2012 0:44:06 GMT -6
Eldrin was startled by the urgency in Azrael's voice. "Quiet? I can barely hear you and you're complaining that it's too quiet..." Eldrin muttered shaking his head, but Azrael wasn't paying attention. It seemed that his cousin had sensed something he could not.
"Eldrin... join me."
The thief raised an eyebrow as the monk walked away. "Damned spirits an' their premonitions," he said with a sigh, before following through the gap in the crowds Azrael left as he headed for the door. He didn't actually mind of course, but he refused to show that. Eldrin took a moment to snatch Ayishe's coat from a random whore whom he'd allowed to borrow it, and don it as well as a heavy old traveling coat he stole from a coatrack near the door. As a final touch he nabbed a half-empty bottle of rum from a nearby table and finally joined his cousin. As they walked out the door, the thief threw up the hood of his cloak to combat the cold wind. A fight he was sure to win, bundled up as he now was.
As they stepped into the desolate street, Eldrin couldn't help but feel as if they were being watched... The Skulltula House looming over them from across the street did little to help this ominous feeling. For some reason, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was different about it. Something wasn't right... He decided maybe Azrael wasn't crazy after all. A rustling nearby sent his keen eyes searching the shadows around the old mansion. He was almost sure someone was-
Suddenly, a man came charging around the corner at breakneck speeds. Eldrin stepped back, startled, his free hand gripping the hilt of his cutlass. That was until he realized who it was. By the scant light of the moon he could just make out the man's face. "Garen! By Din's holy fire, you had me shakin' down to my bones!" he proclaimed, giving a halfhearted chuckle. He was still a little uneasy. That's when it hit him, the door. It wasn't easy to notice, but he realized that the front door to the Skulltula House stood just barely ajar. Cracked, as if somebody had left in a hurry...
He couldn't help himself, he crossed the street, past Garen and came to the door. The cold metal of the doorknob stung his hand, and sent a dark sensation racing up and down his spine. Something was very wrong. His hand seemed to move of its own accord, pushing the door wide open.
Stepping into the house was a relief from the howling wind, but it was still terribly cold inside. Looking around, nothing seemed abnormal. Cobwebs and dust covered everything, as always. The damp smell of rotting wood prevailed over all others. Desolate furniture sat unused, their wood rotten and their cloth chewed by rats. Not a sign of life... At least not of the human variety. That was, except for the glow. A light emanating from the open cellar door. It invited him down, as if whoever was here, or had been here, wanted him to seek its source.
He walked slowly across the old wooden floor, each step letting out a creak to join the moaning of the rafters in the wind. When at last he came to the cellar, he paused a moment at the top of the staircase to take a gulp of his rum. Even the delightful buzz of his favorite drink was hardly enough to steel him for whatever was down there. He was shivering now, and not from the cold. His skin crawled. He began down the stairs, one at a time. Halfway down, a blast of rancid air struck him like a tidal wave. He smelled something... wrong... something... horrible. It wasn't decay, it was of fresh death. The scent of blood, sweat... and perfume punctuated the sickly sweet fragrance. Not the cheap oils poured on thick by whores, but a sparse, fine scent. The scent of a lady. This combination of smells told a wicked tale. They were the odors of a dark labor. He finally came to the bottom of the staircase. A torchlit room awaited him. In the center of the room a stone table and chained to the wall...
... a woman. Her body sagged limply against her restraints, devoid of all life. Her head hung low, bowed in eternal sorrow. Lacerations covered her once beautiful skin, and blood ran across that which was still intact. A purple rag clung to her corpse drenched with the same blood, a dress, no doubt. All around her, the walls and floor were splattered with crimson. Her stomach was sliced open across, revealing an empty cavity where her insides should have been. And on the floor, her guts lay in a messy pile before her. A dark labor indeed.
The bottle of rum slipped from his fingers and shattered upon the concrete floor. Eldrin began to shake uncontrollably. He broke out into a cold sweat. He tried to scream, but his voice died in his throat, replaced by rising bile. He doubled over and vomited all over the floor in front of him. His knees gave out and he felt his back slam against the cold stone wall. He slid slowly down the wall, his hands covering his head as if to protect him. His body curled instinctively into the fetal position, knees tight to his chest, head buried. His eyes were shut tight, trying to forget what they had seen. But he knew, deep down, that some things just couldn't be unseen...
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Azrael/Iris
Administrator
A drunk monk who hates social events and worms
Posts: 933
Sexuality: Yes
Relationship: Single
Played By: Your mother
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Post by Azrael/Iris on Dec 17, 2012 8:38:11 GMT -6
Azrael had spent the moment after the scream in mediatation, trying to see if a spirit would finally speak. It was broken by someone rushing past them and almost knocking him down. He was about to yell at the person until Eldrin spoke and identified the man as 'Garen'. Azrael only shook his head, he would let this one slide for the moment.
He turned to speak to his cousin and saw Eldrin heading towards the Skulltulla House. Azrael stood there for a moment as his eyes followed Eldrin, something caught the corner of his eye. Someone slinking off into the shadows. Probably a drunk.
The Monk took off after Eldrin, who had already gone inside. He walked down the darkened corridor that accompanied the entrance. The light was dim and the cold from outside seeped in through every crack the building had.
Azrael had reached Eldrin just as the thief emptied the contents of his stomach upon the ground. Even the Monk's stomach turned slightly at the scene. He had seen much death in the desert... but this wasn't death. This was brutal... the work of a madman.
He watched as Eldrin backed away and curl up into a little ball, he would tend to his cousin in a moment. He had work to do now. Azrael stepped over the puddle of vomit and over to the macarbe altar. The Desert Monk researched the body, taking in it's disturbing beauty. It was as if a surgeon had done the work... whoever did this knew what they were doing. As if they had been doing this for a long time.
"I am so sorry..." he whispered, placing a hand on the cold cheek of the dead woman.
Azrael took another moment to look over the corpse before turning his head to Eldrin.
"This is no random killing... either this was planned... or the culprit is just one sick puppy." Azrael spoke to his cousin, unsure if he could hear him.
He pulled his hand away from the woman and took a step back, deciding if he should remove her from the area before preforming his usual rituals.
"Perhaps... yes... I could try it." he spoke softly to himself.
Azrael knew that he could try and contact the dead girl's spirit. It was a long shot and he hoped the killer was unaware of the power spirits held... especially in a place like Kakariko.
"Eldrin. You need to pull yourself together... you need to watch the door in case if whoever did this decided to come back to view his... 'artwork'." Azrael said in a calm voice to his cousin, he had gotten into position and held his hands in front of the woman, as if he were to grope her.
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Kadina
Administrator
If you're bored then you're boring.
Posts: 379
Played By: MOjO
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Post by Kadina on Dec 19, 2012 14:24:47 GMT -6
Sparks on the rooftops. Could that be Iona? And shifting in the darkness below. The moon cast shadows of people scurrying toward the skulltula house. Kadina pressed herself against the railing and leaned over the edge of the watch tower. Her eyes were squinted as she tried to make out the figures. Is that where the scream had come from?
Immediately upon recognizing her crew of friends, she caught her balance where the alcohol tried pulling her to her death and stumbled toward the ladder. It was an eerie night to be so intoxicated. She hoped to keep her wits about her, but surely whatever trouble stirred below had passed. It was Kakariko village, after all. The only thing they ever had to worry about was... well... okay. The town had a frightful past. Volcanos, ghosts, Bongo Bongo, dragons. A killer wouldn't be shocking news.
Slowly and carefully, Kadina descended the watch tower and pranced toward the skulltula house where the others had entered. She wrapped her fingers in the crack of the door ready to pull it open when something suddenly moved in her peripheral vision. It escaped into the shadows behind the side of the house, an area shielded by the light of the moon.
Curiosity had always been Kadina's downfall.
She released the door and slowly stepped towards the corner of the skulltula house while drawing the sword she had stolen with a pleasing *shink* as it slid from it's scabbard.
Her wits had clearly forsaken her, for she was entering a secluded corner of town.
Probably just a small cuddly animal looking for a warm place to stay.
Bingo! There it was. A sweet, soft, cuddly pup... wallowing in a puddle of its own blood and guts.
Kadina gasped and threw her free hand over her mouth and nose. Her stomach was far too sensitive at the moment for such a haunting image. Who would have done such a thing? She began to slowly back away. The others had to be warned. There was a killer on the loose.
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Azrael/Iris
Administrator
A drunk monk who hates social events and worms
Posts: 933
Sexuality: Yes
Relationship: Single
Played By: Your mother
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Post by Azrael/Iris on Dec 22, 2012 11:29:19 GMT -6
Something rushed past Kadina and knelt down by the mutilated dog. They were frozen for a moment before muttering a curse underneath their breath.
"Damn it. I was too late." A familiar voice said.
The figure stood up and turned around and bowed his head towards Kadina.
"My apologies, madonna. I did not mean to shove you out... Kadina?" he paused, his yellow eyes piercing out from under his hood at her, with a swift motion, he made his way over to her.
He was about to question what was ailing her... when he looked back at the dog.
"Ah... you are not very pleased with the mutilated corpses of dogs... or any species, si?" Torak questioned.
Truth be told... he wasn't too fond of the mutilated corpses of dogs, wolves or any canine himself.
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Eldrin/Vai
Administrator
Kaepora Gaebora
Posts: 646
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Post by Eldrin/Vai on Dec 22, 2012 12:30:30 GMT -6
Her face. Her eyes. Pale flesh. The cold death, all that remained after the life had been torn from her fragile body. A body no more fragile than his... ______________________________________ "Stop crying, kid."
"B-but..."
"Stop. There's no use for those tears. Don't act as if you've never witnessed death. What about Sigil? Sao Fa? The original?"
"Yeah... but... I-I've never-"
"Been the killer? Well now you are. He's dead. You killed him. That's how life works. That's how life ends."
"I... I didn't mean to..."
"But you did. Never mistake life for something permanent or even stable. It ends far easier than it begins."
"I'm so sorry..."
"Don't apologize. He can't hear you, and I don't want to. Even if he could, they'd be nothing more than words. Useless to him. Useless to you. Useless."
The boy was silent for a long while, only giving the occasional sniffle.
"Th-then... what do I-"
"Move on. Be more careful in the future. Don't dwell upon your mistakes, learn from them. Keep moving forward. And stop with the damned tears."
"Can we bury him?"
"So that the worms can have him rather than the birds? There's no point to it, a waste of effort."
The boy fell silent again, this time for even longer than before.
"How could... How could he die so easy?"
"He was no more fragile than you or I. You could die just as easily. Yet, how often we find our minds tricking us. We think ourselves invincible... but we are wrong. Most people accept death as inevitable, but few truly understand it. It is a rare trait to be able to fully comprehend the simple fact that you, as a person, could cease to exist at any moment. No matter how hard you train, no matter how thoroughly you prepare. Such weak creatures we are..."______________________________________ She was right. They were fragile, easily killed. The one part of life that could not be avoided, the end. He knew this. But, how could he learn to accept it? He had no belief in an afterlife. To him, the spirits that Azrael channeled were nothing but memories, shades of their former selves. He had no confidence in happiness after death. Every life lost was another soul faded into the nothing. "Eldrin. You need to pull yourself together... you need to watch the door in case whoever did this decided to come back to view his... 'artwork'."Artwork. What a strange way to put it. Brutal murder was more accurate. How mad would a person have to be to consider such a slaughter artistic? "Mad enough to talk to ghosts..."The thief shook his head, still buried in the bundle of cloak and coat that was his body. Azrael was right. Eldrin inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself. The earthy scent of the traveling cloak mixed in with scent of leather from Ayishe's coat. It was a relief from the deathly smell that permeated the room. The rapid pounding of his heart was nearly audible, but listening to it actually soothed him. Before long it faded into a mere thumping. His heart was pumping. His blood was flowing. He was alive. His story hadn't reached its end just yet... He thought back. Pondering years past. Why was it that death bothered him so? Was it the reminder of his own mortality? That one day he too would end up a cold, clammy corpse? Maybe. But he couldn't be sure. Even since he was a little kid, living on the streets of Castle Town, where murder was common, he hadn't been able to handle it. The other orphans were killed and killed each other frequently, over petty things usually. A scrap of food. A shiny trinket. It was such a cruel thing to do, to take the life of an orphan. That was all they truly had. Their only worldly possession was their life. Their own working body. To take that away, was more than wrong. It was pure evil. And it was normal. A sin so commonplace that no one even batted an eye at the sight of it, nobody but him. He couldn't help but acknowledge an infinitely chilling fact: Azrael, Garen, himself, they were all in the same town as this woman. And they had let this happen to her. Hell, Azrael and himself had been just across the street. They were the real murderers. No, that's stupid. This was done by a madman. A crazed lunatic who slaughtered a beautiful young woman for the thrill of it. They would have to be punished. Their story needed to end. But was that wrong? Was it wrong to murder a murderer? Hypocritical yes, but necessary... right? They had taken a life, and in doing so had forfeited the right to their own. But who could claim the right to take it? If one were to kill a killer for killing, wouldn't they need to be killed as well? It didn't really matter though. They would have to be punished... regardless of the moral repercussions. If only for the poor woman who now hung dead from the wall in the very cellar that they were standing in. "... you need to watch the door..."Eldrin clenched his fist, the leather of Avarice creaked as the muscles in his forearm tightened. He inhaled another gulp of his own scent and held it in. With a last boost of resolve, he pushed himself off of the floor. He didn't bother to look around, didn't bother to greet a soul. Instead, he quickly slipped out of the door. He slowly exhaled as he walked up the stairs, and by the time he inhaled again, it was the damp, rotted smell of the Skulltula House. A wave of relief flooded over him. He was free of the abhorrent scene the cellar held. The thief sat on the front doorstep of the Skulltula House, gratefully breathing in the fresh air of the outside world. He took his cutlass out of its sword knot and rested it across his knees. His face had turned solemn, only offering a dark scowl where normally it freely gave a happy grin. A visible cloud of mist flowed from his lips with each breath, but the cold didn't seem to bother him. He had pulled his arms out of the coat's sleeves and now it just sat loosely over his shoulders, the cloak over that, and the hood shadowing his face from the moonlight. He was putting forth a hard shell to cover the damage that been done. He appeared to be strong as he'd ever been. A sentinel in the night. And yet, there was one thought from Ayishe's rhetoric that he never could loose. It had stuck with him for years... "Such weak creatures we are..."Before he could continue his pondering of life and death he heard yet another commotion near the side of the house. Footsteps, a drawn blade, running, and then a man's voice. Eldrin pushed the hilt of his cutlass forth with his thumb. The blade emerged from its scabbard with a metallic hiss. He revealed just about three inches of the blade and deliberately angled it to reflect the light of the moon. It was a clear warning to any who approached the house.
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Post by Rii/Thell on Dec 27, 2012 18:03:48 GMT -6
It used to be her time of night. Back when she was young... Hell, she still was, but the burn on her face made it seem so long ago since she was pretty. Thell wasn't sure when in her mind she had started equating beauty to youth, because it was a rather odd thing to do. She had loved her beauty then, she loved how disgustingly flawed it was now, and she loved embracing her youth while she still had it, so she shouldn't be connecting what she once had to what she claimed to still hold now. Thell once was what the world considered beautiful, but that did not mean she wasn't still young and full of fire. The mindset that youth is beauty was something she had barely held in her life before the fire, and that was only when she had been on her own.
But Thell knew it was during walks through this time of night in a village full of well-paid whores and strategically dressed sluts that her mind slid back into that foolish belief. Youth was beauty. Hah.
She really should've known better than to visit a village late in the night. It sent her into a dark, irritable mood that she was getting insanely tired of being in. But Vandir wanted her to have human contact more often. Her encounters with versed wanderers and scar-covered warriors were few and far between, at least the ones that wanted to talk to her.
"Remember when I could do something like that?" she grumbled, eying one girl who was belly dancing within the bar next to a handsome man who was practically pouring gold at her feet. Thell eyed the pile of glasses next to him and knew why he was so eagerly forking it over.
"Yes," Vandir finally responded, not sure what his creator wanted him to say. Then he stopped. "Thell..."
"Yeah?" Thell asked.
"I'm no scent hound, but I smell blood," Vandir instructed, trying to get Thell to look away from the window where she could see a woman was graciously receiving some alcoholic drink or other.
Thell wasn't too happy to do so, but the word 'blood' seemed to intrigue her. "Where?" she asked sternly, seemingly grasping for anything that could drag her away from this misery.
"I'm telling you I'm no scent hound. It's somewhere over there and unfortunately that is all I can determine," Vandir reminded, gesturing his tail lazily to the half of the village she wasn't in.
Thell frowned, but followed his instruction, jogging towards the other side of the village, unaware that she was about to meet up with some familiar faces.
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Post by Faro/Blade on Dec 31, 2012 15:26:22 GMT -6
A sudden gust of snow from his right harassed the exposed skin under Blade's black hood. The shoulder cape over his left arm billowed in the wind as snowflakes snuck under it to cling to the inside. The assassin raised his right hand to shield his face without so much as a grunt of displeasure. Finely-made leather boots crunched on the freshly falling snow. The wind died down and Blade's cape settled. Winter had come to Karkariko and brought all its usual pleasures. Stinging cold, drifts of snow, and icy streets were only a few of the ills of the season. Some thrived in the winter, most of them shrewd businessmen. A nearby tavern advertised itself as a warm place to get out of the snow and wind. Much to the chagrin, Blade thought, of the poorly-covered woman who stood outside to try and attract customers. She seemed to glare at Blade with a shiver as he walked past. His warm clothes and the fact that he wasn't inside might have had something to do with it. Her eyes got and she blinked when he came back to hand her a bag of rupees. It was more than she would make all night. "Keep it safe." He advised with a small gesture toward the bag. "I- thank you." The woman replied with a grateful smile. She watched Blade as he left before she slipped the bag into one of her boots. They were too large for her, anyway. With no other damsels in distress around, Blade got back to work. He was on his toward a run-down warehouse at the edge of town to sink his blade into the flesh of an arms dealer by the name of Ferck Raiken. He'd made a small fortune arming bandits and smugglers at prices that Blade had heard were actually quite fair given their black-market nature. Not anymore. The bandits funded by Raiken had been harassing caravans and other travelers for months now, but tracing the weapons was no small feat. Karkariko was simply the end of a long trail of evidence that began in Gerudo Valley and ended here, today, by Blade's hand. It had been some time since he had tracked a target on his own, though. Perhaps his next contract would be one with less information already attached. There was no point to being an Assassin without the thrill of the hunt every once in a while. Still, the warehouse might provide challenge. He approached a building that was near the warehouse and climbed up it to get a better view. The warehouse was two stories with many windows along the side he was facing. That would be good for a diversion, but his target wouldn't be on the warehouse floor, he would be locked away in the offices. Blade needed a way into those. Better yet, a distraction to flush the man out. The moon was rather full, but Blade preferred to hold back unless things got out of hand. He held back his demon energy and came down to the level of a human again. Not to say he was weaker for it. Humans tended to underestimate each other, while their wariness of demons and other supernatural beings made them more likely to use tactics or techniques that could make his life very difficult. Blade continued to watch the warehouse for a few minutes longer. Guards outside were scant, but there was a lookout that hadn't yet spotted Blade. At a human level, Blade could not kill the man from where he was without being spotted. It seemed the lookout would need something else to look at. Blade dropped down from the roof and set to collecting lanterns from the street below. As the street darkened, it became easier to simply take the lanterns. When he had four, and all the oil from the others, he approached the warehouse from the south face. The lookout had the least visibility there, and it was closer to the windows than the north face. With some quick work, Blade fashioned suitable firebombs from the four glass lanterns. Each had a lit cloth poking out of one of the glass panes he had broken. The lanterns were over-filled with oil and would do a lovely job of setting the warehouse ablaze. With a look at his work, he wondered if he had made too many. The other citizens of Karkariko believed the warehouse was for storage of things like food and clothes for winters like this one, but the information that had been uncovered had proved this to be false. This didn't mean he could simply burn the place to the ground, though. Perhaps one lantern bomb would be enough. Blade picked up a stone and tossed it through the window when no one was looking. He heard muffled cries of the men inside whining about the damned kids. If only they were so lucky. With a heave, Blade tossed the lantern bomb through the broken window. It hit the ground with a crash and the whines became screams as the fire began to spread. It seemed Blade had hit a few crates of armor that were nice and dry. He pulled the cloths from the other lanterns and snuffed them out in the snow before he climbed up the building. The lookout saw him, and cried out. Unfortunately, no one inside could hear him over their own screaming. Blade ran toward the man and killed him quickly with a stab from his hidden blade. From there, he went around to checking for his target. Ferck was a rather large man with an equally large and distinctive scar across his nose. Blade ran around the roof and began to look for the scarred man among the people frantically leaving the building. His nose was useless here. He did not know the man's scent, and the smoke would have filled his senses anyway as it rose out of the broken window. Blade finally saw the man flee ahead of several others and he fell from warehouse to meet them. ( ) Blade cut down the other men with one of his hook-swords before he rushed to Ferck to make the crucial stab. The man grabbed Blade's wrist and smirked dangerously. Blade dropped his hook-sword and tried to stab with the other blade, but Ferck blocked that as well. Blade growled and gave the man a headbutt before he drove his knee into his stomach. The grapple broke and Blade stared Ferck down as Ferck stared down Blade. "So someone else finally 'ad da balls ta try an' take my life. Well, your attempt ends 'ere, you filthy assassin." Ferck taunted. Blade growled and rushed forward again. He stabbed forward with his hidden blade, and Ferck caught his wrist again. Blade stabbed forward with his right hand and the blow was caught. Ferck thrust his knee upward, but Blade twisted his arm and blocked the blow with his left elbow. Blade pulled his right wrist free and stabbed forward again. Ferck moved out of the way, but received a nasty cut across his stomach. A decent hit, but Blade was soon knocked back by the force of Ferck's right fist as it connected with his side. Blade staggered to the side and looked to Ferck. The large man attempted an uppercut, but Blade grabbed the man's wrist and lifted his arm over his head. A thrust of his hidden blade landed firmly in Ferck's side. Blade brought Ferck's arm down onto the back of his neck and used it as leverage to lift the man up in an effort to drive the blade deeper. Ferck's fight left him and he stumbled before falling onto the ground. Blade stood over the man and punctuated his victory with another stab from his hidden blade. Ferck's neck was left with a bleeding hole as Blade stood up. Another burst of snow came at him from the right and blew his hood and cape around as he stepped over the man back to the town itself. Someone else could find the lanterns and put out the fire. With his job done, Blade had some free time on his hands. He would have paid the woman from earlier a visit if he hadn't turned his demon powers back on to catch the scents of a number of his friends. As usual, they all gathered in one place. At this point, it would be rude of him to not meet up with them. He came to the Skulltulla house to see Eldrin showing his blade to him. "Easy, buddy. Just me." Blade pulled off his hood to reveal the distinctive silver hair and gold eyes to Eldrin. (Sorry if I screwed up anyone's idea with that last bit. I can edit it if need be.)
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