WELCOME TO RAYVEN'S REIGN.

[♖ Gypsy]

((Sienna Moore- Biography))


A cold wind was whipping down from the north tonight onto the outskirts of town, the biting air bringing with it the scent of the rotting leaves from the mountainside above where autumn had begun to turn. The narrow winding streets channelled the wind’s progress into howling gales, the freezing currents urging the shop signs into their uneasy movement – every swing bringing with it the dull lazy squeaking of rusted metal against metal.

A cloud of dirt from the cobbled streets was whipped up into a frenzy by a particularly strong gust of wind, the dust cloud vortex stirring the shadows as it licked around the corner of an alleyway where the moonlight was yet to penetrate.
Somewhere within, a darker section of shadow detached itself from the rest, a bowed head lifting slowly to observe the night before light footfalls carried the figure towards the mouth of the alleyway where the moonlight teased the shadow’s borders. As the light pushed back the shadows from the cloak’s hood, pale slender features were seen within, and shining emerald eyes. A tattoo of vines was seen across the young woman’s cheek, traversing her eye – the raised lines of the brown inked tattoo betraying the hint of scars beneath. An intently focused gaze stared at a figure in the distance as he appeared, cutting his solitary path down from the hill side leading into town… Just as the hermit should be. Just as it had been described.

Dropping down to a comfortable practiced squat on her haunches she pushed aside the main body of her cloak, allowing the wind to catch it and urge it over her shoulder as she looked down to her thigh. Her blade was pulled from its leather scabbard at her hip, turning the hilt over in her hands, once twice, checking its surface with a keen eye. The flats of the blade had been painstakingly dulled black, the residue designed to resist the glint of light on the metal work – even the most seasoned of thieves could be betrayed by their equipment at a vital moment - the telltale warning flash of a reflection in the darkness…

She had limited time. The target was leaving his lodgings as her employer had said he would be, but how long he was away could abruptly change with the wildman’s whimsy. Her objective was clear. Get in. Get to the weapon’s cache. Get out. Time to move.

Pulling her cloak back around her, fingers then grasped for the hood, tugging it lower over her features, plunging them back into the shadow’s embrace once more.

A nearby building was scaled, the town wall traversed (being careful to spend as little time silhouetted against the moonlight as possible), her form barely impacting with the grass on the outside as she dropped to a low squat, fingers splayed to the ground between her legs.
She climbed the hillside towards the house at the forests edge by hugging the tree line, allowing her form to blend into the mesh of bushes and network of branches there. She was comfortable moving quickly over uneven ground, sprinting where she could, the spiders-web of tree roots and animal burrows barely posing any problem – it was what she had grown up with, you learnt very quickly to be light on your feet unless you wanted a sprained ankle or worse.
Despite this acclimation, by the time she reached the house the hill’s incline had met the beginning rises of the mountain and she was starting to struggle. The air had turned to cold burning in her lungs and her muscles protested at her quick pace, but she urged them on regardless. As the hermit’s lodge was reached she observed for a few minutes from the darkness, unmoving, insuring that it was deserted as it was supposed to be, staring at the windows as they stared back their silent vigil like sightless eyes… She wasn’t normally a patient person, fairly hot headed in fact, but she did her job well, or so she thought.
Besides, she needed the recovery time; waiting for her heartbeat to slow, and her breathing to ease.

Finally, convinced that everything was as it should be she headed around to the small side door of the lodge, usually added for easy access to the river and outhouse. On a whim she gently tried the door handle, turning it softly… Well, a girl could dream couldn’t she? No joy, the resistance there told her it was indeed locked. A paranoid hermit it seemed…
With a quiet sigh to herself she flexed one hand back towards her elbow, pulling a lock pick set from within her forearm gauntlet near the wrist before dipping down to a squat and beginning her work, muttering to herself inaudibly – barely miming the words. “Why do they even bother….” A few tiny clicks, and pressure in the right places against the right springs and the lock would be open anyway. It was a wonder everybody didn’t learn how to do this.

This post has been edited by Gypsy on Apr 15 2012, 09:09 PM

[♙ Geluvir]

To say that the man was nervous was a bit of an understatement. The sweat that collected on his wrinkled brow could just as easily been a profusion caused by the heat of the blazing sun or as a result of the nerve-wracking thumping of his heart. The recent change in the hierarchy meant that he had a new master nowadays, one that apparently had reason to visit him out on this secluded mountain range. They’d picked the location almost a hundred years ago when this quaint little village wasn’t the only form of settlement that resided here and it had served them well ever since. The old man had inherited the position of guarding the weapons cache from his father, the first to have been given the responsibility. That made him an order child, a well trained and knowledgeable killing machine who had been taught to conceal his emotions- and yet, he still couldn’t steady himself. He’d heard that the new grand master was easily angered and had already wounded several members he’d deemed to be ‘wastes of time’ and when you bore in mind how detached from the rest of the order this man was, it meant that it had to be something more than just mere rumours.

The reason for the grand master’s visit was still a mystery to him at this point, it wasn’t as if he was due any kind of inventory check and no one had been out here on a mission in years. The old man surmised that this was probably just a matter of wanting to familiarise himself with all their secret locations in order to better do his job. At least, that’s what he hoped was the case. He found his gaze wandering to the sun outside as he tried to judge how much of the day was left, each growing shadow plaguing him and dashing his hopes that this would all be over soon. Eventually, the heavy thudding of leather boot on earth and stone broke the tranquil silence of his mountain home and he knew it was time for him to arrive. He waited at the door, straightening the belt that was concealed under the brown robe that was standard issue to order members and prepared himself to meet the new master.

The old man opened the door before the towering figure had a chance to knock, but it didn’t seem as though he intended to at all. His robe was black as pitch unlike the dull brown the hermit was wearing and a combination of being silhouetted against the sun and his hood being up hid his facial features from him. Immediately the hermit dropped to one knee in a bow to the figure who let out a guttural growl of digust.

”On your feet. I’m nothing like the old man”

The hermit stumbled backwards onto his feet as he was thrust aside by the towering grand master. The hermit shut the door behind him and followed as the black cloaked figure made a beeline straight for the back room that held the secret entrance to the weapons cache. The hermit tried to speak several times but couldn’t find the words he was looking for, prevented from even leaving his throat by the air of raw intimidation that surrounded his master. When he did finally find the courage to talk he was shot down by the deep unenthused tone of the grand master that sounded like salt grinding against stone.

”Can I-
”Open the door.”

The hermit nodded and made his way over to the far wall of the room they were now stood in which had nothing but a small desk with ink and parchment a bed and a metal bracket with which to mount a torch for furnishings. He removed a heavy wooden torch from the top drawer of the desk and slotted it into the wall bracket before pulling it down and to the left. There was the sound of strained rope and a rumble of stone on stone and a part of plain stone wall lifted slightly up off the ground no more than a couple of inches. Until this had been done, the secret door had seemed like an ordinary part of the mountainside to which the house had been built onto with the gap in it hidden by the floor above. The grand master moved over to the wall and pushed the great stone door out the way, revealing the wedge of stone that would have prevented it from opening if the door hadn’t been raised. He pulled a couple of rough hewn shards of black stone from his pocket and struck them together over a torch that had been left on a bracket inside and took the light with him down the stone steps into the darkness below.

”I hope everything is in order sir?”

The hermit followed Erasmus into the darkness and watched him light the four braziers that flooded the weapons cache with light before snuffing out the fire of the torch with his bare left hand. Despite the audible sizzle and the blacked skin, he seemed to be entirely unaffected by it. Erasmus then turned his attention to the hermit and stared at him in silence for a few minutes before letting out a sigh.

”You have no clue as to why I’m here do you.”

When the hermit shook his head the grand master growled a little and turned his attention to the crates that surrounded him, running his hands over the wood to clear the dust of their markings. He didn’t seem interested enough to check what was inside, but the hermit gathered that this was just a temporary distraction so he didn’t have to look at him anymore. He knew annoyance and loathing when he saw it, he’d killed enough people after all to warrant such attention.

”We have information that suggests this place will be raided. Tonight.”

The hermit reeled back in surprise, his eyebrows raising to crumple an already wrinkled forehead. He immediately made his way to a small desk in the corner of the weapons cache and began checking document after document trying to find the message that let him know this important piece of information. Of course, he wasn’t going to find it but the grand master let him search in vain for a while anyway. He wasn’t exactly a fan of humans, even the most minor of inconveniences bringing a smile to his face.

”You won’t find anything about it. After all, isn’t it your job to gather such information in the first place?”

Suddenly the grand master was towering over the hermit, a large shadow danced on the wall from the fire behind. In his entire life he’d never felt so small as right now, gripped by a strange feeling he’d never really felt before in his many years of service. He hadn’t just fought humans either, they were child’s play when you considered what else was out there but this feeling was something else. A feeling he knew the name of well but had never been turned against him. It was a crippling sensation, one that drained the very strength he relied on from his veins and caused his body to shiver uncontrollably. He opened his mouth and again found his words stolen from him by the putrid air that surrounded Erasmus. Luckily for him, his cooperation wasn’t necessary in this endeavour.

”I’ve come to establish who it is that dares set foot upon order ground, what will be done with you is a separate matter. Now leave, the moon haunts this land once more and your presence is not necessary.”

Usually he would have argued but he took this chance to get out of here without a moment’s hesitation. Nodding his head in a bow of respect he made his way back up the stone steps and closed the entrance to the secret room behind him, replacing the heavy wooden torch into the desk from whence it came. Sure enough, night had quickly come to the mountains and along with it a crisp, cold breeze. He took a torch from a pile by the front door and left, wrapping his robe around him to shield himself from the cold. Locking the door with a large black key he then made his way down the mountainside toward the village below that began to shimmer with tiny little lights, unaware that he was being watched by a figure in the shadows who had been waiting for this moment.

[♖ Gypsy]

((Sienna Moore - Biography))

If the poor Sienna had any notion what she was walking into – could she have even fathomed…

Having been brought up by her own order, Sienna knew a thing or two about Guild laws. One group did not mess with another. Whether the guilds were evenly matched or otherwise, such interference was rarely beneficial to either party and usually brought about nothing but destruction. Had she known she was walking onto protected soil baring the omega mark on her chest of another guild she would have been mortified. There was no question that she would have left immediately, whether that meant the breaking of a contract or not.
As it was the young rogue did not have the luxury of such knowledge, the true nature of this assignment sadly concealed from her.

Crouched in an easy balanced squat on the cold compacted soil outside the back door, she could have picked the lock in her sleep. Both hands worked the keyhole with ease, making the necessary adjustments by feel alone, a solid guide pin in one hand, the small hooked tool in the other as she searched out the sweet spots within the mechanism. True enough, it was a little tougher than she had been expecting for a hermit’s lodge, more rows and a cylinder based system, but it wasn’t even close to a challenge. Practice locks had been her toys as a child – she had been doing this when she was barely out of swaddling cloths…
As the final faint click signalled the lock’s submission she fell silent briefly, listening, trying to ignore the irritating manner in which her breath plumed from her nose as it hit the cold night’s air. Nothing from within.

The door was quietly eased open, not even close to its full extent. Old doors were usually quietest at the initial opening, but if left to continue to their limit the likelyhood of that loud creaking squeaking became more assured. As it was, she made a gap large enough to slip her lithe form through and nothing more, entering the semi-darkness of the room within and instantly finding the shadow’s embrace.

Her eyes had adjusted by now and she could see a little way into the darkness, aided by the moonlight filtering through the windows from the cold night outside. No sounds to be heard, no movement to be seen. It was as it should be. She was alone. Her employer had told her that the door to the cash would be a hidden one, but beyond that his knowledge ended. Now it was up to her…

Her footfalls were light upon the floor boards with practiced ease as intelligent emerald hues were cast around her, tattooed features turning this was and that. It was all as one would expect, quite quaint and pleasant really; A chair in one corner, a fire pit with a large pan suspended above it, a table, some animal hides, a room beyond.

The options for such a secret store of the size described were few – under the floor or into the back wall of the abode. She started with the floor. The way wood was laid could tell you a lot about what lay beneath it, and for one so continually aware of her balance as Sienna was, it was a technique she often relied upon. Here, her job was made slightly easier – the wood planks seemed to be laid upon solid foundations, no play or rock to the boards at all, meaning she could check the small room quickly simply by walking lightly back and forth and waiting for that tell tale give, betraying a cavern below. Nothing.

The stonework of the fireplace was examined, her blade drawn to use the hilt to tap the wall in places, the manner in which the dust and soot from the fire collected around the room was examined – anything that might betray a hidden chamber or hatchway.

Eventually the living area was left, the bedroom moved onto. Less to see here, less to check. A desk, a chair, a bed. Idle steps carried the young thief within, simply taking a moment to let the room sink in – seeing what she could in the half-light from the moon. She flexed her knees slightly as she walked, more pressure put on the floorboards around the bed but feeling no give to them. Nimble distracted fingers loosely came up to grip the empty wall bracket, leaning her weight on it idly as a puzzled frown was turned to the room. Where was it…

She would admit, this was harder than she had anticipated. Why would a hermit be so careful, so educated in hiding his weapon collection? There were only so many places this hidden room could be, and yet she was growing increasingly confused and a little irritated that she was yet to find it. Surely she was better than this?!

A thorough search was made, frustration leading her to light the torch (upon discovering it in the drawer) and place it in its bracket simply to gain a better view of the room. With the light flickering it’s warning she had given herself less time, and now searched with avengeance. Finally her eyes were drawn to the manner in which dust was collected around the wall, and the strange trails found across the floor…

This was it. She could feel it. But how to gain entry. Weight made no difference, and wasn’t her strength at any rate – the wall seemed solid, no point for leverage.

A few minutes passed, and when the hour turned it found Sienna sat despondently upon the floor, one leg underneath her, one elbow balanced upon a knee, and a fierce expression of concentration on her features.... Finally the penny dropped.

Emerald hues flicked up to the wall bracket where the torch now burned. Why hadn’t the unlit torch been left there? Surely that was strange. If it was in regular use as it should be, one would leave the wood there ready…
Standing she began to tug and shift the torch, finding movement a slow lopsided smirk began to spread across her features, one that only increased as she heard that delightful rumble of stone on stone.

“Reinas, m’lord of discoveries – yah don’t let me down…” was muttered quietly to herself, with her own tricksy grin before she set to work shifting the door.

Moments later the chamber below would begin to be teased by the fire light of the torch as the successful thief descended the stone steps, barely making a sound. She had to be quick now – depending on how much there was to move her time could be more limited then she had first imagined.
The burning torch didn’t stretch far into the shadows of the underground chambers, but it lit the woman’s cloak of brown in the darkness, the hood turning this way and that in her seeking. She spied the central braiser, taking a moment to light it successfully and illuminate the centre of the room before casting her gaze to the walls, seeking out a bracket in which to place the torch.

Now that she came to think about the process, it hadn’t been too difficult at all… Easy coin.

[♙ Geluvir]

Even through solid rock his hearing was exceptional, especially if he knew exactly what it was he was listening for. An elongated wolf ear protruding from human flesh pressed against the cold stone to better assist the entrance of the sound outside. The small clicking and twisting of the metal in the lock eluded him, after all that was a few rooms away but when the intruder began to walk around the house, the little noises gave her away. The old house had floorboards that creaked even for the lightest of feet though no usually of a level that would wake even a light sleeper but his ears could tell, oh could they tell. What really gave her away was the tapping as she checked for hidden crevices and secret chambers. He could hear her getting closer and closer to her target but all of a sudden she seemed to stop. He could feel her breathing on the other side of the slab of rock that separated them and the longer he was forced the wait the shorter his patience became. Finally, just as his patience was about to break he heard movement once more and the telltale sounds of the torch being slotted into the wall bracket. As soon as he was sure she’d figured out what to do, he descended the stone steps as quickly as he could, his footsteps shielded by the sound of tensing rope and grinding stone. With a quick sweep of his robe, the fire of the brazier was snuffed out and he took position crouched beside a crate in the darkness of the shadows.

His wolf ears were no longer necessary, her position was easy to tell by the fluorescent light she was bringing down the stairway but he left them anyway, trying to judge by the weight of her steps and her breathing anything he could about her. The invader was obviously lithe and of little weight, which suggested that the intruder was probably female, making her of little consequence to him. He was surprised that whoever had dared raid this place had sent a single agent however and he had to quell his inner rage at being underestimated. Regardless, the time to strike was fast approaching and he needed to treat this woman as he did any enemy which meant putting aside such feelings and acting as though she were a dragon. Not difficult for a man that had actually killed one.

When the burglar entered the room he took a second to study her features. She was a fairly attractive woman; obviously a professional by how she dressed and the tattoo across her face was an interesting one. Erasmus had always wanted to get one, but it was impossible, the moment the ink was forced into his skin his body rejected it and sealed the wound. Upsetting, but he didn’t exactly have time for fanciful dreams right now. She lit the brazier and light flooded the room once more. The time was now. As she turned to locate a wall bracket for the torch, he rose from hiding place and cast a shadow over her that looked like a demon thrown against the wall, his tall wolf-like ears looking like rudimentary horns on a tower of rounded black.

”I’ll just take that shall I?”

The sentence was merely a trap to get her to turn, one clawed hand grabbing the torch while the other slammed hard into her stomach in order to not just knock the wind out of her and maybe break one of her lower ribs, but make her buckle over. The moment her body betrayed her he delivered a second blow to the back of her neck in the necessary pressure point to render her unconscious. Upon the realisation that his supernatural strength probably wasn’t necessary to do what he just did he gave out a sigh and returned to his human self with the cracking of bone and tearing of flesh. It was a painful process but he didn’t show it, instead distracting himself with acquiring some rope to tie tight enough around her ankles and wrists to cut off circulation before tying her to the chair meant to be used along with the desk in the corner. That completed he turned the chair toward the centre of the room and took a seat upon a crate behind the flame so that she could see him, but it would be too bright for her to directly look at him without it being painful.

Erasmus wasn’t usually the interrogation type, he was more of an assassinate or mutilate kind of man. However, with his new job came new responsibilities, one of which making sure the secrecy of the order was intact and that all loose ends were tied. This woman had been sent by someone and that was who he was after. She seemed nothing but a mercenary to him, probably hired after rumours of her skills had spread throughout the underground community. She was however, in over her head in this case. The order was far larger and far more powerful than any guild was, having been set up for grander purposes and although Erasmus hated it, it now belonged to him. The stress of bureaucracy was getting to him and he needed to do something to blow off some steam. Hence why he was here and not another agent, murdering the man who was onto them seemed like an effective outlet for his anger.

It would be a while before she woke up again, but he could afford to be patient now. To him, there was no danger or chance this could go wrong anymore; she would wake up, tell him what he wants to know, and then she’d be dealt with plain and simple. Exactly how he’d do that he hadn’t decided at this point. He was torn between a clean disappearance and something a little more visceral to satiate his more savage nature. She was, after all, a fairly attractive woman. When she began to stir he smiled, sharp teeth illuminated by the flames for a brief moment before he addressed her in the same gruff, abrasive tone he used with everyone. Secretly inside he wanted her to struggle, it would make all this a lot more fun for him if she did.

”Wandering into a wolf’s den is not the smartest venture for common prey. I suggest you speak before the jaws descend”

He reached up and pulled down the hood that hid his features, the long unkempt black hair allowed to flow down over his shoulders once more. His beard was equally ragged and wild but not nearly as wild as the look in his eyes. They peered directly at her with a glare more powerful and deep than the raging flames that lay before him, despite how difficult it must be to maintain that kind of extended gaze through the flames. He did so purely so that she could see the trouble that she was in, a faceless man lacks the same air of authority as one who has the thousand yard stare. The look of a cold-blooded killer.

”Your contract isn’t worth your life. Who sent you?”

[♖ Gypsy]

Now Sienna was not one to jump at shadows. You simply couldn’t afford to when you spent as much time in them as she did – those flights of fancy could get you killed if you panicked due to childish horrors at the wrong moment. But all training and experience aside there is something hard wired into every human being, no matter the age, to be afraid of monsters…

As the shadow spread and lurched its way across the wall, Sienna’s jaw was left slackening slightly, emerald hues tracking its progress above her as the torch became slightly limp in her grasp. To give her her credit she didn’t waste time in fatalistic fear, spinning on her heel immediately with a view to confronting whatever this nightmare was. She barely even registered what she was seeing before the blows came – the attack to her bare stomach below the animal hide bodice forcing her to let out a pained exhalation of shock, the blow to the neck sending her down silently, and out cold.

Light… Heat… Bloody hell, had Bengi opened the shutters again so early?! Was she never allowed to just lay in… For just five minutes?! Head slumped to her chest she growled a little at the light, trying to bring her hands up to block that ceaseless glare, head rocking slightly this way and that. They wouldn’t move. Arm muscles flexed and shoulders rolled beneath her sleeves and cloak again, still no success. Confusion. Pain. Aching stomach – aching head – hungover? No… Wait… Wait… Something bad – something wasn’t right…

As it came back to her and with it the twisting feeling of dread beneath bruised stomach muscles she blinked rapidly, forcing the water to clear from her vision as she sharply pulled up her head and was left staring at the fire. A tangled mess of renegade strands from her dark hair fell across her features, only shifting as she let out a singular panicked breath.
As the random patterns of the firelight played across her features they caught the uneven ridges beneath the brown of the tattoo's lines that were normally hidden - ...scarring... Apparently the tattoo was a thing of beauty to hide something uglier beneath, as so many things in life were... Had she been in this situation before? Perhaps the 'fragile woman' would not be so easy to crack.
Finally the figure behind those flames came into focus. Blurred lines cleared. Fire flickering and reflecting within the depths of those wild hazel eyes, as if the very centre of hell smouldered within them.

His words had her frowning, lips still parted as she stared – the heavy wince at her brow betraying the thumping headache within as she tried to decode his sentence as her mind came back to her.
As slowly focusing emerald hues met those wild steely eyes she knew she was in trouble. She had seen that look before – that predatory gaze. Men like him didn’t stop hitting when their target went down. Men like him didn’t care.

Hot-headed as she was, for the time being she had the sense to keep her mouth firmly shut, taking a read on the situation, her mind racing with the speed of her heart. Still in the weapons cache. Feet and legs tied – painful, already beginning to throb slightly, dexterity was going to become less the longer she remained like this.

After a moment or two she flexed her neck from one side to the other, trying to work some of the pain away from her head, but also using the distraction of the movement as a chance to give a testing fierce tug to her wrists behind her. “Ullghh.. Son of a shewolf...” The mild noise of discomfort left her in a muttered grunt, wincing briefly before she brought her head up more sharply, forcing herself to lift it properly, emerald hues finding his behind the flames.

“That name.... is probably the only thing keeping me alive… Right…?” Perhaps she wasn’t as naive as she looked. She blinked briefly, forced to turn her head slightly from the light and heat of the fire, adding a slightly growled

“Who the hell are you.”

The hermit's son?? No, those were professional eyes. What in Gods name had she gotten herself into now...

This post has been edited by Gypsy on Apr 16 2012, 09:28 PM

[♙ Geluvir]

Erasmus cocked his head to one side and blinked when she made her exclamation, wondering for a second if she had actually seen any of his animalistic features before passing out. He came to the quick conclusion that it was just an expletive to do with her situation and pushed the thought from his mind, more interested in what she had to say next. He sighed. It was exactly the kind of reply he had been expecting and although he had been hopeful before that she would give him a reason to hurt her, the filthy human that she was, he was suddenly overcome by one of his sudden mood swings and found himself at the mercy of his impatient nature. Dropping down off the box he made his way around the brazier and bent down so that his face was a couple inches from hers. Although the intention was obviously to lock gazes with hers, his feral eyes looked through her as if looked deep into her very soul. She was defiant, that was for certain, but it was becoming more and more clear that she was given little to no information as to what was going on here. Luckily the order weren’t stupid enough to leave their markings on their bases so there was no information to be gleaned for her here. That meant there was no secrecy issue, the cache could be moved and she could be spared. If only mercy was a word Erasmus knew...

”If you don’t know who I am then I pity you for being sent here with no information”

He stood to his full height, his enormous frame concealing the entire flame behind him, his shadow cast once more over the woman before him. He let his eyes wander down her body and back up to her face but gave no visible change in features to indicate he’d found what he was looking for, or in fact why he’d even chosen to. He was still debating in his mind what exactly he needed to do with her here, usually his victims had a particular reason they needed to be snuffed out but this girl... It was just a case of wrong place wrong time. Nothing but a victim of someone else’s plan it seemed.

”You probably have this idea that I’ll kill you if you tell me what I want to know. I’ll put you through some kind of torture you’ll try to endure and then I’ll imprison you somewhere, where you’ll use your skills to break out and go on the run. Like some kind of fairytale adventure. Am I right?”

He was overtly patronising her, his grin a wide and abnormally sharp one. Despite the fact that he’d asked her a question, he didn’t give her any time to answer him before turning his back on her and continuing. Sure he was a man who loved the feeling of getting information out of people with his hands, but occasionally a good set of intimidating words could be just as fulfilling. Sadism just wasn’t as enjoyable if you didn’t keep it fresh and exhilarating.

”The problem there being that you’re presuming I won’t kill you if you don’t tell me, that I need to get that information from you- but I don’t. If you refuse to tell me, then you’re useless and just need to be dealt with. Though the real issue for you then is that I don’t just kill people”

In order to reinforce his point, his arm became a blur of motion for a second and a patch of her clothing was torn off, revealing not enough of her chest that it would be considered obscene, but just enough for her to realise what he meant. As a stroke of luck on Erasmus’s part, this also uncovered the Omega symbol she had been concealing, his brow raising upon its discovery. He leaned in to examine it for a moment before shrugging his shoulders and returning to what he was doing. This time when he spoke he took a seat on a crate beside her, but not before lifting her and the chair she was sat on and forcing her to face him, with just one hand. More than that, he lifted her and the chair at perfect level, as if she weighed nothing at all.

”Guild huh? Explains the mistaken belief of being loyal to your contracts and employers. Right, let me try this again. I can find out with a little effort elsewhere, so as a bargaining tool the name is useless. Perhaps knowing that, you’ll reconsider and tell me now so that I might have reason to spare you?”

He brought one leg up and rested his elbow on it, his face on his fist in a body posture that was unrefined despite the fact his language use betrayed some kind of education. He looked bored with how things were proceeding now, obviously used to getting what he wanted straight away without any kind of hassle. One thing was certain though, he hadn’t lied to her since the ‘conversation’ began, or he was such an exceptional liar that no matter what he said it sounded sincere. Given his profession the second may be just as likely as the first, but was Sienna really in a position doubt him?

”Fair warning. I’m rather impatient”

[♖ Gypsy]

”If you don’t know who I am then I pity you for being sent here with no information”

That comment drew a flick of emerald hues ceiling ward and a minuscule shake of her head, jaw rolling to one side in irritation, though specifically at what was left undisclosed.

Sienna was becoming increasingly aware of just how tight her restraints were. Her feet had already begun to pulse with every beat of her heart, and she knew that with every passing minute this would develop into pins and needles and numbness. That was not good and denied her the luxury of wasted time...

As he spoke her gaze was trained on him, tracking his movements, but behind her her hands were busy - trying to keep her progress from showing on her features or in an accidental roll of her shoulder. Her fingers bent painfully back towards her bound wrists, trying to reach one of the tools hidden within the the leather of her gauntlet. Unfortunately her captor's tight bindings had shifted her wrist brace further back then its normal positioning, meaning she was now forced to stretch her tendons just in order to dig in underneath the forearm cuff and begin to work loose the razor in question. Progress was tediously slow.
Her much loved throwing daggers strapped to her thigh and the trusted blade at her hip only seemed to mock her now - so close and yet so impossible to reach...

Silhouetted against the fire as he was, it took her a minute or two to realise that she was being looked over, halting her progress behind her, her gaze narrowing at him with that rolled jaw as she locked gaze once he met her eyes. One dark eyebrow was lifted behind the loose strands of hair as her gaze burnt reflected fire into his own - an unspoken 'Yes?! And?!' perhaps... Or maybe a warning, not that she was in any position to give one.

As he went thought his little soliloquy, (using the words 'torture' and 'fairytale' in the same sentence, which was always a sign of a well adjusted mind...), Sienna gave another small shake of her head, tuning out the words as she again began to work the razor free from it's bindings with more fervour, one agonizing tendon stretching tug at a time.

Her gaze flicked over the room as she worked and he turned his back to her, staring at the darkness and half closing one eye until she could tune out the light and see a little further into the black. This was no hermit's stash. There were too many crates, too many odd boxes. And such an explanation wouldn't explain his presence. No, this was something else. The man had been here in darkness when she arrived, that significantly narrowed down the explanations for him being here... Either;

She had roused him from sleep - unlikely there was no cot to be seen and he was hardly dressed for it,

He was stationed here permanently on watch - again, she saw no signs of the normal creature comforts that accompanied she a long posting.

Or, he had been waiting for her...

She had to assume the latter was true, in which case all this was indeed not what it appeared to be. She had stumbled into some criminal protected ground she surmised. Thinking beyond that though given the current situation, the distracting nature of his words and lets face it, fear for her life, was proving somewhat difficult...

She just needed to cut thought his bull shit. Figure out WHY she was still alive. And how to stay that way.

His sudden movement as he ripped the opening of the bodice had her growling, her head immediately snapping up to lock gazes with him, a dull screech heard from the chair legs against the stone paving below as her body jerked the chair sharply, an intense hostility within her own emerald hues. "Get the hell off of me, I swear -" What did she swear? She didn't know, but the words tumbled from her lips with a furious venom. She cut herself off, drawing a few steadying breaths between locked teeth for a moment as she stared him down, no fear currently apparent within those hues.
The reaction was also partly due to a little slip she had made behind her - his sudden 'attack' towards her having caused her to jerk, her index finger now sliced neatly by the razor she had half freed from her gauntlet, the sting of blood beginning to be felt there. She sighed inwardly - that was going to make this easier now wasn't it just...

As he lifted the chair with such ease, as if she were a mere toy her entire body tensed stiffly, eyes widened considerably as a startled exhalation left her. Sienna had met strong men. She had met men who made a living just by being strong and big. None spoke as he did though, nor had the commanding manner that he possessed. Nor could they lift her with such a unnatural balance. She found herself staring at him a little slack jawed, intimidation clearly seen within her gaze as her mask temporarily dropped and her true feelings were in some way revealed.

Distracted, she hadn't remembered the Guild tattoo on her own skin, believing him to be staring at something else until he spoke up, a quick glance given downwards to the mark before she looked back up to him. There was a flash of cockiness within emerald hues, erasing that intimidation now, a smirk perhaps pulling at the corners of her lips. She was proud of the connection, that much was obvious - mistakenly believing that it would have gained her some status within his eyes and provoking the contempt within her own... How little she knew. A big fish in a little pond...

"Alright - wait -" She frowned a little, her brow twitching, her expression fluid, trying to force her brain to think quicker about the situation at hand, but something was preventing her from ordering her thoughts - she needed focus, she needed to concentrate.

Cmon Senn, cmon...

"Look, lets slow this down a little, okay? I'm no threat to you, you know that."
Her words rushed over themselves, and yet held that easy over-relaxed charm that came from years of practice and bargaining. Her tone conciliatory, the light (albeit slight tense) smile on her lips and flashing of her eyes in the firelight showed that she was used to this game, perhaps even found something of a joy within it herself.

"You say you don't need that name, and maybe you can get it elsewhere - but you've got a free tool in me now. Why waste it?"

Inwardly she still believed that the identity of her employer was the sole reason she was left alive, but was she going to push the man that had her tied to a chair? No. Not yet. That would be foolish.

"He or She is my employer. They hired me to do a job. They're the reason I'm here to irritate you now. I can give up the name, you can do with me what you will, or we can be smart about this... Strike a bargain..."

Perhaps it wasn't wise to insult her captor's intelligence, but the arrogance in Sienna had meant that his thought hadn't really occurred, she likely wasn't even aware she had done so. Her tone was intense now, an attempt to convince him.

"Let me return to them, with - a - a -" She glanced to the room rapidly, gaze seeking something, chin lifting slightly.
"a - token article. A crate to show a completed job."
Her mind was racing, all her gift-of-the-gab and charm currently focused into trying to convince this man she knew nothing about, why he should let her walk out of here alive with no scarring, mental or otherwise.

"You can observe of course. You'll get your true target, perhaps more information on why they sent me here -"
She was testing the water with that comment, trying to read the reaction in his face. Did he think a rival criminal syndicate was interested in his stores? Was this a common occurance? Was this a point of interest for him? How big was his own group, or was this is personal stash implying he was perhaps a trader? By asking this general comment, his reaction whether dismissive or angry could tell her so much and get her closer to knowing what the hell she had walked into.

"- Maybe even more. If you're unhappy with the results, well, theres no reason you can't bring me right back to this lovely situation we find ourselves in now, is there."

She couldn't keep the sarcasm out of her voice, but it was at least in part, a front. She was nervous, of course she was, beads of sweat had begun to threaten her brow, and her breaths were short. This was supposed to have been a simple job... She hadn't even asked for blasted hazard pay....

"Think about it... I can be useful to you. You've got no reason to kill me. What you have got is one asset that's now very highly motivated to your cause..."

Whatever the fuck that was. All she was trying to do was make it out of this room alive.
She could have begun to acclaim how she knew nothing of the situation, drive that point further home to assure her own ignorance, and instil in him the realisation that releasing her would not be a risk to him or whatever this was. But she would be taking a big risk by playing her cards so soon, particularly before he had revealed his own...

This post has been edited by Gypsy on Apr 17 2012, 05:58 PM

[♙ Geluvir]

Erasmus couldn’t help but laugh at her little outburst in response to him tearing her clothing. She was like a lowly peasant child throwing a stone at the carriage of a corrupt nobility; Insignificant. Erasmus did however appreciate spunk, it meant that if things did have to go nasty that they would be a lot more enjoyable then if she just lay back and took it. After all, she wouldn’t have been the first victim of his sadistic pleasures, there had to be something keeping things fresh! Her continued attitude pleased him, a delightful mixture of fear and personal arrogance. He could tell that she had grown up a spoiled child, not in the way a noble’s daughter is spoiled mind you, but given everything she needed to succeed in life. She had the tell tale signs of a woman who knew how to turn her charms to her advantage which made her even more appealing, just probably not in the way she had hoped.

Her reaction to him lifting her was more than enough information than he needed. That momentary break in her facade told him two important facts. One, that she wasn’t as strong as she was making herself out to be and that his methods of interrogation were working and two; that she hadn’t seen anyone as strong as him before. This meant that she probably hadn’t ever met any supernaturals and her experience extended to human abilities and nothing more. This lent more credence to the theory that she didn’t know what she had gotten herself into, or more importantly who’s weapons cache she’d attempted to raid. Thinking about it now, Erasmus was a little upset that he had come all this way just to stop a worthless amateur from raiding his stocks as the report had suggested a slightly larger threat. A moment of annoyance was present on his features as he thought about this, betraying him as a man that didn’t hide his aggressive nature very well despite his obvious training.

Speaking of his training, he continued to listen to the woman’s blathering and let her try and talk her way out of her situation whilst giving no clues to show that he knew exactly what was going on. The tensing of the body, the creak of the rope and the faint smell of blood was all he needed to know that she was trying to escape her bonds. The tiniest movement or change in atmosphere would have been missed by even the best trained professionals but he had a supernatural advantage on his side that often did most of the work for him. He didn’t much care that she was trying to get free, in fact he would have been insulted if she wasn’t. For now it was fine for him to let her think there was still hope for her escape, when you know someone’s intentions then it’s much easier to sift through the muck of what their saying to locate anything of importance. He hoped at least by now she’d realised that the bindings were tight to pressure her into acting too quickly or give in to his questioning before she lost all feeling in her extremities, but he didn’t much trust in the intelligence of humans. It wasn’t as though her slipping free of the bonds on her hands would help her any, she’d be unable to free her ankles from that position and he was confident that he was much faster and stronger than her by far. If she tried to move, he’d silence her.

The more the girl spoke, the more it was clear that she really did know nothing. The plan she suggested was the last nail in the coffin of her ignorance. He let her finish talking and stared at her for a moment in silence before slipping off the crate and brining his face so close to hers she could feel his breath on her skin. A breath that stank of blood and raw flesh. His light hazel eyes, intense and unforgiving, locked onto hers in that disjointed gaze that she must have become familiar with by now. He remained silent as the cogs in his mind turned, trying to figure out whether she was truly this stupid or so much of a genius that she had him believing that she was a common street rat. From what he could tell the former was the case, though in reality it probably didn’t mean anything beyond him having to bury another ‘innocent’. He wasn’t a man for compassion or mercy and letting people go wasn’t his style regardless of how useful and ignorant they were making themselves out to be. He decided to play with his food a little longer for now; the mixture of fear, hope and defiance in her eyes was delicious.

”The lost lamb is blind to the decadence of its shepherd.”

Erasmus rose back to his full height, looking down on her both in stature and with pity. She was nothing but a pawn on a chessboard she couldn’t even see; a puppet manipulated by a man no more than a common pawn himself. He shook his head from side to side slowly and folded his arms across his chest. There was a momentary closing of his eyes whilst he made the decision on whether or not to inform the poor girl of what she’d gotten herself mixed up in. After all, there’s not much harm in telling a dead person what killed them is there?

”Foolish girl. The job you were hired for and the one you were sent to complete aren’t one and the same. What resides in these crates are not weapons per say or even items of a valuable nature. They are useless except to those who know the secrets of the world. It would appear you were deceived.”

He paused for a moment to give her time to react to what he had said, though not enough time to speak should she feel the need to. He wasn’t interested in what she thought had happened or in what he expected would be an outraged response at her discovering that she’d been betrayed. He just hoped that now, due to this realisation, she would just fork over the name in an act of spite so that he could be finished with all this nonsense. He’d started thinking he’d do this wench a favour but with every word that escaped his lips he got more bored, irritated and impatient.

”You weren’t sent here in order to steal anything. You were sent here so that he could determine if this place was what he thought it was. You were... a sacrifice, that had to be made in the pursuit of progressing his intelligence. Much like a stone thrown down a dark hole to check it’s depth. Only, a bag of meat is more likely to flush out the predators”

Erasmus unfolded his arms and bent over once more, his right hand gripping her chin so that she was forced to face him. He appeared to be interesting in the tattoo on her face, looking close enough to tell that there were scars that lay beneath. He had the feeling that she’d gotten out of bad situations before, but he was confused as to how someone with a bad history would allow herself to get into this dire state once again. Shrugging, he threw her head off to one side roughly before turning his back on her and moving across the room to the other side of the flames. He kept an eye on her out of the corner of his vision through the flames however, he was still fully aware that she intended to make an escape.

He let his mind wander for a moment as to how he would try to escape if he were a mere mortal. He’d probably cut the ropes at his wrists and then use the sudden freedom to throw the brazier over and set fire to the room. Hopefully that’d buy him enough time to cut his ankle restraints with the knife he had on him and make for the exit whilst his captor was on fire or busy saving the weapons cache. Unfortunately for Sienna however, fire would barely phase him and these crates were able to be sacrificed if need be. If she was smart she might’ve determined this already from what he said so he pursued different avenues of thought. Perhaps she’d pull something a little less obvious?

”Are you ready to end this unnecessary conversation and forfeit the name of your betrayer?”

[♖ Gypsy]

Sienna was normally well versed in thinking on her feet. However, she also normally had the upper hand. The most intelligent minds she ran into most were in black market traders, perhaps the odd corrupt official – but she found the same tactics usually worked again and again with them. They wanted to believe themselves superior to her, wanted to think this pretty young thing weaker, stupid, naïve. Once you had convinced them that this was the case, they usually invented the rest of the con by themselves.

The man before her though? He was something else. A new breed. True enough, she was struggling – she was panicked, she hadn’t anticipated any of this, and that clarity of mind she sought was eluding her. Aside from this were the flashes - those images that kept coming back to her. Split second sights from before she had been knocked down... That shadow was different to the man that stood before her now – there were flashes of something far more animal in her memory – not possible – gods her head hurt…

As he lent in towards her she didn’t flinch, or even draw back, surprising perhaps, her gaze locking on his sternly. Her eyes searched his own as if she had been the one to instigate the close examination, never faltering externally although inwardly she resisted the urge to swallow – she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.
She had him pegged as one who enjoyed the suffering of others… He radiated it from his very core. But how did you counter such a personality? Offer too much defiance and the challenge would be made, presenting him with something to break. Too much meekness and he would grow bored, discard her, and in this case that was likely to be fatal. How had she come to be here? Locked in a room with the worst kind of man… Her ego wouldn’t believe it was her own doing, even if that were true. No, with this one she believed the trick was intelligence… He was used to getting his whim, treating others as he wished… Engage his mind, present a problem to be solved and he might well become distracted from the more dark elements of his nature. For now however, such a tactic would be a ‘back up’ plan given its potential to enrage him.

As he uttered his pedantic sentiments she snorted in derision, turning her face away from his own as if she had the upper hand, eyes filled with contempt. Poets, writers, actors – they were all the same. Those that considered themselves ‘gifted’ with words, using useless metaphors to unnecessarily embellish simple terms. They thought themselves cut from a different cloth, but it was all the same rags at the end of it. All as brutal in nature beneath the education. She wouldn’t fall for such idiocy again.

”Foolish girl. The job you were hired for and the one you were sent to complete aren’t one and the same. What resides in these crates are not weapons per say or even items of a valuable nature. They are useless except to those who know the secrets of the world. It would appear you were deceived.”

Sienna was shaking her head as she commented to the contrary, not looking at him, her gaze on the room as if bored. “Aye, I’d a notion of that…” she muttered the sarcastic comment dryly before he continued even if it resulted in him talking over her, her mind was turning over the information he had just provided on the nature of the crates.

She had concluded that she had been lied to the second she had been accosted in the dark. That assumption had only increased over the passing minutes. What worried her was that she had checked her sources. The hirer had been endorsed by a fence that she had used (and trusted) for years, she had checked the employers history, the towns folk knew him – he checked out.
What sort of situation was this if he had somehow managed to apply enough pressure to her friend to get him to crack? She did not believe he would betray her so easily. And for the employer to cover their tracks so well...? With every passing moment she became assured that she had stumbled into a game far bigger then she had originally intended, but what that was remained a mystery. All she knew was that she no longer wanted to play…

The razor had done it’s work well, and she just about managed to keep the arrogance from her features (not to mention the relief) when she felt the ropes loosen incrementally, blood rushing back into her hands and the throbbing, bleeding finger. She loosely flexed the dull ache out of her digits, working her wrists apart enough until she felt she could pull them free rapidly when the time came or need arose.

”You weren’t sent here in order to steal anything. You were sent here so that he could determine if this place was what he thought it was. You were... a sacrifice, that had to be made in the pursuit of progressing his intelligence. Much like a stone thrown down a dark hole to check it’s depth. Only, a bag of meat is more likely to flush out the predators”

“If that’s the case then surely it’s better for you if I simply walk out.” This comment was snapped back to him immediately, without the need for thought. Emerald hues flicked up to his own, the angered tensing of her body disguising (all so she thought) a sharp movement as the rope began to be worked upon.
“If my employer wants to see if this place was whatever in seven hells he thought it was, why not convince him of his mistake?! Let me leave. Why confirm the fact for him with my disappearance.”

As he grabbed her chin she wrenched her head out of his grasp with a rough angling of her head, only succeeding in straining her neck a little as he took it once more despite her avoidance. Her hair blew between them in staggered waves as she exhaled her anger from her nose in heavy breaths, teeth gritted. It wasn’t until his gaze shifted from her eyes and to that tattoo that her demeanor changed. Under the heavy frown she blinked briefly, as if unsure where to look, a tell tale flexing in the muscles of her jaw seen as he examined her scarring. Why, was left to his guess.

”Are you ready to end this unnecessary conversation and forfeit the name of your betrayer?”

Decision time. Would she tell the truth? She honestly did not believe that it would gain her anything. Lie? Same consequence. No… She was assured in her belief that this man intended to kill her, regardless of her co-operation or not. And anyway, was it not the first obligation of a prisoner to escape?

As she considered, she made a final assessment of the man before her. He was stronger than her, that much she knew. That meant he could well be faster – especially if his initial attack and movements since were anything to go by. In her observation of him she had seen no apparent weakness – he did not favour one leg or another, there was no tenseness in his walk to suggest an inflexibility anywhere in his body – quite the contrary.
He had used both his left and right hand equally to her knowledge, though perhaps slightly favoured the right. He seemed to prefer using his hands than weapons, but that was only based on what she had seen – perhaps betraying his strategy in combat. He wasn’t easily blinded, he was focused, observant, and intelligent. None of these observations made for a terribly positive outlook to her situation...

No, her only logical course of action was to get the jump on him – and for that surprise to succeed, first time.

As he turned his back she moved at once. There was no elated cry of success, no battle growl – her hands were pulled free silently (to human ears at least) and rapidly her free hand moving to the throwing daggers at her thigh holster. The action was one similar to that of a trained archer in its precision over a repeated movement – a fluid draw of a balanced blade, a quick flick of a wrist and the razored implement was launched with lightning speed, the intention that it should embed in the back of his skull. A follow up was sent for the wider target of his chest.

The fluidity in her movement did not end there however, for the woman did not wait to see if her beloveds would hit home. Her larger curved blade at her hip drawn from its sheath with her bleeding hand, as the other quickly made for a pouch strapped to her belt under her cloak.
Said pouch was flung directly into the brazier, the flames eagerly claiming and devouring its contents before whistling and crackling began to radiate from the fire’s embrace. Moments later and the smoke from the fire changed in colour and content to a thick black, the sickly hue beginning to envelope the sealed chamber in choking smog. One thing was clear – it now wasn’t safe for either of them to stay down here. Not if they wanted to continue breathing. The powder was not intended for this purpose – but previous experience had taught her that it was a happy consequence…

For Sienna’s part in the affair, her dagger had made quick work of slicing through the ropes at her feet and waist, but a stumbled step was taken upon standing up – numb feet resisting her actions. She had an issue now. Should he remain uninjured (and she couldn’t fathom how, in her mind the blade to the skull should have ended him) he would know that her target was the rise of the narrow stairs. Her cloak was pulled from her shoulders, the fabric pushed to her mouth as she made her dash, blinking in the stinging smoke, blackened blade still clutched in practiced stance as she made for the stairs - hoping against hope that he was too distracted to stop her.

[♘ Knife Ears]

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