PM to join Night Eye and Nightstalker (Sanabael)

[Kynier]

48th of Summer 518 A.V. 20th Bell

Syna was on the decent and approaching the horizon. The nightly patrols were not yet out in full force for the Daggerhand in Robern’s Reaches. Though it wouldn’t be long before they started. Once they did, Kynier would need to bail. For a better part of the day he’d been tailing a particular Brother. The mage was reaching a point where the eyes and ears of the streets weren’t reliable enough to get the information he needed. He had decided that this poor fellow would be the first attempt to extort information from. Before he could, Kynier needed to learn where to apply the pressure on the man’s life.

Kynier thought that he may have selected the wrong person to work on. The gang member had been wandering for bells through the city with no pattern or purpose to his movements. Rare as it was, Kynier’s feet were beginning to tire from walking around so much. Sometimes he wondered if the Brother had spotted him and was testing to see if Kynier was indeed on his trail. Paranoia was second nature in this sort of work, and often helped to avoid surprises.

As the veil of night was cast upon the sky Kynier’s mark exited the confines of Robern’s Reaches, heading north. For a moment hesitation Kynier considered abandoning his objective. The Rotten Ruins had a reputation of their own. The mage only knew a little bit about Spiritism but was ill equipped to handle any ghosts that should appear before him in the district. At the same time he was quite curious what the Daggerhand brother was doing in an abandoned section of the city during the later bells. The Nightstalker proceeded into the district that once was a Daggerhand stronghold.

The man he had chosen no longer took obscure paths that twisted upon themselves. Now the thug was walking fast and direct to whatever his objective was. Kynier stayed a fair distance behind to avoid detection. To his surprise, the gangster had taken him north through the whole district, past the collapsed mansion itself, to the edge of the city. When Kynier approached the corner of the last structure before the land opened up to the area east of the Riverside Isle Park, he heard voices conversing. Stopping with his back against the wall, Kynier peaked around the edge of the building. Three men stood in a tight circle. One of them bearing a torch.

“You think they’re gonna show?”
“If they know what’s good for ‘em, they will.”

All three of them were Daggerhands. Kynier instinctively drew his short sword. He did so slowly, so that the cold iron matieral would come out soundlessly from its sheath. Kynier felt the presence of the shadows draw to him, and he became one of them as Leth set a soft glow on the city. For half a bell the three of them just stood there, waiting. Until at last a torchlight could be seen approaching from the west. Kynier watched as two figures came with the fire. Two men, one with at least a decade of age more than the other. Both were of the Sun Birth. They had armor, longswords, and fine apparel. The stopped five paces away from the Daggerhands.

“Is it done?” A Daggerhand said.
“It is,” answered the older Dragoon. The voice of the Daggerhand tossed a pouch to their rivals. Kynier arched an eyebrow. What sort of arrangement could possibly be made between the two? The older man caught the pouch and gave it to the younger man. “Unfortunately, the price has doubled.” The younger Sun Birth Dragoon glanced at his companion in a wide eyed manner.
“Ha! Doubled you say? And what makes you think we’d bend to that?” Said one of the other Daggerhands.
“Perhaps I could do my duty, and give the place advanced warning of an attack. Blood on my blade will enforce my truth. You lot suffer a severe setback, and I get well compensated.” There was a moment of silence. “Or, you pay double.”

Kynier shook his head at the exchange. Leave it to a Dragoon to have a fist full of coin in his hand and still want more. What came next was of no surprise to Kynier. He saw the exchanged glances between the Daggerhands that were made without words. How their body language tensed. The Dragoon’s greed had sealed his fate. With a quick swing of an arm a throwing dagger found itself in the older Dragoon’s leg. The man cursed as he staggered. More weapons were drawn as the Daggerhands set themselves upon their rivals. Kynier broke himself away from the shadows to join the fray, and they hissed in Makath that he stay concealed.

The mage moved with a brisk stride with his blade hanging low at his side. So focused where the thugs that they did not notice his approach. Kynier took a step forward and raised the blade of his weapon to his head, pointing the tip towards the back of a Daggerhand. Thrusting with his arm as well as his hip, the weapon slid into the man’s back unsuspectingly. He cried out in pain, and brought Kynier to the attention of the rest of them. Kynier stepped back and used the momentum of his body weight to take the short sword from the man’s back.

The older Dragoon already lay on the ground with several deep wounds gushing blood onto the dirt. The younger one was not much better suited. He clutched at his abdomen with a red stained hand as he squared off against one of the remaining Daggerhands. The other had whipped around to face Kynier. A dagger in each hand. Kynier took a few paces backwards held his cold iron up in guard. Tip pointing at his opponent’s eyes.

Boxcode credit goes to Nellie!

[Sanabael]

Sanabael was not pleased with how she was spending her evening. She'd awoken that morning to a scrap of paper slid under her door; a location, a time, and a short and simple message. 'Stay hidden. Watch. Report back findings.' Underneath it all, the symbol of the Night Eyes.

Of course, she'd known when she made the decision to join the Night Eyes that she couldn't expect to use the protection of the gang without giving back; but it irritated the mixed blood. Sanabael had joined what she felt was the lesser of three evils out of necessity; she hated being a part of the Night Eyes, really, and she hated being used as a pawn by them.

But it was what it was. She was in too deep now, and she still needed the security, so she had to do what was asked of her. She just wished they would have at least given her some more details. "Cryptic petchers," Sanabael mumbled as she pulled the hood of her cloak up and exited her apartment, heading for the northern edge of the city.

She'd dressed as inconspicuously as possible; her black leggings and grey blouse were hidden beneath the wool of her black cloak, draped over her front, hood pulled low over her face. Her gladius rested on her hip in its sheath, also hidden beneath her cloak, one gloved hand resting lightly on its handle as Sanabael approached the location she'd been given.

She had no idea what she was even looking for, but she was cautious; the message had said to stay hidden, so she did her best to creep along alleys and stick to the shadows, keeping her footsteps as light as possible. Torchlight around the corner caught her attention, and she crouched low, creeping to the corner and peering around.

Three men stood clustered tightly together, talking in low voices. Sanabael strained to hear what was being said, but missed it. They lapsed mostly into silence afterwards, apparently waiting for something. Most likely someone. Settling down into her crouch, Sanabael sat quietly, watching. Her knees and ankles began to protest after awhile, and she shifted her weight, stubbornly ignoring the discomfort.

Finally, the trio of men seemed to respond to someone approaching; Sanabael couldn't see them just yet from her angle, but after a few moments, two more men approached the group. The way they were dressed screamed Sun's Birth; judging by the tension between the two groups, it made her believe the original trio must have been Daggerhands. They certainly weren't Night Eyes, and it would explain why anyone cared enough to send someone, who just happened to be her, to see what was going on.

The older looking Dragoon caught a tossed coin pouch; but of course it wasn't good enough. She watched, unsurprised, as a dagger was thrown into the Dragoon's leg. What did surprise her was the sudden appearance of the man from an alley across from her; he seemed to almost appear out of the shadows. Sanabael certainly hadn't seen him before, in any case.

Intrigued, she watched him approach the fight, sliding his blade into the back of a Daggerhand. Was he with the Sun's Birth, then? Somehow, Sanabael doubted it. She stood from her crouch, unsheathing her gladius, watching the fight continue.

Her orders had been to watch, but the information she'd gathered from watching had been minimal, and the appearance of the stranger had just changed the situation. The older Dragoon was in the dirt, the body of the Daggerhand that had just gotten a sword through the back not far from him. The mystery man was facing off against one of the other Daggerhands, while the last one was finishing dispatching of the second Sun's Birth.

The fight had been vicious and brutal and over in mere seconds. It was almost chilling to watch. Sanabael slipped out from her corner, approaching; the Daggerhand not at swordpoint had knocked his foe down onto the ground, a foot on his neck and blade pointed at his chest, his back to Sanabael.

She recalled watching the man mere moments prior. She'd never killed anyone before; did she dare do it now? There was no reason to. He had his back to her. Except that he was a Daggerhand and she was a Night Eye, and if Sanabael didn't kill him, he would kill her. She had no idea whose side the stranger was on, and she didn't have the skills to win in a fair fight. It was too late to turn back because the Daggerhand with the sword pointed at his face had seen her approaching.

She liked to think she was ruthless, but the thought of killing in cold blood made her stomach turn. Instead, Sanabael strode up quickly, raising her gladius, and brought down the hilt on the back of the Daggerhand's head as hard as she could with a grunt.

The blow seemed sufficiently hard, because the Daggerhand swayed on the spot before crumpling to the ground. Sanabael delivered a sharp kick to his temple just to be sure before stepping over him and facing the other two men. She leveled her gladius at the stranger, creating a sort of triangle; the Daggerhand at the end of his blade, and he at the end of hers.

"Now isn't this a predicament," She spoke, her tone deceptively casual as she examined the man, her black eyes unreadable. He was tall, a few inches taller than her, with dark hair and severe brows. His clothing was nondescript, at least in the manner that it didn't reveal any blatant gang affiliations. Then again, one could say the same about her.

Sanabael tipped her head to the side, though her body was poised and tense, ready to strike at either the stranger or Daggerhand if one of them made a move. "Petch do you want?" The Daggerhand spat, to nobody in particular.

"Isn't that the question." She'd seen the man kill the other Daggerhand ruthlessly; they were disposable to him. Perhaps it would be best to question him first, then, and the stranger after. Without lowering her blade, Sanabael spoke to the Daggerhand. "What was the deal, here? Whatever you were trying to accomplish, I think maybe it didn't go according to plan."

Sanabael cast a wary glance to the mystery man at the other end of her sword; it was more of a precaution than an active threat. Was he perhaps a part of the Night Eyes? Had they sent someone else? Was this a test? The questions swirled around her head. Either way, he also clearly wanted something from the Daggerhand; if he was smart, hopefully, he would work with her to get what they needed...and then they could deal with each other.

[Kynier]

The two of them circled each other while waiting for some sort of opening. Kynier’s cold iron blade kept steady at the Daggerhand’s eyes with his arm partially extended. The mage had the greater reach and could keep the thug at bay so long as the guard was up. His adversary had both his daggers flared out to the side and he was partially hunched over, ready to pounce. But then something happened that neither of them expected. The Daggerhand’s gaze waivered and there was a series of heavy thumps from out of Kynier’s sight. Daring to twist his head just enough, he noticed the strange woman approach. Her gladius was raised against him.

Taking several side steps to put distance between him and the newcomer, Kynier’s gaze darted back and forth between the man and woman. The tone of her words made it seem as though she regularly performed these sort of intrusions. Clearly she had no love of the Daggerhands, yet her weapon was pointed at him. Who was she? The woman could be an independent agent like him. Otherwise she belonged to the Vino, the Vigilantes, or the Night Eyes. Kynier took note of her dark leggings, grey blouse, and low drawn black hood and cloak. The mage arched an eyebrow at her. From the outfit alone he would’ve guessed the Night Eyes. Only yesterday did he run into a pair of them and they too wore dark cloaks with the hoods pulled low… in the summer.

The last of the trio raised his daggers to complete the triangle. One dagger against Kynier, and the other against the woman. While she and the thug had their exchange, Kynier’s gaze fell to the second, younger member of the Sun’s Birth. The fellow was still breathing though it was labored, and he lay on the ground. Kynier honestly didn’t believe the Daggerhand would be forth coming. That younger Dragoon however, didn’t seem too pleased with the whole exchange before weapons were drawn. Kynier hoped his wounds weren’t life threatening, otherwise he was going to have to hastily dispatch these two in order to ask his questions.

The odds weren’t in his favor. While he had worked on improving his skill with a weapon, he wasn’t talented enough to handle two seemingly skilled fighters at once. Though, the woman was watching him more than she did the other man. But from her question it was obvious she was here for almost the same reason he was. For an instant he stared deeply into her eyes. Eyes that reminded him of the Void. Unlike most people, they didn’t express much. Kynier took his attention away from her and back to the remaining Daggerhand.

It was a risk, but it was the only option for a quick solution.

Kynier shifted his stance so that his back was to the woman and his side to the other. His back hand drew in real close to his hip and lingered. Exhaling a long breath he sought the depths of his soul for his power. “Seems the Daggerhand aim to attack something of the Sun’s Birth,” he said to fill the air. “But I wouldn’t really expect him to answer to a Night Eye.” Kynier wasn't even sure that she was one. But he was fully aware of the Daggerhand mentality against them, and sought to exploit that. The thug snarled as he looked at the woman. Down in his soul core Kynier’s mind felt the pool of djed lying in wait. Willing it forth it began to climb through the recesses of his body.

“Piece of Shyke.” The thug’s gaze on the woman, layered with menace. “Thought you lot would’ve gotten the message we left at Dovecote. Guess you need another one.” Djed transmuted to a gaseous res in the palm of Kynier’s concealed hand. He condensed it as much as he could into a sphere and sought more djed. It was going to be tricky, but he was sure he could do it. All he needed was the opening to form. “I’m sick of your lot getting in the way!” The Daggerhand yelled as he hurled one of his daggers at the mysterious woman. There.

Kynier stepped forward and thrust out his hand, palm forward. Ignite! The sphere of res shot out and sparked into a blaze of red and orange fire. As his will propelled it through the air the sphere expanded to twice its size to about a foot in diameter before it struck the Daggerhand in the chest before he could acknowledge what was happening. Flames washed over him and quickly latched itself to clothes and skin. In a few ticks he was a walking gout of flame. Kynier immediately twisted around and held his palm out to the woman. A second collection of res was forming in his hand.

His heart rate was up and the muscles of his magic wielding arm were quaking uncomfortably. It was more a strain gather the djed for the second round. With a thought he ignited the outer layer while still fueling more res to increase the size of the fire. “Don’t. Move.” His tone was slightly deeper than usual as his glare fell on the pitch eyed woman. The Daggerhand was trashing about and crying out in pain. Kynier ignored everything about the man except for his movements. In chimes the man would be dead, until then, he would be in a panic.

The woman was the greater concern. With a single word she could awaken the night and bring the embodiment of the city’s prejudice down on him. Doing so would cost the stranger her life, Kynier would make sure of that. Before she had a chance to determine their fates, Kynier spoke over the screams. “Who are you? And who are you with?”

Boxcode credit goes to Nellie!

[Sanabael]

Sanabael could practically see the wheels in the mysterious man's head turning; her brow furrowed when he angled away from her. Was he stupid? He had no idea of her intentions; she could easily drive her blade through his back without a second thought. But she didn't; instead, she tilted her head, listening to him speak.

Her lips tightened into a thin line, jaw clenching. Very few people knew she was a member of the Night Eyes; either he'd been doing a lot of snooping, or he had made a lucky guess. Regardless, the effect on the Daggerhand was instantaneous.

Sanabael turned her gaze to the thug, a silent snarl on her own face as he swore at her. Despite the anger that flared up in her chest, she stayed quiet, making note of the information both the Daggerhand and the stranger had offered. She saw when the thug tensed, realized what was coming, and jerked away from him as he whipped the dagger at her.

The throw was clumsy, but her delayed jerk away from the Daggerhand wasn't much better; still, miraculously, the dagger somehow missed her, if only barely. A mere half-second later, the thug exploded into flames.

Sanabael went rigid, her head whipping around to stare at the stranger with wide black eyes as she put together what had just happened. He was facing her, palm out, and she could see the res he was gathering. His arm was trembling; the first attack had taken a lot out of him. Djed. He was a mage.

Amazement and excitement washed through her, followed by anger; he really was stupid. Her eyes went from wide to narrowed as she lowered her gladius; she doubted the man had any gang affiliations if he was a magic user. "What kind of a petching idiot are you?" She hissed, glancing around, but the streets were quiet aside from the dwindling screams of the man; the smell of burning flesh filled the air.

The quiet likely wouldn't last long; the screams of the dying man and the flames licking up into the night air would surely attract attention. The fire was raging on its own now, fueled by the body of the now silent Daggerhand. "Petch," Sanabael muttered, angrily, sheathing her blade. More out of shock than obeying the man's command, she still stood in place.

So it had been a lucky guess. "I could ask you the same thing," She retorted, hotly. They were at somewhat of a stalemate, but they couldn't stand around for long. "My name is Sanabael." She ignored the second question, and instead ripped off one of her gloves, raising her hand to the man, showing him her palm; pale scars crossed over her palm, visible in the fire's light, a telltale sign of a reimancer.

"We need to get out of here," She said, shortly. She had several things she wanted to discuss with the man, but it would be incredibly risky to stay where they were. Sanabael yanked her glove back on, flexing her fingers. "So if you'd kindly not set me on fire," She looked at where his res was still gathered pointedly before back up at him, locking gazes.

"Just maybe we can avoid getting ourselves hung." She waited a moment, letting the words sink in. "Gods, how are you even still alive if you run around using your magic whenever the petch you want?" She muttered, more to herself, as she strode past the man, hoping she'd made enough of a point to avoid being lit on fire.

She was careful with her djed; so, so careful. She hardly ever used it, even though the desire and urge to do so itched under her skin often. She was compulsive and reckless, sure, but she had enough of a survival instinct to know better. Jealousy settled in her stomach, envy that someone could be foolish enough to use their magic as he just had, seemingly with no fear of the consequences.

"We should find somewhere to lie low until we know it's safe. There should be some abandoned buildings around here..." She trailed off, turning to look back at the dark-haired man. "So you know my name. Who are you? You're not with any of the gangs," The last sentence was said accusingly as Sanabael frowned at him.

"So what has you so interested in their dealings? Anyone with even some brains knows to keep out of their business. Then again, you do seem to be lacking in that department." The words were harsh as Sanabael glanced back over his shoulder to the dying flames that engulfed the now-dead man's body.

[Kynier]

The darkness of the woman’s eyes made it difficult to gage her emotions compared to other people. He resorted to watching each fold of skin on her face. The ones on her brow and around her lips to determine her reactions. Amazement was first which was very surprising. It was fleeting and changed to something else he couldn’t quite determine before finally resting on anger. The woman didn’t betray him to the night but… scolded him? Kynier arched an eyebrow and watched as she swore and sheathed her weapon.

Sanabael, was a Reimancer. Kynier stared hard at the pale scars on the palms of her hands. He had been told about such scars but had been fortunate to be the last of many students initiated by a master. Only if one held his palm and looked meticulously could his initiation scars be seen, hidden in the folds of his palm. He agreed that they needed to get out of there. Still holding the fire he walked past the mixed blood towards the younger Dragoon and sheathed his weapon. The Daggerhand that Sanabael had struck across the head was beginning to stir. Fire still in his palm, Kynier kicked the man across the face and flicked the fire down on his back as though trying to get a liquid off his fingers.

It was then she asked a question of clear rhetorical nature. One that Kynier actually gave a long low chuckle to. Whenever he wanted? She was certainly making a lot of assumptions for being a fellow mage.

Kynier knelt down over the Dragoon and held his hand over the man’s nose. Soft breath brushed against his skin. The Dragoon was still alive. Kynier reached over and grabbed the pouch that the Daggerhands had tossed to the Sun’s Birth. It was full of coins. He took it and pocketed it as he examined the scene. The fires would be difficult to reason. But otherwise, it would be one dead Dragoon and three dead Daggerhands. Who would really question that besides Sanabael?

Kynier grabbed a hold of the still living Dragoon’s arms and dragged him up to a sitting position. “There are plenty of abandoned buildings just to the south, in the Rotten Ruins.” Kynier squatted low and dragged the young man over his shoulder with some difficulty. When the lad was settled across his shoulder the mage groaned loudly as he stood up bearing the man’s weight with his own. As he turned he looked at the woman. “This one’s still alive. Maybe he’d be willing to give some answers.” With that he started south and into the darkened alleys.

“My name’s Kynier,” he said. The Dragoon was young and fit with dense muscle. Kynier’s form had to shift heavily to compensate for the balance. While the Daggerhand screams had pierced the night, they had been fortunate that they were on the edge of an abandoned district. It was possible no one heard the screams. Anyone that did would require some time to find them. Sanabael’s idea of an abandoned building was very agreeable.

He considered the rest of her words carefully. Kynier supposed that this was how Farris felt when he addressed the man’s safety. Only Kynier had attempted to provide guidance. Sanabael did not seem to mind sticking to ridicule. But he stopped and turned around to face her with a sneer. “Says the Night Eye. I’m surprised you people manage to remain indiscreet when you wear full dark cloaks in the summer, just for the sake of pulling a hood over your eyes.” He turned back down the alley and began walking with his burdened gait.

“Just yesterday I met two other of your affiliates. They too were cloaked and hooded, but in the middle of the day. The cloak in the warmth was your giveaway.” For now he wouldn’t comment more on his “affiliations” with the other two predominant gangs of the city. He needed to gage the woman’s intent more before considering it. As well as get somewhere for more privacy. Kynier led the way across an empty street to another alley. Ideally he wanted at least a mile between him and the scene. But the Rotten Ruins was not a district he frequented. No one really roamed the streets so there was very little information to be gained here.

He paused in a darker alley. Shadows were a plenty here. From his tongue rolled words of Makath, the shadow language. “I need help, finding an abandoned building to hide in.” For a few ticks the shadows chittered among themselves. Their debate on whether to help the Nightstalker or not was something Kynier always quickly grew tired of. After a pause they finally answered.

“Fourth building… on the left… west from the alley’s end.” Kynier thanked them in the strange tongue and continued on to follow their direction. “This way,” he said in common for Sanabael. At the end of the alley he turned left and went straight for the building the shadows had mentioned. The door was ajar and he brushed right through without hesitation. The interior was like other abandoned buildings. Rubble and dust covering the floor with the roof broken in to non-existence. But the door was solid enough to close. Moving to the back wall, Kynier lowered the Dragoon to the floor. It wasn’t a gentle set down. The man was heavy, and Kynier wasn’t what you would consider a strong individual.

Breathing heavily and free of the man’s weight, Kynier paced for a chime and rotated the stiffness from the shoulder he’d used. “We’ll be fine here for a while,” he said to the other mage. Then he stopped and rested his hands on his hips. “So… Sanabael,” he said with a bit of irritation in his tone. “Care to explain why you decided to leap into the fray and hold your weapon against me?”

Boxcode credit goes to Nellie!

[Sanabael]

Sanabael watched him flick fire down the other Daggerhand's back and then squat by the Dragoon; apparently, the thug was still alive, because the stranger who introduced himself as Kynier dragged him up to a sitting position before picking him up.

She nodded curtly at his words, and after a moment of hesitation, followed him. Her mouth twisted into a frown; she didn't like the way he was lumping her in with the rest of the Night Eyes. Then again, how should he know any better? A gang member was a gang member. It left a sour taste in her mouth.

"The nights can get chilly," Was all she said to his comments about her cloak, black eyes glancing around as they ducked into an alley; but she made a mental note to avoid wearing her cloak during the day unless the weather called for it.

Kynier stopped suddenly, and Sanabael almost bumped into him. He seemed to be staring at nothing, and though his mouth was moving, he hadn't said anything. Sanabael strained her ears; no, perhaps there was a faint whispering coming from him. "Strange man," She mumbled to herself, as he abruptly continued on, but she didn't question it too much; he was a magic-user, after all. Who was to say what he could or couldn't do?

Sanabael followed him into the building, shutting the door behind them; she blinked, eyes adjusting to the dimness of being inside. Not much light came through the windows. She heard more than saw Kynier set the man down, his form becoming more solid as her eyes adjusted.

She moved to the window as Kynier paced, wiping some of the grime off it to let some more light in; one of them could easily start a fire, but that would draw unwanted attention if anyone was actually looking for them. She turned back to face him at his words, raising a dark brow and crossing her arms over her chest.

"I had no idea who you were with. Once I took care of the Daggerhand, it made most sense to make sure you weren't going to go anywhere, or turn on me." She responded with irritation of her own. "You can never be too damn safe in this city, something I should hope you know if you've been here more than a day."

"What were you doing there anyway? You're not affiliated with any gangs that I know of." She frowned, her gaze scanning Kynier up and down. "What are you looking for?"

As she waited for an answer, a low groan from the Dragoon caught her attention. Sanabael huffed out a breath, dropping her arms and striding over past Kynier. "Do you have any rope or anything? I don't suppose he could take both of us, especially in the shape he's in, but tying him up might save us some trouble."

Sanabael nudged the Dragoon with a booted toe, and he groaned again, sliding further down the wall. She dropped into a crouch, peering at him, but his eyes were still closed; she was careful not to turn her back entirely to Kynier, keeping him in her peripheral vision. Mage or not, and even with no obvious gang affiliations, Sanabael was still wary.

"So, really, I have to ask. What made you think a fireball was a good idea?" Sanabael tilted her head slightly to peer up at Kynier, arching a brow; her voice was exasperated, a mixture of annoyance and faint bemusement. Her hood slid back off her head, and she absently shook her hair out, her gaze never leaving the other mage.

[Kynier]

While her reasoning wasn’t terrible, her approach still seemed flawed to him. Had Kynier been in her position, he would’ve dealt with the first thug similar to how she had. But then he would’ve aided in taking down the second Brother. Though, he was a spy and she was… probably something similar. It sounded like he was something of interest to her. A puzzle or mystery of a sort. Sanabael was asking a lot of questions regarding his motives. Not very surprising. He demonstrated being a mage working against powers most people tried to avoid.

All the answers were things Kynier didn’t really want to give. Not because he didn’t know her, though that was a factor, but because she was a Night Eye. Admittedly his deduction was mostly guesswork and her simple statement earlier wasn’t a denial. When his breathing was under control he stood silently, staring at her directly in the eyes. Kynier wondered what sort of heritage could’ve produced such a characteristic. It was both unnerving, and fascinating to him.

After several moments of silence he spoke, keeping his voice low enough to avoid someone outside from hearing. “Who’s asking me? The Reimancer, or the Night Eye?” Kynier allowed the question a few ticks to fester in her thoughts. “Because you can understand why there are certain things I wouldn’t want other people to know.” At that the Dragoon emitted a soft moan. Kynier watched Sanabael nudge his foot with her own and inquire about tying him up. Kynier walked over and squatted down on the Dragoon’s other side.

Kynier looked at her as she shook her hair out. Absent-mindedly his eyes followed the movement of her waves. Her hair was shade darker than his own. Kynier smirked at her after the very last question. “It was a tactical decision. Get him focused on you, set him ablaze, which would distract you. But I spent too much res on him and didn’t have enough for a second fireball to use on you. Otherwise, we probably wouldn’t be having this conversation.” He broke his gaze away and gave the Dragoon a quick inspection. “I wasn’t sure what this man’s condition was, and needed to get to him as quickly as possible. Between magic and sword play, magic was the quicker option.”

Hazel eyes returned to lock onto those of a void quality. “That Daggerhand wasn’t going to talk. They’ve proven to be fairly tight lipped. The Dragoons though, their loyalty is bought.” Kynier nodded at their unconscious companion. “His life seemed like it would be a good price for some information.” The mage began patting down the Dragoon, searching for any concealed weapons. The man’s sword had been left behind, and he felt no daggers in any of the usual places. But during his search Kynier noticed the wounds he had were more severe than they originally appeared. The man had been cut several times and had a stab wound to the gut. And his skin was turning pale.

His own expression changed to show exasperation. “No no no…” he said adjusting to kneel next to the thug. Kynier started slapping the thug across the face. There was minimal reaction to his efforts at waking the fellow. “Shyke. He’s bleeding out.” Kynier abruptly stood up. “Help me get his shirt and armor off. We need to stop the bleeding.” Kynier worked at unfastening the padded leather armor. It took longer than it probably should have due to the mage never having handled nor worn any armor. But once it was off he threw it aside and began to unceremoniously take the man’s shirt from his body.

There were several cuts across his chest and arms, most didn’t look life threatening. It was the stab wound that was the worst. “Shyke.” He hadn’t brought any medical supplies with him, and attempting to clot the wound with a piece of cloth wouldn’t be much help with how much blood it was oozing. Kynier reached over to reclaim the shirt they had tossed aside. His other hand pulled out his dagger which he quickly started using to cut off a significant portion of cloth. Kynier handed the material to Sanabael. “Clean as much blood from the wound as you can.” He instructed.

A second strip of cloth was cut from the shirt and Kynier used it to wipe away the blood Sanabael wouldn’t have yet removed. He stowed away the dagger. As he did his eyes were half closed. Mentally he called for his djed to arise. When his breath was calmer and the motions of his hand were more automatic than deliberate, he felt the djed coming forth through his body. Kynier’s free hand drifted up as a gaseous res permeated from the skin of his fingers. “I need you to cover his eyes, as well as his mouth. Right now.”

Ignite. The gaseous res sparked into an orange and red flame sphere about three times the size of a miza coin in diameter. As the outer later burned, Kynier turned his hand over and directed the still malleable res gas in the center to lower the fire down to cauterize the wound.

Boxcode credit goes to Nellie!