A Legacy of Lies

[Elias Caldera]

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31st Day of Summer, 514 AV

It had started with a drink, something strong and fiery and all together foul to numb the aches that plagued his battered bones. It was something he had needed for weeks now, yet had denied himself with what must have been the epitome of self restraint. For days on end Elias had been crammed into the hovel he called home at the boarding house, and for all those countless bells his mind was left static and directionless, forced to toil away on useless trivialities and philosophical conundrums alike while his body rotted beneath the bed sheets. The doctors at the Healing Hand called it ‘rest’ and had demanded it with a sternness that startled. Elias found he had little will or choice against the matter.

The events that had seen him bed ridden with injuries and agony galore had also seen him forced into paranoia and hiding. While he and the morpher Daegron had survived that dreadful day and had amiably went their separate ways when all was said and done, in the end neither could deny the very worrying truth that they had barely escaped with their lives, and worse yet, they had done so without any answers to satiate the burning questions of ‘who and why?’ It had been annoying to say the least, neither knowing who had tried to kill you in such a grizzly and monstrous manner, nor what conceivable reason could drive this faceless enemy to go through all the trouble of murdering Elias in the first place.

Such useless speculations had forced Elias into action after so long alone with nothing but his own thoughts to bother him. He could sit idle no more, and roused by his own fiery spirit and aimless outrage, he burst from his lair in search of something to stave off the steadily encroaching madness that haunted him. What he found instead was a bar; dark, seedy and neatly tucked away somewhere discreet within the shadows of the Plaza of Dark Delights. It wasn't long before he was staring at his own murky reflection within the vile depths of whatever pungent concoction the establishment claimed was ale. It was cheap, noxious and exactly what he needed.

He found the drink helped with the lies he had been telling himself lately. He could feign ignorance and confusion all he liked, but in his mind Elias knew he already had an answer to his two questions, and no amount of contemplating in solemn silence while he brooded in the dark was going to console the fact that he already knew who, and he already bloody knew why.

Facing the truth would just have to wait for a while longer however, there was another mug of ale calling his name, and while Elias was not the sort to partake in such delights often -if at all- tonight was a special occasion.

He sat at his dilapidated table alone, attention fixed solely on his own fuzzy and blurred musings. He was growing impatient waiting for the full force of the drink to finally take him away from reality and throw him squarely into that drunken, blissful stupor he so often had seen others enjoying after stumbling out of bars and taverns late at night. All the young mage felt however, was a bit dizzy, a little sick, and even more sullen than when he had wandered in. With a dour sigh, Elias pushed his filthy cup aside and finally managed to raise his eyes from where they had fallen after sitting down. The tavern, if the dingy place could even be called that, was a dank and decrepit thing to behold. Old, disused and disquieting in its elderly architecture. It was made all the worse by the dancing shadows that flickered over the walls and faces of the even more ominous patrons that filled the place. Elias imagined it was a throwback to ages past, a literal memorial of the early days when Ravok was but a few slapped together boats and poor souls looking for salvation in all the wrong places. The way the innards of the building laid out before him, even with his buzzed point of view, told a derelict tale of an old building converted from an even older ship’s hold. The outside had been deceptively welcoming, and Elias was easily lured in with by the swaying lantern lights and promise of relief that the exterior exuded. The city of Rhysol was tricky like that though; always offering the opened hand and a smile full of promises, while at the same time, behind its back the other hand would tighten around the dagger’s hilt.

Well the Caldera had promptly learned his lesson when the stink of the place had hit him like a brick wall after he first opened the sturdy tavern doors. When the tears finally cleared from his eyes, he was then greeted by the even more troubling glares of the patrons within. Hard, dangerous men and women barely visible in the shoddy candle light as they eyed him from the shadows. Thankfully he had ignored them all and boldly made his way to the bar, but hiding the feint limp that harried his step none the less. That had proven the right choice, as it seemed most quickly grew bored with his curious presence among them, or perhaps they simply sensed a kindred spirit in the fallen apprentice and found that far too mundane and familiar for their liking. He himself hadn't cared much initially either, far too distracted with accosting the imposing mountain of muscle that was the bartender with his orders and demands. As he surveyed the room again now however, Elias realized he was more than a little thankful no one paid any attention to his hunched form drinking alone.

A small blessing given that the tavern wasn't at all reflective of its grim ambiance. The place was ruckus with laughter and rowdy conversations between rum drunk criminals and cutthroats alike, a harsh contrast to the young, brooding Ravokian himself. There was something however, among all the rotten teeth and shanking scars that caught the mage’s attention. A man in particular, his body well defined and his large arms bare for the world to see the tattoo adorning his shoulders. A tattoo Elias had seen on only one other man before.

Caiden… Came the name unbidden once more to the forefront of his thoughts. It had happened before when Elias had first spotted the man earlier that night, his marking too painfully familiar to ignore. With little else to do, he had followed the stranger into the shyke hole he now found himself in. It hadn't taken long to realize why he knew that mark, or why it called to him with such a haunting sense of nostalgia. The muscled stranger was a mercenary, a warrior for hire, but not just any sell sword, he was a Rum Hound. The same company that his uncle had once been a part of before- Elias swallowed hard, the words not even said yet still caught in his throat. He pushed the thought aside with a violent shove of resolve.

Hastily, he set about picking through his array of empty mugs looking for the one most full among them. He found something relatively not drained and grabbed it, climbing from his seat of stupor in the corner and –shakily at first- stumbled his way over to the stranger with the dog’s head tattoo. The Caldera suddenly remembered he had a plan.

The night may have started with one drink drink, but before it was done, it would end drowned in many more, Elias was counting on it..
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[Elias Caldera]

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“And why the petch would you do that, eh?”

The words were slurred and guttural, a testament to how drunk the sell sword really was despite the rigid way he held himself, even sitting down. To deny how dangerously alert the man’s eyes were despite his apparent state was to invite trouble however, and Elias strove to avoid just that.

The mage placed the drink he had offered in front of the man in spite of his unwelcoming suspicion. The others at the table now shot daggers at him as well, but ignoring their looks was a little easier when the room was spinning so much. Probably went too far with the ale. He mentally moaned. “Because…” Elias continued, pausing awkwardly to suppress a burp that he hadn't planned “A Rum Hound needs his rum, until you find it though, I ‘spose this shyke will have to do.” He nudged the mug a little closer and tried his best to smile like he meant it. The mercenary cocked an eyebrow at him, curiosity undoubtedly piqued. With a lopsided smirk of his own, he picked up the drink and threw a halfhearted salute at his new young benefactor. It was a good start, but begrudging acceptance of Elias’s existence through liquored bribery wasn’t enough. As the man took a liberal swig from his glass, the djed within Elias began to bubble to life, filling his very veins with a power that, even in his unsteady condition, was intensely sobering.

With a thunderous sigh, the man unhooked his guzzling latch from the mug and slammed it down on the table to the laughter of those who sat with him. He turned to Elias again, the mage still clinging to his smile. “I didn’t petch your sister did I?” Needless to say, the Ravokian was taken aback and his facade faltered as he struggled to make sense of the sudden question.

“Uh… I don’t- No.”

“Cuz a fella a lot like you offered me a free drink once in Lhavit before and tried to stick me when I was good and drunk. Kept screaming about how I had ‘tarnished’ his sister’s virtue while he was at it. Of course he was screaming something else by the time I got my hands ‘round his scrawny throat.”

A tinge of uncertainty crawled its way unto Elias’s back then. Perhaps he should have followed a different Rum Hound when he had spotted the group of them disembarking on the docks earlier that day. He hadn’t even really put much thought into reading the man he had decided to start stalking. The sight of the company tattoo had foolishly lulled him into carelessness and now with only a few words in things were threatening to derail before they even began. He should have gone with someone smaller, weaker, easier to trick.

“Maybe a cousin, your mother?” The nameless merc continued to push, clearly looking for a rise in his fresh victim. Elias needed a gamble, something to break through and get himself firmly rooted in the man’s thoughts. The djed stirring beneath his flesh was given purpose then, roused into action and directed out from his eyes as they looked down at the large man reclining in his seat, the uncomfortable eye contact solidifying a connection for his magic to travel from hypnotist to the hypnotized. Elias chuckled, djed rushing forth like tiny tendrils. “Caiden always said the company was full of the limpest dicks in Sylira, and looking at you, I think its safe to say all the women can rest easy knowing their 'virtues' won't be tarnished anytime soon.” A surge of shaped ideas and emotions rushed forth as Elias shaped the djed and flung it hard against the warrior’s aura, praying the idea of surprise and recognition would stick hard enough that the name would have immediate and overwhelming impact.

The man’s eyes hardened at first, and Elias wondered if his wobbly legs could carry him out the door fast enough.

“Caiden!?”

And like that, Elias was in.
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[Elias Caldera]

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“And then he says, he says; ‘Get off him you daft bastard, some of us have work in the morning!’” The throaty laughter that followed as Teagan threw his head back and roared in revelry was almost as intoxicating as the ale he had sent flying everywhere in the process. Elias found himself genuinely laughing out loud alongside the man as he recounted stories and tales of days long gone past. The impression he had done of Caiden had been frighteningly spot on, and the mage was having a hard time denying the things his uncle apparently did so many years ago were not unlike what he knew of the man at all. A bell had passed since Elias first set upon the Rum Hound with offerings of free booze, and while the mage had steadily weaned himself off the stuff, Teagan had raced ahead regardless of whether or not he had noticed he was drinking alone. It was just he and Elias now however, both men slouching at the bar, sharing stories like proper drunkards at that point. It had been easy enough to steer the mercenary towards this point of ease given the proper hypnotic encouragements, but the fact that he was drunk helped spectacularly.

“Ah Caiden, the old man could be a right pain in the arse, but once you got passed all the preaching and general bullshyke, he was still a pain in the arse, but a good man to have by your side when things went bad… which was often, mind you.” Teagan said, his tone growing softer as he carried on. Elias noticed the man’s hand drifting towards his side, likely touching a scar he bore underneath his shirt. He had known both his father Torian and his uncle Caiden to do similar when memories they’d rather not relive reared their ugly heads anyway. His uncle rarely talked much about his time with the company or the things he was doing when he and Elias weren't readying the young boy to join the Ebonstryfe as a petitioner, but for Teagan to know the man as well wasn't all that a surprise truth be told. The Rum Hounds were a small outfit, their roots tracing back to nearly a hundred years of blood and toil on a thousand different battlefields across Sylira and the rest of the North. Their numbers however, according to what Caiden would hint at when he referred to them as a 'close knit family,' were always kept relatively small. The luck came with the fact that Teagan wasn't a new recruit, but a veteran of the Hounds, despite his apparent youth. If the man had joined after Caiden had died, then the Ravokian would have found himself in a right mess from the start.

“I miss my uncle. He was a good man, whichever family he was fighting for.” Elias muttered, the bleakness creeping unto the edges of his words as they fell into the mug he was nursing. Teagan didn't need any motivation to pick up on the reimancer’s sullen shift and suddenly clanked his own cup against Elias. “A toast then, to Caiden.”

“To Caiden Caldera.” He agreed halfheartedly, raising his glass. “You deserved better, old man.” Especially from your family… Another clank of cups and the two were drinking again. With a gasp and a chuckle, Elias slammed his cup down in tandem with Teagan’s and the two shared another round of mirth that lasted a solid chime thanks only to the booze. The man was surprisingly enjoyable company so far, but the Ravokian figured that was because the Hound was the only person he had ever had the opportunity to openly talk about his uncle with in so long a time. It feels like it’s been years since I even said his name out loud.

Teagan, uncharacteristically, had no comment about the young man’s unorthodox toast, and the mage found himself calling upon his arcane talents once more, allowing the djed within to seep out from his flesh and slither into the mind of the man he sat next to. So close together, their auras were practically intertwined, making it all the more easier to plant the seed of curiosity into the mercenary’s thoughts. What does he mean by that? Elias mumbled in his own head as he silently shaped the suggestion and firmly pressed into Teagan's thoughts.

“Deserved better, you mean the way he died, don’t you?”

Perhaps another time would have called for a victorious smile to be suppressed at the small achievement his mental manipulations were affording him, but not now, not when he was using Caiden’s name like this. It just felt wrong. When it’s all done, and I finally have something to show for it, maybe then I can celebrate. Elias quietly contemplated even as he responded to the drunk’s unnaturally provoked question. “This city…” He sighed, pouring in the dramatic touch of forlorn eyes recounting dark times for added effect. “This city isn't kind to good people. Not even its own.”

“Aye, that’s the dirty truth isn’t it? I much prefer my home in Zeltiva, at least there you only had to look over your shoulder come pay day when your purse was full and every pickpocket within a mile could hear its siren’s call. Not every waking moment like it is here. Couldn't say the same for Caiden though, as much as he liked to drown himself in kelp beer and the occasional Zeltivan lass, the man never would admit his home was anywhere else but on the lake.”

“You heard what happened to him then?” Elias chimed in, helplessly curious to learn more about the man that essentially raised him. Teagan nodded glumly at his mug. “Aye, murdered and left to rot for whatever coin he carried. The Hounds don’t take losing one of their own so lightly as to not go looking for answers when none are given. Killed for your boots though… a warrior deserves to at least die on the battlefield, not with a knife in his back.” Teagan took another swig, finishing the drink on a sullen note that left Elias teetering on the edge. It took so much to contain what he suddenly felt that it almost left him breathless for a good long while before he realized someone was prodding his shoulder trying to get his attention. “Another?” The sell sword inquired, a drooping smile accompanying his slurred question. The young man shook his head and rose from his seat, or at least tried to. The room went all dizzy for a brief, shocking moment and it took two more tries before he was finally on his feet and both he and Teagan had stopped laughing at his expense. “It’s time for me to find a bed, I think.” Elias finally managed, steadying himself with a hand on the counter. “No, no, don’t get up, I’ll get this. It’s the least I can do for a Hound.” Teagan never stirred and he grinned at the jest, but probably more so at the idea of not having to pay. Elias rummaged around in his pockets for a while before slapping a whopping total of ten gold mizas on the table. The shiny sight was enough to elicit a questionable whistle from his drinking companion. It was far more than enough to cover the swill they had endured, cheap and shyke as it was, but the bartender voiced no complaint and swiftly scooped up his tip.

“I didn’t realize I was dining with such a high roller. Forgive me, my lord, I should probably curtsy or something now, right?” Teagan mocked, attempting the maneuver anyway and nearly tipping out of his seat in the process. Elias waved a hand dismissively at him, unsure on whether or not he was truly drunk or just pretending anymore. Either way, his agenda still stood. “Ah, it’s nothing. I should be coming into a fortune soon, anyway. When I do, I won’t have to waste my time in shyke holes like this anymore.” He grumbled perhaps too loudly as the bartender eyed him darkly. Teagan however, was clearly hooked by the look on his face, but perhaps not so boozed up to blatantly reveal as much. “Plus,” Elias went on. “I owe you I figure. I don’t often get to talk about him anymore, and while I would like to talk about him more one day, now I believe I’d prefer to go throw up and then promptly fall into a canal somewhere.”

The mercenary chuckled. “That’s the thing about reminiscing ain't it, its pleasant enough going down, but it has a habit of leaving a sour taste in your mouth in the end.” He stood, much easier than Elias had the young man noted with disdain, and offered a hand. The mage took it without hesitation and shook as fiercely as he could. “If you’d like to speak again, or more importantly, pay for my drinks again, I’ll likely be here, or any other dump I can crawl my way into. The company is resting here for the next few weeks while we recruit and ready ourselves for the trip back to Zeltiva. I don’t mind sharing a drink or two with the kin of a man I once called brother.”

The Caldera smiled, warmed by the idea despite himself, and turned to leave. He stopped after only a few steps however, and unexpectedly swung back around. “He was your brother, wasn't he…” The mage said suddenly, catching Teagan by surprise. “And he was my family as well… What if I told you I knew who killed him?” The Zeltivan straightened at the words, green eyes narrowing.

“What if I told you I had a way to get back at them?”
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[Elias Caldera]

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32nd Day of Summer, 514 AV

The following morning had been… unpleasant.

The prospect of escaping his bed and venturing into the light of day outside had gone from unbearably tempting one morning to inconceivably painful the next. The pounding was the worst part of it. The incessant thrumming against his skull like a marching band parading across his brain until he actually longed for another dry heave of his stomach to strain his innards, for at least that would break the monotony of agony he was forced to endure. Too much… He moaned in begrudging agreement with no one in particular. Elias now at least knew for certain that he couldn't hold his own when it came to competitions of liquor, and that in the future, should he ever be tempted to test himself again, memories of what he was suffering now would doubtlessly remind him how bad of an idea it was. Too much.

The headache would pass however, and so would the nausea and the regret like all the other repercussions of last night, all save for one; The plan he had enacted. Elias liked to believe it had been something he had conceived the moment he stepped foot on the docks of Ravok after three years away, or even back when he had left his home in the first place. He liked to think his mind had been abuzz with thoughts of vengeance and patricide ever since his father ruined his life, but the bitter truth of it was, the mage hadn't really had a clue what he’d hoped to do until last night when he spotted the Rum Hounds wandering the city in search of booze and women. It was at that moment that it all came flooding in, plans and plots like all those he had been planning and plotting for nearly an entire season now, but unlike the others, this one was truly attainable, not just some passing fancy or idle day dream. In front of him had been the opportunity he had been waiting for and Elias had seized it in his grasp the moment he smashed that drink down in front of Teagan.

I’m doing this. He thought, sliding out of bed with a cringe. The tingle of doubt and fear began to creep in as comprehension took hold, and as it mingled with the headache and the nausea, Elias couldn't tell if he had ever felt so terrible. No! I’m doing this, and there is no turning back now. Part of him longed for perhaps just a little more rum to ease the nerves, but as another heave beset him at the mere thought, he wisely decided against it.

While deciphering just what exactly had gone down last night would take some time, Elias worked himself through the regular morning ritual he had adopted ever since the attack that had bed ridden him in the first place. It began with stretching out what felt like torn and cramped muscles all over his body, pulling here and twisting there to make sure the bits that truly hurt weren't being avoided simply because of the inconvenience of pain. It moved on to push ups afterwards, working the arms as much as his turbulent stomach would allow before flirting ever more with danger by doing crunches next. As the aches and injuries that were once numb and content a moment ago began to flair and fidget under his skin angrily, Elias had to wonder if now was actually the best time to be doing this after all. His body was racked with minor sprains and bruises, some easy to hide but not so easy to ignore. Most were healed, true, but as things usually went bad when he least wanted them to, being prepared physically seemed paramount to success.

That had brought the doubt back, and by that time the mage had already lost count of his repetitions. Seeing as the last one he had pathetically attempted barely lifted his head off the floor however, Elias settled on a nice round number like thirty and decided to simply let it be. Picking himself off the floor of his room, he wandered over to his wash basin and began to clean himself in the mirror. No, there is no backing out anymore, not after what he’s done… not after what I've done. I can’t keep pretending like any of this is right. I have to do what I came back to Ravok to do… What I promised her. The power of the ancients flared into life as he pondered the past, a raging arcane torrent stifled and damned within his soul until only a trickle was allowed to pour forth from his fingertips. It shuddered and shook silently until it was corrupted into pure res before his very eyes. The inner layer was converted into water soon after and the outer, still untouched res in its natural form, was used to guide said water across Elias’s body and clean away the thin sheen of sweat his exercises had garnered.

True resolve was difficult to find for him these days, but after last night, Elias was beginning to feel a hint of something just like it crawling its way up his spine. It hadn't been so much what had happened in the bar as much it was what happened afterward that mattered. Teagan had of course perked up at what Elias had told him, and even in his drunken capacity, Elias was a little proud to say he could still lie with the best of them. Money always ts[pke louder than all else though, even supposed pledges of brotherhood or oaths to a cause, and for the mercenary, it was gold that persuaded him in the end, not some quest for revenge. No one was paying Elias for this though, but now that things were in motion, he would have his dues, that he swore.

“There.” He had told the man as the two came to a stop. He had pointed to the house filled with promise and for a short while simply allowed the idea of what he had vowed lay inside fill the merc’s imagination. “That’s where it is, in the fire place.” The tale had been a deliciously elaborate one; Caiden had been killed by Elias’s father, greed and jealousy overcoming his malicious old mind. He had sought Caiden’s wealth for himself, a treasure accumulated over decades of fighting and looting as a warrior for hire. It was enough gold to drive a man to murder his own brother, and despite doing so all those years ago, Torian was still no closer to finding the money. Caiden had always wanted it all to go to his favorite nephew -Elias of course- and had hidden it on his family’s estate until that day came to pass. While Elias knew where to find it, his cowardly heart and lack of experience in such matters would see him dead long before he stepped foot on the premises where his own father had knowingly forbidden him from entering.

That was where Teagan came in. The two had surveyed the large house situated near the heart of the city that night, Elias pointing out its entrances and hiding places, along with the treasure's actual location, but not until he had Teagan’s word as a Rum Hound that he would avenge his fallen brother and help Elias take that money he was rightfully due. The promise meant less than shyke, and so did any idea of punishing Caiden’s killer, but as the Caldera wove his magic and flooded the sell sword’s thoughts with suggestions that hungered for that gold, lusted after the better life it could afford, and yearnings for all the things it could buy him, the promise was as good sworn in blood.

Finished, Elias let the water under his command fall in the basin, limp, lifeless and tinged with the dirt and sweat from his body. Picking up the washcloth nearby, the young man made his way over to the room’s solitary desk and eased himself into the uncomfortable chair. The wretched thing squeaked and complained under his weight, but he had learned to live with it by now. He would need to find a suitable place to hide all his belongings as well, he realized, the thought abruptly coming to him as he sunk into the chair. Rummaging through his supplies, the Caldera retrieved himself a piece of parchment and ink, and with a sigh for all the bells he knew his preparations would likely take him, he began write.

The story had been a complete fabrication of course. There was no treasure, and Torian had never-... Torian was not solely to blame for his brother’s death. The house never belonged to Caiden, and despite how unwelcome he was by the petching bastard, Elias didn't think even his father would be so cruel as to forbid him from visiting his mother’s ashes that resided within the old Caldera mansion. The place was dead and empty now, the family that once lived and thrived there long since shattered by the spitefulness of fate and Ravok’s own treacherous machinations. With his mother dead, Elias exiled, and his father a high ranking member of the Ebonstryfe, not even the slaves were left to care for the place anymore. It would make a fitting staging ground for Torian’s downfall.

But first, Elias had a letter to write.
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[Elias Caldera]

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The night started poorly when Teagan arrived with unexpected friends. Two of them to be precise, one young, dark of skin and his hair braided into a river of dreads that fell all the way down to his back. The other was nearer Elias’s own stature, save for the fact that he was bald and his shaven head bore at least three deep scars that the young mage could see in the dark. Even disguised in the obscurity of nightfall, it was clear to Elias both men bore the mark of the company on their arms, though their equally shadowy attires made it a difficult discovery to make none the less. He didn't like this, and it showed on his face as the group approached him from the other end of the alley. The plan had been just for Teagan and Elias alone, but instead the Caldera found himself ridiculously outnumbered and intolerably unprepared. Perhaps it was time to run, to just turn around and leave before he allowed anything else to go wrong as they could be doing right now. A man could only see so many signs and warnings before he had to make a decision as whether or not they were omens to be heeded, or just his own imagination playing tricks on him. The biggest of the shadows, Teagan, raised a hand and signaled at him. Hesitating for a moment, Elias eyed the escape route and the place where he had hidden his longsword for a moment longer, then returned the gesture and began walking forward.

“Who are they?” He demanded harshly, the details of all three men now becoming crisper under Leth’s midnight light as he drew near. Teagan picked up on the younger man’s apprehension, or probably came prepared for it more likely, and replied more calmly. “No worries, mate, these are friends. Good friends in fact, and more importantly, useful friends.”

Elias grimaced in response. “They’re not getting paid out my share.” At that, the two other men warily turned to Teagan whose smile had yet to falter. “Like I said, no worries. The deals the same as we agreed fifty-fifty.”

“Sixty-forty.” Elias sneeringly corrected. Teagan made a chuckling sound and flashed his teeth in the dark without missing a beat.

“Right, right of course. I was piss drunk after all. Sixty-forty.”

The ease in which he agreed only served to remind Elias what he had known from the beginning; the sell sword planned to betray him in the end. This was Ravok and he was a mercenary, it would be concerning if he didn't plan to stab him in the back. The fact that there were now three of them to deal with however made matters a tad bit more complicated than he would have liked. Elias wasn't sure if that was the reason why he was growing angrier, or if it was actually the fact the man planned to steal from him. There wasn't even any money to divvy up, let alone steal in the first place, so why this bothered him so was vexingly unclear. Maybe it was just principle? Relax, Elias. Just relax. That said, his frustration and suspicion did play along perfectly with the scene he was orchestrating. The more natural he was with his reactions, the less his blades for hire would suspect of his true motives. Now wasn't the time for anyone to be getting cold feet, least of all himself. As mentally composed as he could bring himself to be, Elias took another step forward. “I hope you also didn't forget what we discussed.”

The mercenary shook his head. “Don't fret, you were very explicit about the details. The fireplace, fifth and sixth brick up from the right. I also recall you being very clear you would not being going in along with us.”

“Makes one wonder why his share is bigger than ours.” Came a horse and crackly voice to Teagan’s right. The bald man glared at him in the dark and Elias could feel himself being shredded to pieces by the killer’s glowering eyes. “Now, now Rocher, if our new friend is right, we’ll be sharing enough to make us all quite fat and happy for the rest of our lives. Consider him just another employer.” Said Teagan, interjecting before the mage could respond. Rocher’s answer to that was to spit on the ground and grunt. “Rocher here, aside from his charm, also brings a set of useful skills to the table. Used to be a safe cracker and an all around general thieving bastard back in Sunberth, you see. Handy man to have just in case the key you say doesn't work.” The key of course, was another work of fiction, one used to force the Rum Hound into working with Elias instead of simply killing the Ravokian outright and going in for the gold himself. Without it, or without knowing where Elias had hidden it, the mage had promised trying to open the container that held the gold would be a hellish, if not impossible task. Teagan motioned to the other man who stood next to him next. “And Wessel here is a bird, see.”

“Kelvic.” Wessel impassively amended with a dull and uninterested tone of voice.

“Right, that.” Teagan continued, eyeing the smaller man out of the corner of his eye. “Owl specifically. Eyes that can see in the dark and an inconspicuous hoot that’ll let me and Rocher know if troubles coming our way.” Admittedly, that was pretty clever. In fact, Teagan was far from the fool the mage had let himself be duped into thinking at first glance, and the man continually insisted on proving that the more Elias grew to know him. He’s still not going to stab be in the back just yet, though. He wants to make sure the prize is where I say it is before he plunges the dagger in. Elias begrudgingly thought. “I’ll stay with him then I take it?” He asked, weaving the djed he had been preparing since the three had arrived and twisting it into words and thoughts. That would be best. The thought was carried on the very breath he used to speak the words, and the magic would once more find home in the ear and mind of Teagan as it flowed over him. It was a simple suggestion, one he wasn’t certain he even needed considering the way the man operated around uncertainties so slyly. He knew the mercenary would want Elias where he could be seen, but after making such a big fuss about it, the best alternative to actually going into the house alongside the men was to stay outside with the kelvic lookout and the blade the creature no doubt had tucked in his boot, or the poisoned punch dagger in his sleeve, or whatever it was he would use on the mage when the time came to put Elias out of his misery.

Teagan nodded, eventually agreeing with Elias, but not before giving the owl a knowing look. “Well then, lads.” He said, clapping both his compatriots on the shoulder. “In a few chimes, gods willing, we’ll be back at the tavern, each and all of us disgustingly richer and unbearably happier for it.” With a smile, Rocher and Teagan departed, leaving the alley and making their way to the house. The alley was not too far from the mansion, and among all the others available, this one had been chosen because it allowed for a clear line of sight to his old home while also providing those watching with a pleasing amount of night time cover from any prying eyes that might be looking back. With the other two gone, it was left to Elias and Wessel to simply take up their positions, something both did without any more words between them. Quietly, the pair watched as the two shapes that were the Rum Hounds disappeared into the night.

After a while however, kneeling next to the kelvic grew oddly uncomfortable, especially the way the man’s now undeniably massive eyes peered into the shadows as if they actually saw something other than the blackness there. He knew there had been something off about him, but the night had hidden his features too well for it to be picked up on until now. For a while Elias couldn't do much other than stare and marvel at the things. He realized he was likely going to be here a while as the two men searched the house in vain, so perhaps a conversation to get to know the young mercenary couldn't hurt. “So…” Elias began courteously, but when Wessel’s unnerving eyes turned on him next, brilliant green orbs glaring into his very soul, the Ravokian wisely decided that had been enough chit chat for now. Awkwardly he sighed and shook his head almost apologetically. “Right…”

It seemed they were doing this in silence after all.
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[Elias Caldera]

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The city always grew so quiet around this time. It wasn't an empty silence though, not entirely devoid of life, just filled with another kind, something more subtle and concealed. From day to night was like a changing of the guard in a sense. The bustle of the market crowds and church goers had long since faded away, replaced with quieted footsteps of the less savory or more vigilant. It was a comforting silence tonight, interrupted only by the swooning siren songs of whores peddling their trade in the far distance, or the occasional ravosalaman singing a tune as he gently drifted through the canals. There might have been an air of peace and repose to be found in the shallows of such inconspicuous calm that the nights of Ravok afforded, but if there was, it was lost on Elias.

All he felt was dread.

The terror of discovery, the fear of failure, the dismay over of what they would do to him if he was caught, all these things circled his thoughts like carrion birds, hungry for a morsel of doubt to dive upon and devour, slowly driving him insane with apprehension as he quietly peered into the darkness ahead. Too thick was the smog of night for him to make out all the details he demanded, but from what he could tell, the two men had at least made it to the house.

“They’re in.” Came the startling whisper from the kelvic, Wessel. Having quite impressively resisted to urge to leap out of his boots at the unexpected sound, it was all Elias could do to catch his breath in response. They had made it though, that was good at least, and even better was the fact that he hadn't heard the telltale noises of a door being pried open, or a window shattered. The absence of alarms told him they had slipped inside without any issue whatsoever from the locks and bolts that guarded the entire place… well, most of the entire place anyway. They could thank Elias for knowing where those places where. With a hushed breath, Elias peeled his eyes, trying desperately the pierce the veil and catch a better look. The only light came from the street lanterns and the nearby buildings still awake at that hour, but the former’s illumination never reached as far as the steps of the mansion, and the latter were all cut off from the home by the canals that crisscrossed every inch of the city. Eventually, the obvious hit him, and with a mental admonishment for his oversight, Elias abandoned any silly pretense that he could see in the dark and instead decided if he could not see while everything was pitch black, he would simply have to plunge the world into light.

He began to channel his djed.

The magic coursed throughout him at his beckoning once more, narrowing its constantly flowing force and directing itself up and towards his eyes. The magic took hold of his senses an instant later, his brown orbs taking on a distinct sheen as they now beheld the city –the world- for what it truly was under all the facades and falsehoods of mortal sight. A million different colors and auras assaulted him from a million different directions, but Elias blocked them all out, focusing solely on what he wanted. As his attention fell squarely on the building, the mage thought he could, for a brief second, taste something on the tip of his tongue. Creaking, he finally decided after a moment. He was tasting the sound of floorboards creaking. The sound of dust settling danced about his mind next as he sifted through the auras one by one. Sometimes the mage could do little but sit in wonder of what Auristics was capable of, but most other times he would simply be left brooding in frustration and confusion. It wasn't always easy sifting through smoky colors and sensations that sometimes made no sense whatsoever, but when you finally did grasp what you were doing, it still, even now, could be downright amazing to behold.

Ultimately it was easy enough to find both Rocher and Teagan within the confines of the mansion’s walls. The impact their presence made on the world around them was massive in comparison to everything else inside. Most things inanimate, unless charged by some magical source, barely registered in size or scope when it came to the aura they projected. Animals were a close second, but nothing could compare to the unmitigated existence of a living, sentient thing. They were like flares on the face of the sun, which made using such an arcane art like auristics in a city filled with thousands and thousands of people such a tiring hassle most of the time. Now that he’d found them however, it would be much easier to-

“People coming.” Wessel whistled.

“Stryfe?” Elias whispered back through clenched teeth, his eyes darting off the two men as they moved about the house and unto the streets. Another problem with auristics however, was trying to find something you weren't already fixated on was like trudging through a swamp in search of something hidden beneath its depths. He suddenly found himself in a dangerous situation now. He needed to know who it was, and he had to be absolutely sure before he acted!

“Have to warn.” Wessel spoke again, stirring from his roost and starting to rise. “Have to go-” The kelvic suddenly stumbled back, the heavy crack of a fist smashing into his face sending him reeling unto the ground. Rising to his own feat as Wessel lost his, Elias began to stalk towards the downed mercenary, one hand massaging his now reddened knuckles. The owl looked up at him with widened eyes, shock, but not truly surprise written on his features. They had all known something like this was going to happen at one point or another, but it was likely the fact that it had happened now, of all times, that came most unexpected. That, or perhaps it was the swirling tendrils of water wrapping themselves around Elias arms as he slowly approached that were cause for such alarm. The res had come at his call, eagerly answering the need for combat and carnage at his hastened command. The djed had poured out of him in that brief moment, contorting into pure water within a few moments more. It was a testament to his skill in the art of reimancy, and now his all too vivid creations slithered around him like a menagerie of serpents ready to strike.

He had no words for Wessel then, no witty remarks, no explanations or monologues, only a small sneer and the desperation of a man committed to the kill driving him on. Wessel, in turn, said nothing himself as he clambered back to his feet and wiped the blood from his narrow chin. Well that wasn't true, there was something he mumbled under his breath, just two words that Elias had barely registered.

“Dead man.”
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[Elias Caldera]

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In the blink of an eye, a dagger appeared in the man’s hand, but Elias never even hesitated. He lashed out with his arm, a spiraling whip of water rushing forth and enveloping both the blade and hand in one fell swoop. In an instant both the mage and mercenary were tethered to one another via the water whip, and as stunned as that had left the kelvic, the second whip that smashed into his face a split tick later proved an even bigger shock. The dagger fell free from his grasp after that, though not simply because of the force of the attack, but because of its true intended affect. Wessel scratched and clawed at his mouth as the stream of water poured forth, chocking him in a sloshing geyser as it violently forced its way down his gullet. Freakish eyes widened in panic and the young sell sword began to flail at the stream, scrambling to get a hold of what would only ever slip through his fingers with every feeble attempt. The fear hastened the mage’s actions, and he pressed on with an ever stronger flow as the res burst from his very skin and added itself to the fray. As he did so however, Wessel suddenly rushed him.

The Caldera expected as much and refrained from displaying the same frightened response his opponent had done to find himself in the pathetic position he was in now. Instead, Elias leapt high and to the side, one leg bounding off the wall of the narrow alley before propelling himself back down as Wessel came careening into the spot Elias had just been occupying. Instead of his enemy to take hold of and attack, all the man found in Elias’s place was a falling fist colliding hard with the side of his head. The kelvic stumbled and crashed into the opposite wall, water still surging into his gullet and stifling his screams. As loud as he may have tried, the reimancer had effectively silenced him. Now it was only a matter of time before he finished the job.

Wessel, eyes watering from either the lack of oxygen or the desperate splashing gurgles he was making, glanced at the dagger discarded on the cobblestone floor for only the briefest of ticks. Elias didn't need another warning, and dove for the knife before the owl could even have a chance. Smiling as he reached it with ease, the mage raised his new weapon and spun around, only to find Wessel fleeing the scene, the intention of going for the blade again never once even crossing the owl's devious little mind. Cursing under his breath, Elias could feel the man escaping the range of his reimantic control with each step he hastily cleared. What truly began to worry him however, was what he saw the mercenary tried do next. Wessel jumped into the air, arms out wide as if he were about to… [Shyke! The mage flung himself headlong into action, knowing full well what was about to happen even before the explosion of light engulfed him. Blinded, he lashed out with his magic once more, guiding the res not by sight, but by the feel of the substance he was already controlling to suffocate the man. Two engorged serpents of clear blue aqua raced out from his arms, latching on to the third already halfway down Wessel's throat and ensnaring the man entirely as his body crumpled and changed into that of an animals. As it turned out, he was an owl after all, but all creatures tended to look the same as they drowned. Just a flailing, flapping blur caught in between the waves. Soaked and encompassed, it mattered not whether it was feathers or flesh, all was helpless against the current. And like a current, the waters that encircled the owl as it struggled in vain, flowed relentlessly against it with an overwhelming force, easily trapping the small bird within its watery depths.

Wessel drowned there in that alleyway a few ticks later, a broken, swollen thing at Elias’s feet, his screams lost in the waters that had killed him. Without a word, the owl's killer picked up what remained of his beautiful white corpse and flung him into the canal. Whoever Wessel was, or whatever he could have someday been sunk to the bottom of Lake Ravok along with his tiny body that night, an unceremonious ‘plop’ the last thing he would be remembered for. As for Elias himself, the mage was already wiping the dust off his shoulder and fixing his gaze on the house again before the bubbles had even settled. His eyes flared to life with the true sight once more as he knelt back down, piercing brown irises hungrily searching for the auras of the other two Rum Hounds and the men who had supposedly appeared. It wasn't hard to lock unto all of them in an instant. There were five distinct auras at play now, and all five were in a flurry of motion, entangling and melding with one another, yet clearly and fiercely at odds. He realized delightfully that they were fighting, the taste of steel clashing with steel accompanying the all too familiar sounds as they reverberated in the night air. Abruptly, one shape’s aura dimmed without warning, and the thing it belonged to dropped with a telling thud to the floor.

The other followed only a little while later, the taste of blood thick in his arcane scryings as Elias imagined Teagan –yes, that had definitely been Teagan- getting his head lopped off and the rest of him lifelessly slumping to the floor. The biggest of the auras’s remaining, its features now taking distinct shape as the mage honed in on its details instead of simply skimming over them, turned to the others and obviously went about giving them orders. Obvious because the other two went running out of the house a little while latem no doubt in search of something. They would be coming this way soon, Elias thought, hoping against it, but knowing full well the light from the kelvic’s transformation must have attracted some kind of attention this late at night. The young man however, did not move from his spot. Instead he continued to watch, staring hard into the furious flames of red and blue that was Torian in the distance. He knew his father’s aura, he had known it from the countless days and weeks of spying on the man, following him to and fro whenever the old man deemed it necessary to leave his dark fortress within the Vitrax and venture forth into the city for business or for pleasure. This had been his sole purpose for returning to Ravok, and now his efforts were finally -finally!- taking shape. He couldn't look away just yet.

His father shifted then, the head of the swirling shape looking up from where it had been studying the corpse of its freshest kill. Elias could practically see the man's neck craning even through the wall, his veteran mind racing as it looked about the room, then beyond that, almost as if he was glaring directly at where his son was yards away. They both rose to their feet, but neither moved, and neither blinked.

“That’s right old man.” Elias hissed in a roar painfully stifled before it could clear his lips. “Here I am, my hands around your petching throat and you don't even realize it yet. Here I am, at last, and now that I've come for you, I swear you will never know peace again, Torian Caldera, not until you know the fear she endured, not until you know the pain he suffered. Not until I'm done with you...” The shape of his father turned away then as something else, something more tangible than a feeling drew its attention away from the fallen apprentice. Elias looked away with a shudder, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. He moved to wipe away the tears that had begun to trail down his cheek, only to realize he still clung to the dagger he had taken from the dead mercenary tightly in his grasp. The grip he held turned his knuckles as white as bone and threatened to have them snap long before the old blade’s hilt would. With a growl the son plunged the thing into the wall and walked away, mumbling one last curse under his breath as he disappeared into the night.

“Only then, old man… Only then will I let you to die.”

He wouldn't be going home tonight. They would be looking for him now.
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[Elias Caldera]

38th Day of Summer, 514 AV

He dreamt of the dead that night.

He dreamt of them for a good many nights after that as well. Wessel, Teagan, and even as forgettable as the man was, even Rocher shared a place among Elias's nightmares for the next week or so's worth of turbulent dreams that followed after their deaths. Just more faces, he told himself, just more faces to add to those that already waited for him when he closed his eyes. More lives brought low and snuffed out because Elias Caldera deemed it necessary! Because Elias Caldera was given a bloody order from up on high he simply could not disobey!

Because Elias Caldera made a mistake...

He could count them all on his fingers if he really wanted to. Give their ends meaning, make a place for their names in his thoughts, but why bother? In the end, they would haunt him regardless of what he tried to do, regardless of how much he tried to pretend he truly cared enough to make amends. Maybe once upon a time, the boy that he used to be had convinced himself coming to terms with them all was possible, perhaps even plausible, but that child had died in the djed storm along with his mother and the hope for a life not tortured by the bloody faults and the shattered covenants of his wretched past. Sometimes he missed those days, and sometimes even he even missed that boy, but he had been blind then, naive and enraptured by a new city and a new life which he had fought against so fiercely at first, yet it had been that initial defiance that made him fall ever deeper in love with it.

I wonder how disappointed she would be if she could see me here now, wasting all she sacrificed just to come back to the city and the man she tried her best to protect me from? The young man wondered as he peered through the window of his room. Two men clad in leather and carrying their blades brazenly at their sides dismounted the ravosala he had watched lazily make its way down the canal. One of them looked up from the street and for a moment he and Elias nearly locked gazes.

Poor Redd The mage suddenly thought, shutting the curtains perhaps a moment too late. She must have been so confused and hurt by all of this. She always worried so terribly when she sensed things weren't right with him, but it had only worsened after the kelvic had defended her master on the lakeshore from the pack of wolves which sought them both as meals. That, the Ravokian had noticed, seemed to have been a tipping point for an already painfully conflicted creature. More often than now he would see her mind begin to drift more and more to dark places a girl so young and innocent had any right to be subjected to. It would call for my hypnotic 'treatments' when he could afford the time, but that was definitely not today, or anytime soon for that matter. She would likely think him abandoning her, he realized upsettingly as he moved over the nightstand where his two latest acquisitions rested. The first was a mask he had bought from Tine's, a simple, unassuming porcelain thing one would often affiliate with the lavish parties and celebrations the rich and powerful families would host. It was the second thing that he now reached for however, and it was something he would need now far more than the other; his new sword. It had felt like an eternity since he had the opportunity to pick it up and see it put to some real use again. In fact, the two of them felt like strangers all over again, so long had it been, but he was going to have to get acquainted right quick if he hoped to see tomorrow. Those men down on the street had been Rum Hounds, and they weren't here by accident.

He could hear them downstairs even now, speaking abrasively to the owner of the seedy tavern Elias had chosen as his new hiding place. He had barely been in this one two days now and yet they had caught up despite his best efforts. They were tenacious, the Caldera would give them that, but given what he heard from the ravasolamen he had been paying to keep him up to date on the city's goings on, he wasn't surprised they had such a fire under their collective asses to find him.

Torian had gone and reacted to what had happened that night so petching perfectly that it couldn't have gone better even if Elias had planned it himself. Killing those mercenaries in his home must have troubled him to no end, but doing so only to realize they belonged to the same company as his brother once did must have thrown him deep into a fit of paranoia. Almost immediately, Rum Hounds all over the city began being rounded up and arrested by Torian's men. Jailed and beaten if they were lucky, murdered outright on the streets if they weren't. Being such a small crew, it wouldn't take too many days of such hounded hunting for their numbers to be decimated by a man who had a passion for undoing others utterly and without mercy. Elias liked to imagine his father growing more and more unstable with impatience and uncertainty as the first sell swords he brought in for questioning failed to give him the answers he needed as to why their comrades where invading his home. When the Hounds could take no more however, which was rather quickly from what he understood, they had started fighting back. That had apparently been enough to instantly lock down the docks to their kind, and now people of all caliber and class were being searched for tattoos of drunken dogs whenever they attempted to leave the city by ferry or barge.

Trapped and tormented by the locals without provocation or reason, the Hounds would have to react and investigate just as their enemy had done. They had no doubt learned who Teagan had been talking to considering this had apparently all started with him, and just how the dark haired young man he had been seen with was related to the bastard that now hunted them like animals.

He could hear them both coming up the stairs now, heavy mailed boots, clattering under armor, bouncing scabbards. He didn't have time to dress, which was better really considering how messy things were soon about to become. Without a shirt, he made his way to the door of his cramped room, set his new sword down by the side, and stepped outside with a casualness that surprised even himself. It had been so very long since Elias had... What is this I'm feeling I wonder? Oh that's right.

Purpose.

It was sweet, invigorating, and so freeing to finally know what he was doing again. Too long he had been without this, too long had it avoided his grasping hands while he fumbled around in the darkness of ambivalence. Ever since the days of apprenticeship under the banner of the Black Sun had it been woefully absent, and now that it had finally and truly returned, even in this way, Elias refused to let it go again until he was good and done this time.

One step took him out of his room, the third put him right the path of the two warriors racing up the stairs. The first mercenary, the bigger and burlier of the two looked surprised as Elias suddenly came at him from apparently nowhere. The man ran face first into the ex ebonstryfer's vicious backhand, his head bouncing off the wall with a sickening thud as he was rocked by the unexpected blow. It bounced again as the mage immediately delivered a second strike with his other hand in the same swinging motion, adding insult to injury and dazing the poor bastard even further. His partner roared and rushed forward to muscle his way past and get at Elias, but a boot to the big man's chest sent both of them tumbling down the stairs in a flurry of flailing limbs and unintelligible cries. He allowed them a moment to pick themselves up after all the groaning and curses at the bottom of the stairs had settled, just long enough for them to collect their thoughts and remember why they were there again. When they looked up at him, he raised his chin mockingly and waved them up with a smirk.

They came at him with a renewed fury, to which Elias answered by fleeing back into his room and locking the door. That had pissed them off even more.

[Elias Caldera]

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Bang! The door shuddered with an explosive thud and already Elias could see it splintering at the seems. Bang! Came the thunderous impact again, this time the mage's entire weight thrown up and off the door completely before he had time to press himself back against the wooden frame. They were desperate the get in and get their hands on him, and the door being the only thing stopping that would only hold for so many more of those rammings before, hell, probably the inn itself gave way and crumbled down on his head. Over all the noise, he could just make out the sounds of the distraught owner yelling and screaming from downstairs at the two brutes to stop destroying his damned property. They all knew it was just words however, like background noise. There was no way in Dira's seven hells any man was climbing those stairs to try and stop them, not unless he was bringing a small army with him along the way. Unshaken and unnerved by his apparent predicament however, Elias showed no sense of dread or fear. Instead, he picked up his blade from where he had left it besides the doorway, and began to count.

One. Two. Bang. One. Two. Bang. One. Two- Elias hefted the long sword in front of himself with both hands, twisting it in his firm grip, and then drove it hard under his arm and into the door behind him. The door buckled as something crashed against from outside, and Elias could feel the tip of the weapon plunging through oak and then flesh is rapid, decisive succession. The weight of the dead man on the other side of his blade slumped against the door, and the Ravokian slid his blade from its impromptu sheath, a spray of splinters and red droplets following its violent withdrawal. Elias wasted no time after that, and quickly flung the door open, the man he had ruined falling dead at his feet even as he charged over his corpse to get at his slack jawed friend.

Good He thought, noticing the dead man had been the burlier of the two. He would have much preferred to have dealt with the other, smaller one if he could, so that had been fortunate, at for him anyway. Unfortunately, while the other, long haired and lankier sell sword seemed an easier target than his muscled compatriot had, he turned out to be no fool. He seemed intent to not allow Elias to end his life like his partner's, and though the shock of his compatriots unexpected fall had rocked him, the man still had enough of a head on his shoulders to know now was the time to fight, not gawk like a dumb struck idiot.

The Caldera came at him with an uneasy coldness about him, as if he already knew how things were going to end. His blade came swinging hard from the right, its dangerous edge aiming for the man's neck before he managed to hastily duck under the blow. The tip sliced into the wall of the narrow hallway, barely avoiding being lodged in the old wooden frame. Elias realized then he had to be careful in such a narrow space as his weapon was not designed for fighting in confines cramped as these. The merc's however, some kind of short, curved half-sword with a bone grip for a handle, appeared troubling adequate to the task at hand. Elias wouldn't give him the opportunity to use it.

He pressed in with deadly intent, blade jabbing forth once, twice, and finally a third time as the man barely managed to parry and dodge each practiced thrust. With each avoidance, the Rum Hound took a number of steps back, bouncing off the walls and the upstairs railing as he scampered to find solid footing to fight off his fast advancing foe. The man wasn't without skill, and truth be told, the way he way he managed to endure through the storm of his opponent's sudden assault was testament to his abilities if nothing else. Had this been a fair fight, it would have likely been Elias on the wrong end of this fatal bout, but this wasn't a fair fight, and as long as the mage had his enemy on the ropes, he intended to keep it that way.

It was on the third thrust that he chose to faint the strike deceptively intended for the merc's guy, much to the distress of his opponent as he realized far too late his own parrying swing would miss wide. Turning the low strike into a sweeping arch, Elias aimed not for his opponent's retreating form, but for his weapon instead. With as much power as he could muster, he swung for the short sword, driving it hard to the side, and then even further as he pushed forward, attacking the weapon instead of the one who wielded it. For a tick the confusion was evident on the Rum Hound's face as he tried to decipher what exactly Elias's plan was and how to react accordingly, but by that time his blade was already driven deep into the hallway wall, the fallen apprentice having shoved and buried it into the old wood with his pressured assault.

The mercenary managed a single, panicked tug on the thing before another quick strike from the long sword bit down into his wrist. The wound was deep and viscous, and its bearer fell back screaming as he clutched at the bleeding gash. His cries instantly turned to a gasp as the Ravokian drove the tip of his blade into the man's chest, his leather armor giving a hint of defiance against the blade's egress before the mercenary's was driven backwards and his back was shoved against the wall. With no more room to negotiate between blade and body, blade won. The sword dug deep into the man, and he groaned through clenched teeth as it sunk deeper and deeper still. By the time Elias and the Hound were eye to eye, the glazed look in the sell sword's eyes made it evident how the life was already draining from him. He still managed a bloody tooth snarl for Elias's sake however, and for a moment the two tussled pointlessly while he tried to swing his one remaining good arm at the man who had just killed him. "No. No, it's over. It's over." Elias hissed chidingly as he immobilized the arm and lessened his weight on his blade. He noticed it had pinned his foe to the wall, and blood seeped profusely from both his devastated hand and the wooden panel behind him. He would die soon, that was unavoidable, but not before Elias was done with him. "Tell me where the hounds are hiding, and I'll make it quick." His response was a globule of putrid, red mucus spat right in his face. Elias sneered through the disgusting insult, but the man never relented, hatred burning fiercely in his dying gaze.

"My brothers are going... to kill you, vajik!"

He was never going to tell him anything.

With a growl, Elias ripped his blade free from the man's chest, and he fell hard to his knees, death claiming him in her embrace before his head even hit the floor. Thinking quickly, even as the blood pooled at his feet, Elias took off, bounding over the corpses littering the hallway and diving back into his room. There was still one more way to get the information he needed, all it required was for him was a little footwork. Gathering up what meager collection of goods he had, Elias opted to leave via the window, if only for the drama of it, and perhaps also because he had no intention of facing the wrath of the innkeeper still lying in wait downstairs.

Jumping from the second story window proved easy enough, only in that, his ankle hadn't exploded in the process at least, but what was even more harrowing turned out to be the chase he had to put up. He had spotted the ravosala he thought was the same one he had seen earlier gently making its way down the canal, and Elias gave pursuit as fast as he feet could take him. Barely avoiding the flustered people in his way, and forced to leap and dash over canals, other boats, angry cats, it quickly turned into a veritable obstacle course standing in his way. It was as if the whole city was working against him in that moment, but when he finally did catch up, his breathing was so ragged and strained he couldn't even be bothered to call out to the old man piloting the thing. Instead, digging down within himself, Elias ushered forth a wave of djed from his core, and in an instant poured as much of it out of his body as he was able, whirring it into res and bidding it to slither into the waters of the canal the small vessel was steadily still escaping him through. The ravasola suddenly jolted to a halt and the old man gave a startled cry as he barely managed to hold on and stay upright. His heart seemed to nearly give out when the boat starting moving sideways towards the sweaty young man on the road making strange gestures with his arms as if he were pulling the thing in with his mind.

The boat bumped against the side of the street gingerly, its passenger terribly distraught and wide eyed. Elias let slip his control over the water's current and released a massive sigh as he placed a heavy hand on the pilot's quivering shoulders just in case that wily look meant the old man was about to make a break for it, though by the look of the death grip he had on his oar, Elias doubted it.

"W-what'dya want from me, lad?"

It took a chime to catch his breath, but finally the mage managed something through all the gasping. "Just... answers."

[Elias Caldera]

Finding them had proven a difficult and arduous task to say the least, even with the information Elias had tenderly wrung from the old man narrowing his search considerably. He had made his way to where the pilot had shakily sworn he had picked up the two mercenaries before dropping them off on the mage's doorstep, which the mage had hoped would give him an easy estimation of where to begin. After that however, the ravosalaman had promptly scurried away, or at least rowed away as fast as his old arms could take him before anymore questions could be asked. Elias felt he could hardly blame the poor fellow, as seeing magic for the first time, or worse yet, not seeing it but still knowing its affects first hand was a bloodcurdling experience, even for the most hardened veteran. With a sigh, the old apprentice imagined he had just become part of some horror story at the local pub, or worse yet, a few coins worth of information to be bought by the first interested party. Helpless against the shady mutterings of strangers, the mage could only push the idea aside for the time being. He would have to worry about that later, right now, he had more important things to handle than what was whispered about him in dark alleys.

While it may have been draining and taken bells to accomplish, eventually Elias had found the Rum Hounds and their hiding place within the city; a warehouse near the northern edge of the city, stashed away in along the precipice of where the merchants ring met the center of the city, which seemed an odd choice given how close they were to the heart of the enemy that longed to seem them undone, but the native born Ravokian saw it as actually somewhat ingenious in a way. If you were looking for a man on the run in a city like Ravok, your first instinct was to comb the docks and less reputable platforms of the hallowed lake town. That was what he would have done when he was an apprentice anyway, it was the obvious choice. With all eyes on the waters looking for mercenaries trying to escape, it would take a while before those hunting them would even begin to think of turning their search on their next door neighbors. Regardless of how clever they may or may not prove to be however, The Hounds were done for now that Elias had discovered them.

Using his auristics for so long to locate the group of men in their hideaway had managed to leave the mage with a pounding pain in his head that rivaled even the hangover this whole debacle had begun with, but it had been worth it, he would make sure of at least that much. It wouldn't be at his hands that the Hounds would be undone however, no, he had a much worse fate for them in store, but it would require some help from those who likely weren't going to do it out of the goodness of their heart, no matter how nicely he asked.

It was a good thing then that he wasn't asking.

Elias peered around the corner for a third time, his djed enhanced eyes once more taking in the finest of details about the two men he had followed. Finding people, especially large groups of them when they all shared so much in common with one another was not without its tribulations, but it was still a great deal easier than most other searches. Elias for example had started with something simple, like the Zeltivan coin most mercenaries out of ocean side city would be carrying. From there he had added more and more signifying marks to help weed out his prey. The stink of apprehension, the taste of cold steel and boiled leather, and things of that nature. When he finally found all those things huddled together in a writhing mass inside one building, it was then that he had known he had located the mercenaries. The same principle went when it came to tracking down the Ebonstryfe, or more specifically, the two soldiers he was now watching from the shadows.

They weren't his first choice, in fact, thanks to his auristic gleanings of other patrols, they weren't even his second or third either. Unlike the others however, these two didn't have quite the aura of power and intimidation that had quickly let Elias know he would have better chances wrestling sharks or dravlaks than he would testing his luck with such soldiers. This latest pairing he had stumbled upon on the other hand, proved excellently unimposing, and Elias had spent nearly half a bell following the duo around as they patrolled the streets and canals. He ‘switched off’ his auristics after a while, the headache threatening to return as he strained his eyes for far too long. Besides their black brigantine armor and the swords at their waists, there wasn't much else even his true vision could tell him that he couldn't already uncover without it. They were bored, tired, and best of all, lazy. The soldiers had taken two breaks already in the short time the mage had begun stalking them, and now that they were on their third, it told him enough that he knew they were perfect for his plans.

The pair were standing at the edge of a canal, one taking a piss over the edge while the other fiddled with his belt after just finishing doing the same. It was then that Elias struck, having had waited till he could see no one else around, he strode out from where he hid in the street and moved toward the men at a brisk pace. Neither noticed him at first as he kept his head low and his presence concealed and silent, but as he hurriedly approached, the one who wasn't relieving himself in the lake raised an eyebrow at the sight of the masked man fast approaching them. Elias bolted forward in that moment, feet launching him hard and fast toward the two that by the time the soldier was ready to react, the mage was already in between the two of them. The first yelped in surprise, but not indecision as his hand instantly went for his sword as his training had taught him to do. Expecting as much however, the Caldera kicked out with his foot before even needing to think twice about his act, smashing the man’s hand against his hilt and knocking the blade back into its sheath before it was even half way free. A fist connected with the soldier’s jaw a tick later and he stumbled back in shock. The second man had begun to spin by then, hands stained with piss and a snarling face of surprise to show for it, but working quickly through the plan of attack he had been working up for nearly as long as he had been following these two, Elias swiftly rammed into him with his shoulder, the faceless grunt flying into the lake with an unflattering cry of his own.

The Caldera didn't bother taking any joy from the massive splash as he quickly swiveled back around to face his real test. Hand on hilt once more, the soldier moved to unleash his weapon, the slithering of steel from its sheath like thunder in Elias’s ear. Soundlessly, he attacked, driving a fist into the man’s nose and another into his ear when the first failed to drop him. Reduced to barely holding himself up one knee after the third strike however, the ex-apprentice delivered a knee of his own the ebonstryfer's jaw, the chorus of his fellow guardsman’s flailing and gargled shouts filling the air as the soldier finally went down. Elias was standing over him a moment later, a small, silent prayer to Rhysol passing his lips as he withdrew his longsword and placed its tip dangerously close to the fallen stryfer’s neck. “Don’t.” Elias warned, his voice garbled and hallowed by the mask he wore as he stared down the man beginning to creep a hand towards the knife he no doubt kept in his boot. “All you need do is listen and you’ll survive this.”

“Petch you! You think you can-” A slice along his cheek silenced him before he could finish, and he glared up at his attacker, fury in his eyes as the blood began to seep, but his tongue subdued for the moment none the less. Elias took the opportunity to work his hypnotic charm once again on another unsuspecting victim, just to make sure the message was loud and clear. “I have a message from the Rum Hounds, so shut your hole. Tell Paladin Caldera we have his son. If he hopes to see his shyke spawn alive again, you tell him were ready to settle this like true warriors. You tell him to come to this address...” He went on, recounting where he had found the Rum Hound’s lair. Remember that. “…And you tell him to come alone, or we’ll kill the bastard dead and burn this petching city to the ground on our way out. You get that?”

“Eat shyke, you sniveling- Ah!” Another cut, this one deeper this time. “Fine! I got it!” He finally growled, his resentment voiced from between gnashing teeth. “Good, now go get your friend before his armor drags him down or the monster takes a fancy to all his splashing.” I need to help him. Came the arcane influence a second time, dripping from the mage’s tongue with each syllable he spoke. The man’s eyes darted warily to where his comrade struggled to stay afloat, and by the time he looked back, Elias was already gone, barreling down the street, and thankful that the next sounds he heard coming from behind him were not the footfalls of a man giving chase, but of a soldier saving his comrade from drowning.

By the time they did begin to chase him, the mage would be long gone.