Flashback ' Mutual Dealings ' [Elias Caldera]

[Neive]

Timestamp: 15th Day of Spring, 509 AV 　　　　　Mid-night 　　"You useless piece of Konti scum!" The angered snarl from a bulbous man could be heard even through the run down walls of her master's warehouse. Situated in the docks, near the Plaza of Dark Delights, it was well out of the way, barely standing and a sight sore upon the eye. Yet tucked away between buildings, the derelict warehouse was never glanced at twice - a notion that played well into the hands of her master, as he could conduct his illegal endeavours without much trouble. 　　A high pitched whimper escaped through taught pale, cracked lips as the young Konti slave instinctively raised her arms to protect her skull from a beating that did not come. Though her master had thought about it, as was evident from the lowering of his plump, clenched fist. "I bought your miserable soul, so that you could make sure my men did not die from disease. Yet here I stand with a man reduced to a jibbering mess!" 　　Young Neiva made the mistake of thinking her master wanted an actual answer and began to open her mouth to respond, her salty tears that coursed down her delicate features bitter upon her tongue - but he did not. His cruel eyes flared with pleasure as he struck her across the cheek with the back of his hand, nearly sending her sprawling off her feet. Her ghostly pale skin began to redden viciously with the sting of her master's touch, the pain ringing in her ears. 　　"I need to know if that bluthering idiot squaked about me owning a Gnosis printed Konti to anyone before he managed to get himself into this mess. You heal him enough to get him talkin' plain or it'll be your hide I be sending to the bottom of the canal next, you hear?!" Shivering with fear, Neiva violently shook her head in response, it was all she dared to do least she get struck again or least her master follow through on his threat - which he was known to do. 　　Satisfied he had promtped her with enough stimlus to get the job done, her master gave a click of his fingers and instantly young Neiva reacted, almost as if she were a well trained dog. Scurrying off to the wall not a few feet away, where a man lay sweating, groaning beneath a flurry of blankets, she knelt beside him lifting both of her already grotesquely chafed wrists into the air together, head bowed and violet gaze adverted to the dusty ground. One of her master's goons followed and clicked together the handcuffs that were lying on the floor, attached to a long chain of at least 7ft, which remained firmly bolted to the decaying stone wall. 　　As her master and his men made to leave, he called out behind him raising two fingers into the air without even so much as glancing back, "You have two days! I'll send Curtis with water in a day, that should keep you from dying before you can get the job done." A devilish snort was the last sound Neiva heard of her master before the heavy oak door to the warehouse slammed shut. 　　Leaving the young Konti in near complete darkness in the vast openness of the warehouse. Were it not for Leth's light shining bright from the full moon through a small window above where the young Konti girl and her patient lay, she would not have been able to see her hands quivering before her face, as she finally let out a muffled sob. 　　Outside, her master whiped out an old wooden pipe, with one end clearly knawed upon and as he sucked in a few deep breaths, he lit it with a match as he confided to one of his more trusted men, Curtis who was never stood more than two feet away, "By Rhysol's might, that girl better get him healthy look'n. If anyone found out where I keep the girl, they'll surely be after her and not just for her heal'n talents either." 　　Curtis responded, an attempt to calm his master's troubled thoughts, "Sir, none but us know of her ability to see through the eyes of criminals. Our secret is safe." This was merely acknowledged with a grunt, before the master made his way towards his boat moored just ahead, drifting off down the canal's that were Ravok's native roads. 　　Unaware was he, of the ever listeneing ears of spies and the ever watchful gaze of the Voice, the Black Sun, their army; who could do wonders with the gift of ' The Criminal Eye '....

[Elias Caldera]

A stride as lean as it was long and purposeful carried the apprentice across the city streets that night. He weaved through dank alleyways and shrouded canals with a veteran grace only a local could ever hope to master, his midnight armor a mere shadow lost in the darkness as he moved.

Elias's temper reflected the bleakness he traversed.

The source of the young man's irked mindset? The seeping sac the young ravokian carried with him. As if on cue, the foul thing bumped against his leg yet again, staining his grieves and faltering his pace as he rounded the corner. He grimaced, fuming with malcontent for the wretched sods who were going to answer for his indignation tonight. Elias didn't want to be here. He didn't want to be carrying what he was carrying, and he sure as shyke didn't enjoy the fact that he wasn't even supposed to be doing any of this in the first place. A plethora of people were to blame, all bastards who deserved whatever his sleep deprived mind could fathom for their cruel fates. Chief among them was Tanno Riggs, the blasted man whose job had been pushed unto a peacefully resting apprentice, roughly roused from his slumber in the middle of the night and kicked out the door with barely enough time to strap his sword on. Tanno however, was a soldier, a man who outranked Elias in ever caliber and degree, so Elias, being the good apprentice, wiped the sleep from his eyes, gave the best salute his haggard body could muster, and marched himself out the barracks, an empty duffel bag thrown into his hands before he knew what was even happening. After doing what he had to do... next, the stryfer knew he wasn't going to be sleeping for the rest of the day, and someone had to pay for that. Ser Tanno would get his -that lazy petch, always running of to Rhysol knew where all the damn time- that Elias swore, but as for tonight, the apprentice had only one name on his list that he intended to cross out.

"Gordo!"

The warehouse door buckled and broke open as Elias boot, enriched with the flowing djed of his flux training, connected with the rusting old hinges. The ravokian stormed inside, not a care in the world shown in regard to the multiple crossbows suddenly pointed at his head by the startled and confused guards who were quick to shoot first and ask questions never. Yet for some reason they hesitated at the sight of the brash young fool making his way up the rickety stairs into their hideout. Even with their bolts aimed and ready, indecision and even sheer reluctance spread throughout the disorderly ranks of heavily armed cutthroats and purse snatchers now roused to their senses by the unexpected intrusion. They had seen the black armor of the ebonstryfe, the badge and pins of apprenticeship upon his collar, and most discouragingly, all eyes had fallen unto the red bag the boy in black dragged behind him as he stomped into their avode. The apprentice pushed by them all, uncaring. He wasn't surprised at all by how well equipped and on edge they all seemed, not after the debacle that had transpired only a few bells ago anyway.

No hint of concern ever reached the apprentice's expression however, and not even his thoughts for that matter. He was wrapped in the embrace of the hallowed black of the most sacred order afterall, the presence of his ebon armor and badge alone were a veritable fortress in of themselves against the likes of such scum. "Gordo, get out here. Now!" He roared again, the fury on his face twisting the young killer's already grim and tired features into something unnervingly maleficent. He called out even as he stopped in front of a pair of tense men with hands resting on their hilts of their blades. They wouldn't so much as touch him and they all knew it. No one would.

No one would dare.

Eventually, from the gutters no doubt, Gordo came slithering out into the open to face his judgement. The plump man's scarred face was wracked with anger at the sound of some fool yelling his 'prestigious' name with such boorish disrespect, and in his own office of business of all places. When the fat man's dark eyes beheld the one who had shown such gall however, they very quickly shifted from furious to surprised, then finally softened into the practice farce of niceties and politeness that went along with this little dance the ebonstryfe and their criminal counterparts went through whenever the two sides were forced to meet.

"Oh, my lord, I wasn't expecting you. Welcome, welcome!" The gangster cooed, cupping his hands in a gracious display of hospitality. 'My lord' had been a little much and Elias sneered at the crime lord's pretentiousness, but Gordo was slick and dangerous like that. The man knew how to play the game well enough and was always getting better, a fact growing more evident day after day now that he had recently surrounded himself with intelligent, voracious officers a cut above the usual mindless thugs that infested the underbelly of this great city. A strange choice considering the mewling, idiot sycophants he had once enjoyed the company so much not too long ago. Elias didn't know what had brought about such a sudden and unprecedented change, but the effects were already plain to see by the way the man now ran his drug trade these days. The apprentice recognized one of said officers standing to the side, a spry, hardened killer by the name of Kurt, or Curtis if he remembered correctly, who signaled to the others in the room to lower their weapons and return to business as usual.

"Its just an apprentice lads." He had said to a chorus of grumbling henchmen meandering their way back to bed or guard duty. "What, did the Ebonstryfe not have time to send a real soldier to do their dirty work?" He muttered that last part just loud enough so that Gordo and Elias could hear. The initiate, who had been glaring at the fat gang boss the entire time and ignoring all else, slowly tore his gaze off the large man and latched it unto the other, blood shot eyes bearing down on the tall fool. Curtis would have likely done a poor job of hiding his smirk had his eyes not darted to the dripping sac hanging by Elias's side. A turgent pool was trickling through the creaking floorboards and spreading across the floor at his feet.

His smile hardened into an uneasy frown.

It was blood.

[Neive]

As her master slipped away to attend to his illegal endeavours, young Neiva took a moment to stiffle her tears. Her fingers coarse as she tried to wipe away her salty tears, the heavy chains around her wrists rattling within the shadows as she bit her lower lip to contain her sobs. With a patient groaning and moaning in his fever before her and after years of enduring this kind of treatment, it was getting easier to shelf her feelings to the side and focus on the job her master bestowed upon her. 　　Yet fear nawed in her gut, for she knew the man's condition was beyond her ability to heal. What would her master do to her if she could not save him? As painful memories flashed before her minds eye of the beatings she knew her master was capable of giving, Neiva shuddered in panic. No! She couldn't think about that she just had to try her best to save the life before her, that's all that mattered. Her fate would not be as final as the man's who lay before her should she fail. She couldn't just let this life slip through her fingers without trying, even if he were a piece of slime. 　　She took in a deep steadying breath and raised her hands just above the man's heaving chest, clearing her mind of all her worries, of all her fears. Giving a silent prayer to Rak'Keli to give her the strength needed to save this man, she directed all of her energy, both mental and physical into the healing power beginning to emanate through her hands. Then out of the eery night's silence, the warehouse door suddenly exploded inward, an angry, disturbing voice calling her masters name, caused Neiva to near jump from her skin! A strained yelp broke through her cracked lips as she instinctively threw her body over her patient's to protect him from whatever - who ever - was storming the warehouse, her eyes squeezed shut tight. After a moment had passed, long terrified breaths racked the young Konti's frail body, as she dared turn her wide violet gaze upon the striking man in shimmering black - who had either courage, or stupidity to order her master show himself. 　　The young Konti struggled to quickly grasp what was happening as her master's men seemed to stumble in their resolve, their crossbows faltering beneath that hardened gaze that Neiva could not see from with the shadows of the corner of the warehouse. Then to hear her master cower before the intruder stunned Neiva almost as if she had been struck in the face - did her master just call him "my lord"?! Chancing a closer look at the man who had her master cowering in his boots, Neiva took the opportunity as Curtis insulted the man, grabbing his attention, to slowly and carefully edge herself closer. Wary to remain within the safety of the shadows and to keep her wrists as still as possible to prevent the chains from rattling and giving her away, her gaze finally caught a glimpse of the eyes of the soldier. She had seen the Ebonstryfe before, but never this close, she could feel an air of power exude from him, even from this distance and she knew that her master had always spoken of his distaste for them "interrupting his enterprises". 　　There was the fleeting hope that this soldier had come to rescue her, to take her away from this place... take her back home. But the little flicker of hope was quickly snuffed out as her gaze followed Curtis' to the soaking duffel by the man's feet. Her brow furrowed as she wondered why the bag was wet, yet as her gaze met the blood-shot eyes of the soldier before them, she couldn't suppress a gasp of shock as she realised what Curtis could clearly see, that the bag was soaked in blood! 　　Aware that her gasp was heard when her master shot a murderous glare her direction, the young Konti fell backwards onto her hands out of pure terror, the thick chains around her wrists clanking and scrapping loudly against the rotting wooden floorboards - which only inflamed her master's fuming anger that she had made her presence known in the face of an Ebonstryfe soldier! 　　Curtis grotesquely cleared his throat in an attempt to draw attention back to the three of them and away from the young Konti girl who sat quivering, frozen in place from the glare of her master - who followed Curtis' lead and turned a fearfully forced smile upon the ebony-glad man before them, "I beg your pardon for the interuption. Should we retire to my... offices, to continue this intrus- oh I mean discussion?"

[Elias Caldera]

Taking a life was easier than most could ever understand. In the flurry of combat, in the heat of those desperate, bloody moments between life and violent death, killing the man who was trying to kill you became a easy thing, second nature even. Fighting for your life like that had a tendency to push aside all the irrelevant burdens that often troubled a man when he picked up his blade. Things like pity and indecision fell to the wayside, and the mad savagery of the act quickly came to make sense in one's resolve when it was more than just unpleasantly covenant to do so. Yet when that convenience was nowhere to be found, and one was tasked with killing for nothing but killing’s sake, matters quickly grew mired in that shaky uncertainty all right-minded men suffered from. That affliction of doubt was beyond crucial in a person; it made them rational and proper, capable of something else besides death and war. To the Ebonstryfe, death and war was their way, and such doubt was weakness unbecoming of a soldier. In the Ebonstryfe, just like all such apprehensions, it had to be quashed and replaced with conviction of duty, and the sanctity of faith.

Elias had watched his commander do what faith demanded of her that night, no hesitation in her swing, no doubt in her heart. Blurry eyed and sleep deprived though he may have been, the young prospect had been painfully awake while he watched as three men died at her hand. Bound and helpless, each one’s pleas and cries had been lost in the mewling dissonance of the other’s weeping. That’s was how Elias had started this night; three bloody bodies, a sack, and an order that did nothing to belie the severity of its meaning. ‘Make a message and make it clear, apprentice. Don’t come back until you do.’ She had said, leaving him there alone with the corpses.

What else could he do but obey?

Never before had the heir of the Calderas been ordered to do something so foul and vile in his life. Though he had washed them viciously afterwards, his hands were dark and dirtied with blood that he feared would continue mar his skin for a long time to come. He didn’t even want to think about the nightmares… all this and it wasn’t even breakfast time yet!

This was Gordo’s fault! Fat, greedy, stupid petching Gordo! The man would pay, and so would all his boys if Elias had his way, but since he was just one apprentice with one sword, Elias would have to settle for something a little less drastic… For the time being anyway.

The apprentice moved to continue with what he had come to say, but a feminine gasp and the familiar rattling call of rusty steel chains beckoned for the young Caldera’s attention. Dark, muddy eyes skittered over to the source of the sound any proper ravokian would rightly associate with slaves, and indeed, that was what he found there huddled pathetically upon the precipice of the shadows looking back at him. The creature cowered under his gaze, and while the stryfer was quick to dismiss her as irrelevant, something stopped him from turning away just yet. Pale and bruised porcelain flesh all draped under long, snow white hair may have caught his attention at first, but it was the shimmering scales and piercing violet eyes that held it hostage there for longer than he had intended.

Gordo stammered, noticing Elias's averted gazed and raised a hand of placation. “Surely this is something you’d better enjoy conveying with a nice glass of whiskey in your hand? Some Zeltivan brandy perhaps? If you’ll just join me in my-”

“Can you imagine…” Elias said, tearing his thoughts away from the curious slave and all together ignoring Gordo’s attempt at an interruption. As testament to his unwavering performance however, the fat man never let the cordial smile slip from his face. “…my Commander’s reaction when she was woken from her slumber in the dead of night and, by her superiors mind you, made aware of the fact that one of the gangs she handled had overstepped their boundaries… again?”

“No, Gordo, here is just fine. Here, all of you can hear me, and I think all of you will want to listen to what I’m about so say.” His voice was raised so that everyone in the room could, and he turned to each and every man there so that they knew his eyes were upon them. “Do you remember Lucas?” He asked, tone shifting suddenly. The crime lord tensed. “Everyone liked Lucas, right. Great guy. Funny guy. Hell, he was probably my favorite out of the lot of you.” Thugs and gangsters alike shuffled in uncertainty around the room, each looking at one another and Elias with questioning or suspicious glares. Without warning the apprentice dropped the sack he had been carrying with a wet thud. He bent over and reached in to retrieve something, and, after a bit of searching, his hand came back out clutching Lucas’s severed head by the hair.

“This is what we did to Lucas!” He shouted amidst the raucous of howls and roars that followed. Elias hadn’t been lying, Lucas was a good earner and a smart lad, one just old enough that he could childishly be proud of the peach fuzz he called a beard. Before tonight, he had had a lot of friends, and there were hardly any in the gang who didn’t have a reaction to the boy’s sudden ‘reappearance’ after having been missing for so many bells. “This is what we did to the one we liked! You cannot fathom what we’ll do to the rest of you we don't the next time you all petch up.” The Caldera tossed the head to the ground, the grotesque thing rolling in between Curtis’s feet as the big man spat a multitude of curses and danced around it.

By then, Gordo’s smile was long gone.

“Hear me when I say this, Gordo, and hear me well, because you’ll never get another warning; You have what you have, only by the grace of your betters. The Stryfe applauded you once for your avarice, not your foolishness. Keep your boys in line and out of the merchant district, or you’ll be watching over your successor from whichever spike we decide to mount your fat, empty head on.” Elias unceremoniously kicked the remnants of the red sack over and the two other crimson gifts within came spilling out to join the third. A suitable emphasis to make his point, he mused.

As the discord and ire of the gang grew to even newer heights in the face of such blatant disrespect by such a low ranking boy, Elias found his scrutiny falling once again on the strange girl chained to the wall. An idea sprung vividly to mind as he quietly studied her terrified figure desperately trying to avoid his glare. He cleared his throat and no one but a trembling Gordo took notice. Elias noted -with some annoyance- that it wasn’t fear that caused the man shake so. Had the message not been clear enough?

“Commander Loraine has ordered the deaths of three more of you to make amends for your foolish actions.” She hadn't of course, but that had served to shut them all up none the less. Now that he had everyone’s attention once more, he continued. “But, as I am her right hand in this matter and a merciful servant of Rhysol, I have convinced her that reparations need not be so… messy.” Elias gave the crime boss a knowing look and waited patiently. The man stirred, eyes widening as he hastily moved for the coin purse at his belt, but then paused suddenly, his wiry eyes slinking over to Curtis instead. He snapped a finger impatiently at the man and motioned for him to liberate his own coin purse from his side. The lieutenant, still reeling from the fact that there was a bloody head on the ground, only barely noticed his boss’s restless snapping at him before it looked like he was going to kick the severed warnings out of his sight.

Curtis's gasp had almost been as audible as the slave’s, and the butch man looked at Gordo with an incredulous look of stupefied disbelief. Another furious snap of his fingers later however, and the criminal was untying his coin bag and dumping it in his impertinent employer’s hand. With a satisfying jingle, the money soon found its way into Elias’s next.

The apprentice smiled devilishly.

“I appreciate the sentiment.” He crowed, pocketing the mizas with a practiced flourish as he did so. “But I had something else in mind.”

He turned to the slave and his grin widened even further.

“Her.”

[Dove Brown]

Your Grades!
Brought to you on the wings of a Dove!

Please remember to edit your grading request. If you have any questions, comments or concerns regarding your grade, please do not hesitate to send me a PM.

Name: Neiva
XP Award:

• Example 1
• Example 2

Lore:

• Example 1
• Example 2

Notes: Grade withheld due to inactivity


Name: Elias Caldera
XP Award:

• Land Navigation 1
• Flux 1
• Intimidation 2
• Socialisation 1
• Observation 1

Lore:

• Navigating familiar ground by night
• Using rank to intimidate
• Backing up threats with blood

Notes: Enjoy your grades