The steady ‘drip drip drip’ of the leaking sink echoed throughout
the house. The house suffered from a rapid rate of disrepair. The surrounding
homes were crammed together wall-to-wall. The street itself cracked and defiled
as a result of an overcrowded and poor population along with riots occurring
every other day.
The owner of the small home was hiding away upstairs.
Surrounded by cataloged plants and various vials of all shapes and sizes. The
one window in the room was dust covered and the feeble amount of light that
shone through was reflected off the vials and the liquids contained in several
of them. This caused an array of colors to be displayed on the low slanted
ceiling and walls.
The occupant of the room sat
in front of her desk glaring at the blank sheet of paper before her. She had
always hated writing letters. This kind of letter was the worst however. There
was simply no eloquent way of informing others of the fact that someone’s life
was.... no longer an asset. The killing itself, that was the easy part.
Her chair screeched loudly in
protest as she leaned back and tilted her face to the ceiling. She was void of
ideas. Thinking back to last night. She could remember the resistance that had
pushed against the blade as she slid it across the man’s throat. It had been
so... as much as she hated it, delightful. Despite that she had been sloppy
though.
Sighing she leaned forward and
attempted to scrape dried blood from underneath her fingernails with a pair of
forceps. It was futile; scrubbing would be required to dispose of the remnants.
Light glinted off the tool as she threw it back on the desk.
The man had been a merchant
well along in his years. His hair had been wiry and thinning, his skin wrinkled
and scarred. He walked with a limp yet had been agile despite it all. It had
been an easy kill though; he had been unable to fend against the woman’s
dagger.
The girl picked up a flask
containing an iridescent powder and tilted it so the small amount of light
shone upon it. She pondered the idea of using poison as she had many times
previous. But no, poison was a coward's weapon. It was used by those that
lacked the nerve required to wield a blade. The girl viewed anyone that used
the substance with utter contempt.
Leaning forward in her chair
she replaced the powder. She grimaced at the noise of her seat and made a note
to try and replace it. Picking up a pen she satisfied the blank pages thirst
for ink. Death has been administered to the patient. She signed it
plainly with only her name. Emily Kitchen.
After sealing the letter she
stood and grabbed one of the jars of herbs that were also dispersed throughout
the room. Despite her occupation as an assassin Emily had a certain altruism
towards those suffering and in pain. She was in fact an alchemist by trade, and
highly skilled among others in her field. This was the reason for all of the
cataloged plants, jars of herbs, and various medical tools strewn throughout
the entirety of the house. The small store that presided over the front of the
home was also cluttered and chaotic.
Emily left the small room and
moved herself downstairs. She skipped the last step on the stairs. This due to
the fact that it was the only step that creaked when tread upon. She walked
into the store and found it void of customers. Recently she had, had none at
all. No one could afford anything. The city was dying slowly, and no one was
making any effort to save it.
Oh the City Guard might be
able to do something about it if not for all the lazy good for nothings that
never actually do anything. The assassin’s guild did to an extent attempt to
help. Although the methods of the guild were rather... nonreversible. They
never killed anybody that was useful. Only those cretins that never do
anything, and lords and ladies that do too much.
After walking up to the window
to place the jar of herbs on a shelf Emily noticed two soldiers across the
street. They looked outright ridiculous, clad in heavy armor that was much too
big. The both of them were scrawny and looked no older than 15. Although they
didn’t know it yet the two of them would be dead within the week. Both of them
were on the hit list.
The young men continued down
the street with sunlight glinting harshly off their armor. One of them was
gnawing at a puny bruised apple, while the other kept fiddling with his sword
hilt. The shadows they cast were long and lay towards the east. They pushed
their way through the crowd ignoring the indignant shouts of anger they caused.
They sauntered into the first inn they encountered. There was only one person
in the room other than the innkeeper and two maids chattering in the corner by
the stair. The other occupant was entirely engrossed in his drink and ignored
the entrance of the two soldiers.
The inns of the Tintagel were one
of the few businesses that prospered in the city. People lost homes and needed
somewhere to stay, others drowned the trouble away in a pint of ale. And heaven
knows there are a lot of troubles to drown. Both of the men fell into the
latter category and bought drinks as soon as they were through the door.
The slightly older of the two
was the shorter. With black hair and dulled blue eyes he was only missing two
things. An ear and parents. Both of the two were orphans and had become friends as
a result of it. The younger was covered in scars from a whip that had once been
wielded by an ever angry slave driver. The scars would crack dryly on occasion
if the boy bent too far or moved too quickly. He also had no real name that he
could remember, only a number. 36.
“Have you no sense at all
Flin?” 36 asked sharply, “If we are caught missing again we’ll lose our bloody
heads.” Flin stared blankly in reply finding it unnecessary to reply. 36 took a
long drink. “Do you not even have a comment on the matter?”
“Look you're overreacting, the
captain won’t find out. Even if he does it’s not that big of a deal we’ll be
gone before he can do anything about it.” Flin replied smoothly. 36 reddened.
“It was stated if we disappear
again it will be counted as desertion. The penalty for desertion is death, so
yes it is a big deal. How are you not understanding that?” 36 said.
“I am understanding that you
ninny, if you would listen. We can’t return at all now we are deserters. Have
you realized that? We are deserters 36 get that through your head. It’s high
time we get out of this place. It wouldn’t
surprise me if there are already people sent to kill us.
The other person in the room
that had previously been oblivious to their position in the room started eyeing
them strangely. He scratched at his chin and shrugged returning to his drink.
36 lowered his voice. “But where do we go? And how do we make our way? We have
no possessions of our own. We don’t even have enough coin to rent a room for
one night.”
Flin smirked and replied, “I
already have it worked out, you just hang on for the ride and follow me.” He
took his first drink. One of the serving girls walked over and inquired as to
whether they wanted food. They simply ignored her until she left. Neither of
them had the patience to deal with her at the moment. She left and busied
herself sweeping, the other girl had disappeared upstairs awhile ago. Flin
stood up and stretched. “Come on lets go.”
36 leaned forward and lay his
head over his folded arms. “Why should I go with you? You have already managed
to cause me to lose my only home. Along with probably getting me killed as a
result of it. How can I possibly trust you?”
“You can trust me because I’m your only hope” Flin stated
softly. He placed his hands on the table and leaned against it. “Look just give
it a try you don’t have any other options in all reality. So come on, take the
one chance you have of surviving.” At that moment a woman walked into the
common room from the outside, her hands were stained a greenish tint and she
had long black hair that was pulled up messily. She was older than 36 and Flin, but not by much it would seem. Her clothes were all a dark green shade and
seemed to trick the eye seeming to almost disappear at times.
She walked steadily with a
measured step and sat at a table nearby the two men. The innkeeper rushed and
welcomed her inquiring whether she would be wanting a room, or a meal and drink.
The woman declined and asked how business was going although she didn’t bother
to listen to the innkeeper’s answer. Flin and 36 walked out into the street
while the two were occupied.
It was almost sundown, Flin
dragged 36 along behind him in the direction of the docks. “I already paid for
passage on a ship that leaves tonight. We will be in Steel point
within the next week.”
36 looked at him stunned. “We
are going to be with dirt born dwarfs? Are you out of your mind? They hate
humans, what do you expect to do about that little fact of life.”
“I didn’t stay we would stay
there.”
“Then what are we going there
for?”
“Dunno I’ll figure it out. 36
you can stop worrying your pretty little head about it.” Sighing 36 resigned
himself to the fact he was running away with a madman. An occasionally
brilliant madman yes, but still not the best company to keep. It was official
he was going to die. By the time it happened he’d probably be grateful.
The streets were less crowded now;
people had started to return to their homes free from the days trials. A smell
of smoke drifted through the air. There had been another riot today on the west
side of town. Some screams could still be heard. It seemed to be dying down
though from what Flin could tell, although it didn’t matter the docks were on the
far side of town away from the chaos and mob mentality that was surely still
gripping the streets. Flin wondered how many people had been killed this time,
usually there were several around 6 or 7 at the least. People were trampled to
death or stoned accidentally as people ran through the streets in protest
destroying anything they could get their hands on. The City Guard was useless
in regards to the situation; they didn’t have enough members to control the
crowds so they gave up and never even attempted it.
If only Lord Laevis would step
in, He was the tyrant that ruled over the whole city after all. He had the
power to fix stuff like this right? Flin assumed an odd look as he thought more
on the subject. Why hadn’t Lord Laevis done anything about it? In fact when was
the last time anyone in the city had even heard anything from him? None of the
laws were enforced, and there hadn’t been any progress made in 5 or 6 months.
Maybe he had given up on the city altogether and decided to let it rot and
destroy itself in its own filth and disease. In all reality that wouldn’t be
that bad of a choice, it did truly seem as if the whole city was a lost cause.
It had started drizzling slightly;
the clouds had blown in quickly. “Ok I don’t know about you but before we get
on this ship of yours I find getting rid of these targets drawn on our backs to
be a good idea.” 36 stated.
“Oh the armor? I have that
worked out as well.” Flin replied.
“You’ve thought of everything
it would seem.”
“Well there's one thing I
haven’t thought of,” Flin laughed nervously. “For example the person that has
been following us the last few blocks. The way they carry themselves shows that
they’re carrying a weapon they have that certain look about them. Although I
doubt they will put it in use out in public like this. So I suppose for the
moment I actually do have a solution to that problem, so yeah I do have all the
answers for the time being.” He grinned satisfied waiting for some witty
comment from 36, which to his disappointment never materialized.
Oh well you can’t have
everything Flin thought to himself as they continued walking their shadow
following closely behind. In all honesty he knew their chance at leaving the
city were slim. It was a challenge he had to deal with. Life was nothing
without its conflicts, its rises and falls. You can’t fly forever, at some
point you crash and burn. The only hope is that you will put on a big enough
show when you burn that you won’t ever be forgotten. The chances of either of the
boys leaving even the slightest sear on the fabric of the world was low
however, they would likely only produce smoke that blows away in the wind as
quickly as it appears and be gone forever. Perhaps maybe if they took others
with them when they leave the world they might manage to cause a mark between
the combined amounts. They both hated killing though; it was in fact the reason
why Flin caused both of them to become deserters. So that he could hide from
the blood and the wars and reality itself.
36 started kicking at the
ground while they walked sending damps clumps of earth and pebbles scattering
with every step. The person following had pulled up a hood to shield their face
from the rain. Flin loved the rain, the smell of it more than anything. He had
started his life out in the countryside and could still remember how the rain
had always smelled sweet and welcoming. Here in the city it had an odd sharp
edge to it and tasted slightly metallic and basaltic. Despite that he tilted
his face to the sky his mouth open wide as he caught a few dozen raindrops on
his outstretched dark pink tongue. The rain was warm in his mouth and he spit
it out in disgust as he realized. Most of it was in fact ash. At least that’s
what Flin thought at first. After awhile he started coughing however and his
vision blurred
He glanced down at his rough
gloved hands and discovered them covered in dark red almost black blood that
dripped through his fingers slowly and stickily. He watched oddly fascinated as
it formed a small puddle on the ground by his feet and clumped together as it
started to dry. Confused he looked at 36 and found him writhing on the ground
in pain while clutching at his throat struggling to take each breath. He
started choking and blood flowed from his nose, mouth, and eyes. Then Flin
looked back down at the blood beneath his feet and saw his reflection. His
veins were sticking out sharply and his eyes appeared like dark caves leading
to nothingness. He saw a shadow cover the pool and saw the gas canister lying
nearby. Only the guards were issued with gas although they never resorted to
using it. It wasn’t unusual for the storehouses to be raided by gangs though.
The girl behind him was not in any gang though Flin could tell just from the
little bit of her reflection he saw. She was dressed too nicely. She would make
a good dancer Flin thought. A red film started to cover his eyes and he could
no longer see anything and soon came to figure out that he was also bent double
on the ground fighting for air. Then... darkness. Surrounded by nothing.
I wonder is this what it’s
like to be dead Flin thought. I suppose I am dead at this point though so this
must be what it’s like. It’s so lonely here, that’s no fun. He looked around.
There appeared to be what looked like white marble flooring underfoot. Other
than that there was only darkness and vast emptiness. He started walking. As he
continued looking about he noticed a slightly darker patch of area in the
surrounding space. It seemed to move closer until that he could see that it
formed the shape of an extremely tall figure draped in a thin black cape that
billowed about despite the lack of wind and extremely bent back. Now how is
that possible Flin wondered, this is simply madness.
The figure stopped; now that
it was closer Flin could study it easier. Its back was hunched and the finger
it extended and pointed at him was simply bone with no flesh to cover it and
give it warmth.
“I’m afraid your time in the
world has come into its resolution Mr. Daily.” It said in a thick low voice
like stone rubbing against itself. “It hefted the scythe it held in its other
hand, “I’m simply here to inform you of that fact, I hope you will bare no
grudges against me for that. Although it wouldn’t really bother me considering
I don’t exactly have feelings like you simple worldlings do.” It appeared to
shiver. Or at least that's what Flin thought it. The movement seemed to
increase the intensity of the ever flourishing and billowing cloak. After
studying it for awhile he started thinking that it might actually be composed
of shadows poorly sewn together by someone new in the art of tailoring. Or at
least someone severely lacking ability.
“So that’s it? Am I bloody
stuck here?” Flin said quickly surprising himself with his haste.
“I’m afraid so... but don’t
worry it’s not so bad once you get used to it. Which you most definitely will.
You might go mad its true, but at least it is something.”
“Can I at least have your
name?”
“People call me Death Mr.
Daily but do not be alarmed by that fact I am not in truth death itself. Only a
messenger that delivers souls to their locations after death itself. A thing I
have done with you as you can tell.”
“Ok... but how do you know my
last name? It’s rather alarming from my perspective you know it. A random bone
creature thing randomly knowing my name and all, I’m sure you understand.”
“Ah yes I understand your
uncomfort Mr. Daily. However I know everybody's name, it’s part of my job
description sir. Please don’t allow it to bother you, and please don’t inquire
as to how.”
“I don’t believe I want to
know how, especially based on your explanations of things so far.”Flin replied.
“Mr. Death was it”
“Well so you know I actually
rather prefer being addressed as Harold if you wouldn’t mind. Although I
suppose it doesn’t matter, not like we will ever encounter each other again. To
be honest there’s not any reason for me to explain this all to you. It’s not
like you’re going anywhere or able to leave and I most likely won’t ever be
back to visit you.” It replied somewhat sadly. “Well goodbye Mr. Daily, I hope
you enjoy the rest of eternity.”
Harold started to become
shorter at least from Flin’s perspective, although when he looked again Flin
noticed that the thing was sinking into the white marble and not in fact
actually shrinking or shortening. After a moment Harold’s head seeped into the
ground and he disappeared with a wet popping sound. And with that Flin was left
alone.
No one ever looks up, why is that? Anaiah thought to herself. She
was crouched on the roof of a building overlooking the street. Below she
observed the destruction of two lives. The female assassin responsible for the
deaths was pathetic and used gas as a weapon. She avoided contact with the men
completely never getting even a speck of blood on her hands. She simply left
the bodies lying there and disappeared. Such a waste, she didn’t even search
the bodies for valuables. Anaiah dropped off the roof smoothly and rolled once
she hit the ground so as to prevent injury. She looked about the sun was set
and the moon rising although it wasn’t an easy thing to tell due to the heavy
clouds. The rain had become a steady drizzle and formed into muddy streams that
ran along the length of the road.
Neither of the men had anything worth
stealing Anaiah sighed and shook her head, what a waste of time. She pulled her
ragged hood over herself to protect from the rain. Her clothes were covered in
holes and well worn. The color that they had once been was long gone, and they
were no more than grey poorly sewn together rags. She had no shoes and her feet
were blackened with soot and the soles hardened more than the sole of any
solidly built boot.
She
turned about and scaled up the wall wedging her fingers and toes into the gaps
between the cheaply made brick. One of the bricks came loose beneath her left
foot causing her to almost fall backward. She caught herself and then swung up
onto the roof. She leaned down and picked up a bag she had left lying on the
roof. It was empty. So far today she had not found anything worth stealing; she
had considered taking part of the armor that adorned the dead men in the
street. Yet the armor they wore was made of tin as she had discovered with
close inspection, and was worth nothing. The sword might have been worth
something but blood had soaked through the scabbard and into the wrapping on
the hilt. It was not an easy thing to sell bloodstained wares.
She
started walking along the roofs and eventually sped up into a light jog jumping
from roof to roof. The rain made the tiles slick and caused it to be a
difficult thing to tread upon. One of the red tiles broke and clattered noisily
onto the street below and busted loudly on impact. It was answered by an angry
shout from a woman in a window below. She was neared the wall that surrounded
the city. It was broken in several places and under construction, although
there had been no progress made in several months. The holes were a result of a
battle that had occurred during the winter, it had initiated the start of all
the problems in the city.
There
were always guards scattered along the length of the wall, one was leaning
against a merlon above the gap in the wall Anaiah ran through. He didn’t pay
her shadowy figure any thought and ignored her passage. She slowed from a run
once she reached the tree line that lay a mile from the wall. All of the ground
surrounding the city had been burned and stripped bare making it impossible for
any enemies to appear without being seen. The city itself was built in levels
with gates between each. There was really no point to it all anymore though,
the whole world was messed up. No matter where you went there was famine,
chaos, and altogether madness with no direction.
After the war all the
different nations had isolated themselves each one trying to rebuild. Yet none
of them were strong enough to fend for themselves, and all of them too prideful
to ask for help or to work together. Despite all of that there was something
else that had started happening within the last month. Myths, legends, once
thought stories coming back. Things that hadn’t been seen in in several hundred
years. Things that were out for blood. Things such as dire wolves, and
elementals of fire and water, along with the especially weird ones like the
vampire twins that resided in the city. They were an odd couple both with grey
skin and dark eyes along with being relatively short and small. No one quite
knew what to think of them. They never actually did anything violent that had
been noticed, and they also hadn’t gone on any bloodthirsty rampages. They were
just odd looking more than anything, and nocturnal it would seem.
Anaiah
walked on through the trees, the branches where all high and out of reach. The
ground was without growth and covered in dried pine needles. The air thick and
humid and carried a sweet scent yet had an odd undertone to it that hinted at
decay. There was a heavy silence draped over everything, Anaiah’s footsteps
were silent and muted. The occasional sound of wings or bats would sometimes
break through the silence and echo for a minute or so before fading away. There
were odd little globes of light that occasionally appeared in the trees mostly
a light blue shade that glowed softly without actually producing much light at
all. The darkness seemed to swallow the globes and extinguish them completely.
Every time Anaiah saw one appear she would count down to the second they
disappeared. They generally seemed to stay around 15 seconds before they died.
Although recently they had started to last longer the longest being 32 seconds.
Some people claimed that they were disturbed spirits while others said faerys.
Anaiah tended to think the first concept was true.
A slightly smoky smell
filtered through the air and was soon followed by the sound of heavy footfalls. The sound reverberated throughout the trees and was accompanied by a distant shadow. The globes above stilled and appeared to die down yet refrained from fading away. The spheres started to shift colors as the distant shadow drew nearer. They changed smoothly from their delicate blue into a savage, deep, and threatening red. The sound of footsteps grew impossibly louder until the rhythm of the steps thundered in Anaiah's ears, drowning out all other noise.
The smoke tickled Anaiah's nose as it grew in intensity and filled the surrounding airspace. The lights above cast deep shadows across her face and disguised the ever growing emotions of curiosity and terror that swelled within. She took a step backward debating over whether or not to run and escape the thing. Although she resisted the urge when she saw it was humanoid in shape and walking like any normal person. From this distance however it appeared completely grey and lacked the colors provided by flesh.
As Anaiah studied the figure closer she started to suspect that its skin was moving. . . almost flowing. In fact it didn't have skin at all but it was instead formed from an odd substance that had molded itself into the shape it now occupied. The all of a sudden the fiery balls of light above winked out, and plunged the forest into pitch darkness. With the sudden darkness came the screeching of a fast wind that sped up harshly as it went. The gale snapped at Anaiah's hair, whipping it around sharply. It stung her face and any other exposed skin. The wind penetrated through her clothes as well rendering them to be of little protection. The sound of it covered up the heavy footfalls and evaporated the scent of smoke, There were leaves and dirt caught up in the torrent that sliced and bit at Anaiah . She clenched her eyes shut and covered her face with her arms desperately trying to have some protection from the raw force of the seeming-less endless wind.
Just as the wind had come quickly it was quickly dispersed, as though someone had sliced through it and ripped it apart. Anaiah's eyes had swollen because of the harshness that had been contained in the quickly moving air. She struggled to open them desperately trying to figure out what had happened. The sight she saw though was no where near what she had anticipated, although due to the strangeness of the situation she really hadn't know what to expect.
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