Blood on My Hands

Subject: Blood on My Hands Sat Jun 25, 2011 12:12 am

Wow, this guy's completely oblivious. Taran watched his target from a second-story roof. He knows there's a contract out on him and he still gets blind drunk before the sun's all the way down. What an idiot.

Of course he only knows there's a contract out on him because you flubbed the first attempt... Taran sighed and rubbed his temples. The assassin hadn't seriously slept in almost a week, and it showed. He was a little slower than normal, a little less fluid in his motion. He could still run circles around almost any heavy combatant, but if someone lithe happened to see him and care...

He shook himself. No one was going to see him, not if he did this right. He had slipped a diuretic into the man's booze supply when he wasn't looking not too long ago, he would be leaving to take a leak shortly. And once he was alone...

This particular merchant was a piece of work. He was careful to appear completely legitimate on a casual interaction, but he ferried some nasty, habit-forming drugs around. Not only that, he sold the drugs as candy to children. His guards were in on it (and on it), too, but Taran didn't entertain any fantasies of killing three trained men-at-arms hopped up on a stimulant without some serious backup. Children. Man, this fucker needs to die. Glad I ran into that family back in the Village of the Sun, I'd never have known about this particular little operation. Hope their kid's doing alright. There he goes...Showtime.

Standing up, Taran leapt across the narrow avenue the dealer and his guards had camped on, careful to land silently. Shadowing the dealer across the rooftops, Taran slipped his blackened tanto out of it's sheath, careful to avoid making any noise. As the dealer untied his trousers, Taran dropped into the second story of a derelict building and crept down the conveniently placed stairwell. Moving from shadow to shadow, the assassin used the twilight to slip up behind his target unnoticed. Reversing his grip on the tanto, the Son of Rhys flexed his fingers and went in for the kill.

Grabbing the man's shoulder with his unarmed hand, Taran steadied him and then slit his throat from behind in a single smooth motion, cutting deep enough to sever the windpipe and vocal chords, ensuring there would be no commotion...at least, until Taran was long gone. Blood spurted out at high velocity, painting the pitted stone wall in front of them crimson.

Gently, the assassin laid the body down and watched the light of sentience fade from the dealer's terrified eyes. "Children are off-limits. Remember that in your next life." Closing the empty body's eyes, Taran cut a piece of the man's distinctive golden braid from his shirt and secreted it in his gi. He wiped his blade on the man's clothing, sheathed it, and crossed the man's arms over his chest. Standing up, he looked at his dead target.

The man's mouth was still slightly open. Seems a bit undignified, makes him look like he snores. Bending down, the Son of Rhys closed the dead man's jaw with a click.
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Blood on My Hands

Medius is no longer safe for us, Alicia. We most choose what's in the tribe's best interest- regardless of what sort of emotional connection we have to this land. Your Father would have wanted it this way himself, were he still alive.

These words echoed through the Knight's head over and over again- taunting her with the fact that she could do nothing about it. The Triumvirate was right, of course- Dorn would have done whatever was necessary to keep the tribe safe as a whole- but the council was overlooking one very important fact: What safe haven would be willing to just suddenly accept five-hundred new bodies? Everyone spoke of Mare Maris like it was some sort of messianic savior of the village- like all their problems would be alleviated once they set foot onto the coastal city. And while Alicia's judgement may have been clouded with the fact that her father died protecting these lands and that she'd be damned to give them up- she also realized that picking up an entire civilization and moving it several miles to the northeast wasn't exactly going to cause any less problems than remaining to live in the dangerous, yet familiar lands of Medius.

A new sort of danger awaited them there- that mainly being poverty and perhaps even slavery.

After all, most of the people in her tribe were like a more sophisticated hunter-gatherer race; living off the relics of a civilization long past. The only reason they had any amount of merchant traffic here was due to the abundance of artifacts that were found within the ruins of Medius by her people. Once the tribe was moved to Mare Maris- people would have to adapt to an entirely different was of life as little more than refugees. Most of the militia would probably become some sort of mercenary outfit and, eventually, the need for bartering items would outweigh the need to keep their morality and dirty jobs would be accepted. Eventually, the once proud tribe of Dorn would become little more than vagabonds- forced to take what they can for work and living in slums for several decades at least. Not to mention the strong familial ties that most of the tribe had would probably cease to exist once things got too hard to worry about anyone other than their personal families.

Dorn would want the tribe to remain together above all else. The chances of another demon wreaking the kind of havoc that the one that had taken her father had was just slim enough to risk, in the Knight's personal opinion.

Frowning, Alicia strapped on the remainder of her armor and put Nyla at it's rightful place by her side. Guard duty, while important, wasn't exactly the highlight of anyone's night- granted- it would take Alicia's mind off of the troubles at hand. She wasn't exactly sure how well fit she would be in a fight right now- with her thoughts in constant turbulence as well as the consistent lack of sleep she was suffering from. She was relatively sure that this night would be like all other nights on guard duty- spent monotonously walking back and forth and surveying her surroundings.

She walked outside, still wearing a slight frown as she began her shift on watch.

"It's gonna be a looooong night..." she muttered to herself.

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Subject: Re: Blood on My Hands Sat Jun 25, 2011 11:57 pm

That actually went far, far better than I was expecting. I guess something had to go right somewhere on this job, right? Stepping from the shadows, the assassin adjusted his sword belt slightly while looking up and down the street. Sufficiently convinced that he hadn't attracted any attention, he strode off towards the village he'd seen before, figuring to find a less crumbly building to set his lean-to against for the night. He entertained no notions that he would be able to actually cajole a bed this late at night, but he could at least get an overhang in addition to his lean-to.

Not that it looked like rain, but still. Better sure than sorry as the old man used to...

...I need to stop thinking about that. Maybe he was more tired than he had thought, he had successfully avoided thinking about his old guild for several months now.

Seeing a light ahead, Taran's eyes narrowed. That glint...that's a full set of plate, or a fair imitation. Well, too late to hide now, they've seen me. There's no blood actually visible on me, right?

Right? Suddenly, Taran realized that the dampness on his face he'd dismissed as humidity was actually blood spatter from his target. Some of it had actually bounced off the stone wall and onto him. Obviously uninjured, completely intact him. "....Fuck." Maybe they won't notice?

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Blood on My Hands

Humidity was the Knight's least favorite of things. It could potentially cause her armor to rust, it made her hot as all hell (and there was nothing she could do about it), and it caused her to tire out more quickly due to the fact that she was already expending a lot of bodily energy sweating to cool off. There were times when she wished she didn't feel bare without her armor, and was quite jealous of those who could regularly run around without it. Nevertheless, it was still her conscious choice to wear it- and she wouldn't be seen, on guard duty especially, without it.

Her hand on her blade, Alicia began her post- walking towards the outskirts of the northern edge of the village and patrolling along the last few furnished buildings in the area. They were largely empty now- as most of the younger men and women used to live out here until about three years ago- when a large majority of them were slain in battle. Patrolling this part of the city always reminded Alicia of their loss- of the generation of children without parents and the generation of elders without children- and of her own loss.

She shook her head, dispelling the thoughts that spilled into her head. Of course she would have to patrol the deserted end of town where no one lived anymore. She understood the importance- anyone could just waltz into the village without someone watching this side- not to mention the fact that a merchant caravan that had just passed through the city (peddling regular wares as well as some sort of vaccine to protect against sickness that was far too expensive for anyone to even consider purchasing) had taken lodging out here- and it was her duty as a Knight to protect them, no matter how unsavory they seemed and how badly they reeked of greed.

A movement ahead drew the Knight's attention away from her thoughts, causing her to partially draw her weapon in momentary shock. However, upon realizing that it was simply a young man walking towards her, Alicia resheathed her blade and approached him, still keeping her hand clenched around the handle. She couldn't make out any of his features due to the distance between them and the overall lighting, but he was of slight frame and normal height- and he seemed to be armed with two thin, curved blades of varying lengths (though both were rather short when compared to Alicia's blade). He wore an odd robe-like piece of clothing that covered a rather large portion of his body (he must have been sweating buckets as well wearing it), and his hair covered a large portion of his face- which, at this distance, seemed to have some sort of odd red tattoo on it.

Tentatively, the Knight raised her hand, hailing the strange man as he noticed her as well (judging from the way he suddenly stopped in his tracks and everything). "Hello, friend. What brings you around these parts at such an hour?"

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Subject: Re: Blood on My Hands Sun Jun 26, 2011 8:01 pm

Alright, maybe she didn't notice? Play it off, be cool. It didn't help his mild anxiety that the young woman kept her hand on her blade, even if her greeting was civil, merely curious, at least on the surface. "Good evening, m'lady. Just looking for a good place to set up camp for the night after retrieving my gear. I had some business to attend to that necessitated lighter travel." Stepping to the side, Taran retrieved his pack from the place he'd secreted it, out of harm's way but easily accessible in case a quick getaway was required. While his head was out of the young woman's line-of-sight, the assassin dug a rag out of his pack and wiped it across his face as he stood up. "Humid out here, isn't it?"

It helped that he really was sweating from the heat. It also helped that he had amazingly few physical anxiety tells.

With the blood removed from his skin, the Son of Rhys stepped further into the light, putting the rag back in his pack and resting his off hand on the hilt of his wakizashi. Swinging his pack onto his back, the assassin loosened his gi and allowed the jacket to fall open a bit for better airflow, revealing the light cloth mesh he used as an undershirt. Resting his forearm inside the slightly open jacket, Taran slid the piece of gold braid he'd cut from the merchant's vest to the small of his back, ensuring it wouldn't slip out.

Meeting the eyes of the knight (for she was clearly dressed in the traditional regalia of a knight), the Son of Rhys nodded politely. "I don't suppose you could suffer me to camp out in your village tonight? I need no bed, an overhang in case of rain will do. I will be gone before the sun is fully risen, if you allow me such a luxury." Taran's stomach shifted uncomfortably. The guards were probably getting curious as to where their boss was, and if they came looking, they would find his body. He was still too close to the kill site for this kind of extended interaction, a standard three-man sweep pattern would come upon him within minutes. At least in the village, there would be no wandering monsters and the guards probably wouldn't be allowed entry after sundown.

Probably isn't ideal, but it'll keep until morning. I know I can outrun them on 12 hours of sleep.
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Blood on My Hands

Nodding, Alicia eyed the man suspiciously, noting that his pack was stashed in the direction he was walking in- rather than the direction he was walking from. Probably left it there and then went looking for some food, she mused to herself before replying to him. "Well, we certainly have enough beds that no one would be any the wiser were you to stay in one. Normally I would have to swing by one of the members of the Triumvirate before letting you into the village- something about us lowly guards not having an approximate idea of the difference between a good traveler and a bad one; but it's late and I'm assuming you're tired- so we'll just skip that particular step and I'll lead you to one of the houses. Fair enough?"

She turned, keeping the periphery of her vision on him as she did so. After scanning the nearby houses for a moment, she nodded and pointed at one. "That one should be empty. If you find any squatters in there- tell them to clear out by morning- but other than that, it's all yours for tonight." Shifting her stance back to the man, she nodded before continuing, "I suggest getting an early start though- others may not be as kind as myself. People have had a 'thing' about strangers ever since the incident a few years back."

"Out of curiosity..." she started suddenly, "Didn't you have an odd facial tattoo? I could have sworn I saw something red on your face a few moments ago." She leaned forward, scrutinizing his features for any hint of crimson color or any sign of anxiety. Finding none, she sighed and shook her head- "Must've been the light tricking me..." she muttered, standing upright and extending a hand to the man. "Name's Alicia Murdock, by the way. If anyone comes in and gives you any sort of trouble, tell them I said you could stay there."

Regardless of whether or not he took her hand, her tone became deadly serious, and her eyes cold. "One more thing..." she began, looking him in the eye, "If any sort of trouble comes out of this- beyond someone catching you sleeping here I mean, it'll be your head on a spit. We've seen enough hardship of late- and any thief or killer would be ill-welcome, especially nowadays." Reverting back to her usual calm, Alicia nodded to the oddly dressed individual before finishing- "Now- is there anything you need from me before you go?"

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Subject: Re: Blood on My Hands Mon Jun 27, 2011 5:12 pm

"My sincerest thanks, kind lady. I have not slept in a bed in some time." He noted that she was obviously well trained, keeping him in her peripheral vision even as she scanned the nearby buildings. She could be a threat, if she decided to be.

When she mentioned "an odd facial tattoo," Taran's heart leapt a little higher in his chest. Does she suspect? Is she going to come after me? I don't have quite enough clearance to deal with a bullrush here... But he relaxed internally after she dismissed it as a trick of the light. When she proffered her hand, he shook it, firmly but not crushingly. He'd worked long and hard on that handshake, it helped him come off as an honest man...which he was, for the most part. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Murdock. My name is Taran, Son of Rhys Taradell. May you always walk in peace."

As she warned him of her suspicions (though her tone was far from accusatory), Taran relaxed even further. This was a situation he was well versed in. I will simply sleep upstairs, next to a window. That heavy plate will warn me of her approach with time to spare, should she discover my recent activities. Should she approach me, I will grab my pack and vanish. Though, she is quite pretty...perhaps an explanation would be in order, I'd hate for her to think too ill of me. "Noted, Miss Murdock. If I come across any thieves or murderers, I shall be sure to alert you." Winking slyly, the Son of Rhys walked to the house Alicia had pointed out and entered, sure to close the door behind him.

Moving upstairs, he found a comfortable twin bed in a small room perfectly suited for his plans. Laying out his bedroll and placing his pack on the floor by the window, Taran laid down, still fully clothed, and dozed off.
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Blood on My Hands

With a nod, the Knight parted ways with the man. He didn't strike her as a very savory individual- there was something off about his unnatural calmness. But he hadn't done anything to hurt her- and he promised to agree to her conditions- so she saw no reason to pursue investigation of the man. Taking a deep breath, Alicia dropped her hand off her blade and watched him leave- making sure he entered the house before continuing on with her patrol.

After a few more hours of monotonous scouting, there was a ruckus off to the northeast. Various men shouting angrily at one another- accusatory and fearful. Approaching the source of the noise, Alicia was somewhat surprised to find a group of four men attempting to kill each other using various blunt instruments. With a snort, Alicia drew her sword, keeping the blade ready, but down in a non-menacing stance. "What's the meaning of this?" She shouted over the din in a commanding voice- causing the brutes to stop swinging heavy things at each other. One of the men actually dropped the cudgel he was wielding, running a hand through his hair- which had fallen over his eyes.

"Robin over here-" he began, sputtering- pointing at one of the men, "He came runnin' downstairs- shoutin' about how the boss was dead!" Alicia raised an eyebrow at this, nodding as he continued on- "When we went to check- the there was blood everywhere, and the boss- his throat was cut an' he was dead!"

"And," the Knight interjected, "Why did you attack poor, old Robin?"

"We naturally assumed it was Robin since he was the one who said he was dead. He had to have done it- how else would he have found the body?" Robin seemed like he was about to interject when Alicia cut him off with a short bout of laughter- which she quickly covered her mouth to amend.

"You think this is funny, girl?" One of them inquired, raising his cudgel menacingly to the Knight, "You think that our boss being dead is something to laugh at?"

She raised one of her hands and shook her head, attempting to hide a slight smirk. "No, no- I'm sorry. It's just rather clear who did it- and you guys are so caught up in your own idiocy that you can't see that it wasn't one of you."

The four men looked at each other at this revelation- nodding to each other before hefting their weapons and charging at the Knight. Looking more annoyed than worried (or surprised, for that matter)- Alicia raised her blade into a defensive stance.

Luckily for the Knight, the brutes could hardly boast any skill beyond their physical strength and their menacing attitudes. It took her hardly more than two swift blows to disarm the first man- who had tripped on a rock while running at her and screaming like a maniac- before finishing him off with a quick blow to the head with the pommel of her blade. The other three weren't quite as simple to dispatch- attacking mostly in unison and with heavy blows that would break the average man's guard with no issue. Alicia was more than surprised when her blade was knocked aside by sheer brute force- something that had never happened to the Knight before. Fluidity was always better than rigidness, yet at the same time- it was almost impossible to work with these men's blows. While they were imbeciles when it came to the ways of combat (as well as in terms of general intelligence), they struck obscenely fast and hard- almost as if they were possessed. As they closed the distance between themselves and her- Alicia also noted a touch of insanity in their eyes. Clearly these men were being mind-controlled by their leader- and without his direction they were swiftly losing their mind.

They had to be taken out, and quickly.

Flicking her wrist upward as one of the men raised his club to smash her across the side of the head- she nicked the brute's unarmored wrist, tearing a cut through his arm and sending his weapon flying before following up the attack with a blow to his head with the flat of her blade. Upon felling this foe, another came forth- swinging the makeshift weapon and connecting with her gauntleted forearm. Thankfully for Alicia, the plate absorbed most of the blow- though her arm still rung with the force of the blow. Wincing- she lashed out- catching him in the temple with the side of her blade, knocking him out immediately. Her final foe decided to take a much more intelligent method of attack- dropping his weapon and charging the Knight, catching her off guard and causing her to let loose of her sword. He began to squeeze the Knight, crushing Alicia through her armor. Letting out a brief cry of pain- she clapped his ears- causing his eyes to roll upward and his grip to loosen slightly. Not waiting for the man to recover, she headbutted him, causing him to crumple to the ground, taking her to the earth with him. Grunting, Alicia removed herself from his grip, cursing as she did so.

"That... Goddammit." She picked up her sword and stomped off towards the direction of the assassin. It all made sense now- the red mark on his face- where his pack was stashed- the fact that he was heading away from the scene of the crime. "Little fucking shit." Breaking into a run- she quickly made it to the house, barreling through the closed door and rushing up the stairs- where the bedroom most likely was. With any luck, she'd catch him by surprise. If luck wasn't on her side... well- he'd be gone and she'd probably be pissed enough to chase after him, at least for a little while.

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Subject: Re: Blood on My Hands Wed Jun 29, 2011 10:55 pm

"Taran, you screwed up."

Taran looked around, his dreamscape was foggy and indistinct, but bright. The only clear object in his subconscious mind was the figure standing directly across from him. "F-father?"

"No, son, you're dreaming. I'm just an emulation of your father, generated by your subconscious to help you understand the situation." The figure stepped forward. "You've grown admirably, by the way. Still a bit short, but you inherited that from your mother. My eyes, however." Rhys was smiling slightly. "Alright, maybe I'm a bit more than just an emulation. I certainly feel like your father.

"That's not why I'm here though." Rhys' smile faded as he spoke. "You screwed up. You should have waited another day, get the bastard out of Ms. Murdock's territory first. You really think this was a single distributor deal? You saw the potency of that chem, it's been highly refined. There's a cartel behind this, and you just killed one of their best distributors. They're going to look for someone to blame, and Alicia's tribe is awful convenient for that purpose."

Taran's eyes widened. "Oh damn..."

"Indeed. I understand why you killed him, I am you to an extent, after all. Your rage was justified and killing him was the correct action. You just...did so a bit earlier than was prudent."

Taran paced back and forth, his hands behind his back. "You're right. I'm right, I suppose. I did screw up, I may have put that entire village at pointless risk. Alright, I've made a mistake, now how can I fix it?" Turning, the Son of Rhys addressed his question to his subconscious.

"I don't know, that's not my job. I just have to remind you of the mistakes you make to ensure you don't forget 'em. If you don't forget, you don't repeat. Anyway, you should probably wake up, you'll have company shortly."

Hearing the crash downstairs, Taran's eyes snapped wide in an instant. Rolling out of bed, the assassin hit the floor with both feet and leapt for the window, grabbing his pack on his way past. Crouched on the sill, he paused, orienting himself towards his goal as he secured his pack: a balcony just across the alley was perfect for his purposes. Certainly reachable for him, but the Knight? That plate armor wasn't exactly conducive to rooftop-chases.

He leapt just as Alicia crashed through his door, her blade in her hand. Planting his free hand on top of the balcony railing, the Son of Rhys used his pivot point to guide his landing, his feet touching the ground for no more than a second before he was running up the wall, grabbing the edge of the roof in both hands. Hauling himself up and over, he heard a knife tink off of the stone just beneath his feet.

Getting to his feet on the rooftop, Taran half-turned to address Alicia, who stood in the window, fuming. "My apologies, Lady Knight, I acted without thinking. I may well have put your tribe in danger, now that I think about it. However, I need to get back to the Village of the Sun, there are young lives counting on me getting this antidote back in a timely manner. Fare thee well, Alicia Murdock, I shall return if my suspicions are correct. I don't leave mistakes un-rectified." And with that, the freelance assassin ran off across the rooftops, vanishing into the night.
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