Witch Hunt (Canali, Kiara)

[Mok]

3am, 5th of Summer, 511AV

The night was coming to a close and the moon was beginning to sink low in the sky. By the time Canali, Kiara, and Mok decided to leave the Pig's Foot is was already extremely late. Mok didn’t know what to think about the events that just occurred, but somehow he found himself in an uneasy alliance with several different people. Mok was the first to step outside, followed by Canali and Kiara. Moments after the door closed an arrow whizzed by and stuck into the wooden post behind them. Before Mok could blink, another arrow zoomed by, but this time it hit his left arm. Luckily, it pierced him just above his brachial artery.

Blood immediately began to leak on the floor. Mok’s eyes bulged open in horror as he stared at the rusty bolt in his arm. “Rust,” he said out loud. Mok was in shock; his flesh had never been pierced before. His heart was racing and he could feel the blood in his veins rushing towards the wound. The sensation was so intense Mok felt like screaming in pain, but something held him back.

Moments after the bolt had wounded him, he felt someone run past him towards the source of the arrow fire. Mok figured it was probably Kiara. Turning around he saw what appeared to be the blurry image of woman with different colored clothing, “Canali?” Mok's voice indicated that he was in much pain.

Red = Myrian
Bold = Common

[Canali]

Canali's mind was buzzing from all the information she had received. Worries raced through her thoughts, as did implications for being in a group such as this. There was a plus side and a bad side to everything. Would her dad have been proud of her actions was one question which she obsessed over; gnawing her lip while deep in thought. He had never truly done anything bad to this degree, but… Nathan also did what he figured he had had to to keep Canali safe. Rationalizing it as a need to stay alive in this city, Canali placed it away in the back of her mind as the door creaked open in front of her.

Mok, a tall man at almost six feet, was a man Canali had met for the first time tonight. A mutual interest in the group and discussing afterwards was when the two had become acquaintances. It turned out, Cade and Mok were related. The curious thought of Cade and Mok having the same...After-hour playtimes, would not leave her alone. It really was none of her business. Kiara was a woman with a dangerous aura, Canali had met at the meeting tonight also. Not a lot was learned about her, besides of her life threatening career choice and how deadly she was.

Walking through the door after Mok, Canali was surprise to hear a whistling through the air. Unsure of what exactly it was, Canali glanced around. The dark alley required a moment to adjust in vision. Pausing on the doorstep, blocking Kiara's way incidentally, Canali watched as, with a thud, an arrow buried itself upon the post near them. Who was shooting? Why? Fear raced through her body, stiffening her and enlarging the grey eyes which were in shifty. The whistling sound kept coming through the air, echoing and burying themselves deep into objects nearby. One landed in Mok's arm.

Praying to Rak'keli in a murmured prayer, Canali debated only slightly between helping someone who was bound to be shot to death and saving her own skin. Living with that guilt would eat at her. Thinking and re-thinking things did that to a person sometimes; drove them insane. Try to save Mok and get hurt trying or slowly go insane? There was no question about it.

Diving into the ruckus, Canali prayed that no arrows would pierce her skin. It was quick going to arrive at where Mok stood still. He appeared stunned. Grabbing the unhurt arm, Canali tugged hard enough to make him stumble before growling, "Come on, you suicidal idiot!" Fearing for her own safety, Canali half pulled, half pushed him, back to the tavern door and through it. The room opened up into the kitchen.

A niggling of worry had her breaking out in goose bumps about Kiara. Could she protect herself?

[Kiara Killraven]

The night was almost over by the time the meeting was finished. Kiara liked the darkness of the night. It was much more accepting then the light of day was. It was much calmer as well. In the black of night she didn't have to explain herself. At night she could move about as she pleased without drawing undue attention to herself. It was a freeing feeling. Kiara was the last to step out of the tavern and into the night air. Even with the slight smell of garbage and dirt clinging the air, the night hair was cool and refreshing compared to the stuffy cramped that she had had to deal with most of the night in the tavern. It was an unfortunate side effect of being the first to their little meeting. A whistling in the air caught the white haired assassin's attention moments before she heard a thud and turned to see a still quivering arrow had just buried itself in one of the wooden posts just behind them. For a moment she stood there in surprise. It was areas such as this that she was skilled in. In that mere breathe's amount of time she had long enough for her brain to work out small details. The arrow seemed to be coated with rust. With arrows of that poor condition she believed the one that had shot it was not a profession in his trade. The fact that the arrow had been aimed at them while they simply stood there and had still missed only reaffirmed her assumption. Her attention was brought abruptly back to the situation at hand as she heard another whistling sound coming from the darkness beyond the tavern's torchlight. Without thinking she bent her her legs at her knees, making herself a smaller target. Luckily it was not her that was she was not the one to get hit by the second arrow that could be heard whistling towards the trio. Unlike the thud sound the arrow had made when it had buried it's self into the beam, the sound that filled the air this time did not sound as though the arrow had met much resistance. The sound that filled the air this time was one that Kiara had heard before. It was the sound of it impacting flesh. The sound of swords brought her attention to Mok and more importantly the sight of the arrow sticking out of his arm. Canali seemed to react to the surprise attack before she did. Partially pulling and partially pushing Mok through the door and back into the tavern they had just left. The cook's words as she re-entered the tavern were lost on Kiara as she strained her eyes and ears in an attempt to locate the would be archer in the shadows. Another whistling sound filled the air. This time Kiara got the gut wrenching feeling it was meant for her. The white haired assassin threw her body away from the area she had been standing in. Tucking her legs in under her body she let herself tumble once before coming back to her feet. Looking back she saw another arrow still quivering in the wall behind where she had been standing. The black clad woman didn't let the sight of the arrow in the wall slow her momentum as she darted forward. Yet another arrow whistled by her body as she sprinted for the darker parts of the alley. She didn't let her mind try to start rationalizing her situation. She could not allow herself to start trying to think of why someone would set up an ambush at the back door of the tavern as opposed to the front. She reached left the illumination of the tavern's torchlight moments later. Finally immersed in the darkness she let herself take a breath and try to slow her heart. Slowly and as carefully as she could she began to make her way down the alley. She moved painstakingly slow attempting to allow her black armor to act as natural camouflage. Her heart still beat quickly, the thudding filling her ears as she strained her hearing. Even the slightest sound that she heard could warn her of her attacker.

[Mok]

After being dragged into the kitchen, Mok tried to compose himself. The young myrian needed to calm down and he needed to do it quickly. Taking deep breaths, Mok concentrated on what he needed to do next. Every second counted and he wasn’t going to let himself skip a beat. He needed a temporary fix, something that would get him back outside quickly to help Kiara.

Mok looked at Canali and finally made up his mind. With his free hand, the myrian grabbed the shaft of the arrow as close to the wound as possible, “Break it.” Clenching his teeth, the half-blood prepared for his new companion to do the deed. Sweat poured like sheets down his face and his eyes were as red as Rhysol’s balls. Canali’s delicate hands grabbed the arrow shaft then she paused. Mok made eye contact with her, then gave the word, “Now.”

Snap. Mok winched in pain for a moment then he sighed in relief.

With a bloody right hand Mok grabbed some rags and handed them to Canali. Mok was in such a rush he didn’t notice anything she was saying. She was saying something important, but it didn’t matter. Kiara and the fucker who shot him was more important. He held the arrow head in place, looked up at the ceiling, and let Canali do work. Mok had no idea what type of bloody mess she was creating, but he did not want to look. It was several minutes before she could stopped the flow of blood. Mok began to get impatient, “Bahkla, Canali! Come on! Please, please hurry, you must -” Seeing that his words were not helping the situation, Mok stopped and gave his friend a sorrowful look, “Kiara is out there.” A minute later his new friend finished tying the tourniquet.

Without paying attention to Canali’s words, Mok grabbed a half empty bottle of whiskey and ran out of the kitchen door not waiting for his impromptu surgeon to follow. As he ran through the tavern he chugged as much of the alcohol as he possibly could, then he threw the bottle. The door swung open and suddenly Mok was back in the dark streets of Sunberth. Less than 5 minutes had passed since he had gotten bit by the arrow, but that was still too long to leave Kiara alone.

Mok drew his gladius and began to creep towards the alley. The wounded warrior glanced behind himself and saw Canali’s face. Mok gave her a silent nod and began to sneak down the alley as fast as he could possibly move. Mok remained in a crouched position the whole time as he ran, just like a Myrian tiger in the jungle. He moved with his gladius ready to strike and his left arm close to his body. Mok also moved in the shadows as not to been seen.


As Mok got further into the darkness he began to slow down. He began to slow his breathing, taking shallow breaths as not to give his position away. By the time Mok reached the end of the alley, his left arm was throbbing in numbness and sweat was slowly dripping from his face. Kneeling in the last bit of shadow by the corner of the alley, Mok motioned Canali to take a position near him.

Holding his breath, Mok and Canali peered around the corner…

Red = Myrian
Bold = Common

[Canali]

No creature of any sort occupied the kitchen. Sudsy bubbles hid dirty dishes and heat flooded from the stove. Two large skillet pans sat heating upon the stovetop; the fire crackling steadily below it. Dirt lay on the floor like flour on raw chicken. Near one of the counters was a stool and Canali pushed him over to it before forcing him to sit. He seemed overwhelmed and anxious, jumpy even. Fluttering around helplessly, Canali tried to think of what to do. Any type of cleansing would take too long; not counting the time it would take to find the ingredients and figure out what to do with them!

"Ugh!" Frustrated, Canali growled under her breath. There really was nothing she could do to help Mok. The thought bothered her; Canali's new acquaintance was harmed, she was in the room, and had no way of fixing the problem. Feeling helpless had never sat well with her. Not since the sight of seeing her own father die, anyways. Brought back to the present by Mok's movement, Canali watched as he grasped the arrow.

Pain must have been coursing up his arm; causing tingles and numbness. Jolting at Mok's words, Canali's grey eyes widened considerably. Break it? Did she have the strength? Could it be broken without causing more harm? Wouldn't it be safer against infections to remove it now? Seeing the look in his eyes, Canali nodded before grasping the arrow. A thought crossed her mind, making her pause. What if the arrow wasn't retrievable later? Hiding the sigh which slipped from her mouth, Canali set the other hand upon the shaft and applied pressure with her thumbs the opposite way of how she was pushing. It cracked several times before loudly breaking in two. The larger half was tossed unceremoniously to the side; clanging softly against the ground. Blood gushed from the wound.

Without wondering if the rags were clean, Canali took them. Two had to be tied together at a time to reach around his arm. Dish cloths, most likely. Fingers covered in his blood, Canali scooped a handful of water and bubbles out of the wash basin before applying them to his wound, carefully working around the arrow. Within moments, they were colored a rusty red. Dabbing gently at the blood with a cloth, Canali was glad to have cleaned it somewhat. Circling his arm with several rags, Canali tied a small, but tight, knot before repeating the process the other direction.

"Yes, I am aware of that!" Canali snapped, but wondered what language he had been speak beforehand. Giving the last cover of the wrap a quick tug, Canali proceeded to tell Mok to stay, and she would go out to check on Kiara. He didn't nee to be using his arm, anyways. More harm would be done if he did. Exasperated, Canali watched as he completely paid no heed to her words and rushed out of the room, sword singing at his side. Frantic, Canali grasped the nearest object before rushing out after him. A mental note was made to return it later. Her improvised weapon was heavy in her hand, solid and had a handle made for horizontal movements. It was warm. Confused, Canali glanced at the object she had grabbed; a skillet pan.

Too late to go back now, Canali almost ran into Mok's form. His pale face stuck out in the darkness like an Akalak in a batch of Konti. Running along behind him on her tip toes, Canali tried desperately to stay quiet. The thought passed her mind that she hadn't breathed in awhile. Breathing through her mouth, Canali took deep breaths slowly. Even though it was rude, Canali stayed as close to Mok as she could. Adrenaline pumped through her, disguising the fear. Hiding behind him to keep safe, Canali peered under his arm. Not as absorbed on the sight ahead of them, Canali felt her skin prickle nervously. Uneasy, she peered behind them.

The only thing which gave him away was the whites of his eyes. Perhaps if instead of crushing his lids together, the man had stayed perfectly still, Canali never would have seen him. Never had a sound echoed through the darkness while he appeared to be moving. Most likely black clothing blended in perfectly with the backdrop; disguising him. As it was, he stiffened, froze, and crunched his eyelids together for a few moments before they opened again; most likely to check that she had turned back around.

Freezing in fear, Canali stared back. Anger coursed through her. This could be the man who had shot the arrows! The creature who didn't deserve an insult, who had hurt her friend! Growing angry, Canali's own grey eyes turned into slits. In her left hand, she twirled the hefty pan between fingers. A slow, sadistic smile graced her lips. The thief seemed to realize he had made a mistake and scrambled backwards, scuffling his feet against the ground. A trip was all it took, as Canali stalked towards him like a panther hunting its prey. He landed on his bottom, hands reaching for his dagger. Flailing it in the air towards her with his right hand, he forgot to disguise his breathing and large gasps of air echoed.

A strange calm lull had filled Canali. Tightening her hold on the pan, Canali moved without warning. One second she was stalking, the next her left hand brought the skillet solidly against his right. A loud Whack! sound through the air. Clanging against the ground, his dagger went skidding. Tingles ran up Canali's arm as she lowered the pan. Within seconds the man pounced, launching off his heels towards her. He tackled her legs and she landed hard on the ground. The breath was knocked out of her. Knowing she only had a few seconds before he would physically harm her, Canali reacted on instinct.

...And hit him upon the temple once, twice, three times with the pan.

Her wrist hurt from the quick movements of such a heavy object. Ignoring this, Canali pushed his now limp body off of her. Adrenaline coursed through her and a few more good whacks from the pan on random spots of his body were delivered by Canali's quickly tiring arm. They echoed resoundingly, but he didn't move again. A couple of the places she panned with the skillet were the kneecaps((to keep him from running!)), his crotch, and a couple more times on his forehead. Blood dribbled from him, and Canali pushed away the bile growing in her throat before staring blankly at the body before her.


Mother petcher!

[Kiara Killraven]

Kiara made slow progress as she slowly slipped from the alley. It was not difficult to blend into the night but there was a very fine line between blending in and remaining unseen. Slowly and diliberately she took one step and then another. Her movements were small, measured, and precise. Her slow progress made it difficult for anyone to be able to pick her out from the surrounding shadows, the lack of quick movement making it much harder for eyes to pick up on her movements. Even at the snail's pace she moved she was able to slip from the alley before any of their attackers could notice her. Well she could not be sure that none of them had noticed her but the fact that she was not presently a pin cushion certainly put her a bit at ease. Kiara made it a few yards from the mouth of the alley before she allowed herself to duck into one of the many door ways lining the sides of the street she had slipped into. She slowly scanned the opposite side of the street with her eyes. She was sure not to move her eyes too quickly. In the darkness that blanketed most of the street it would have been nearly impossible to focus your eyes enough to see into the thickness. A trick Kiara had learned in her many years of being someone that used the night as a shield just as much as a way to hide was that if you were to unfocus your eyes, they tended to be able to pick out shapes and movements more readily. It was this trick and this trick alone that made her able to pick out a figure kneeling in the darkness directly across from the alley she had came from. It was a miracle that the person had not seen her leave it. It likely had something to do with the properties of her armor helping camoflauge her. Dark eyes followed the two as they once again exited the tavern. From the darkness the eyes followed the man and the woman as they moved further down the street. The figure crouching in the darkness squinted it's eyes to keep light from reflecting in the white parts of it's eyes. It kept the weapon it had drawn shielded with it's body to keep light from catching and reflecting on the metallic blade. The figure sat perfectly still. It didn't even move when it took slow steady breaths, making sure to keep its body still as it inhaled and exhaled rythmitically. The figure watching Canali and Mok was no amateur. It was someone that had spent countless nights laying in wait for prey to fall into it's web. It was not simply some hooligan that wanted an easy miza or two to tie them over for the night. No this figure was a creature of the night. Someone that took pride in doing what they did and did it well at that. But in the streets of Sunberth even such a creature was not one of a kind. In a city such as this even that sort of person was not safe. As the saying goes "no matter how great you are, there is someone out there that is better". With it's undivided attention focused on the two that it considered it's prey, it did not take notice as a small movement fluttered in the darkness behind it. The white haired assassin refused to give into the temptation of going after the figure that instant and continued scanning the other side of the street. She doubted there would be anyone outside of her on the side she was on due to the simple fact that it was impractical to hide people in a place in which they would have no vantage point to watch the progress of their quarry. Satisfied that the figure was currently alone she began to step into the street but stopped just short of her first step. Settling back into her hiding spot she used that same trick she had used moments before again. This time however she scanned the roofs above the street. Sure enough she also spotted a figure there. Kiara let a curse reverbrate through her mind as she picked out the figure on the roof. That had likely been the archer that had attacked them as they were leaving the tavern. Which meant that the one in the street would likely have a closer ranged weapon then that of his compatriate. Still she banished thoughts of the archer from her mind. It would be nearly impossible for him to be able to target her once she began moving. Slowly and as quietly as she could manage she slipped from the darkness of her hiding spot. Thankfully the street that she was moving across did not seem to have any torches on them. Or if they did their attackers had likely put them out in order to aide in their ambush. She made it to the other side of the street without bringing the attention of either assailant to her. Slowly she moved closer to the figure croutched at the mouth of the alley. From the direction he had his body turned she was almost directly behind him. She likely could have dashed to the silloutte and made it in time to still take care of it but that was something she did not want to risk. So she continued her slow movements. Closer and closer she moved, her heart beginning to throb in her ribcage again. Finally she was within reach of the figure. She moved her arm extremely slowly, so slow infact it took her almost a minute of holding her breath to slide her dagger from it's sheath. But eventually it did leave its sheath. Now she burst into movement. From behind the figure her left arm came around as a way of holding the person close to her as her hand covered where it's mouth would be. She felt the body stiffen in her grip but it was too late. Her dagger slipped into it's back with enough ease that she knew it hadn't worn anything thick in an attempt to be more stealthy. The body thrashed for a moment before it went limp. Quickly she pulled the dagger from the dead body and carefully lowered it to the ground. She wiped the dagger on the body's clothing before sliding it quietly back into it's sheath and taking it's place just outside the mouth of the second alley. OOCSorry for spelling errors and grammer mistakes. I was in a hurry due to real life

[Mok]

Around the corner there were two men whispering to each other. Judging by their hand gestures, they were probably planning on coming down the alley to finish the job. Both figures wielded long swords and were adorned with dark boiled leather. Seconds later, one of the lackeys ran down another alley and the other made his way towards the myrian’s location. By this time Mok was itching for battle. No one could hurt him and get away with it. When the man was several yards closer, Mok jumped out of the shadows like a puma pouncing from a tree. Still crouched Mok held his gladius in the Viper position. His gladius was over head and the point was aimed directly at the man’ face.

“Hey you fucked my arm up? Huh? I am here to jack you up, veado.” Mok told the man as he began to circle him. The warrior’s blood was beginning to boil and nothing could stop him, not even the wound in his arm. Mok’s eyes were blood shot, his face was red, and the veins on his temples were pulsating. Adrenaline was flowing through his body and it was euphoric. His senses were heightened and elevated. His heart was racing and the blood in his body was pumping hard. Mok continued as he slowly crept towards the man, “So what you want to do? Huh? You want some of me? You want to kill me? Come get it!”

The swordsman did not move though. Although he held his ground and kept his composure, his face was ghastly white. Mok knew that he did not want to fight him without backup and he would use this to his advantage. The myrian warrior began to bang his sword on the floor. Mok’s face was trembling with anger now. Suddenly, the swordsman made a dash for it. Mok immediately sprinted after him and with the flat of his blade, smacked him as hard as he possibly could on the head. The man tumbled onto the floor. “Where are you going cuzao?” Mok spitted, “Get up.” The swordsman rolled over and started crawling away from Mok, “Do you know how it feels like to get stuck, teiro? Come on, get up. GET UP!”

The frightened man turned around, stumbling to his feet and began to run again. Mok sprinted after him, “What are you running for?” Then he kicked the man’s ankles from behind, making him trip and fall on his face. The swordsman turned around to face Mok again and tried to back away. It was obvious that he was looking for his companion; he even started to yell out for him, but Mok ignored all of that. “You should not have done that to me, fucker. You know what I mean? Huh? You want to dance? I know a tune that’s going to stick…and cut!” The half-blood swung his gladius and cut the man’s check. Blood trickled down his face.

Mok backed up from the man and got into the Viper stance again. This time the lackey was backed up against a wall. Nowhere to run, he needed to fight his way out and that was exactly what Mok wanted. He would not stoop down to the level of these humans. He wouldn’t kill someone from the shadows or stab someone in the back. Only cowards fought like that, and he was no coward. No. Mok fought fair. He didn’t care if it wasn’t the smart thing to do or even if it was rather stupid on his part. It didn’t matter to him. Blood is what he wanted and he would get it the right way, the way Myri would want it; face to face, man to man, toe to toe.

Finally the scumbag stood up and was more frightened than ever. It was one thing to meet a nasty criminal in the streets of Sunberth, but Mok was something much more. He was possessed and his fevered eyes told an intense story of pain, anger, and insanity. Mok was serious about respect and he would kill for it. No one fucked him or his friends.

Now the fight began. At first Mok exchanged sword blows with the man, but he was pitiful. No form, no technique; he fought like a peasant. The warrior easily dodged and parried all of his strikes. Mok’s last strike disarmed the man, so he threw his gladius onto the floor and it bounced away. The myrian then bull rushed the man and used an unarmed technique thought to him by the masters of the Jagged Blade clan. Quickly and without hesitation, Mok stuck both his thumbs on either side of the man’s mouth and fish-hooked him, ripping his face open like a child opening a birthday present. Blood poured out of his mouth and he fell down on his butt.

Not waiting a moment, Mok mounted the man, “I’ll cut your fucking eye out!” Using his right thumb Mok jabbed it as hard he could into the man’s right eyeball. Immediately, a blood curdling scream was heard down the whole street. Mok dug deeper and deeper. Blood and eye whites spilled out of the eye socket and began to leak down the man face. The myrian then gouged out his eye ball and threw it to the side. The man’s blue-red blood started to stream out of his face like a fountain. Mok finally got up and turned around to see if anyone had joined the action. His whole front side was dripping with blood; his face now had a sheet of red on it. The myrian walked over to his gladius and picked it up with hands wet with blood.

Licking his lips, Mok tasted the blood of his bitter triumph as he stabbed the man over and over in the abdomen and genitals.

Red = Myrian
Bold = Common

[Canali]

Chilled to the bone, Canali stared at the body laying on the ground in front of her. Large, grey eyes watched in horror as the man failed to move again. Blood dripped from his forehead steadily, pooling around his head. Dark clothes were disheveled, but barely bloody. Any of the red liquid upon the clothes could be washed out. Canali sat numbly on her folded under legs and simply… Stared. She hadn't even hit him that hard, though! Realizing the skillet was still in her left hand, Canali let it drop to the dirt. A solid thump came from it and a small cloud of dust raise from beneath it.

Was that a twitch in his fingers? Oh, please! Frantic to save the man who she had almost murdered, Canali launched towards him. Long ago, someone had saved a little girl at the orphanage, using the technique Canali was about to try for the first time. Smoothly, her hands tilted his head up, but there really was no reason she could think of for this action. The person she had seen do this had done it. Leaning down, hair mingling with the pool of blood on the ground, Canali tried to see if the man was breathing. He seemed not. Trying to keep the panic down, Canali interlaced her fingers, pressed them palms down, and pounded on the man's still warm chest.

Once...twice...three...four times…

The only response she received was a flailing forced by her weight. Shoving her head back down by his, Canali set her ear next to his mouth. No small puffs of breath came from his lips, even though heat still radiated off his mouth. A sense of despair overtook her and, even though she knew there was still a chance of getting attacked, Canali set her forehead against his chin. Trembling and shaking, Canali kept the salty tears back behind her eyes. This man had tried to kill her, why would she want to save him? Even though his choices in life weren't that great, he was a being and lived! He might have had a family! A family where the kids would await their father coming home...and be left waiting.

"No, no, no! He has to live! He has to..."

Bile rose fluidly in her throat and Canali was forced to her feet, unless she wanted to puke on the dead body. Stumbling away to the left, Canali tripped over the skillet pan. Focused on the task at hand, she caught herself against the wall and leaned over. Everything she might have eaten or drank in the past twenty four hours left her stomach; decorating the ground like an interior designer would place a rug. Gagging and holding back the rest, Canali wiped her rosy mouth with the back of her right hand. A horrible taste had flooded her mouth and Canali was as pale as… The dead man back lying on the ground. Giving into the urge, Canali hurled again; just the thought made her feel nauseous.

Collecting herself, Canali made her way slowly over to the body, careful to overstep the pan this time. Goosebumps had risen on her arms and a trembling had overtaken her. Looking down at the corpse, Canali mentally stamped a "MURDERER" sign on her forehead. Nearby, there was the sound of shouting and it jerked her from her stupor with a flinch. Glancing over, Mok was screaming at a man who looked terrified. Had she murdered the man such as Mok was going to do? Clangs came from the swords when they connected, but it didn't last long. Confusion slid through her. Why did Mok grab the man's face as such? Forced to turn away when Mok began stabbing, Canali stared at the corpse before her.

Assuming there was no one else around, as everyone who seemed to have been there was dead, Canali set to work, trying to keep calm. No more would this man need his possessions. After all, he was dead. Locating the dagger which Canali had smacked to the side, she carefully placed it inside of the skillet pan taken from the kitchen. It barely fit, and had the handle sticking out. Leaving the shirt, Canali seized the man's barely bloody pants. She was sure someone in the gang could use them. If not, they would make good rags for cleaning up after cooking. The pockets were left unchecked. No, that could wait for later. The man had worn no shoes. Folding the pants, Canali placed them on top of the skillet and dagger before clutching the items under one arm and giving the body one last look. A quick prayer was sent to Dira, the goddess of death, to pass on the man into another world and help reincarnation. Kyrsus, the goddess of murder and pain, was prayed to by Canali and asked for forgiveness for the crime she had done tonight.


What had she done?

[Kiara Killraven]

Time passed slowly as the silvery haired assassin waiting in the shadows. The moments seemed top stretch and last an eternity. In the darkness Kiara had no irkling of how much time passed as she waiting for some other sign of movement. One of the first lessons she had learned about remaining unseen was that those who lacked patience were the ones that were normally spotted. But as the assassin relaxed and attempted to remain unseen in the shadows she had to admit to herself that having patience did not make the time pass by any more quickly. Each second still felt like hours. If she were less paranoid she would have moved already but she just could not shake the feeling that she should stay where she was. The woman had almost given up and started moving from her hiding place when a she heard a sound. For a second she thought she had imagined it. The lack of movement and the lonelyness of the darkness playing tricks on her mind. Then it came again and she knew it was not in her imagination. The white haired girl slide back into the darkness of the alley as the another sound echoed faintly down the street. The sound seemed to be growing closer. The girl slowed her breathing, centrating to breath without moving her body as the sounds grew ever closer. The last thing Kiara expected the sound to belong to were two more brigands dressed similarly to the way the one she had slain not too long ago. Thankfully they were too far away to smell the release of the dead body's bowels. The two men seemed at least fairly armed. Or so it seemed from her vantage point. It was still incredibly hard to see just what they were armed with. In the darkness of the street she was only able to make out their forms through the corner of her eyes. Still she was able to make out one of them waving to the archer above her. From her vantage point she could not see the archer's response but the two men must have gotten a response that they wanted because they began to whisper to each other and then entered the alleyway. As the men disappearred into the alley Kiara considered shouting to warn her companions. She shook the notion from her head. If she did that she would expose herself. The men that had just entered the alley would likely return and she would not be able to move from her spot for fear of being shot down by the archer. She took a moment to go over the choices she could make. She could follow those two into the alley. She had managed to slip past the archer once, if luck was on her side she could do it again. But then what? Once she got into the alley if the archer spotted her it would spell the end for her. She had no idea why the man had not shot the half myrian or the chef yet but it was likely only a matter of time. That left her one choice. She would have to take care of the archer. Kiara moved as silently as she could manage as she moved further back into this new alley. Her eyes scanned each side looking for a way up. All she could see were a few window seals and a few places where the mortar that held the bricks had become old enough that it had lost it's hold, causing the bricks to crash to the floor of the alley. Then it donned on her. Was it possible for her to use those and the windows to climb up the side of the alley? She let her dark eyes drift down the rest of the alley and back. She let out a silent sigh as she moved up to the wall. There were no other ways up to the roof of the building that she could see. She also surmised she didn't have the time to check for another way up before the group of assailents would try to get away. The white haired girl lifted her arm and slide her hand into the lowest hand hold she could find as she heard sounds of combat coming from the alley in which she had come from. If she had not grown up having to fend for herself and had such a light body she probably could not have managed to haul her entire body up enough, with that one arm, to grasp at a second hand hold for her other hand. Somehow she managed to work her way up. Using a combination of handholds and window seals she was able to scale the wall slowly. She had almost reached the top when the brick under the hole her left hand was in slipped from its place in the wall and went crashing to the ground below. Time seemed to slow as she lost her grip. For a moment she felt as though she would crash to the ground in a similar manner as the brick. Her quick reflexes were a boon here. Somehow she managed to grip the edge of a window seal before she lost her balance entirely. By the time Kiara had finished cursing herself silently for her blunder and made it to the edge of the roof she was more then sure that she would meet the tip of an arrow pointed for her throat. As she slowly peered over the side of the building and onto the roof she was met by an almost pleasent surprise. It appeared that when the brick had crashed to the ground the archer had decided it was more trouble then it was worth and had decided to get out while he still could. The scene that met Kiara was that of an empty roof. They would have to hunt the fool down eventually but for now the archer problem had been taken care of, even if it was in a different way they she would have hoped for. Going down the wall was considerably easier then going up it had been. On her way down gravity worked in her advantage. Her feet hit the ground lightly as she bent her knees to absorb the short drop and keep the landing from being too loud. Quickly she moved back to the mouth of the alley and scanned the streets again. It seemed the streets were still empty. The assassin drug the body of the man she had slain into the alley before slipping from it to the one that lead she could still here the occasional sound of fighting. By the time she rejoined her two companions their were three bodies laying on the ground. None of them belong to Canali or Mok. The chef seemed to be standing over one of the dead bodies. She didn't notice if the girl was crying or not. "So you killed him with just a frying pan?" the assassin asked. "I commend you for your stamina then. Next time though try hitting squarely in the end. It ends the fight quicker." She turned her dark eyes on Mok after the pointers she gave to Canali. "That archer got away. I think we should get out of here before he bring back more help." OOCOnce again I apologize for spelling and grammar errors. Tried to hurry since i have other pressing things to do

[Mok]

The young warrior cleaned his blade on the floor and grabbed his victim’s longsword. Looking down at the fresh mud, Mok attempted to clear his mind. Closing his eyes, he envisioned himself in a perfectly clean white room. Blood dripped from his shoulder, staining the ground dark red. He walked over to the door and opened it. Inside was the raging furnace of his mind, burning and consuming anything that entered it. Even his own shadow could not escape the furnace. Throwing the body onto the floor, Mok stared into its lifeless eyes. A fleeting moment of regret went through his body, but immediately he saw the flames of his mind ahead and all doubt left him. Growling, Mok spit on the corpse as a final sign of disrespect. His saliva slowly oozed down the man’s face into the hole that was once an eye. Finally, Mok picked him up and threw him into the furnace. Slamming the door, Mok locked it and hid the key. This encounter was finally over.

Coming back to reality, Mok finally noticed the terrible pain in his left arm and that he was slippery with blood. As his adrenaline rush began to wear off, Mok got more and more worried. He had a rusty arrow head stuck in his arm, which meant that he was probably going to die as well. Mok sat down in the mud and began to laugh, “You can’t have something for nothing.” The wounded warrior now turned his gaze behind him. It was Kiara the cold blooded assassin and Canali the cook. No, now it was Canali the murderous cook Mok noted from Kiara’s comment. He began to laugh again, but this time for no reason. Even Mok himself did not understand what was going through his mind; his mind was blank. Mok stood up again, but this time with an angry frown on his face. The young myriad suddenly realized that he still had one thing left: hope. Mok would take his own life before admitting defeat to cowards. Clenching his fist, Mok promised himself that he would survive and continue to punish these scumbags.

“Business first.” Mok grabbed the lifeless body and dragged it over to where his companions where standing. Blood trailed behind him leaving an obvious path that anyone could spot. Casually, the half-blood threw the body on top of the one that belonged to Kiara. By the expression on their faces, Mok realized that he still had blood on his face. Using his own shirt, the blood stained warrior wiped his face down before uttering a word. Looking at his new companions, Mok noticed that Canali was holding the man’s pants. Suddenly, the wounded fighter’s face began to tremble in rage. Although his face was now clean, his eyes were now red with emotion. “Fuck these scumbags,” Mok grunted as he stepped forward and grabbed the pants in Canali’s hands and threw them on the floor, “fuck them! You don’t need his pant. That is not why he is dead.” The warrior’s voice was teeming with emotion and pain. He then chucked the longsword into the wall of the alley in anger. Drawing his gladius, he ripped off the shirt off the man he killed and swiftly carved the insignia of the Crimson Edge on his chest: a vertical line with two horizontal lines. Under the insignia, he carved the letters C and E in common. As he worked, Mok mumbled curses and insults to the corpse. He ignored any word or plea his companions may have spoken. The myrian’s arm began to ache with pain. He knew that if he kept this up any longer that he would pass out, but he was almost done. Finding an additional dagger among the corpses, Mok dragged it a few feet to the alley wall, lifted it up and drove the point through the wrist pinning it to the wall. Now the whole world could see what happened there. This satisfied Mok very much and he wished that both his companions would do the same.

This whole process took him only one minute, but he was already lightheaded from the blood loss of his wound. He turned towards Kiara and nodded. She was correct, they needed to leave now. Sheathing his blade he beaconed for her to lead the way. He began to run after Kiara towards safety. Slowly his vision began to dim, but he continued onward through the dark alleys that the woman led them through. He began to stumble as he ran. Feeling dizzy and faint, Mok wondered if he was going to pass out. He grinned at this notion, as it would make him look weak and foolish after his dramatic display of hatred and anger. Now the warrior lost all sense of his location, but he was suddenly told to sit down.

Mok heard voices talking around him but he had no idea what was going on. The grin remained steady on his face.

Red = Myrian
Bold = Common