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Duty
Apr 13, 2009 15:30:04 GMT -5
Post by Angmor on Apr 13, 2009 15:30:04 GMT -5
Taraak felt rather elated, for he could see that he had finally impressed his partner. But not only this, the mission had now gone from being impossible to merely being extremely difficult, and he was sure they could do it with a little good fortune. He looked up at the sound of laughter from Kyra. "Let's hope we don't get killed." She was pacing the room now, he supposed processing the details of his rather abrupt iteration of his plan. Aye, no kidding. [/color] He thought to himself. After a moment, she turned to him again. He listened as she outlined what would be needed, something he had only partially done himself. “…And, I feel slightly hungry…” Taraak let the surprise show openly on his face, so unexpected had been this comment. Through his entire deliberations, food had been the furthest thing from his mind, as it often was. He could tell from her face that she was entirely serious, and his jaw dropped as she continued to speak. “We have one more day. Let’s use it to the best of our abilities. But stomachs come first. Both of us have not eaten a bite, not even in that bar where we first met..." Taraak was about to respond with a rather sarcastic and hardly uplifting remark, but it dawned on him that she was right. He had purchased a small meal the day before during the long vigil, but otherwise no food had passed his lips since entering the city. He dropped his expression, and a gentle smile came to his face. Because of his imperial training, one of the first things he had learned was to operate in constant state of hunger, injury, or lack of sleep. Or any combination of those for that matter. [/color] Because of this, he would eat only when he needed to when he was on a mission, and it had never occurred to him to consider his partner. He let out a laugh, a short, rather mirthless sound that made it transparent that he did not use it very often. “Of course! I’m sorry, I had totally forgotten.” He took up his bow from the ground where he had set it, placing it across his back in a practiced motion. “Come, let’s find somewhere where we can eat, and discuss what needs to be done before the sun sets.” ((( ))) They went to a small inn closer to the center of the city, nestled in a meeting of backstreets. Unlike the Dragons Den, this place was clean, and the customers more jovial. In the common room, the babble of friendly conversation flowed through the space, creating pleasant atmosphere. Taraak thanked the innkeeper as a wooden plate was set on the board before him, containing a huge slab of meat and a sizeable chunk of fresh bread. He began eating with gusto, his body reminding him of his hunger as he took the first morsel. “So,” He said between bites. “What we need to do is, one, find out who will be inspecting the ship, and two, plant something on his person. I have already gathered some oil, and I even have a good supply of Banger.” This was a nickname he had given a grey powdery substance that he often purchased from traveling merchants. When thrown with enough force, this powder would flash a brief flame, and release a copious amount of smoke. Most thought it was good only for cheap tricks, but Taraak had found it exceedingly useful when he need something burned quickly, or if he needed to be hidden from sight. “However, that means looking at the assignment records at the citadel.” He watched her face for a reaction, smiling a little. “How are you at sneaking into somewhere that you’re not wanted?”[/size] [/blockquote]
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Frægr
Novice
Call me Sabs. ;]
Posts: 42
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Duty
Apr 13, 2009 15:35:03 GMT -5
Post by Frægr on Apr 13, 2009 15:35:03 GMT -5
The surprise on Taraak's face brought a small, wry smile to her own. The smile that he wore in reaction her her rather off-topic outburst contradicted his laughter, which seemed empty and meaningless. She felt an urge to ask why, but restrained herself as he stood up on his feet to follow her. It was obvious that the man was hungry also, but Kyra guessed that he had been trained to not complain about it. With a small smirk in his direction, she decided to test his patience. While the pair walked out the door of the lumber warehouse, the elf ran a lazy eye over the room for any lost supplies. After finding none, she attempted casual conversation, and they stepped outside. "So I suppose you're paying, as I was so kind as to let you sleep for hours on end in the middle of our planning session." With a small grin towards Taraak, she walked on towards Downtown Teirm.
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The inn was nice, nicer than the Dragon's Den in all aspects, but it was refreshing to be anywhere off the streets when the streets were their most crowded. Jolly costumers with equally jolly reputations crowded the booths, the bar, the whole place. The pleasant aura was contagious, and even from their booth in the corner,the constant happy buzz of city life found its way there: friends meeting old friends, business partners making friendly deals, frivolous people eating frivolous lunches. It brought a rather wry smile to the elf's face, as she observed the people around her done far too much belt-loosening.
But in all her distraction in people-watching, she had completely forgotten to order, and Taraak had just vaguely said, "Oh, just get her whatever I'm eating. She cares not" Minutes later, their order had come, with a rather cheerful grin from the innkeeper. Taraak had already thanked the man for their meal, and the elf was about to do the same, when she saw what had been served. Her eyes found a giant block of crisp, brown, and fat-dripping meat. The chunk of bread placed next to it didn't matter as much. Kyra's eyes widened in surprise, and she bit back the bile that was crawling up her throat.
Weakly, she looked up towards the smiling innkeeper, and attempted a "thank you," in as polite a manner as she could manage. Almost seconds after he had walked away, Kyra found herself staring a hungry Taraak in the face, with a giant hunk of meat in his mouth. The sight was nausiating, so she looked towards the table, to once again remind herself that she had ordered the same thing. The smell of their lunch filled her nose, and as much as she tried to disguise herself, Kyra's face contorted in disgust.
From across the table, Taraak was completely unaware, and was rambling on about their activities for the day, which included finding the inspector and sneaking into the citadel. "How are you at sneaking into somewhere that you're not wanted? From her angle, Kyra could see his smile, completely oblivious in his fit of ravenous hunger. With a last glance towards her lunch, she pushed it away to the far edge of the table, and gave a little smirk.
"Sneaking into where I'm not wanted? Ever since I left Ellesmere, my whole life has revolved around doing just that." Her smirk fell into a frown, as Taraak once again began to shove the pieces of meat down his throat. Wincing, she looked from his meal, to him, to his meal again, in another attempt to understand why they ate another living creature. Her attempt failed miserably, but her partner had noticed her staring. He glanced at her questioningly, and stopped his fork midway from his plate to his mouth.
So, Kyra put her face on, in which most all people had mistaken them for her real emotions. With a bright, dazzling smile and a delicate flick of her wrist towards his food, and then her own, she said graciously "You forgot, my dear fellow, that elves do not enjoy meat." Keeping that same smile plastered on her face, she beckoned over the innkeeper once more, and said kindly "My dear sir, I seem to have lost my appetite. Perhaps a soup would be enough to satiate me." With a rather brainless answering grin, the man sauttered back to his post to create her order.
After he left, her act dropped, and she glanced at his plate once more, still slightly repelled by the sight. But quickly, she regained her composure. "Ah. Well. I suppose we can use magic to get what we want? However, the guard shall be extremely alert, so we'll have to have a distraction, or a way to sneak in. Do you happen to have any high level connections? Names ran through her brain as Kyra attempted to find one she knew in Teirm.
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Duty
Apr 13, 2009 15:36:47 GMT -5
Post by Angmor on Apr 13, 2009 15:36:47 GMT -5
Taraak continued eating, although not really tasting the food. He had always been taught to think of food as a resource, not something to be enjoyed like most people thought. "Sneaking into where I'm not wanted? Ever since I left Ellesmera, my whole life has revolved around doing just that." He nodded, still eating. Gradually, he became aware of Kyra gazing rather disapprovingly at him, with an expression that indicated disgust. He stopped mid-bite, wondering what exactly he had done to bring this on. Even though he was hardly dainty, he did not think his table-manner was that offensive, nor had he thought she would care. He was about to question, but she inclined her hand gracefully toward her forgotten plate and spoke, in a tightly polite way. "You forgot, my dear fellow, that elves do not enjoy meat.“ Taraak stopped, unable to think of any words of apology as she ordered something else. He had not forgotten, he had just not known. To him, meat was merely food, and nourished him most out of all other forms of it. No one had told him about this peculiarity, so he was caught rather off guard. Mentally noting this new fact about the elven race, he recovered from his surprise and hurriedly ate the last bites of the meat as she turned back toward him, trying to formulate some response for the awkward situation.
"Ah. Well. I suppose we can use magic to get what we want? However, the guard shall be extremely alert, so we'll have to have a distraction, or a way to sneak in. Do you happen to have any high level connections?” Glad that she was willing to change the subject, Taraak began again thinking of the mission, searching through the contacts he had in the city.
Underground: Too risky to contact directly. Evn: Dead. Simern: Unknown. “I might.” He said, setting down the fork and picking up the bread. “I havn’t met with him in about three years, but we were fairly good friends. He is a minor official, or was. He works in the shipping department, and he might know who will be inspecting the ship. If not, then he probably has a way to get into the citadel to find out for ourselves. And if he doesn’t have that, then simply sneaking in probably won’t be a problem. I have had to sneak in there many times, and I also have the layout memorized. I would rather not have to though, it seems I am fated to get hurt in some way whenever I go there.” He paused to take a few bites of the bread, and then wrapped it in a piece of cloth from his shoulder-bag to save for later. “So, your call. Shall we go see my contact, or simply try to get the intel by ourselves?” He was undecided to the best course, so he would let her decide for him. Although he would have taken the mission alone if he could, he found himself becoming more and more glad to have her. [/blockquote]
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Frægr
Novice
Call me Sabs. ;]
Posts: 42
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Duty
Apr 13, 2009 15:37:07 GMT -5
Post by Frægr on Apr 13, 2009 15:37:07 GMT -5
"...So, you're call. Shall we go see my contact, or simply try to get the intel by ourselves?"
At the moment when Taraak stopped speaking, the innkeeper had come back to their table, with soup in his hands and insipid friendliness in his eyes. In as much time it had taken for Kyra to drop her face, she put it on again, to smile dreadfully wide at the man, and graciously relieve him of his duties of soup-carrying. After paying for the meal, and making sure to give a relatively large tip for good measure, the elf waited until he was out of earshot to mull over her partner's words.
While daintily sipping her soup, which was rather tasteless --- random vegetables boiled in water --- she let his words sink in. Upon contemplating their possibilities, she found herself thinking of his contact as a huge opportunity. "Connections are always created to be used, so I suppose we should go and attempt to use him to our advantage." But the idea was risky, and had luck and trust firmly implanted into its very center, in which Kyra knew both were never predictable. "Are you positive this man can be trusted for the right information? If not, we should draw out a rough sketch for a plan to get in ourselves upon our failure, in case events to not go as we hope. In all honesty, a plan should probably be made for both sides, no matter what we choose."
Kyra mulled over her own connections in the city, trying to find at least one name that was not dead, or missing in action, or converted into devoting their lives to the Empire. Then, a thought struck her rather harshly: the fact that the elf did not have a single ally in this city, save her newfound partner; that under times of dire need, she would have no one to turn to, or even have a roof to stay under. Reluctantly, Kyra found herself realizing that she was learning to appreciate Taraak as time went on, and that the combination of their skills was leading the pair to something a lot more deadly and powerful than if the two had worked alone.
The minutes passed silently as thoughts racked both of their brains, and gradually, his bread diminished to a few crumbs and her soup bowl had only a few drops left. Observing the situation, Kyra thought it would probably be the best time to break the silence, and start to plan. "Considering our options, the connection once again, would be obviously preferred over the hard path: trying to sneak in ourselves. But both are not impossible. If worst comes to worst, I suggest that we use magic on the guards, and since you have the layout memorized, use that to guide us around the citadel. Or we can observe first & then make a plan of action. First, however, we need to see if your connection does us any good..."
Taraak seemed to nod in assertion, and with a routine quick body check for her hidden daggers and a twist of her sheath, the elf found herself satisfactory to take her leave. However, a glance towards the door saw Taraak already walking towards the glaring sunlight. She hurried to follow, and in a matter of seconds, the two partners were in the extreme brightness. She paused, and blinked for a moment. but continued to walk on.
The streets were as crowded as ever, and only a few seconds after walking out of the inn, Kyra had lost sight of the man. He seemed to have disappeared into the bustling bunch of people. Her eyes wandered over their heads, trying to pick his out, but she stayed rooted to her spot. he would realize she was gone sooner or later, and come back, she hoped.
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Duty
Apr 13, 2009 15:39:27 GMT -5
Post by Angmor on Apr 13, 2009 15:39:27 GMT -5
Taraak nodded and stood up, subconsciously feeling for the comfortable weight of his knife. Impatient to be off, he began weaving his way past the inn’s patrons and into the equally crowded street. He took a moment to reorient himself, than set of toward the house of his old-time contact. He did not go far when he realized that he had lost Kyra somewhere behind, and he swore quietly to himself. He turned and began making his way back toward the inn, rather annoyed. Just then, his eyes swept across a certain face, one that he had been thinking of for the past while. Taraak weighed the risks, then decided to show himself, even if it meant he was noticed by the crowd. “Simern!” He cried out. The man turned, looking about him with a searching expression, which quickly turned to one of recognition as he saw Taraak. He was a rather short man, with a tanned, thin face crowned by an unruly mop of graying hair. He was rather pudgy about the waist, and he dressed in an expensive looking red tunic and black overcoat. He smiled and made his way toward him, prudently not yelling his name across the road. “Terren!” Said Simern cheerfully as he approached, and they clasped hands heartily. “This is indeed a surprise. I haven’t seen you in, oh…” “Three years.” Cut in Taraak, smiling as he looked the man up and down. “You look a little heavier than when I last saw you. Has business been that good?” The expression of merriment left the man’s face then, and his voice grew huskier. “Nay, not so good. Times have been hard of late, especially in the shipping circles. Trade has all but evaporated since Surda rebelled, but I have managed.” He looked up again, the radiant smile coming to his face again. “But enough of my troubles. What of you? How have you fared these past years?”
Taraak let his voice go slightly lower, his expression dropping back to neutral. “Same as always. You know, wandering here and there, doing what is asked of me. I was actually on my way to meet you, as fate would have it. I need some information.” Simern nodded knowingly. “Yes, that was always what I provided you. Information, a valuable resource these days. We can talk at my estate. Come.”
Taraak started after him, then stopped abruptly. “Wait, I need to pick up a friend. She was just behind me, but I’m afraid I’ve lost her.” The shorter man turned around, falling into step behind him as he began heading back toward the inn. “She Terren? Have you finally found someone to settle with?” Taraak almost snorted, the notion striking him as absurd. “Hardly. She is merely a… business partner, of a sort.”
They finally came back to the inn. Sure enough, there was Kyra standing beside the front door, surveying the crowds. Taraak approached with Simern in tow, shouldering through a few men that had just exited the bar, drunk as lords. “There you are.” He addressed her, letting a small amount of irritation slip into his voice. “You’ll never guess who I met on the way.” He stepped back, making room for the two to shake hands. “Simern, this my friend Kairim. Kairim, this is the man I was telling you about.” [/blockquote]
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Frægr
Novice
Call me Sabs. ;]
Posts: 42
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Duty
Apr 13, 2009 15:40:14 GMT -5
Post by Frægr on Apr 13, 2009 15:40:14 GMT -5
"There you are." If Kyra had the sense to look between the lines, she could tell that Taraak's voice was dripping with sarcasm. It took much effort to ignore his action, as she raised her eyebrows in expectation. However, what she did not expect was his companion, who was smiling rather largely for his short self. After a moments pause, the elf found herself staring the stranger in the face as her partner moved to her right out of their way. He was a well-dressed man, if a little chubby, but his garments were even more a surprise. I wonder why he's dressed so well in these hard times... The thought fleeted through her head, but before any more time could be spent pondering it, Taraak's voice interrupted. "You'll never guess who I met on the way. Simern, this is my friend Kairim. Kairim, this is the man who I was telling you about."
With a small, almost undetectable questioning glance at Taraak, Kyra's first reaction was surprise, though she had immediately directed a brilliant smile towards the stranger. Friend? Ha. It's a long stretch from reluctant partner in a deadly mission to friend. Her attention however, was immediately brought to the situation at hand when Sirmern placed his hand out for her to shake. His gaze was too friendly, and Kyra felt a small shiver crawl down her back; characters like these were so unpredictable, it was almost aggravating. Her mind reached out to his, but found immediate blockage, as was repelled. If the elf tried to invade him further, the man would know, and their cover would be blown. Silently, she retreated, but outwardly, Kyra graciously took his hand and spoke with an enchanting, melodious voice. "It's always a pleasure to meet someone new, Mr. Simern. As you already know, my name is Kairim." Pushing back her hood she had previously put on to travel into the bright mid-day rush hour, she let her long, blond hair fill out on her cloak to cover the pointed ears all elves possessed. As the man stood, with his jaw slightly open, she smirked internally. This one should be easy to fool, as Taraak had not fallen so easily under an elf's spell.
However, upon her greeting, he immediately shook his head. "No, no! Call me Simern. The "Mr." is much too formal." Surprise overtook Kyra's face for a single moment, as her cheerful expression changed to one of shock. Immediately, however, she smiled once more and gave a smooth, enchanting laugh. Much too cheerful...I must tell Taraak. A glimpse to her right found her partner smiling at their newfound companion. "He said he wanted to bring us to his estate to talk. So, shall we depart?"
Now her dazzling smile was directed completely towards the man, as Kyra struggled to keep her face. "But..." Her voice faded off, as she did not know his cover name. A small whisper emitted from his mouth. "Terren." She repeated it, louder so that Simern could hear. "...Terren, you forgot that we have not payed our checks. Before we leave, the man needs our business." She turned towards the stranger to gracefully nod her head. "Excuse us, dear Simern. It will only take a moment." Slightly pulling her partner's cloak, she dragged him towards the innkeeper.
Upon their reaching the innkeeper's station behind the bar table, the elf twisted on Taraak. "Are you sure we can trust the man? He seems, in all ways, suspicious. Don't you agree that the man is a little TOO friendly for his own good?" To continue her acting, in case the stranger was watching behind them, Kyra took out some coins from her pocket. "I say, we try to invade the citadel on our own.
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Duty
Apr 13, 2009 15:48:04 GMT -5
Post by Angmor on Apr 13, 2009 15:48:04 GMT -5
Taraak allowed himself to be pulled back into the inn, very nearly losing control and letting his bewilderment show on his face. The tone she had used made it quite clear this was important, but he could not think of a single reason why. They reached an unoccupied portion of the long bar, and Kyra whirled on him, several strands of her unloosed golden hair almost catching him in the face. "Are you sure we can trust the man? He seems, in all ways, suspicious. Don't you agree that the man is a little TOO friendly for his own good?" His face darkened visibly. "I say, we try to invade the citadel on our own.” Taraak paused, looking toward the floor in frustration before looking back to meet her emerald eyes. “Look, I know it’s been a long time, but he hasn’t really changed. I offered to extract him many times, but he always refused. He said he could serve the cause best here, as one of the empire.” His pent up frustration, caused by days of constant stress finally burst. his voice dropped several decibels to an angry growl, only just higher than a whisper. “I am rather tired of having to do all the work on this mission, alright? Simern has always proved to be trustworthy, and am surely not going to storm the fortress just because you don’t take a liking to him. I am going with him, if you you’re afraid, I’ll meet you at the safehouse in two hours.”
With this he turned and stalked to the door, not bothering to hide his expression of anger. Simern approached, looking concerned. “It’s nothing,” said Taraak, raising a hand to cut off any inquiry. “Just a little problem with our tab. Please, lead the way.” The older man nodded and turned, beginning the journey toward his home.
Taraak could sense Kyra behind him, eyes boring into his back. She was practically emanating concern for this course of action. As he walked, Taraak could feel his resentment slipping away, giving way to a sense of guilt. He knew he had been wrong to lash out at her, but he was unable to overcome his pride and apologize. I’m not really angry at her, not really. I just want this to be over with. But still, she had no right to question me. I have done all the planning so far, she can't expect me to take the hard way all the time. So it went in his mind, right up until they reached their destination. [/blockquote]
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Frægr
Novice
Call me Sabs. ;]
Posts: 42
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Duty
Apr 13, 2009 15:49:36 GMT -5
Post by Frægr on Apr 13, 2009 15:49:36 GMT -5
Kyra was in shock. Complete and total shock. Even her skill in hiding emotions was completely useless now. Taraak's heavy footsteps echoed across the inn's wooden floor, infinitely loud in the ears of the elf while he was followed by the man who apparently was radiating concern for them, Simern. Then the thoughts began to process, as she stood there, looking as if she was casually leaning against a wall. The emotions were coming back, and she stone resumed her blank expression, with a slight twitch to the side of her mouth. He's tired of doing all the work on this mission? Kyra felt the sudden impulse to snort rather obnoxiously as her eyes followed the departing pair. It was I who found this opportunity in the first place. We had worked together as a team, no matter how much you try to deny it.
But all the resentment immediately went on hold when she started thinking about her partner's current situation. The elf could not help but feel worried, as it immediately dissapated her anger towards them. Simern walked over, giving a bright smile of concern. "Come Kairim, I heard there was a problem with the check. Would you need some assistance?" The man made an all too eager jump for his wallet, as Kyra forced her enchanting smile back on her face. "No." She gently pushed his hand out of his pocket and nodded graciously. "It is nothing of the sort. But I have another engagement I have to make, so I beg to take my leave." A glance towards Taraak saw him still walking towards the door, expectantly waiting for Simern. "You should go to Terren. He appears to be leaving..." Another bright smile pushed Simern to follow him, but the elf grimaced inwardly. "I wish you enjoyment in my absence!" She called after the pair, hoping that Taraak had read between the lines. That she would follow them to the ends of the earth.
So, as she proceeded to follow them out the door, Kyra made sure to keep a relatively safe distance between herself and the pair. They had to be within eyesight, but just far enough so that Simern would not notice. In all honesty, the elf did not care what Taraak knew, just as long as she followed them. And so she did, almost loosing them in the bustling crowds a few times, but always managing to find the conspicuous pair in the end.
Upon reaching their destination, the manor of Simern, Kyra drew back into the shadows of a nearby store-front, eyeing them as the two went into the white-stoned building, intricately carved with tales of old sea heroes and the skirmishes they had had with pirates. The view in front of it was particularly spectaculler, as she imagined it would be even more so during a sunset. On any other day, the elf would have stopped to admire the handiwork, but time was of the essence, and she had to investigate the man's quarters while she still had time.
After waiting a few minutes to cushion the chance of Simern himself answering the door, Kyra put on another dazzling smile in preparation. It seems as though I've been smiling rather frequently today... She thought, with a worried glance towards the door. But none of them have been authentic... Then, with a few graceful steps towards it, and a couple of swift knocks, it opened. The man in the threshold was not Simern, to the elf's relief, but what she supposed was an elderly butler. Attempting the greatest flattery possible, Kyra gave a deep, graceful bow towards the man and made her eyes sparkle in youthful ignorance of the world. The act worked, and the woman found herself smirking as she practically felt pity radiating from his face.
"Sir, let me introduce myself. I'm known as Elenia, a shipping coordinator." With a quick glance up, she could see that the man had retaliated in surprise, first, Kyra supposed, due to how her appearance and profession did not seem to match. And secondly, was wondering to how a single woman managed to get such a high position in her business. Raising herself back up again, the elf attempted to look business-like. "I have come at the request of the City Trading Council. ---- Simern, is it? My reason for attending to him is a routine check. We've newly established a rule to inspect all sea traders in Teirm casually through out the year." He raised his eyebrows, still skeptical in his imagination with her methods in raising her business status. She grinned, knowingly. "My husband is a sea merchant." This explanation seemed to satisfy him, and the butler graciously smiled and ushered her in.
"It seems as though the master is busy at the moment with a guest, but I can call him down for you..." Struggling to keep her panic at bay, Kyra gave a friendly nod. "Don't go through the trouble, friend. I shall just wait until he is finished." The butler stopped midway of the grand staircase, and started down again. "At your request, m'lady. I beg your patience, and for you to sit down while you wait." He motioned vaguely towards a nearby fancy couch. "Would you care for a drink?" She politely declined, and sat daintily on the chair. As soon as I get rid of him, the search shall begin. There must be something that will give this man away...
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Apr 13, 2009 15:52:33 GMT -5
Post by Angmor on Apr 13, 2009 15:52:33 GMT -5
Taraak followed Simern to the front door of his house, taking a quick look behind him as his old friend drew the bolt. He knew Kyra was probably following, but he did not care. Her concern was unfounded, and he would soon have the information they needed to complete their mission. He stepped across the threshold into a cool stone foyer, rather airy but filled with plush couches set against the walls. Dominating the large rotunda was an ornate staircase, leading to the many hallways of the second floor. There were two arches on either side of this, leading into equally large halls on the first floor. Taraak did not really take time to look over these details, he had been here before and nothing had changed. He watched as Simern handed his coat to the elderly butler, then turned to him again. “Come, we can talk in my study.”
He led him up the grand stairs and through a smaller hallway, then into a large, though well furnished room. The walls were lined with bookshelves from floor to ceiling, unbroken except for a window on the back wall. The center of the room was dominated by a section of floor that was sunken about a foot, edged by three stairs to descend into it. There were many chairs and benches arranged in circles, creating a pleasant place to hold a conversation. Simern ushered him inside, then shut the thick timber door behind him. “There. No one will overhear us in here.” He stepped past Taraak and down into the pitted center, moving to a small table, piled with cups and earthenware jugs. “Can I offer you something? Oh, I’ve forgotten. You never drink.” He poured some dark liquid into a smaller cup, then sat down in a leather chair. “So, what information can I provide you with?” Taraak moved to take the seat directly opposite, leaning forward so as not to crush his bow into his back. “You will probably laugh. I… we need to know who will be inspecting the Superior Might. Preferably when, and where he lives. I know you have access to the assignment records, so you must know.”
Simern settled back into the deeply upholstered seat, taking a sip from his glass. “That is serious business Terren. No one was supposed to know about that, especially the varden. I only found out this morning, just because some bureaucrat thinks the ship needs to be inspected, and I saw it in the assignment records. I won’t ask why you need to know, that’s none of my business. Anyway, the man’s name is Bralag. He lives in the western part of the city, and he will be leaving at sunset. I warn you, he used to be a soldier, so he knows how to handle himself. Whatever you plan to do, be careful about it. ”
Taraak let his shoulders relax a little, relief flooding through him. He was glad he had been right about this, or he would have never heard the end of it from Kyra. Just as he was opening his mouth to thank Simern, he felt an odd pressure in his mind. He tried to ignore it, but the sensation persisted. When it began to get stronger, he recognized it as another mind trying to access his own. Instinctively, he threw up barriers to protect his consciousness, just as he had been trained. At this the tendril of thought retreated, then returned with greater force. His barriers almost slipped, during which time he realized the mind belonged to Kyra, and she was broadcasting a sense of urgency. With an inward snarl he pushed her away, shutting her out. At this, she withdrew completely. Taraak was about to give some explanation to Simern, who by now was quite curious as to why his guest was grimacing like a pained urgal, when he felt as if an icy dagger was being pushed into his head. He cried out in pain as it shattered his barricades like thin glass, leaving his mind exposed. Quickly he threw up more fences around the memories of his past, trying to keep them hidden, although there were so many he could not shield them all. The attack dissipated, then resolved into a mental connection with Kyra, still with the same urgency. Her mind felt alien to him, completely different from anything he had ever experienced before. There was a great passion there, although she too was shielding her memories, and to greater success then he. What? He thought to her angrily, wondering what could possibly be important enough to contact him in this fashion. [/blockquote]
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Frægr
Novice
Call me Sabs. ;]
Posts: 42
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Duty
Apr 13, 2009 15:57:31 GMT -5
Post by Frægr on Apr 13, 2009 15:57:31 GMT -5
ooc:ahh. I have a feeling that this post shall be rather long... The moment that the elderly butler exited the room --- with a kind smile and welcoming gaze --- Kyra set her sights on the situation before her. No wave of guilt, however small touched her, even though she had had to manipulate such an old and useless man to enter the estate. The elf had become hardened to guilt over the years, being in the profession that she was. Emotions that could upset a mission were always discarded as useless, and instead Kyra had be required to become a professional liar and quick thinker for tight situations.
But the elf quickly brushed all extraneous thoughts aside, with a emotionless push and sweep under the rug. She focused on the room before her, which seemed to act as a library. Shelves upon shelves of books covered all four walls of the room, with everything from rare leather-bound volumes to the local author's attempt at a bestselling novel. Rich furnishing dripping with threads of gold adorned the polished oaken floor. They were all of human design, and though Kyra was slightly impressed, she knew that the scene before her was misplaced. This was war between the Varden and the Empire, and Surda had also fallen. Her thoughts dwelled again on how the man had such riches, if he was only a merchant in the dwindling shipping business.
Vaguely, the elf was starting to make a connection between the man's strange before towards herself and Taraak, and the riches that were now before her. But there was no proof, and though the information was interesting, it was not necessary. Was was necessary was proof for her growing suspicions. Her eyes wandered to what she supposed was Simern's desk, as it was littered with papers. With an interested glint in her eye, Kyra walked quietly over to it, and glanced at the various shipping forms. There was nothing that could prove the elf's instinct. She also searched through the cabinets below, but found not a single proving object. It makes sense though, as I doubt someone in such a high position as Simern would put everything important in such an obvious location.
That was what most people usually thought upon searching another's possessions. But Kyra knew better, as she had done her fair share of inspections. A rather large smirk overtook her face for a moment, as she moved from the desk to the furniture beside it. It is most likely in a place easily accessible, even easily seen. Too obvious, but not obvious enough... She took off her cloak and placed it neatly on a nearby sofa. What fools. Every human thinks the same. With slow and experienced hands, the elf ran her fingers over the lamps, feeling every nook and cranny of their expensively bent metal. Then she moved on towards the intricate carvings of the couches, and at last the uninteresting side tables. There were no abnormal glitches in any of the furniture, nor any sign of suspicious activity.
The smirk widened into a grin, as the elf realized that what she had just done was exactly what a routine inspector might do. And as she had expected, there had been nothing suspicious. The man is more clever than I had originally presumed... She thought, with a touch of aggravation. But there were still many more things that had not been searched. She wandered across the room, touching items here and there, until she appeared by the fireplace. There were two rather large vases on either side of it. They were valuable, Kyra could tell that much, but not superior craftsmanship. Possibly, Simern had purchased them from a local artist, who was a bit too prideful in his over-stated work. The two pieces of delicate china did not stand out much in the rich atmosphere of the room, but they were worth a try.
Without hesitation, the elf ran her fingers over the first one's smooth surface, and then dipped her hand inside. The vase was a little more shallow than she had expected, but there was nothing worth noticing inside. Not even a piece of paper. With her spirits sinking, Kyra walked slowly to the other one, and did the same. With a long sigh, and a step back, the elf moved on. There was nothing here, so maybe she was wrong. Possibly, for the first time in her life, Kyra had made an error with her first judgement. It was going to be hard admitting defeat to Taraak, and her elvish pride was going to be at state. A spurt of anger overtook the elf, as she imagined the reaction of her partner. "Are you really so unreliable?" He would say. "I really have been doing everything on this mission." The thought gave Kyra energy, as she once again began to look over every piece of furniture at the library.
After minutes past in useless searching, she found herself right back where she started. With nothing. The vases, however, still needed to be searched. So as a last resort, she proceeded to once again inspect the first piece of art, going slowly for good measure. The outside still had no surprises, and in aggravation at her fruitless search, the elf jammed her fist inside the vase. The sound of her fingers reaching the metal bottom made a strangely hollow sound. Her small grimace was replaced by obvious curiosity as Kyra once again dipped her hand in the neck, after nursing her bruised knuckles. Faintly, she could feel that there were two slight depressions on opposite sides of the bottom. In a spurt of impulse, the elf placed one finger on each depression, and pulled up. To her surprise, the bottom moved slightly. She tried again, and felt the metal loosen completely. Seconds later, a small circle of metal was in Kyra's hands.
A double bottom... How resourceful... The papers she drew were taken quickly out of the vase, and under her inspection. The elf's acute eyes immediately fell upon a few names she recognized. Evn...Yuul...Jakitha... Her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. These people are all dead... A quick search of the other papers showed what she saw were other Varden allies. There were people on the list that she knew from long ago. And they were also all dead. Accompanying each name was a few of their past aliases. It sent a shiver up her spine as Kyra recollected memories of the dead companions she knew on the list. Her hands shook slightly for a moment as a single thought presented itself in her mind, even more frightening then the names she saw in front of her.
The other must have even more names... Quickly, the other double bottom for the second vase was taken out, and another pile of papers were in her hand. Her eyes ran over the names, and she saw that the people she knew on the list were all still alive. Her suspicions were confirmed. With trembling hands, she looked at every page and name, until she saw the very last two. Taraak _____ -- Terren _____. Kyra's name was absent, as expected. She had not assumed many aliases for years, as her jobs of late had only required quick and fast assassinations.
Her jaw dropped. Simern knew that the name was fake. And if her guesses were added together correctly, he was out to add Taraak to the first list. In a wave of panic, she attempted to contact her partner through her mind --- the first time they had ever done so. He immediately repelled her, in what Kyra assumed was anger. It wasn't a surprise. You fool...Letting your anger get in the way of your common sense... She attacked again, stronger than her former, attempting to get in the man's mind. He still repelled her. Idiot. I'm not as useless as you think, though I admit you're strong. With all her thoughts focused singularly on Taraak's mind, she stabbed his baricades. In only a matter of seconds, Kyra was inside.
What? She could feel his anger boiling through their connection. Even through her panic, the elf felt an impulse to retort sarcastically. However, she bit it back and replied just as angrily. Get out of there! Don't listen to anything the man says! It's a trap! He knows you're Taraak...and is out to kill you! Don't ask questions. Trust me!" Kyra desperately shouted the thoughts in his mind, and she imagined that they would hit Taraak with a force that was almost painful. There was no other way. If she was going to get her point through to him, then this was the only way.
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Duty
Apr 13, 2009 16:00:50 GMT -5
Post by Angmor on Apr 13, 2009 16:00:50 GMT -5
Taraak shrank back as words formed themselves in his mind, laden with an anxiety that was almost bordering on panic. They manifested themselves in Kyra's voice, so forcefully he felt like he had a massive headache. Get out of there! Don't listen to anything the man says! It's a trap! He knows you're Taraak...and is out to kill you! Don't ask questions. Trust me! The pain receded, and Taraak was able to think clearly again.
For one blind moment he was about to try and force her out again, but he realized there was no way she could fake being this concerned. He could tell over the mental connection that something had scared her, and she was absolutely certain of her information. Alright! I belive you. [/Color] He thought back, calming slightly. Having his mind linked to hers, and knowing that he was entirely vulnerable to her, made Taraak uncomfortable to say the least, and he wished it to end as soon as possible. Leave now. I can't do a thing with you in my head like this.[/Color] He felt her draw away,the connection to her mind fading as if behind a cover of mist before vanishing completely. With this, Taraak felt like he was again in possession of his body. As he opened his eyes, the first thing he was aware of was that his head was throbbing painfully. The next was that he was flat on his back, and Simern was kneeling next to him with a concerned expression on his face. "Are you all right? You weren't responding for some time." Taraak shook his head and sat up, looking about him. He found that he had toppled from the chair some time before, and was now on the floor. "I'm fine." He said carefully, looking back to Simern. "That has happened a few times before, I don't know what causes it." It was a fairly credible lie, especially for something so unexplainable. Simern nodded his head slowly, obviously somewhat suspicious. "Hmm. Let me help you." Taraak leapt to his feet before the man could come any closer, now wary of his approach. "Stay back Simern, I know what you are now." He said, hoping to bluff him into giving away what exactly was going on. He did not draw his knife, but he was ready to if needed. Simern took a step back, an expression of surprise spreading across his face. "I have no idea what you are talking about Terren, what am I?" Taraak did not back down. "Don't give me that, I know everything." Simern's expression ceased to be one of surprise and turned to one of anger. He spoke, his voice colored with hatred. "It took you long enough to figure it out. It's amazing what friendship can blind you to isn't it?" Taraak circled to the man's left, still leaving his knife where it was. "I have just one question. Why? You belived in the cause, you were ready to help bring down the empire. So why are you doing this?" The man who was once his friend gave a short laugh. "Need you ask? about a year after the last time I saw you, the empire discovered that I helped you. They took me and imprisoned me, secretly of course. For that next year, I had a great deal of time to think as I rotted away. I thought deeply about the war, in all it's aspects and ramifications. Through the whole time, I was only able t come to one outcome. The king holds all of Alageasia in his fist, and under his rule there is order. If the varden were to take power, there would be anarchy and chaos." Taraak could not belive what he was hearing. He now positioned himself between Simern and the door as he continued to speak. "So I made a decision. They let me out, and for the past year I have been helping them hunt down all my old contacts, or anyone else who helped the varden." Taraak let out a breath in disbelief. "Wait, Evn... That was your doing?" Simern smiled. "Yes, that was masterfully done wasn't it? The fool didn't even know what hit him. So, Taraak, what happens now?" Taraak made a swift decision. "I'll take you to the underground, they can deal with you." The older man snorted derisevely. "Please. You would be wise to kill me now, instead of letting someone else do it later. Why do you hesitate? Well, it doesn't matter. The empire left me the chance to kill you... personally!" A short dagger seemed to materialize in his hand from somewhere around his person, and he threw it at Taraak with all his strength. Taraak just barely managed to throw himself out of the way as the blade shaved past his head and buried itself into the timber door with a soft thunk. He saw Simern raising his arm again, about to throw another. Before he could even think, His own knife found his hand and went spinning through the air before sticking solidly into Simern's side. The man looked down shakily at the blood that was spreading across his tunic, stumbling back before collapsing into a chair. Taraak approached him carefully, an expression of great sadness on his face. "I'm sorry." Simern raised his head, his voice weak with pain. "It does not matter. You are dead either way." With this, he gave a cough and closed his eyes, sagging limply into the upolstry of the chair. "I'm sorry." Taraak said again, retriving his knife and cleaning the blade on his sleeve before sheathing it. What did he mean by that?[/Color] On a hunch, he moved to the window, loking out to the street outside. As he looked, a column of soldiers turned the corner and began making it's way toward the house. Taraak swore and spun around, racing toward the door. [/blockquote][/size]
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Frægr
Novice
Call me Sabs. ;]
Posts: 42
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Duty
Apr 13, 2009 16:02:36 GMT -5
Post by Frægr on Apr 13, 2009 16:02:36 GMT -5
Upon Taraak's revelation of Kyra's truth-telling, the elf knew it was time to leave. However, it just so happened that her partner was the first to voice this thought. Feeling his mental touch, she found her partner's mind to be like a maze, intricate in all ways possible. It was interesting, but the woman had enough common sense to know she could not explore it further. Delving into another's mind was against all moral codes, unless completely necessary. Hearing his reply to her mental calls, she could sense the pain in his voice, as if he was forcing himself to be calm, and almost for a second, Kyra regretted the pain she had thrust unto a mind that had been until recently, a stranger. However, she immediately put this out of her mind, due to the fact that her partner would most likely not had believed her if the elf had been tentative. Besides, in the situation Taraak was currently withstanding, Kyra was completely sure the man would survive, though they wouldn't have been so confident if the elf had not warned her partner. Immediately, she drew away from his mind, and focused on her surroundings once more.
The papers were still in her hands, though they shook slightly from the impact of her and Taraak's mental connection. I hope for a safe return down the stairs...for his sake. Kyra thought absently, with a grimace. The situation was much more serious, as the elf attempted to analyze the situation at hand with a calmer mind. As her eyes wandered upon the even handwriting of the papers, she had an impulse to tear the stack as a whole, or burn it with a simple "Brisingr." How a man such as Simern could turn so quickly to Galbatorix was beyond her, even with the quick mind of an elf. It took a year...only a year...to have his mind poisoned by their ideas. Was it power? Was it fear? Questions presented themselves almost immediately to Kyra, and she was suddenly tempted to connect to Taraak once more to ask them. But, her wishful thinking was futile, as she had known all along that the request was impossible. Kyra, of all people, knew when to draw the line.
With great care, she quickly returned the library to its original state, where books that were carelessly throw aside in her desperate search for proof, were returned to their natural positions. A few words of the Ancient Language immediately erased her fingerprint from the bindings of the books and everything else the elf had touched. In only a few minutes time, the room was sparkling, with no sign of the unnatural visiter that had searched its depths to the bone. A grim smile snuck its way to Kyra's face, as she could not repress her vague feelings of pride. Years of experience had given way to this one particular talent. If anyone came into this room after her, they would find everything to be exactly the same as it was before the assassin's entrance, to the last inch.
It was rather ridiculous that she could find time for such a useless emotion, but the elf had been known for frequently going into spurts of opposing moods during the worst possible times. Such humor, however grim, was entirely unnecessary in a much such as hers. Inwardly, she cursed at her own stupidity, silently reprimanding herself for the inappropriate emotions during their serious situation. But interestingly enough, Kyra realized that she did have time, as the situation at hand rested almost entirely on Taraak's shoulders --- On the fact to whether he would come down those stairs as a living man, or a corpse. However, the elf had enough faith to know that her partner would not go down without a fight, if in his slim chances were he to ever fall at all.
Her eyes wandered about the room, searching for distractions to pass the precious time Taraak was spending in Simern's office. The seconds passed like minutes, the minutes like hours. However, it was at that moment that she saw a glare in the window. With her above average eyesight, Kyra was temporarily blinded by a reflection from the outside. After moments of blinking back tears, the elf decided to look again, forcing her eyes back to the window. They stayed on the reflecting glass for a few moments, until she was forced to believe the inevitable. Something was reflecting light into the library window, what is was, she had yet to find out.
After quick, fluid steps towards the sheet of glass, Kyra stared down unto the street before her. The sight of soldiers was somewhat surprising, but not entirely unexpected. In all honesty, I thought the fool would ask for a larger force... A temporary smirk made the elf pause, but panic immediately overrode it. Taraak! Her thoughts went to her partner, at the moment occupied with a rather lethal Traitor of the Varden. Seconds later, her body was bursting through adrenaline, and the assassin was racing up the stairs towards what she hoped was his office. The rooms seemed too uniform-ish for her taste, but she slammed open every single one, in a desperate search to find Taraak.
All the while, she had been opening her mind, sensing the house's infrastructure, the layout, and possible quick exits. As her open mind searched through hallways and corridors, open ballrooms and messy kitchens, frustration started to build up in her brain. The elf was keen on every corner, ever mouse-hole in the estate, and yet, they were all covered by soldiers. Except for a single one, which would prove to be even harder to travel through than the others. One could fight their way through soldiers, but another, more meticulous method would have to be used for the private exit of an extremely loyal, elderly butler, with the man still in it..
After a turning a rather sharp bend, Kyra found Taraak, with his hand releasing a doorknob. In another sprint, she grabbed his arm, while the man jerked in surprise. "No time for explanations," she managed to whisper, her voice still relatively even, as normal physical activities do not easily tire an elf. "I trust you have seen the soldiers? Without waiting for his answer, she grabbed his arm and pulled him along with her as she forced him to sprint through the corridors, and down the stairs, while still making quick explanations. "There's a single open exit. The butler's personal one. He's in there right now. And armed. Should we kill him? " Her last sentence was not so much a question, but a statement. It was inevitable that they would have to kill the man, as he could recognize the pair if they were to ever find an inconveniant investigation upon themselves..
Together they tore down the rich maroon carpet, with Kyra leading him towards the room. Upon their arrival, she waited a single moment for Taraak to catch up, and then said impatiently, "Hurry! I have no time for you to catch your breath! We have to leave. Now." Without another pause, she placed her hand on the cool metal of the doorknob...
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Duty
Apr 13, 2009 16:05:23 GMT -5
Post by Angmor on Apr 13, 2009 16:05:23 GMT -5
Taraak pelted down the hall after Kyra, barely keeping pace with her swiftness. Now think of the full implications of what had just happened, he felt a strong urge to apologize to her. He had been wrong, pure and simple, and now as a result it would be difficult to leave this house alive. He opened his mouth, then shut it again with a snap. Now is really not the time. Besides, there was no way I could have known. [/i] Even after a shock, his pride was still in force on his conscious. He listened as Kyra spoke over her shoulder at him, wondering how she possibly could know which exits were open or otherwise. “There’s a single open exit. The butler's personal one. He's in there right now. And armed. Should we kill him? " Ah yes. Magic. After all, if she could break through my defenses, how hard could it be to look into someone who cannot sense it? [/i] He knew he would never know the answer to that question. Without magic, he was trapped in his own skull, relying only on his senses and his instincts. And that’s good enough for me. [/i] He did not bother responding to her query. Of course the man would need to die. He was unfortunate collateral damage, something Taraak had come to terms with before he had even finished imperial training. He had already killed one man today, and it only slightly bothered him. it had taken longer than some of the other trainees to beat any remorse out of him, and since joining the varden, he had allowed that emotion to resurface. He did not relish having to take another’s life, but he knew it was necessary. Before long, Taraak found himself lagging behind, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Thankfully, they seemed to have reached the destination Kyra was leading them to. She stopped in front of a simple, timber door, then rounded on him impatiently. "Hurry! I have no time for you to catch your breath! We have to leave. Now." He bit back a retort and stepped in front of the door, drawing his knife. Somewhere behind this door was an elderly man, apparently armed and dangerous. Taraak was not worried, from what he had seen of the man, this would be over quickly.His eyes met Kyra’s, then she nodded and threw open the door. The spy rushed into the room, knife at the ready. He could not tell the dimensions and features, for it was cloaked in a semi-darkness that made it impossible to see until his eyes adjusted. Just as he had taken three steps past the doorframe, he saw the glint of an oject approaching his face, accompanied by a metallic whistle that instantly screamed weapon through his brain. he ducked quickly, slashing with his blade in the direction the blow had come from, hoping to find the legs of it’s owner. However, his knife met nothing but empty space. He knew he was at a disadvantage, so he took a step out of the light of the door way and waited for a few seconds. By now his eyes were adjusted a little more to the darkness, and he saw a figure of a man, somewhat larger than him and with a short blade of some kind clutched in his left hand. As he watched, the figure rush at him, swinging the knife at his shoulder. He met the attack with his forearm, meeting the arm that held the knife and keeping it from hitting. He spun his own blade into reverse and brought it into a diagonal stab toward the side of the man’s neck. To his slight surprise, the man intercepted the strike and began a quick counter-attack. They traded blows for a few seconds, during which time Taraak grew increasingly alarmed to discover that this elderly man, this butler, seemed to be just as good a fighter as he. This is probably the man that Simern actually sent to murder varden supporters. It would be perfect. A willing and loyal servant, able to carry out any command. [/i] He came to this realization just before he found himself doubling over in reaction the foot that had planted itself in his stomach, immediately after which he straightened up again at the suggestion the same foot as it introduced itself to his face. He crashed hard into a piece of furniture that might have been a chair before he landed on the hard stone floor, rather dazed. [/blockquote][/size]
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Frægr
Novice
Call me Sabs. ;]
Posts: 42
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Duty
Apr 13, 2009 16:08:06 GMT -5
Post by Frægr on Apr 13, 2009 16:08:06 GMT -5
It took a few moments for Kyra to intake her surroundings, as Taraak quickly attempted to attack the butler. She had just begun to explain how the elderly man was most likely more skilled than her appeared, but time occurred too quickly. In silent observation, the elf watched the two figures spar in the hallway, a strangely misplaced match against the grandness of furnishings. Metallic whistles rung in her sensitive ears, and before long, Kyra was beginning to realize that the butler was beginning to overcome her partner. With stealth, she attempted to enter his mind, but was rebutted immediately with a violence that was almost surprising. Such an old, loyal man, with skills beyond his years, and the agility of one much younger. I cannot see Simern as the type to attack by himself, so I suppose this man was the assassin. He is quite the type for one.
But as she relished in the many uses of the butler [in the slim chance] that he joined the Varden, her eyes came upon Taraak, flying across her face into a chair. His figure had been only inches away from her nose, and Kyra felt her eyes widen in shock. ...Extremely skilled...If he can overcome Taraak, the man is a worthy opponent. Her wry thoughts were interrupted by the butler, as he turned to face the elf, with a wild look his eyes that was all too familiar to her. He spoke. Shipping coordinator eh? I had been suspicious of you. What is your business here, Elenia the elf? The man sneered, his former kind features twisting into something she interpreted as a frown. But at "the elf," Kyra's eyebrows went up in shock. "Oh, please. I have seen enough elves in my time to recognize one when I see it. I suppose you would like the same ending as your many Varden friends? Simern had contacted me in his office, when he was occupied by that man right there." he pointed vaguely to the lump of flesh contorted on the chair.
Kyra's eyes narrowed, as she readied her hands on the daggers placed delicately at her sides. "Thrysta vindr." As the air around her compressed, the elf felt the eyes of the butler bore into her head, and stop her withdrawing hands mid-movement. "What did you say?" He sneered in aggravation, as his fist clenched even tighter on the knife in his hand. "Magic, I suppose. The all tried it on me. I'm surprised your partner didn't." His feet echoed across the carpet as his sturdy figure took a step. "And let the facts remind you...they obviously all failed. I have knowledge of the Ancient Language myself..."
Kyra gave a wry grin as her only response, and withdrew her daggers from behind her back. The man's face showed surprise at her sudden movement, but it was all too late. When his feet began to step to the right to avoid her throw, the pair of knives had found their mark. By compressing the air around her, she had lessened the time it took the daggers to fly across the room. It was a simple trick really, but known by only a few. With a quick glance back towards the bungled heap in the chair, the elf walked over, a concerned look on her face, and picked Taraak up with surprising strength. Never once did her focus waver from the butler, however. She could feel his life force slowly waning, but did not know if the man had any tricks up his sleeve.
He didn't, and Kyra found herself carrying Taraak out the door, semi-dragging him in order to conserve a bit of energy. His dazed look was more than enough to make her stop, however, in the middle of the alleyway. With the look of experience in her eyes, she ripped a long strip of cloth from her tunic, creating a rather unsightly gash. "Adurna." Immediately, the cloth became wet, and she placed it on his forehead, with her other hand on only one of his many injuries. "Waise heill." The developing purple bruises on his face and stomach diminished into a heathy skin color. Then, without any more sympathy to spare, she smacked him in the head. "You really are an idiot, you know that? I thought you would at least scout the man out before attacking..."
[/blockquote][/color]
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Duty
Apr 13, 2009 16:08:57 GMT -5
Post by Angmor on Apr 13, 2009 16:08:57 GMT -5
Taraak watched the exchange of verbage between the two combatants, trying to collect his somewhat scattered thoughts. He was adequately able to fight if he needed to, but with Kyra taking over, he deemed it best to stay on the floor. From his unique perspective, it appeared that they were having a perfectly civil debate about something trivial, an impression only broken by the subject that was being discussed. The conversation seemed to end as Kyra withdrew a pair of knives from somewhere, which she sent flying past Taraak faster than he would have thought possible, even for an elf. They buried themselves in the man’s chest with a sickening thwack, sending the unfortunate man writhing to the floor.
Taraak was about to lever himself to his feet when he found himself being half carried, half dragged toward the door on the other side of the room. “What are you doing?” he said, slurring a little from the blow he had taken. “I’m perfectly fine. It’ll just hurt to breath for a few days, nothing I haven’t had before…” This brooked no response, for she seemed to be intensely focused on something besides him, and not taking in anything else. “What’s the matter with you? I’m fine.” Still no response, so he sighed and gave up. He blinked in the light as Kyra flung open the door, and they entered a narrow alley at the rear of the large house.
Here his partner set him down and the pavement, and he was surprised how gentle she was being. He thought about speaking up, but the distracted look was still in her eyes, so he kept silent. She knelt over him and placed a wet strip of cloth on his forehead, and then spoke a pair of words that he had heard before, but did not know the meaning of. He gasped in surprise as the pain in his chest and head diminished, and then subsided altogether. It was because of this that he was even more surprised when she seemed to become aware of her surroundings again, and then slapped him.
It was so unexpected he gave a slight yelp. For all he knew, it might have been a gentle rap by elven standards, but it felt to him like a fully weighted punch. "You really are an idiot, you know that?” She said, sounding exasperated. “ I thought you would at least scout the man out before attacking..."
Taraak felt his irritation rise again, and anger at being unfairly chastened. “Well how was I to know?” He blurted, standing up angrily. He brushed himself off, trying to preserve whatever small amount of dignity he had left. “I just got the subtle impression from all your “No-Times” and “Hurry-ups”, that time was of the essence.” He still felt the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, but he continued. “If you knew what he was doing beforehand, than why didn’t you tell me, oh omnipotent mind-reader?”
Just then, his ears were filled with a too-familiar sound, and an arrow bounced off a wallstone just behind his head. In a movement more habituary than walking, he spun around and drew his bow, fitting a shaft to the string at the same time. On a spurt of adrenalin, he saw an imperial archer at the head of the alley, fitting another arrow to his string in what seemed to Taraak as slow motion. He sighted along his own shaft, taking exactly one heartbeat to aim before releasing the string. The black-flighted elven shaft sang toward it’s target, perfectly true as it’s barbed head easily punched through the man’s weak chest armor and into his heart. He gave a small cry, then staggered to the pavement in a heap of red-cloaked armor.
Taraak lowered his bow slowly, hands shaking slightly as the adrenaline wore off. “Perhaps,” He said shakily. “We should discuss this somewhere else…” There came a shout, and the sound of booted feet clattering across the stones toward the alley. Taraak turned, but the sound came from that way also. He and Kyra glanced at each other, then took off down a gap between buildings on the other side of the alley, away from the house of the now-deceased official, who had been so helpful and yet a deadly enemy. How did this go wrong so quickly? [/Color] Taraak wondered to himself. In all of his experience, he found that this war almost never made complete sense. [/blockquote][/size]
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