Completed The Contract [1]

[Phaylix Whitevine]

87 | W I N T E R | 514 AV "Son? Phaylix, are you awake, son?" Phaylix looks up from his rough bedding in his tiny Citadel apartment. He was asleep, but his mother had woken him. He blinks away the last tendrils of sleep, tasting unwashed breath on his dry tongue and breathing stagnant, hot air. He hated the absolute petching humidity of the lodging. There weren't any windows, and the ine little ventilation shaft wasn't gonna help. Not at all. "Urr.... I am now." he sits up, stretching. Vertebrae pops pleasurably as he stands and slips into his boots. He licks his chapped lips as he walks across stone flooring to open his door for Kendrana. He releases the deadbolt and swings the thick oak door open. His mother stands there, her cloak and hood adorning a simple sleeveless black shirt, rather tight pants, and her own free-running boots. She looks her son in the eyes, the same eyes that grace her face, framing the weathered skin. "Yes, Mother? "Son... May I come in?" "Umm... sure." He raises his arm, beckoning her in. She walks in, her boots thumping softly on the cold stone. She sits down on one of the only pieces of furniture in the room: an armchair he bought from someone down the street, just for a few Mizas. She takes off her hood, shaking her dark purple hues. Usually, her mid-back length hair would be free, but today, it was restricted with a tight grey ribbon, tying it into a luscious ponytail. "So... Do you need something, Mother?" Phaylix shuts the door, leaving it unlocked. That would at least let some form of flowing air into the dank quarters. "Son... I believe it's about time you finally got to perform a Contract." Phaylix's breath hitches, and his heart does a backflip. His mother was finally allowing him to Assassinate a target! This was what he trained for! This was what he was born for! Without speaking, he bounds over to her and grips her into a bear hug. He plants a kiss on her cheek, rapidly tumbling words of gratitude out his mouth. He pulls on his cloak, flips his large hood and leans against the wall, trying hard to be serious. But... A Contract? This was a momentous time! "I see your excited, Phay. But, lemme give you some... parameters, more or less, to REALLY sell me. If you can achieve this Contract flawlessly, then I'll give you my 2nd Wrist Blade instead of that flimsy one." Kendrana points to his right arm, which holds the spring-loaded weapon favored by Assassins. His was rather shoddily put together, missing key elements such as fine engravings and actual steel. His Blade was a dented, dulling copper, certainly not ideal blade material. But, he'd never used it on another person, so he wasn't exact on what ideal blade material was. Kendrana stands, favoring a position on the arm of the chair. "Son. MY son. I know you can do this. This is what I trained you for. Now, for the parameters." Phaylix leans toward her, raising an excited eyebrow, itching to leave and finally TRAVEL for once. "You must perform the task while Morphed. Change your hair, eyes, height, the works. There can be no witnesses. Anyone see you commit the deed... persuade them to un-see it. And, finally, you must bring me a Syliran Knight's shortsword." "What?" That last one had absolutely nothing to do with the Comtract! How did she expect him to retrieve a KNIGHT'S sword? That was a more impossible proposition than the Svefran pirates who kidnapped his grandfather's request for upwards of 1,000 Nilos! "You heard me, Phay. And you have... 3 bells to do so. Go to The Rearing Stallion. Ask for Delkon. He'll provide you with the position of the target, the good stuff." They look at each other in silence for about 4 ticks before Kendrana yells, "GO!" Phaylix exits his apartment, taking the stairs in the stairwell 2 at a time. He smiles at the request for a Knight's sword. He could do this. This... this was child's play. He was born for it.

[Phaylix Whitevine]

Phaylix swings open the door of the cheap housing complex, the heat and the din of the walking people flooding his senses. It was around 4 bells after midday, the sun getting ready to set. Nightfall was the perfect cover. He steps out into the city of Syliras, shutting the thick door behind him. He departs the housing, walking slowly through the crowd, making himself unknown. As he walks, he begins to Morph. First, it's a tingling sensation in the areas his eyes and scalp. Then, it feels as though he has bubbles popping hotly on them, a rather uncomfortable part of the ordeal, then there's the immense burning. He gasps, the sudden pain making him stop in his tracks. It hurts, it hurts a lot. It felt as though he was on fire. He should've stopped, Morwen, it was above his level of skill to attempt this... But, it's done almost as soon as it's started. "Oi, best move on. Petching freeloaders..." Phaylix shakes his burning head, continuing to move forward toward the tavern with the red horse on its sign. He tries not to scream from the Morphing process, and just as it feels like his head's going to catch on fire, it just.... stops. Phaylix sighs. He never really enjoyed the process, but he did like the outcome. He takes the time to admire his blue-streaked black hair, and his emerald eyes in the window of some little glassblowing shop. He doesn't touch it, though, in fear he'll start the pains again. He smiles, and moves forward to the Rearing Stallion at a much quicker rate. ~~~ "You Delkon?" Phaylix looks around the tavern, the hearth exuding warmth from a bright fire, the keep serving ale tankards, getting silver-rimmed Mizas in return, an obvious couple in each other's arms, dancing slowly to the live music played by some children with homemade instruments. But Gods be damned if they couldn't play 'em. "Maybe. Who's askin'" The man's voice is deep, who a wrinkled quality you get from smoking for a surplus of years. Phaylix sits himself across from him in the booth, removing his hood. He looks at him, sizing him up. Grey hair, unbearded, the rest of his face clouded by a large brimmed hat. "The son of Kendrana Whitevine. Now, are you Delkon, or am I wasting my time here?" The man laughs. He takes a swig of ale from his glass and sits up, piercing Phaylix's green eyes with ones that are a light hazel. He props himself up on an arm, one of which is drastically different from the other, taking on a green color. An Isur. "Yeah. I'm Delkon. You're Phaylix. I was your mother's Contractor in Avanthal, before you were born. Now, I'm not gonna waste any time here. My policy: get in, get your info, get the petch out." Delkon takes this time to down the rest of his pissy-looking ale and retrieve a tin of some dried black stuff, which he sprinkles on his finger and inhales. "Damn, that shyke's strong. Now, your first target will be easy. A little too easy, in my eyes, but your other requested something without much... finesse. Some dude by the name of Gyor. 4 feet 2, blonde. Grey eyes.He's been shaking down the elderly for Mizas for 'protection.' They've been to scared to notify the Knights, but who needs 'em? We got this. He'll be at The Stone Garden. He goes there every night to steal from unsupervised purses. I need you to... take care of it. Do this, and you'll get 5 Mizas. That's just the starting price until you raise your skills." Phaylix nods, rolling all of this information around. Gyor. Beats up the old. Steals, frequently. The Stone Garden. "Got it. I'll see you again." With this, he raises from his seat and exits the Rearing Stallion. It's dark now, and the lamps of the streets have yet to be lit. The people of the fortress city have went home, only the ne'er-do-wells and thugs out. Phaylix turns around, looking at the building. He'd be able to travel much faster from the rooftops. Taking in a deep breath, Phaylix runs past the Rearing Stallion. He takes the time to admire the fortress city, looking at everything accordingly. Soon, the Stone Garden is in view, approaching on the horizon. Phaylix smiles once more. This was gonna be easy.

[Phaylix Whitevine]

The Vantha runs on the floor, pushing through the late night crowd. He had to get to the Stone Garden, and fast. Then a horse-drawn cart full of hay seems to materialize in front of the Assassin, headed by a man in tattered clothes. He didn't have enough time to move out of its path. He collides with the behemoth cart, barreling into it. Every inch of his body aches with pain as he falls into the itchy hay. The wind is knocked from his heaving lungs, and he doesn't want to get up, CAN'T get up. But he forces himself out, his knees breaking his fall as he rolls out. Phaylix kneels, coughing his lungs up. The few who are still out look at him as though he's just another bum, probably ill in the petchin' head. He pulls himself to his shaking feet, slumping against a house for support. He shakes hay off him, taking in slow, steady, quavering breaths. Petch, that was a horrid idea. He probably should've slowly descended, instead barreling at intense speeds at hay! Petching imbecile. You should've watched where you were going. Shaking his throbbing head, Phaylix continues on toward a The Stone Garden, which was still a while away. He notices a new limp to his gait. He probably screwed up his ankle in the process. Imbecile. ~~~ The Stone Garden was a marvel, indeed. It was peaceful, quiet. Fireflies were aplenty, one of the main sources of illumination in the park. An elderly couple were next to one of many fountains, holding each other tight. The woman's frail body was wracked with sobs as she released her eagle's grip on what seemed to be her husband and laid a small object on one of the many stones commemorating the fallen. She stopped for a moment, most likely praying, before her and the other left. Phaylix removes his hood. There was an intense urge to stray from the task at hand for a moment, to see what the woman was grieving. But, there was Gyor, right there, counting coin against a stone wall. Phaylix looks the cretin up and down. He's an unimpressive little man, with a snout-like nose and a belly like a woman with child. On his hip was a shortsword, scabbard-less. It was nothing spectacular, either. Just a sword. With a cross guard. But the petch would be here for awhile. Phaylix let his pestering curiosity get the better of him and stray to the immediate east, where the old woman had placed some sort of item against a stone. He carefully treads across to it, kneeling as the woman had done. The item was a folded piece of parchment. The rock it was leant against belonged to "KENRAT HELMDES," etched into the small rock. He had an overwhelming urge, once more, to delve deeper into this fraction of a story that most likely spanned decades. He takes the parchment, yellowing with age and brittle on the corners, and carefully unfolds it. The message is written in Common, in the pen of one who'd just be learning to read and write. I LOV MAI MOMM. Underneath the chicken scratch was a picture of 3 people, no more than sticks with heads. One had long, flowing hair. This medium-heighted one was in the middle of 2 others, the taller one having short hair and the smallest one having no hair. Phaylix swallows, feeling as he delved into someone's private journal and saw something he shouldn't have. And he shouldn't have. Carefully folding it, he replaces the child's drawing, coming to the grim conclusion that this knight who was commemorated here had drawn this when they were young, and they died. Phaylix does his own little prayer for Kenrat Helmdes and stands, turning to the fountains. Gyor still sits, pocketing a few silver rimmed Mizas. This made Phaylix rather cross, that greedy man stealing from grieving widows and family members. Involuntarily, his eyes turn a blood red. He wants to kill this man. He begins to waltz over, flipping his hood over his rage-contorted face. He stands directly in front of the fat petch. It takes Gyor a full chime before he realizes someone's staring at him. "What? You want some bread, you petching bum? Go look to others for charity." The man stares at Phaylix with a look of exasperation and tiredness on his ratty face. Phaylix flicks his right wrist. His Wrist Blade activates to its full 10 inches, the matte copper reflecting the light of the lanterns lit around the memorial site. "Shyke!" the man yells, moving out of the way of the incoming blade with surprising agility. He moves to Phaylix's left, unsheathing his shortsword. The man laughs, getting into a defensive stance. "That Izurian filth Delkon sent you, didn't he? I knew that petching Isur should've been taken care of earlier. I greatly overestimated him, though. I thought he might've sent one of his more skilled Assassins to kill me. Look, kid. I'll make you a deal. You leave now, I'll let you live. You don't, I'll kill you, and I've killed more talented pieces of shyke than you!" "Sod that. I'll make sure you're appropriately dealt with, you petty thief." The Vantha raises his own weapon to a ready stance. He'd make sure Gyor was dead soon. Unlike his mother's own Wrist Blade, Phaylix's didn't have a bracer to deflect the swings of Gyor's shortsword. He'd have to make sure he was dodging a lot more. The man spits, grinning."I'll enjoy killing you, boy." Phaylix returns the thief's sly smile. He wouldn't be bested so easily. The Assassin charges.

[Phaylix Whitevine]

Phaylix strafes to the right, nearly tripping over his own cloak, as Gyor swings his sword toward him. His surprise attack hadn't exactly worked, and now, Gyor had the upper hand. "C'mon, Assasssin! Do your worst!" Gyor slices downward at the Vantha. Caught by surprise, Phaykix barely makes it out of the way. He receives a large laceration in his left shoulder, crimson blood soaking through the cloak. They standoff, Gyor's weapon at the ready, Phaylix's at his side. He'd have to be smart about this. "C'mon, petch. Come at me again." He braces himself for Gyor's ramming attack once more. With a guttural battle cry, the fat man grips his shortsword and runs forward. Phaylix waits until the very right moment, knowing if he did it too early, he wouldn't get another chance, and if he did it too late... There wouldn't be another chance. Just as it seems like Gyor's going to run Phaylix through, the Vantha awkwardly sidesteps to the right while simultaneously grabbing Gyor's hands. He uses all of his strength and pumping adrenaline to sort of trip the fat man. But, Gyor's flying momentum sends them both crashing to the ground, Phaylix landing horribly on the memorial stones. He groans, the rocks causing more pain to his already enclaves vertebrae. He turns, just in time to see Gyor falling. The rat-faced man shrieks, like that of a little girl, as he falls. And Phaylix soon sees why. Gyor falls on the edge of the fountain, his head cracking against the edge loudly. His shrieks stop abruptly, and he stops moving. Silence. Phaylix gets to his feet, and limps over to the body of Gyor. He flips the corpse over. His face is in a permanent state of fear, and his right temple is literally caved in, to the point where Phaylix can see grey brain matter. "Good riddance." the Vantha says, taking the man by his underarms and dragging him over to a bench. He props him up, creating the illusion of sleep. Phaylix strips the body of all value, including a strange pentagonal ring made of cyan-stained wood. He puts the ring on his right ring finger, where it fits rather loosely. He also takes the man's abundance of coin, sure to repay all the elderly whom he stole from. "What in Sylir's name?!" Phaylix turns slowly. A Syliran Knight stands in the entrance of The Stone Garden, a look of utter fear and disgust on his face. "Umm... Hello there." "Murderer! There's a murder-!" The Knight turns to attract back up, but as he begins to run, a cane appears in the archway, clotheslining the Knight. From behind the archway, a woman appears. Phaylix can't deny it. She's a beauty. Her long black hair is tied in a rope-like plait, her outfit consists of a cloak and baggy trousers, along with boots similar to his own. Then, he notices her amethyst eyes. A Symenestra. "I see you've gotten yourself in quite a pickle, Phaylix." Her voice is honey, flowing freely and smoothly. "Who are you?" he can't help but ask. "You can call me Recluse. I'm a friend. I'll take care of this guard." With that, she pulls the handle of her came from the housing, revealing a long dagger. "No! You don't have to kill him. Just... hide him in the bushes. And hand me his sword." Recluse raises a thin eyebrow, then shrugs. She takes him by a leg and drags him out of sight, putting his unconscious body in the shrubbery. She unsheathes his shortsword, and places it in the Vantha's waiting hands, along with some cold pieces of metal. He opens his palm. 5 gold rimmed Mizas greet him, reflecting the moon's dull illumination. "Delkon says thanks. And to come back for more contracts when you're ready. And don't worry about Gyor. We'll take care of him." Recluse winks, her thin mouth becoming a smirk. Then, she's gone, running off to Gods-knows-where. Phaylix smiles, pocketing the fare. He was a bit disappointed that he didn't get the opportunity to use his Wrist Blade, but it was fine. Contract well done. ~~~ "And back with 2 chimes to spare. Great job, Phaylix. You get the sword?" Kendrana sits on his armchair once more, this time with a glass of pumpkin spirits. "Yes, mother." Phaylix says, handing her the dull sword. She inspects it, looking at it from all possible angles and directions, before setting it down. "What did you need the sword for, anyways?" he asks, disrobing and kicking off his boots with ease. He settles onto his bed, happy to get a final moment of relaxation. "I wanted to see if you could actually do it yourself." Hus mother stands, yawning, and sets the potent spirits on the "kitchen" countertop. "I'm sure you met Recluse today. She's one of us, Phaylix. There's a lot more to this business than you believe there is, son. Good night." And, on that final note, Kendrana leaves Phaylix's housing, shutting the door behind her. Phaylix shakes the final ominous comment off and almost immediately falls asleep, 5 Mizas richer, his first real Assassin job done.

[Sayana]

Your Grades Have Arrived Phaylix Skills: Skill EXP Socialization +2 Stealth +1 Morphing +1 Disguise +1 Rhetoric +1 Observation +3 Running +2 Weapon: Wrist blade +1 Tactics +1 Brawling +1 Lores: First Contract Almost getting caught by a Syliran Knight Brawling: Side-step and flip a charging enemy Recluse: Symenestra assassin Location: Stone Garden Injuries : Large cut on left shoulder (6 days to heal if treated) Comments : It was an interesting thread and certainly not a typical one for Syliras. I’m not going to lie, it’s going to be hard being an assassin or otherwise shady character in the lawful city of Syliras but as long as you play to your skill levels and know the city (and knight) lore inside and out I’m sure it’s doable. Both the legal implications of murder and adding personal NPCs have been discussed so I don’t need to reiterate that. Just a reminder about morphing, if you’re changing your character’s mass (eg. height in this case) you’d need a much higher skill level. I think what you did to Phaylix’s eyes and hair was okay though remember that morphing might take longer and require more meditation/concentration than the way you described it. I presume this is meant to be a job thread, so instead of getting 5GM you can request your wages for the season. If this is not supposed to be a job thread then you can award yourself the 5GM. Just don't award yourself both. Finally, don’t forget to include winter seasonal expenses in your ledger. Note about NPCs (for Reference) : If you plan to continue using Recluse and Kendrana, it would be a good idea to make a personal NPC request at the helpdesk for both these NPCs. It is especially important for a character like Recluse since her skill levels should be compared to a typical knight's skill level (30+ exp in: a weapon, a shield, a ranged weapon, and horseback riding). Also, if you plan on using a NPC frequently, especially like a body guard or partner in crime, then you'll be expected to pay living expenses for both Recluse and Phaylix. Don't forget to edit/delete your grade request in the grade request thread. However, make sure to keep the link so that the DS can review graded threads with ease. If you have any questions or concerns about your grade please feel free to send me a message. Enjoy.

[Plume]

This thread has been revised and approved. Original issues regarding this thread have been archived below:

Secret :

Hello again Phaylix. What Sayana has explained concerning NPC's is correct. Please read her post carefully and do as she suggests.

Since we've discussed the repercussions of having an assassin PC within Syliras quite thoroughly already, as well as any misconceptions regarding the city, its culture in general, and writing in third person past tense, the remaining issues are as follows:

1. You have no points in acrobatics, running, climbing. Therefore, Phaylix should not be able to leap onto and run across rooftops, period. Please rewrite all instances of playing above your skill level. It should be a huge struggle for him to perform the simplest of tasks regarding these two skills because he technically has not even learned them yet. Running of course can be presumed innate, but it will be clumsy and precarious at best in combination with rooftop acrobatics. The same can be said of Morphing--Novice level, especially at 8 points, should include much more difficulty in the process. Playing above your skill level is simply not allowed and no grades will be rewarded until this is remedied.

2. Your Skill Chart in your CS is very hard to read and will only grow harder over time. Please consider using a table so that you can tally points clearly and include a total for future graders.

3. Leaping off of a roof into a cart (which is very clearly taken from Assassin's Creed and infringement of existing, copyrighted material) on top of all attempts to mimic Ezio directly breaks rule #1 of Mizahar's Terms of Use. It may not seem like a serious transgression, but creativity and originality is taken seriously on this site. If you wish to play an AC-like character in an AC-like world, there are plenty of other places to do so.

4. Again, Phaylix should not be able to fight hand to hand so nimbly when he has no skill points in Unarmed Combat, Wrestling, Brawling, anything of that nature. The wounds and manner in which the NPC died are acceptable, but Phaylix's ease and proficiency without the sufficient skill points to back them is not. Please fix this accordingly.

5. There is no reason why a Knight of the Order would use Akvin's name. There just isn't. This is also not the way a Knight would behave. All Knights are combat proficient. They will either detain or execute a murderer on the spot. Now that this particular Knight knows what you and Recluse look like, the next time he sees either of you he will kill you on sight.

This covers the most basic issues. Be aware that because your grade has been intervened, you are not allowed to use any items acquired from this thread until the problems are fixed and I approve of the loot. Same goes for any skills you may have advanced.

As always, if you have any questions or concerns, feel free to PM me.

-Plume