Frægr
Novice
Call me Sabs. ;]
Posts: 42
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Duty
Apr 13, 2009 16:10:02 GMT -5
Post by Frægr on Apr 13, 2009 16:10:02 GMT -5
Kyra's mouth was placed in a thin line, the expression created by her increasing aggravation at the situation at hand. She listened in silent consternation to his angry ramble, her face stone-cold without emotion. Inwardly, the elf knew that he was only trying to save his pride. A few seconds of observance even would not have hurt. He would have obviously seen the man's strength as he stepped out of the shadows. That would have been enough...It's common sense to all people in battle, to scout out their enemies before attacking. It was the first time she had seen her partner explode, and from the elf's impression of Taraak, this was a rare occurrence. A deep sigh emitted from her throat, entirely unexpected on Kyra's part as he finished, but the elf gave no other reaction. She was too tired to deal with this, and now was especially not the time to arouse anger --- not when danger was so close at hand.
It was then that the arrow proved her point. She made no attempt to move, however, as the arrow appeared out of range for the elf, herself. Her quick eyes followed the arrow that sped past her partner, until it fell apart rather suddenly upon impact with the alley-wall. Almost immediately, another arrow, this time, she noted, from the bow of Taraak, already on his feet and facing the archers. Seconds later, the opponent was dead, his body crumbled on the crowd in a read heap. "Perhaps we should discuss this somewhere else..." Kyra quickly nodded her head, and stood upon her own two feet. The sound of running feet filled Kyra's ears, and she looked towards Taraak, her face emotionless and focused. They thought the same thing, and sprinted down a nearby alley.
She quickly found that the alley was rather narrow, and proved to be both a blessing and a curse. To her dismay, she saw that she and Taraak could only travel one behind the other, with the elf in the back so that she would not easily over take her partner. But luckily, not as many soldiers would be able to chase after the pair, as a single file sprint would be required with them also. Kyra cringed as an arrow flew remarkably close to her face. A flood of arrows followed it, and as she gave a quick glance behind her, found that the soldiers were gaining quickly. Taraak seemed to be visibly tiring, as from past experiences Kyra knew that the man would not last that long.
As they were showered with arrows, the elven woman managed to wind her way to Taraak. Words immediately came to mind, filled with power and promise. She touched her partner's shoulder, as the spell was intended for him, and not herself, not yet at least. She had no idea how much longer they would be running. "Edoc'sil hlaupa" [Unconquerable Run] Magic flowed from her fingers into the man as she whispered the two words. If she compressed the air now, it would be easier for both the soldiers and Taraak to run, would would equal out to no advantages at all. Gradually, Kyra watched as his breathing became less heavy, and his footsteps lighter. His steps syncronized with the elf as surprise flooded his face, and he looked towards her with a questioning glance. Without answering his nonverbal query, she turned her head back towards the incoming soldiers.
For good measure, they would need a distraction. Many more soldiers were sure to come, and Kyra wasn't sure if they would meet at any intersections of the alleys. Halting the current group chasing them would help enormously if that were to occur. It only took a whisper. "Böetq istalri." Immediately, fire erupted, from what appeared to be the thin air. But it wasn't, and even the soldiers had enough common sense to know that. Shouts and protests filled her ears as she saw her partner stop in surprise. Kyra ignored him, twisted her head back foward, and began to run faster. This time, she knew that he would be able to keep up with her, and didn't hold back.
That is, until they found themselves upon a brick wall, and no where else to go.
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Duty
Apr 13, 2009 16:10:48 GMT -5
Post by Angmor on Apr 13, 2009 16:10:48 GMT -5
Taraak ran down the space between buildings as fast as he could, leaping over small crates and other flotsam that seemed to litter the alleys of all large cities. Under ideal circumstances, he knew from experience that he could run full tilt for nearly a quarter mile before needing to stop, at least when he was properly motivated. Even so, after following Kyra through the house at a less-than-regulated pace, he felt himself tiring far sooner than that mark. Moreover, he also knew that imperial soldiers where trained to run the same distance, and under full armor. Compounding all this, they were in one of the few areas of the city he had not seen, and therefore he did not know what lay ahead.
He mentally berated himself for his own stupidity as a few arrows hissed past, one of which took some fabric off his cloak as it passed. In such close quarters, Taraak’s own bow was too large for him to loose any shafts of his own, even though it was still in his hand. He was flagging more now, to the point where the sound of Kyra’s footfalls behind him rang loud in his ears, even louder than his throbbing pulse. He knew by now that elves could run faster and longer than he could, so he was not taken by surprise. The passage widened now, now so that two could move side by side if need be, but his did very little to help the situation. Taraak felt his leg muscles burning, but he continued as quickly as he could. I’m not going to be able to keep this up. [/Color] As he was wondering exactly what to do in the event of collapsing, he felt a light touch on his shoulder. He nearly started in surprise, even more so when his fatigue seemed to lose it’s affect. He could feel it was still there, but it seemed lifted from his limbs. Slowly his breathing became less labored, and it gradually dawned on him that he was now running faster than he had ever run before. He looked to Kyra questioningly, who was now running beside him at the exact same pace. She seemed to ignore him and turned toward the soldiers, a look of calculation on her features. She raised her hand and whispered two words, one of which Taraak recognized as the word for “flame”. He stopped and looked back, and saw a wall of fire sprout from the ground to cut of the soldiers. Seemingly satisfied, his partner turned and rushed on. Taraak figured the flames would not stop them for long, but it was definitely a help. He followed just behind, finding with reluctant enjoyment that he could now keep up with her quite easily. Maybe this is salvageable after all…[/Color] They continued on through several turns, the sounds of the pursuers slowly fading, although not completely. The alley did widen at several points, and soon they had room enough to move unconstrained. Taraak’s hopes were just beginning to rise when Kyra stopped suddenly, skidding slightly on the dusty paving-stones. Taraak did likewise, letting out a strong dwarven expletive when he saw the reason for the halt. The alley ended at the foot of a blank wall, actually the side of a tall building the merged with two of the ones around it. It was around eight stories high, and utterly without handhold or depression. They had passed no other breaks large enough for a person to squeeze through, so there was no way out of the alley besides the way they had come. The two companions looked at each other, as if to say What now? then turned to face the way they had come. There was nothing for it, they would need to fight. The sounds of the soldiers grew slowly louder as the source grew nearer, and Taraak nocked another arrow to the string. He glanced at his companion, who was drawing he sword. “Look…” He said, trailing off lamely. “I’m not good at this. I’m just trying to say…” That was as far as he got, for suddenly two soldiers, who had wisely crept around the corner quietly, rushed at them with drawn short-swords. Instantly Taraak slipped into fighting mentality, all actions and reactions and instincts, with emotion experienced as if far away. In a deadly calm manner, he drew back his bowstring and fired, needing only a bare second to aim due to the close proximity of the target. The first man fell screaming as the bolt lodged in his gut, his companion rushing at Kyra. He decided to let the elf handle that one herself, for more soldiers rounded the bend. Taraak loosed several more shafts before there were too many and too close to shoot, and then tossed the bow aside in favor of his knife. It was little defense against the longer blades of the imperial warriors, but it was an infinitely better close-quarter weapon than bare fists. The first man to him was inexperienced, and Taraak was easily able to avoid the reckless two-handed sweep. He brought his blade in an upward stab, and the beaten metal of the young man’s chest armor was no match for the dwarven steel of his knife. He shoved the body forward, tripping up another man before having to leap over a slash at his feet. It was not a completely controlled leap, and he only just managed to land before needing to dodge a stab at his chest. He bent sideways like a reed in the wind, watching the soldier’s wide blade pass through the space where his chest had been. Taking the opportunity almost before he registered it as such, his free hand latched onto the hilt of the sword and he spun toward the man, bloodstained knife humming toward the back of his neck, just below the protection of his helmet. He was fully under the effects of adrenaline now, and everything seemed to be moving very slowly. It was then he saw three different blades traversing the air toward him, all at different heights and angles, in such a way that he could not dodge them all. He came to the absent realization that at least one of them would hit him, and he would die. Hmm...[/blockquote] [/size]
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Frægr
Novice
Call me Sabs. ;]
Posts: 42
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Duty
Apr 13, 2009 16:12:17 GMT -5
Post by Frægr on Apr 13, 2009 16:12:17 GMT -5
They came quickly. The soldiers --- in all their cold-blooded metal and trampled pride at being stopped (even temporarily) in the heat of battle --- were already on their feet, sprinting towards the pair. Kyra sensed their presence closing in, and looked towards Taraak in surprise. She cursed herself inwardly for their quick appearance. They weren't supposed to come so quickly. I suppose that another regiment joined them at a connected alleyway that I didn't set on fire. How stupid of me. It was easy to see that both wore expressions of aggravation, as they had no where to run and no where to hide. They were completely alone in this battle, and the only option was to fight their way through the crowds, and hope to survive.
Desperately, the elf's eyes wandered about the buildings in a last attempt to find some possible way of escape. She had no desire for unnecessary blood on her hands on this mission --- even if that was the only option, --- and it would draw even more attention to the pair. If any soldier got a good enough look at their appearances, escaped the fray, and reported them to the authorities, the mission's success would be in jeopardy. The elf had never failed a mission in her life, and she wasn't about to start now. "Look...I'm not good at this. I'm just trying to say..." The man's words broke her mental complaints, and the elf snapped her attention back to Taraak. Her mouth drew out into a thin line as she silently listened to him speak, and assumed that he was about to relate his death wish to her, or a few words choice words about the possible failure of their mission. Sorry didn't cross her mind at all, as it was a word that rarely came out of the lips of her acquaintances, let alone Kyra herself.
She shook her head, but did not answer. It was too late, as she observed soldiers pouring into their dead-end from the corner of her eye. Both she and Taraak spun around immediately, with her partner's words cut off right in the middle, and withdrew their weapons. For Taraak, his bow and arrows, and for Kyra, her daggers. She had gladly observed that the soldiers had completely abandoned their own bows during their trek from the fire. Now she could use the spell. "Thrysta vindr." The air compressed, and both her and Taraak weapons started to whistle through the air at an almost unnatural speed. All hit their targets dead center, but from behind the fallen an intimidating number of soldiers were flooding into the alleyway.
But soon enough, the men came too close for their distance weapons, and Kyra had to undo her spell, or the soldiers would take advantage of it. "Né thrysta vindr." The words had barely escaped from the elf's mouth when a soldier was upon her, swinging his blade with a brute force. Effortlessly, Kyra withdrew her own sword, Slytha, and brought it effortlessly to the man's throat. Seconds later, he was on the ground, forever in the eternal sleep he had brought upon himself by following the pair. She allowed herself a quick glance to Taraak, and found him busy with a few soldiers of his own. An eye would have to be kept on him, as she didn't know how well her partner would bode with the overwhelming numbers. Infantry after infantryman was cut down by the elf, as she gracefully swayed back and forth between the crowds. On any other day, the elf's movements could be interpreted as a dance, save for the bloodied sword and falling men around her. They need to train their soldiers better. Any elf would prove to be no match for these fools.
The soldiers were coming in smaller numbers now, and Kyra found herself with enough time to look at her partner once again. The glance brought shock to her face. Three swords were traveling at a fatal speed towards her partner's chest, and she knew the man could not avoid them. Fanatically, the elf yelled a spell in his direction, speaking the words that immediately came to mind. "Letta orya sverdar!" Immediately, the clash of metal stopped, and Kyra was suddenly staring frozen swords in the face. All around her, the Imperials' weapons had frozen in midair, one about to make it's way towards the elf herself in her distraction to help Taraak. Quickly, before the soldiers caught onto her spell --- as they seemed to be staring at their immobile swords in complete disbelief --- she made her way over to Taraak, and placed a hand on his soldier. The spell would not apply to him this time, and was only meant for their enemies. This was an old technique Kyra had learned from the elves, and for the first time, she was using it to protect another from her magic. "Letta!" The men did the same as their swords, and froze. Their figures looked almost like statues, except for the steady rise and fall of their chests in order to breath. Each wore an almost wild expression of fear and shock, it could have been laughable in any other situation. Now, the look was rather frightening, as the poor men had no way to defend themselves, let alone move their neck an inch.
Her attention came back to her partner, who was staring at the swords placed conveniently in front of his gut. A spurt of impulse made Kyra pull him out of his trance-like state. "Are you going to get up? We have to decide whether we're going to kill these men." She knew they could hear her, and the only spell the elf had placed on them was immobility. "We'll have to decide quickly, as I suspect more reinforcements are on their way.
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Duty
Apr 13, 2009 16:14:37 GMT -5
Post by Angmor on Apr 13, 2009 16:14:37 GMT -5
Taraak stood waiting, watching as the blades traveled toward him with inexorable sureness. Many thoughts passed through his mind at the same time, seeming distant and ethereal. He always had known that his death would probably be sooner than most, his profession being what it was, and he was not unprepared for it. Now he mainly wondered what it would feel like, leaving his body and going… somewhere. We wondered where exactly, and what would be in that place. He hoped, wherever it was, he would be reunited with the souls of his family, the memory of whom had never died in his heart. Taking hold of this thought, he closed his eyes and waited for the end to come.
He waited for what seemed a very long time.
Opening his eyes, he was greeted by the image of the same swords he had seen before, seemingly suspended motionless in the air just before they would have impacted his torso. He stared at them with a slow expression of surprise, and he saw that the soldiers holding the weapons had the same face. Then their expressions went from surprise to horror, and then stopped moving altogether, and there was an thoroughly odd silence.
Before Taraak could even begin to wonder at this, He was startled out of his reverie by a voice. "Are you going to get up? We have to decide whether we're going to kill these men." With a start, he turned towards her, becoming aware that not only were the soldiers in front of him frozen, but all of them. "We'll have to decide quickly, as I suspect more reinforcements are on their way.”
When he saw the urgency of the situation, Taraak did his best to bring his mind to the circumstances at hand. With the shaky after-effects of the adrenalin setting in, it was difficult to steer his thoughts away from contemplating his mortality and toward a tactical decision. But he did it though, it was part of the job, doing hard things that no one else could. He knew the decision he made here could mean the difference between success and failure, and it needed to be made swiftly. The first and most logical choice was of course to kill them, keeping their identities secure and perhaps saving some work for some varden soldiers later. And yet, when Taraak looked into the terrified faces of the beings before him, he could no longer see them as imperial soldiers, and combatants in and environment. Now, helpless and afraid, he saw them as men. Men that may or may not have been evil in their own hearts, who’s only error was serving the wrong side.
He knew now, looking into their eyes, that he could not live with their blood on his hands. He knew of no way to justify it, even if it guaranteed the success of the mission. Had they been able to fight back, to defend themselves in some way, he knew would not hesitate. He wondered what the difference was, but he still could not bring himself to do it. “No…” He said quietly, coming to the end of his swift deliberations. “I can’t do it Kyra. I can’t be responsible for their deaths, I would never be able to forgive myself. There must be other options. We can… Put them to sleep, or collapse the alley entrance. We just have to delay them for today.” He turned towards her, looking squarely into her eyes. “If you think you can be responsible for the deaths of these men, and still believe our cause is greater than theirs, then do it. But I will take no responsibility.”
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Frægr
Novice
Call me Sabs. ;]
Posts: 42
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Duty
Apr 13, 2009 16:15:50 GMT -5
Post by Frægr on Apr 13, 2009 16:15:50 GMT -5
ooc: honestly, I HATE angst posts, but I thought this was an appropriate time for one. If you don't like my post Angmor, feel free to tell me to redo it, as I would gladly do so. Personally, I think this is the worst post I have written for "Duty" yet.
"No. I can't do it Kyra. I can't be responsible for their deaths. I would never be able to forgive myself. There must be other options. We can...Put them to sleep, or collapse the alley entrance. We just have to delay them for today.
If you think you can be responsible for the deaths of these men, and still believe our cause is greater than theirs, then do it. But I will take no responsibility."
Moments passed in awkward silence, as Kyra allowed his virtuous words to soak into her mind, and process his intentions. Her gaze sharpened on the helpless men frozen in place behind Taraak, their faces gleaming with fear and beads of sweat. A spark of pity wormed its way into the assassin's heart, as she felt herself being drawn into their position, their side of the story. She cursed under her breath, remembering what years of training had attempted to drill into her head. "I'm surprised Angmor. I thought you had more fire than that." Kyra's voice was strained and tense, as she struggled in an internal battle of her own.
I must have no mercy. They are the enemy. She fought to recount the countless lessons she had undergone: quick, competitive sessions of emotionless lecture. How to kill with a throwing knife, where to aim it, how to disguise yourself in a tight situation. Her many teachers had drilled it into Kyra, forcing the virtuous elven ideals of equality and peace out of her head. It had taken years for her to renew her smile, let alone fake one for another. It was strange that a first glance at her true enemy would shake up the elf so deeply. The idea was almost maddeningly hilarious. Slowly, without paying any attention to her time limits, Kyra strolled in between the ranks of soldiers. WIth sorrowful eyes, she reviewed their expressions, while still fighting to keep an emotionless face. A thin, terse lined formed at her mouth as the assassin's eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
This was no different from any other job. Kyra usually did what she was assigned, using the tuition of the Varden to her advantage, and killed her enemies off quickly. At least, that's what she did now: assassinations. It had been years since the elf had been on a spy mission, but her daggers were far too valuable to the Varden to be wasted. Looking back in time, she struggled to regain the view on human life that she had once had. During it, the elf remembered the opinion that differed so much from the norm, the one she had sworn to follow: Daemion. The last of her teachers, and the one she had respected the most. The Sergeant had disregarded all her past teachings, and had thrust Kyra into a world of ideals she had never known existed. There is a difference between mindless murder and justice. It is a thin line. You have a gift with magic and weapons, they are a dangerous combination. Use the judgement I know you have, Kyra.
His words echoed in her mind, renewing the ideals that had been long left for dead. Her feet still wandered through the ranks, the rhythmic tap of her boots on brick echoing across the alley. She knew what to do, and let one side of her face slide into a smile. A sigh escaped her lips, as Kyra felt the surprised eyes of Taraak upon her. She had almost forgotten him in her lone ramble. "You've just helped me to regain something I thought I'd lost, Taraak. I thank you for that." Her smile was now directed act him, slightly sheepish-looking, but her good nature had returned. But the voice that emitted from her throat had a different aura. The spell she spoke commanded.
"Né letta orya sverdar. Né Blöthr."* The soldiers started to move their stiff limbs, and Kyra could obviously see their still-present fear; they were going to make a run for it. But she stopped them before the men had any chance. "Gánga aptr Manin. Fairth. Slytha."** The soldiers collapsed on the ground, motionless and stiff once more. But before her partner could comment on how she had "murdered" the innocent men, the assassin twisted around to face him. "It's better that they don't remember anything that's happened to them today. I planted false images in their mind, and put the lot to sleep. Let's go." Her voice was crisp with the slightest annoyance. It had been the first time she had shown mercy to any of her enemies --- except for when she had first started --- and this, she suspected, was not going to be the last. There is a difference. I won't stray away again. Daemion was right. Kyra thought, as she twisted on her heels and walked towards an exit from the alleyway.
key: * - Undoing the "stop the swords" and "stop" spells said earlier. ** - Backwards memory. Magical picture. Sleep.
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Duty
Apr 13, 2009 16:18:09 GMT -5
Post by Angmor on Apr 13, 2009 16:18:09 GMT -5
Taraak watched as Kyra wandered among the frozen soldiers, eyes clouded with memories. She seemed to be trying to recall something she had forgotten, or had buried. Having known the exact same feeling before, Taraak dutifully held the silence, letting her ponder his words. He knew that there might be reinforcements on the way, but he figured that this was something she needed to do, to take one good hard look at the blurred line between enemies and beings. During that time, he set about the gruesome task of collecting as many of his arrows as he could. A few of them were lodged irretrievably in the bodies of the men he had killed, but he found most of them intact. This done, he set about setting the bodies at ease. He was sorry for the deaths he had caused, but only at the same level of all the other soldiers he had killed in his lifetime. Unlike the men held static in Kyra’s spell, these were combatants, people who would have killed him if he had not done so first. The difference was small and distorted, and been puzzled over by men of authority since the very first conflict. Taraak did not claim to know the answer, and knew he could rely only on his own conscience. He had made his choice, and now it was time for Kyra to make hers. When his task was finished, Taraak turned to face her again, and was surprised to find a slow smile spreading across her face. "You've just helped me to regain something I thought I'd lost, Taraak.” She said, an odd tone in her voice. “I thank you for that.” With this, she turned and spoke a string of words, only a few of which Taraak recognized. The soldiers seemed to be released from their invisible bonds and began to move again, glancing fearfully at each other. Then, at another few words of command from Kyra, they collapsed to the ground.Taraak was about to interject, but she cut him off. "It's better that they don't remember anything that's happened to them today. I planted false images in their mind, and put the lot to sleep. Let's go." With this, she turned and began striding toward the alley exit. With one last glance toward the prone forms of the soldiers, Taraak followed. They made there way out of the alley as fast as possible, and exited onto the main street. It was close, for as soon as they entered a particularly dense crowd, another column of soldiers rounded onto the street. The crowd protected the two from sight, and the guards thinned out and began systematically searching the alleys behind the house of Simern. After that, the pair of spies began making their way toward the safehouse, using less traveled avenues and avoiding as many people as was possible in a large populace. They traveled in silence, not only in caution but also in contemplation. Taraak noted that the sun had not traveled much lower in the sky since he had last looked, and it had only been about an hour since leaving the inn. One hour. That was all? [/Color] He always wondered at the speed that events could move, and how quickly the mind could cope with them. With this thought, he was forced to look over all the happenings of the past hour, in every detail. There was no escaping it, he had been wrong. No amount of pride could stave off that fact; he had been wrong and had nearly paid the price for it. He almost didn’t notice when they reached the warehouse. As they entered, the silence between them became heavier. The mission needed to continue, and yet they both knew it couldn’t, not without some sort of recognition of what had just happened. Taraak could sense that she too was trying to think of something to say. He decided to speak first, and to do it quickly before he could think too much about it. “Before you say anything, let me talk.” He said hesitantly. “I was a fool back there, and I am perfectly willing to recognize it now.” He paused, mustering some more courage. “ I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not listening to you, for everything I said to you, for trying to keep you out of my mind, for being an arrogant fool, for being too trusting with Simern, and for nearly getting us killed. Can you forgive me?” There. He had said it. He had cast himself into unknown water, and he had no idea what was coming next. [/blockquote] [/size]
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Frægr
Novice
Call me Sabs. ;]
Posts: 42
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Duty
Apr 13, 2009 16:19:57 GMT -5
Post by Frægr on Apr 13, 2009 16:19:57 GMT -5
As she strutted though the alleyways, with quick, abrupt strides and her fists clenched into tight balls, Kyra struggled to keep a straight face. As her delicate feet echoed throughout the empty brick walls, she allowed her mind to wander. The awkward silence that tightened the air between the two partners was too thick for the elf to interrupt, so instead, she decided to twist into a crowded avenue just as a column of soldiers turned the corner. Immediately, she went to a less crowded area in the marketplace to observe the guards, but found that they were only systematically searching the alleyways, and didn't even bother with the crowds at this point. But she had a feeling that it wouldn't be too long before they tried.
Gradually, but with quick, stiff strides, she turned back to give a glance to Taraak, who nodded in return and quickened his pace to match hers. The spell she had spoken earlier still hadn't worn off, and he easily synchronized his steps with her own. Together, they made their way towards the safehouse in shadows, and Kyra found herself with a grim line on her face. WIth dark blue eyes seriously focused on everything around her. She was in no mood to talk, nor hear excuses from her partner. In all honesty, the elf was angry, angry with herself, angry with Taraak, just...Angry. The mission they had thus far worked so hard to achieve could have possibly gone down the drain when they had been at Simern's estate. Now Simern was dead, the butler was dead, a bunch of soldiers would awaken in about 10 minutes with absolutely no memory of the past day, and even more were after the pair. Nothing could have gone worse.
Yet, they had gotten this far, and if Kyra knew Taraak well enough, he had at least gotten a bit of information from the man before his sudden death. If anything, neither of them would have been able to get this far without working together, and they knew it. But then, the door to the safehouse was in front of them, and the pair entered in silence. With the grim line still placed seriously on her face, the elf attempted to break the mounting silence, but found herself speechless. She didn't dare to look him in the eye, but starting to feel the anger simmering down slowly. Nothing had happened to them and a dangerous enemy had been eliminated. At least there was something to be thankful for.
It was then that Taraak began to speak. His was was quiet, a bit unsure, and if anything, it was soaked in remorse. Kyra listened silently as she took in his words, and did not bother to interrupt. Instead, she sat herself down on a nearby wood pile, feeling the weight of the past occurrences on her shoulders. As he paused, she felt the stiff lines on her face smooth out, and her mouth relaxed into something that could have been interpreted as a small smile. Her anger quickly dissipated into thin air, and the elf nodded in response. Because of her manner of carrying herself, she had been underestimated many times before, and he was only human after all. "Listen, I'm not angry." Kyra tried to lighten the air a bit, and widened her smile. "If anything, that was the most exciting thing I've done in a while. And we haven't even actually started the mission."
As the air between them began to loosen slightly, Kyra stood up, and met Taraak's eyes. The smile slid to the side of her face, and she smirked. "We're not dead yet, and there's still papers to burn." Briskly, Kyra swung her cloak off her body, careful to keep the daggers in perfect position, and took out her pack that was buried somewhere in the heap of cloth. From it, she withdrew everything necessary for another planning session: a map, and a canteen of her special herbal mix --- known to stave hunger and thirst at the same time. Even though only a short amount had passed, Kyra knew how some humans could constantly eat, though Taraak was obviously a whole different story.
She took in a deep breath, and was pleased to notice that the air between them had lightened noticeably. Now it was possible to have silence, but not silence that had been suffocating the two earlier. Kyra breathed again, and began. "We still have so much to do, and a little more than a day until the really dangerous part begins. I'm curious, what did Simern say to you in his office? We have no idea if he told the truth, but I'm relatively sure he risked it, and did tell, as he probably never expected us to get out of there alive. More quick choices have to be made during the precious sunlight. We either infiltrate the citadel, or follow what Simern said. Do you have any ideas?" Kyra decided to give her partner another chance at redemption, as he seemed to be slightly shamefaced as he listened to her speak. It wasn't like Taraak, and the sudden change is his personality slightly scared the elf. "Taraak. Don't do that. I'm not mad, really. Everyone makes mistakes, so let's just forgive and forget." She raised an eyebrow. "Besides, I've been in too many situations where I almost died. It's nothing new."
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Duty
Apr 13, 2009 16:24:15 GMT -5
Post by Angmor on Apr 13, 2009 16:24:15 GMT -5
Taraak breathed an inaudible saw of relief. All of the anger he had seen in her eyes seemed to evaporate, as well as whatever admonishments she might have been preparing. She was ready to forget and start over, and that was far more then he had been hoping for. In training there had been only two options, absolute perfection or failure. At that, a memory rushed to the forefront of his mind, too fast for him to stop it. He was on the Spearshadow training grounds, standing before the vengeful face of his training officer. Torska stood nearby ready to step in and help, but Taraak knew it wouldn’t be of much assistance if Baric was set on killing him. They were both twelve years old, so even both of them together could do little to stop the fully grown man. He looked straight into the emotionless black eyes of the man, unflinching even when he was scared stiff. “I’m sorry sir.” He said, trying to keep his voice level. “I will do better next time.” He saw a flicker in the man’s eyes, and he instinctively tensed. Thwack. The blow caught him straight across the face, sending him sprawling in the dirt of the parade-ground. Baric stared down at him, face twisted in a snarl. “Next time! Next time? When you make mistakes like that, there won’t be any next time!” Taraak managed to roll out of the way of the foot that nearly hit him where he lay, but he was unable to avoid the fist that planted itself in his stomach as he tried to get up. Doubled over in pain and fell back to his knees, feeling his organs bruising. “You either do this perfectly or you die!” Roared Baric, continuing his tirade. “This is not some game, where you can start over when you do it wrong. This is for real, and the price of a mistake is death.” He raised his fist again, and Taraak steeled himself for the strike.
He snapped out of his memory as Kyra spoke, apparently seeing the look in his eyes. "Taraak. Don't do that. I'm not mad, really. Everyone makes mistakes, so let's just forgive and forget. Besides, I've been in too many situations where I almost died. It's nothing new." She hadn’t sensed what was going through his mind then. That was fine. “Very well.” He said, his voice open. “Let’s but this behind us, and move on.” He would try, he really would, but he knew he could never forget. For most of his life, a mistake meant punishment, without fail. Sometimes he still needed to remind himself that he was free of the empire, and that the varden accepted mistakes as a natural part of an operation. Most of Taraak’s superiors were good about not second guessing an op, and not perfect was completely acceptable. Even now that Kyra was willing to forget the whole thing made Taraak respect her even more. She had proven her quality to him, both of her capability, and her heart. His attitude toward her would be forever changed, and he would no longer look to her as a rival, but as an equal, perhaps even a better. He did not go as far as to say friend, not just yet.
“Anyway, ideas…” He continued, refocusing on the mission again. “Perhaps you should hear what he said first.” He then related most of what had happened in the study before she had contacted his mind, describing the conversation word-for-word by memory. “I’m reasonably certain that he was telling the truth. Having known him once, I think he would figure that there was no reason to try and come up with a credible lie if I was just going to be dead anyway. He always did take the path of least resistance.” He said in conclusion. He was glad to see that the tension between them had almost evaporated, although not completely. Taraak found now that fatigue was starting to creep up on him again, making his eyelids heavier. He ignored it as he had always done, but it still hovered over him like a cloud. He was glad that the woodpile he was sitting on was so uncomfortable, or he would probably need to stifle a yawn. “So, we need to find this Bralag.” He continued. “Have you ever heard of him?” [/blockquote]
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Frægr
Novice
Call me Sabs. ;]
Posts: 42
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Duty
Apr 13, 2009 16:26:46 GMT -5
Post by Frægr on Apr 13, 2009 16:26:46 GMT -5
"Very well. Let's put this behind us, and move on."
Slightly confused, Kyra attempted to read the expression on Taraak's face that she could not place, exactly. It was a strange mixture of respect and satisfaction that almost seemed foreign to the man himself, let alone his partner that had only just met him one day ago. The elven woman found herself wondering what he had been thinking that him achieve such an expression, but she knew not to delve into another's life.
But in all respects, she found Taraak to be satisfactory. In the past, none had apologized, or even made a sheepish expression when Kyra had proven their assumptions wrong. When she had been underestimated time and time again, few had called her out on it, or even give a simple praise for her actions. Their pride had been an obstacle every time, and all had failed to scale it. Taraak was different, however, and had actually taken the plunge. His action almost deserved respect, and the elf was willing to give it, but both of them knew that he would be willing to listen to her more, and accept her suggestions. The even had, if anything, one more positive effect: their teamwork was gradually improving, to the extent where their characters complimented each other both in planning and in battle.
As her partner related the events that occurred in Simern's study, Kyra found herself wondering why a man would turn to the Empire after one year of containment. It was almost beyond her comprehension as she recalled the heavy man would had deceived far too many of her comrades with his over-friendly smile. "...I''m reasonable certain that he was telling the truth. Having known him once, i think he would figure that there was no reason to try and come up with a credible lie if I was just going to be dead anyway. He always did take the path of the least resistance." The name matched up with a face, and Kyra remembered a past acquaintance, long out of touch. Braiag. The old fool. I thought he had died years ago."
Upon the end of his monologue, the elf allowed her thoughts to wander to the possibilities either choice could lead them too. Infiltraiting the citadel would take far too much time, so I suppose we should try Simern. Taraak's right, and I'm also fairly sure the fool told the truth. I could gage his character at his estate enough to know that. Energy newly returned, Kyra sat up straighter on her wood pile, and listened as Taraak spoke once more. "So, we need to find this Braiag. Have you ever heard of him?" She winced, and nodded slightly. The main was a pain in all aspects, and she had hoped never to meet him again.
"The name sounds familiar. I'm almost positive that I encountered him on one of my missions during my younger years. He probably has that same vain, prideful, and impatient personality that I became so familiar with. Sorry to say, but I have absolutely know idea where the man lives. I suppose we can ask around, but that might become too suspicious, and attention is the last thing we need right now. The western part of Teirm is, as we both know, a rather well off section, but too many questions might get us placed in even more trouble." Kyra paused as she pointed to that particular piece of the map, thinking once more of what Taraak had just related to her. The pair would have to be subtle in getting his address, and another trip to a bar might be needed. She would need a drink after all the events they had been through.
"Once we do find a way to the man's estate, whether it be through trickery or honest inquiry, we need to find out where he's going. You had told me that the soldier was leaving tonight, when the inspection does not occur until tomorrow. I imagine that he'll be traveling to an army headquarters that's closer to the ship in order to be debriefed on its history and many dangers. If possible, I suggest that we follow him to that location, and use it for future reference." She grinned, a mischevious look to her eye, but her tone was still serious. "Before we return to Surda to be greeted by trumpets and fanfare, the headquarters might come in handy. It could be two missions condensed into one."
Kyra noticed how Taraak was beginning to blink frequently, from what the elf supposed was exhaustion. They had both learned to live with those sorts of situations under any cost, but she could see how he seemed to be struggling to stay awake. However, she did not address the fact, as he would certainly deny it, just as Kyra would have done the same. "So we might need to hurry." Her eyes wandered to the sun that had fallen slightly since she had last observed it. They were losing daylight. "None of us has idea when Braiag might be leaving his home, and even where that is."
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Duty
Apr 13, 2009 16:27:50 GMT -5
Post by Angmor on Apr 13, 2009 16:27:50 GMT -5
Taraak listened intently to Kyra’s iteration. It struck him absurdly that he had probably heard and spoken more words on this particular assignment than the past several combined. The amount of human contact on this mission had been far more than he usually had even when not on a mission, for he generally kept to himself in either case. But for now, he was actually enjoying having someone else to talk to besides himself, an emotion that he found odd and slightly disquieting. I’ll think about this later. [/Color] He thought to himself, doing what he always tried to do, setting his mind on the mission to the exclusion of all else.“…So we might need to hurry.” Kyra was saying, her eyes darting to the small windows in the front of the building. "None of us has idea when Bralag might be leaving his home, and even where that is." She paused and looked back to him, apparently for ideas. He realized it probably demonstrated how much trust she was willing to give him, considering just how many of his decisions had gone wrong that day. Or it could mean that she simply did not know how to proceed, and was leaving it to him for no other reason. Either way, he was comforted. He instantly set on the problem, running through possibilities and outcomes. After a few seconds, he thought of a solution so simple it brought a slight upturning to his lips. “I can think of one thing we will need to do in any event.” He said, raising his eyes to Kyra, his expression widening to a small smile. “We go to that section of the city.” His mirth died just as soon as it had come, and his face returned to neutral. “We will need to risk a few discreet inquiries, but I doubt the soldiers will know what they are looking for anymore, thanks to your memory-rubbing.” He stood up, ignoring his weariness. “Shall we?” ((( ))) [/Center] They made their way cautiously away from the safehouse and toward the western portion of the city, careful to avoid any patrols they saw coming. It must be nice being able to go somewhere without having to worry about lines of fire and paths of concealment. One day I will. Taraak thought to himself. After the rather thrilling trip, they made it to their destination. The buildings here were in better repair, and they citizens were much more richly garbed than those in the eastern section, to the point that Taraak and Kyra stood out enough to make the pair of them nervous. “I suppose we should start with a gathering place of some kind.” Said Taraak as he scanned the street. “Like an inn, or a square…” He trailed off as his eyes lighted on building, obviously quite crowded by the level of muted conversation floating from the large, open door. “Or a bar.” With a glance toward each other, they made their way into the building. As the noise had suggested, it was quite crowded. Many people sat nursing drinks in a booth, or simply standing about in friendly conversation. It was as good a place as any to begin their inquiries, even if it could be dangerous. “Let’s split up.” Said Taraak, still running his eyes over the room and noting which of the patrons where armed. He gestured with a head movement. “You start on that side of the room, I’ll take this side. If we don’t find anyone who knows where Bralag lives, then we’ll move on.” With this, he turned and made his way toward a group of men, standing near the bar and having a comparatively quiet and reserved conversation. “Excuse me gentlemen.” He said, slipping into a pleasant, yet earnest air. “I am new to this section of the city, and I am looking for the estate of a friend named Bralag. Have any of you fine men heard of him?” The men, four all told, paused and turned toward him. To Taraak’s relief, they did not look hostile, merely a bit curious as to why a rather rough looking man would be asking for someone in this part of the city. But after all, -Taraak almost read their predictable thoughts from their eyes- he might be needing some mercenary work done, although this slightly built man didn’t seem the right kind. “Bralag.” One said after a moment. “The name does echo down the ears. Let me think.” Taraak could already tell that the man knew nothing, but etiquette demanded that he needed to wait patiently until he concluded the conversation. He glanced at Kyra, and saw that she was similarly engaged. He hoped she was having more luck than he was. [/blockquote] [/size]
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Frægr
Novice
Call me Sabs. ;]
Posts: 42
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Duty
Apr 13, 2009 16:30:03 GMT -5
Post by Frægr on Apr 13, 2009 16:30:03 GMT -5
While creeping their way through the city, the elf found her thoughts wandering to distant places. Avoiding guard patrols and hiding in the shadows was second nature, and didn't require much thought-out actions besides the usual glance around her. Kyra fell back, as Taraak seemed to know what he was doing. She knew it was foolish to trust the very man that had very nearly gotten her killed, but Kyra did, and ignored every thought in her head that screamed common sense.
He was the type she hoped she could trust, and if she gained his own, --- based on their recent experiences --- the elf knew that she would keep it for a long time, even to the point of blind faith. It was a trait to respect in an especially optimistic human, but in their profession of pain and deception, the trait was somewhat of a burden. Even between trusted partners, Kyra was careful to only give him the amount of respect he was due, but no more. He was a stray comfort to all her solo missions she had completed in the past years, but one could never know anything for sure. A mind, a heart could change in an instant, and the elf found herself dumbfounded at how little she knew about anyone, or anything. From whatever perspective Kyra attempted to look from, she was only a killing machine, a tool used for the betterment of the Empire.
It was slightly distracting, and the only thing the assassin could attempt to prevent herself from pursuing those thoughts was shake her head, and sharply filling her lungs with air. She nodded absently when Taraak began to speak, and vaguely followed him to the bar. "Let's split up. You start on that side of the room, I'll take this side. If we don't find anyone who knows where Bralag lives, then we'll move on." Immediately, she realized their situation, and cast her eye's over their surroundings. Every customer was richly adorned in garments that made Kyra cringe in disgust. It was unethical, how these men had the confidence to flaunt such wear when, just across the city, families were struggling to afford a single yard of new cloth. Struggling to keep her frown at bay, she decided to start her search at a particularly arrogant looked corner, filled with men who had too much money, and too much pride to not know Bralag.
While she walked over to their position, Kyra made sure to quietly cast the spell that hid her pointed ears, and drew back her cloak to reveal the shining blond hair that radiated onto the bar. Heads turned to look at the elf, but she ignored them, and only directed a particularly sweet smile at her objectives. "Kind sirs! Kyra exclaimed is as musical a voice she could manage. The two men replied with their one sickly smilies, and simply beckoned her over to their table. Ahh...the advantages of being an elven woman. She thought with an internal smirk. Sitting down graciously, the elf began her verbal investigation. "Sirs! I apologize for my most unacceptable appearance, but I'm distraught. My father's ship, The Ivy, has just come into the harbor. Our ship is in the most horrible condition, as we assume was attacked by enemy forces. She gestured to her two newfound companions with a smile, "You two men looked be be friends of my father's esteemed colleague Bralag, so I beseech you for your kindness. Would you happen to know where I could find him? The matter is urgent, and I need to speak with the man as soon as possible."
In as intimate a voice as she could create, Kyra with a much more sober expression, leaned in on their booth, creating the finishing touch to her acting performance. "And I have another matter, my friends, too. You see that man over there?" She pointed to Taraak. "That's Harum. He's my esteemed cousin, and heir of a prominent shipping company. Of all people, I do not want him to find my family in this state." She managed to squeeze a few tears out of her eyes, and gave them the most pathetic look a woman of her youthful age cold manage. The men smiled, and laughed in their horrendous way, while twisting their rings that Kyra could only guess were made out of gold. Excited, she whispered, "You will help me?" The sympathizers gave their nods of assent. "Oh! Thank you!
Her dazzling smile made its appearance once more, as Kyra got up from their booth and made her way to the bar. I have his address, but Taraak seems to be...occupied." She looked in his direction, only to see the man busy with interrogations of his own. But immediately, a voice interrupted her thoughts, and a brawny, but well-dressed man sat beside her with a mysterious smile. "You won't find the man you're looking for at his own, you know." Her face was back on, and the elf raised an eyebrow, with a small smile on her face. "Eavesdropping...I see. What a horrid thing to do. But I suppose I must listen to what you are about to say. My mater is urgent." He grinned, and waved two drinks in their direction, with a look to the bartender. "He won't be at his estate today. I'm somewhat of an..." His voice faltered at the lack of words. "Acquaintance, of his. The man was sent off to the the citadel this morning. He said something about preparations for an inspection of some sort. I'm ignorant of the matter, but those are his very words." His smile was ever mysterious, and the elf could not bring herself to exactly trust his words.
But to keep up her performance, Kyra exclaimed in supposed happiness. "My friend! Both my father and myself owe you the greatest favor!" After a moment, she added, "So does my cousin Harum!" She drew a few coins out of her cloak, and smiled sheepishly. "I'm ashamed that this is all I could manage at the moment, but it's all I can do. What was your name again?" She stored his name mentally for future references, and quickly made her way towards Taraak. "Cousin Harum! Great news!" she excitedly touched his shoulder, unwilling to give up her acting performance just yet. Gently, she pulled him out of the bar, but not without directing a bright smile to her three sources. The still erupted with noise, and their exit made no significant difference. Once outside, she immediately related her newfound information to her partner. "...I suppose we have to inspect both of these sources' information together. Are you ready?"
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Duty
Apr 13, 2009 16:32:50 GMT -5
Post by Angmor on Apr 13, 2009 16:32:50 GMT -5
Taraak did his best to wait patiently as the man told him slowly –and with a great many words- that he had no idea where Bralag lived, and that he should probably leave the bar. Taraak wondered exactly how long the man could go without taking a breath, especially after taking a blow to the stomach. The thought made him smile inwardly, although his face stayed attentively blank. Instead he focused his attention on Kyra over the man’s shoulder, following her antics with his eyes. She was certainly a great actor, and was playing the part so well she had her audience captivated. In fact, Taraak thought it was going too well. She was calling attention to them, and in their current status, Taraak knew it wasn’t a good idea. Careful Kyra, don’t overdo it… “…I am severely sorry my friend, but I am afraid we cannot help you here.” The man was saying, with his companions nodding as if their agreement was important. Taraak turned his attention back to him, opening his mouth to offer thanks, when he heard Kyra’s now-familiar voice from across the room. "Cousin Harum! Great news!" Taraak assumed that he was being addressed from the tone, and offered a brief “Thank you.” To the men he had been speaking to before Kyra tapped his shoulder and led him outside.
They made their way to a small alley beside the building, and Kyra related what she had discovered. Taraak started at the name of her second source of intel, although he said nothing. He knew the man as a small-time information broker, one from whom he had purchased several small pieces of intelligence on a few occasions. His word had always been good, but probably because he knew that Taraak would probably find him later and stick a blade in someplace vital if it wasn’t. Taraak wondered how he could have gotten his hands on something the high level, but it was unimportant. "...I suppose we have to inspect both of these sources' information together. Are you ready?" Said Kyra, concluding her iteration.
He considered for a moment, then decided on something else. “No… There isn’t enough to time now to scope out the house and sneak into the citadel. I propose that we split up. I’ll see if the fortress angle is a wild goose chase, and you do the same with that address. We’ll meet at the safehouse, and if neither of us finds anything, we’ll start over.”
((( ))) [/Center] Taraak stepped cautiously down a small corridor, listening for sounds of the next patrol. His infiltration had gone smoothly, and it appeared that he would avoid injury for the time being. His eidetic memory of the floor-plans served him very well, and he bypassed most of the patrols with very little effort. The problem however, was that he did not know where to start. The citadel was large, and several places immediately came to mind as possibilities of where the briefing could be held. He knew he did not have much time, and he would need to systematically search the place. While avoiding detection by the guards. And leaving no trace of his presence. It was a logistical challenge, but he was confident he could do it. His first destination was the lower level offices, where he knew the maritime regulators had at least one compartment in their name. Finding nothing, he retraced his steps, and checked the next possibility. After nearly an hour of dodging guards and searching through rooms, he came to one of the last places he could think of. Several multipurpose meeting rooms on one of the upper levels, reserved for important officials and committees. It was a fairly good choice if they wanted the briefing to stay hidden, for it was nearly in the exact center of the complex. The amount of guardposts between him and it meant that there was no way he could get there without going through at least one of them. Well, I guess this was a waste of time. And if Kyra didn't find anything, I guess we'll have to begin all over again...Just as these gloomy thoughts were chasing themselves through his head, he heard a noise of approaching feet behind him. Hurriedly he ducked through a door into what he knew was a storage room. He hid in the shadows, although he left the door ajar so that he could find out the identities of his unwitting pursuers. He could tell instantly that the sound was of two people, probably men from the heaviness. And yet, the tread was far to light for hulking, armored soldiers. He figured it was probably just some nobles, and yet something told him he needed to be curious. As he listened, sounds of two male voices in conversation grew gradually louder as the source drew around the corner. Taraak peeked through the gap between the frame with one eye, taking in the scene. Two men walked obliviously past his hiding place, talking amiably. “I’m sorry I’m late.” “It doesn’t really matter Bralag. I don’t know why we’re being ordered to inspect the ship. There really isn’t any reason that I can see. Anyway, I’ll brief you on the ship, then we can both go home.” As the men proceeded down the hall and around the next corner, Taraak stole out from his position and began to follow them. He smiled to himself, hardly believing his luck. [/blockquote] [/size]
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Frægr
Novice
Call me Sabs. ;]
Posts: 42
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Duty
Apr 13, 2009 16:33:13 GMT -5
Post by Frægr on Apr 13, 2009 16:33:13 GMT -5
The address repeated itself over endlessly in her mind, a continuous flow of mindless words and numbers that had by now, lodged itself firmly in her mind. Not that it had not done so when Kyra had first heard the address, but the elf now knew she would never be able to forget it. And that was the most aggravating part. 3945 Rutwell's...3945 Rutwell's...394... Carefully, and not without a touch of annoyance, the elf wandered among the streets of Teirm with a frown planted permanently on her face.
The only thoughts that were able to momentarily erase the address was the fact that Taraak had insisted that each of them travel separately. She knew that it was due to their lack of time, but Kyra still found herself vaguely worrying, as she referenced the last moment the pair had separated. If not for the elf's stalker-tendencies in times of trouble, Taraak would be the victim of a "friend's" knife. It was a troublesome thought, one that somewhat of a distraction to her current mission.
Infrequently on her lone crusade, she found the need to be pointed in the right direction, and paused to regain her composure. But upon the end of her polite inquiry --- with a flourish and polite bow --- Kyra was back to wandering the streets in irritation. When her feet finally made their way to the estate of one Bralag _____, her mood had worsened. It took a rather large amount of effort for the elf to shove all her bothersome thoughts aside and focus solely on observing the situation at hand. With skill in one hand, and experience in the other, she wove her way through the intimidating metal-woven gates and up to the heavy oaken-doors.It's too obvious, I can't just waltz through their front door...If I remember correctly, Bralag had loyal servants, though I'm not sure if they were of the same caliber as Simern's. She thought, with slight sarcasm tinting her words.
Attempting a new course of action, Kyra used all shadows to her advantage, and wandered over towards what she assumed was the sparsely used back entrance. Vines cloaked it's wooden face, and time was starting to work its magic on the aged door. However, it only took the elf a few well-aimed cuts with her knife to break opened the rusted joints and lock --- and in a matter of minutes, she was standing inside an extravagantly furnished hallway. Thick layers of obnoxiously red velvet coated the many pieces of furniture along it, unnecessarily dripping with golden thread. Portraits of Bralag look-a-likes littered the corridor's walls, accompanying many framed swords, bows, and paintings of average quality. In the eyes of a human, much less an elf, the hall was tasteless at the very least. An eyesore.
Ignoring the detestable surroundings, the elf snuck her way in and out of rooms, weaving through layers of untouched letters and desks. Nothing sparked her interest, and while she had to occasionally duck her head under a desk to avoid detection, Kyra found herself wondering whether Bralag was even currently in the building. Nevertheless, she searched relentlessly through his belongings for any trace of suspicious behavior. If she could not find him here, then Taraak had a chance at the man himself. Only, that's also what she was worried about. On account that she had already broke into his mind once already, Kyra had already pledged to not commit another crime against her code of honor. Breaking into another's mind was strictly off limits, and the elf had deducted that the man had previously only worked alone. He could take care of himself...or so she hoped.
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Apr 13, 2009 16:35:24 GMT -5
Post by Angmor on Apr 13, 2009 16:35:24 GMT -5
Taraak followed carefully behind the men, always keeping the sounds of their footsteps in range, normally just around the next corner. His initial rush of elation at finding his quarry against long odds had worn off some time ago, for it was now clear that they were heading for one of the center meeting rooms, straight through a checkpoint. He would need to get past two soldiers in a slender hallway without being seen, a decidedly difficult feat. Taraak did not really envy those who could use magic, but he did sometimes wish that he could. I’ll just have to be clever about it, that’s all. [/Color] The footfalls up ahead suddenly stopped, replaced by the sounds of voices. Taraak halted abruptly and peered around the corner with one eye. Yes, there was the checkpoint. Two soldiers stood on either side of the corridor, barring the passage of the two men. One of them was checking their identification papers, validating his reason for being in the citadel. After a moment’s inspection, the soldier handed back the worn parchment and stepped aside, allowing Taraak’s quarry to pass. He leaned back around the corner, glancing around for anything that would provide a solution. All he had to work with was the contents of his shoulder-bag and a pair of stone walls… At that, an idea struck him, curling his lips slightly upward. He reached into the bag and brought out a small cylindrical container, filled with they gray powdered substance he affectionately called ‘Banger’. Removing the stop, he carefully poured some of the grit into his free hand, then replaced the container in it’s original place. He then turned, drew back his arm, and flung the powder down the corridor as far as he could. Upon impact it combusted with a bright flash and a loud bang. Hearing the soldiers running to investigate, He jumped as high as he could and pushed off the wall with one leg. Pushing off the opposite wall with the opposite leg, he was able to raise himself high enough to spread out all four limbs, effectively wedging himself between walls with his back nearly touching the ceiling. This had been one of the first maneuvers he had been taught, and he knew from experience that –if he concentrated on something besides the strain of his muscles- he could hold the position for slightly less than two minutes. As he watched, the soldiers passed hurriedly under him, oblivious. As soon as they were far enough down the corridor, he dropped silently to the ground behind them. With one furtive backward glance to make sure that he had not been seen, he ducked around the corner and took off after his target. Although they had gained some lead, Taraak soon found the exact room where the briefing was taking place. He cautiously approached the heavy door, which luckily was left carelessly ajar. Flattening himself against the corridor wall beside it, he listened to the conversation within. “Are you familiar with the Superior Might?” Came the first voice, clipped and smooth as oiled glass. It was deep and melodious, and carried an undertone of effortless, Taraak thought practiced, authority. “Only as of this morning.” Came the second voice, one that he assumed belonged to Bralag. It sounded a bit younger and did not carry the same resonance as the first, but it sounded more cultured and well used. “Very well, I will tell you what we know so that you can better inspect it tomorrow.” Said the first man again. Over the next few minutes, Taraak listened as the voice related almost everything that he already knew about the ship. Apparently the men assigned to guarding it had not exactly been forthcoming with information, as no doubt their orders mandated. However, it slowly dawned on Taraak that, to maintain security, they could not complain to the Powers That Be to get the inspection stopped. Handy for us.[/Color] he thought matter-of-factly to himself. “Do you have your kit with you?” Said the first man. Taraak’s ears pricked up. “There is something we have to add to it now. Some new law.” “I’m afraid I have left it at home.” “No matter, I’ll just give it to you and you can take it with you. It’s a small auger with a handle, you just drill a tiny hole and look at the color of the wood inside. It’s to test the quality of the material.” “Excellent. Well, I believe that is all.” “Yes. Let us return home, and get this business over with as fast as possible.” There was the sound of chairs being pushed back across the floor, and Taraak quickly retreated around a corner. As the footsteps of the men faded slowly away, he remained in thought. The “Kit” that they had referred to, that would be the perfect place to hide the incriminating incendiaries, considering that he would need to take it with him in any event. It was a pity that he had not brought it with him, or Taraak could have killed several proverbial birds with one citadel visit. Now he wished that he had some way of contacting Kyra, so that she could locate it while she was seeing to the man’s residence. Just then, he felt the odd pressure in his head that he remembered from before. As it became more insistent, he hurried through a door that belonged to an as yet unused room and shut it behind him. He figured he knew who it was, and had been half expecting it. Slowly, he lowered his defenses, something so counter-instinctive that it made him flinch. Now that he was not distracted by anger as he had been the first time, the connection was much sharper and clearer. After a moment, he became aware that she was speaking to him. just checking that you’re still alive. She said wryly. He could tell that she was a more than a bit angry, but to his relief he was not the object of it’s focus. Now that it was a more two-way communication, he could see more of her mind than before. Although there were similarities with his own, there was something very… foreign about it, and he could tell that she did not think like him at all. He resisted the urge to delve further; he certainly would not want her doing so to him. Obviously I am.[/Color] He responded. And I’ve found our man. Now there is something that you need to do…[/Color] To avoid a lengthy explanation, he gave her access to his memory of the past several minutes, allowing her to see for herself what had transpired. He was careful not to let his mind wander into the darker areas of his memories; he certainly didn’t want her to see his past. So, you need to find this kit that they were talking about. Do you have anything flammable on your person, or am I going to need to get there rapidly?[/Color] [/size][/blockquote]
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Frægr
Novice
Call me Sabs. ;]
Posts: 42
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Duty
Apr 13, 2009 16:36:06 GMT -5
Post by Frægr on Apr 13, 2009 16:36:06 GMT -5
Kyra was more than just slightly angry. Even though she was of the sort to show her emotions a bit too easily for an elf, Kyra had to put in a good amount of effort to control the massive aggravation that was starting to assault her brain. Everything about the house was beginning to annoy her, from egotistical self portrait to the tasteless furnishings. Though her judgement was probably clouded due to her lack of finding anything useful in the estate, anything would annoy the elf at this point in time. Even after searching through many rooms --- all equally furnished distastefully, as in her first impression --- there had been nothing that could point a finger at the man's duty to inspect the Superior Might. Besides, Kyra was a little more than just worried about her partner, who could be very well now be on his way to uncertain death, though the chance of him being so was about 1:100.
As time passed on, she found somewhat of a mental war occurring in her brain. Should she contact Taraak, to rid her of at least one of her distracting worries? Or should she simply trust him, knowing full well that the man could easily take care of himself? The minor build up of stress was annoying, resulting in the creation of a migraine. Meanwhile, her steady sifting of papers and cabinets were all turning up empty handed. At the moment, her fingers were examining the wood of a oaken bookshelf.
Finally, reason gave into annoyance, and the elf reached out to her partner's mind. It was somewhat familiar by now, but the fact that the two of them thought in completely different ways was transparent. Their connection was much clearer than it had been before, but it certainly didn't make Kyra feel any better about doing so. Breaking into another's mind on a whim was an inexcusable offense.Just checking to see if you're alive. Transferring to attention to a different bookshelf, Kyra felt another surge of anger as her search appeared to be fruitless yet again. Unintentionally, her voice had taken on a wry tone, the result of her current state.
But as Taraak related his own situation to the elf through access to his recent memories, she found herself becoming slightly ashamed. He had his situation perfectly under control, and while Kyra had been annoyed by her unproductiveness to the point of contacting her partner impulsively, there was valuable information being gathered. Though, without her contact, it would have been noticeably harder for the two of them to reach their goal. ...Find this kit that they were talking about. Do you have anything flammable on your person, or am I going to need to get there rapidly? Though the conversation was mental, Kyra couldn't stop herself from letting a smirk slide over her face. Pride told the elf to tell him no, but common sense advised her to ask him to stand by. I can make do with what I have, so probably not. But just to be cautious, try to make your way over here as fast as possible. We should always expect the unexpected. I'll keep you posted. And with that, she closed their mental connection to a point, but not completely, so that it was somewhat like a nagging itch that one couldn't scratch. But Kyra with used to the feeling.
Immediately, she set upon a search to find this "kit", and had an idea to overturn desks and chairs alike in order to do so. Her chain of thought only led to the fact that that she would have to put everything back in its former place upon doing so. My job is not as an Imperial Inquisitor. I can't just wreck his house and expect to find what I want. Kyra thought wryly. Everything has to look exactly the way that it's always been. Taraak could probably hear an echo of these thoughts, and the elf didn't bother to block them from his view. She had nothing to hide, anyway, but her memories were a different matter...
As there were still many more rooms to undergo the inspection of the practiced hands of Kyra, she quickly made her way down the hallway. Sweeping through useless after useless room, she finally came upon the conclusion that none of them contained "the kit". But, she had also not yet found Bralag's office. It was strange, actually, how her search had not come upon the office of the auristocrat. His estate was so enormous, so that only about half the rooms had been searched through, all on one side of his house. Also, every single one of them seemed to be sparsely populated, and barely any servants walked through the hallways. The other side would probably contain the majority, and would definitely be more dangerous. It would be harder to even get to the rooms, let alone search them. Stealthily, Kyra made sure to keep herself undiscovered as went from room to room, this side on the east wing of his property. And she found...
Nothing. Her pent up aggravation was nothing less than a bomb preparing to explode. If Kyra had any more failures, then she might do just that. Opening the door of yet another room, the elf unconsciously proceeded to search yet another room, and prepared for another failure. The door had been locked, but the metalwork had been a relatively easy one to pick. Closing the door behind her, it was then when she saw the briefcase, carefully placed on Bralag's desk. After a glance around the room, Kyra came to the conclusion that this was Bralag's office, based on its obnoxious contents: a giant self portrait, and a sword --- by the looks of it, military granted --- pinned to the wall. Upon opening the briefcase, she saw the "small auger with a handle" that Taraak hold told her to expect.
Quickly, Kyra looked around for anything that could suggest suspicion to the soldiers patrolling the ship. Her eyes immediately fell upon the oil-fueled lamp that lit the room. If only she could find a bottle to contain it...Shuffling through his desk contents, the elven woman came across a bundle of expensively-made cigars, box of matches to light them, and a corked glass bottle of what Kyra could only assume was alcohol. To get rid of its contents, the elf did not drink it, nor pour it on the floor. Instead, she switched its position with the oil, using magic. A fire could obviously not be easily contained with the alcohol, and for good measure the elf poured some oil from another lamp on top of the alcohol, and lit both their fires once more. The bottle of oil and cigar matches were quickly placed in the suitcase, and the task finished. It had been easy enough.
"You said you saw this girl in a bar?"
A voice sounded from outside, and Kyra automatically attuned her ears to hear it more clearly. "Yes, soldier." Soldier? There are soldiers here? Another question was introduced. "She needed to find Bralag? You know, Garth, if this is a fool's errand, and the result of a drunk hallucination, then you are in for a lot of trouble." The answer was positive. "I'm positive. She's probably here right now."
No flood of panic overtook the elf as her second encounter with soldiers was about to begin. Instead, she calmly reached out into the mind of Taraak. Soldiers are here. It seems as though my little play in the bar was a bit too enthusiastic. This wrecks our plans a bit. How far are Bralag and his friend? Without waiting for an answer, Kyra continued on, while at the same time glancing through the window. The numbers weren't huge, but if Bralag got word of this event, then he would be suspicious.
We might have to divert the soldiers somehow, and get them away from the estate. It might take me a while to meet up with you, if I'm needed. I'm a bit... The sound of shuffling feet filled her ears as servants passed by the doorway, unaware of Kyra's presence. ...occupied at the moment. Bralag and his friend need to somehow be delayed. Can you see what you can do alone, for now? We just found ourselves two giant messes to clean up, and one of them is my fault.
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