Games of Intrigue

[Ballantyne]

Closed to Mutant Lorenor and Winterhair

Evan was somewhat disappointed at what he saw as he treaded the sidewalk of Omni Lane. He was clad in lively colors of green and blue, but it contrasted with the gloom of his surroundings. It was quite early in the morning. The fog draped every corner and made the distance of the street look like an endless grey abyss caged in by two rows of crimson brick townhouses. There were no horses trotting down the street, thus there were no carriages. He was one of a handful of people walking down that lane. And here he thought Radasanth never slept. Even the rising red sun looked dormant near the eastern horizon just now emerging from under a bed sheet of morning mist.

320... 322... 324... Here it was, 326 Omni Lane. This is where Evan’s sister, Lilith, told him to meet Brody, a former bartender of the now destroyed Silver Pub. Yet another disappointment. Lilith had a list if contacts acquired from previous trips to the city, and Brody was one of them. She caught up with him to see how things were going for him only to find out the legendary pub had been brunt down, and he was making a living off of obscure errands that no one else would do. This job Brody was willing to give away to someone else for a mere finder’s fee, which could only mean even he wasn’t willing to do it.

That’s okay, Evan thought to himself as he leaned on the street light. The fun stuff will come in due time. At least that’s what everyone back home told me.

The home in front of Evan varied little from the ones he’d seen in the inner city so far. Concrete steps framed by wrought iron railings led up to a wooden door with an ashen black doorknob and knocker. All this was the makeshift atrium for a little two story townhome with a big mansion attitude. He knew what to expect from the interior, for these were the great homes of local aristocracy who didn’t want to take the time to travel from their mansions in the outskirts to their careers in the city. A vast living space, plush furniture, and top-of-the line architecture were required to meet a rich man’s taste.

“Ballantyne?” Evan turned around and saw a tall man walking across the street towards him. Lilith told him to look for one unique feature when identifying Brody, a streak of white age in his otherwise youthful blond hair. There it was lining the left side of his scalp. Evan raised his head in confirmation, and the former bartender extended his hand in a shake. “Welcome to Radasanth. I hope you’ve had a nice time so far.”

“I have, but I hope to make it better.” Evan said as he stood straight up and reciprocated that courteous handshake. Both men smiled as a last gesture of formality. “I’m guessing I’m filling in for a job you don’t want to do.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to do it.” Brody reached under the sleeve of his tunic and pulled out a pipe. “As much as I don’t like to admit it, this job is beyond my normal set of skills. Lilith tells me you Southerners make a game out of what we consider to be real life. Mystery, deception, war. All that horrible stuff is fun to you.”

“Yes.” Evan said as he sniffled a bit. A familiar scent filled his nostrils, but he continued to speak. “Our society rarely has issues like that, but it prepares us for those rare occasions by making a game out of them. People from other parts of the world think we’re crazy though.”

“You are.” Brody mumbled through his lips as they were pinching the end of his pipe. In a matter of seconds he had it lit and puffing out smoke. Evan had no reason to object to that opinion. Considering how seriously people took their lives here and all around the world perhaps he was crazy. “But you’re smart too, and that’s why the lady who lives here needs you. Come.”

Evan followed Brody up the steps to the door where he knocked and waited. Seconds later the large wooden door crept open and the smell of pastry burst out and filled the air around them. That’s what Evan smelled all along, breakfast. A woman carried out a plate of four cranberry muffins. Her petite hand invited them to take one as a shallow smile graced her lightly aged face. “Lady Cassandra, this is the man I told you about, Evan Uno Ballantyne from the Great South.”

Evan nodded to the Lady and she extended her hand to him. “I am pleased to meet your acquaintance, Sir. Ballantyne. Would you care to enjoy a muffin? I have taken it upon myself to prepare one for each of you.”

“That’s very kind of you, Lady, but I’ve already had my morning meal.” That was a bold faced lie. He just wanted to get to the game as soon as possible. “I’ve been told my services were needed here. How can I be of assistance?”

“Cassandra needs help finding her son. His name is Eli. He’s twelve years old, about yea high, with black hair and blue eyes.” Brody said as he took a muffin. “Do you think tobacco would ruin the taste of cranberry?”

“I doubt it.” Evan said quickly. He returned to the matter at hand as he fidgeted with the gauntlet under his long sleeve tunic. “How did your son go missing? Did he run away? Was he kidnapped?”

“He wasn’t kidnapped per say.” Cassandra lowered her head. Evan could tell she was fighting off tears. “He was taken by my… estranged husband, Peter. We’ve been separated for months now, but Eli and I, we were suffering. We had been for years. Peter changed after our son was born. He would often get physical with us with very little motivation. Spilled wine, speaking out of turn, even eye contact at times would anger him to no end. I set some money aside and saved up slowly over the years. When I had enough money I purchased this house and left with Eli. We were safe and happy for months, but yesterday morning Peter took him while I was making breakfast.”

“Time is of the essence here, Evan. That’s why I’ve enlisted your skills. Peter has several properties in the Radasanth area. I and my people have checked them all out ant there’s no sign of him, but we know he hasn’t left the city by any means. The only significant detail I can tell you about him is his job. He’s one of only a dozen advisors to the Viceroys of the Empire.”

The fun part for Evan now began as the gears started turning in his head. Normally he'd be giddy for all to see, but he was in Althanas now. Things like this were serious. “That means he has a lot of allies, but very few friends. We need to find out who his friends are. He’s likely to have taken refuge with them until he can get rid of Cassandra.” He turned to the woman, whose head was still down. A few diamond tears now rolled of the edge of the pastry plate. “Where is his main residence located?”

“One moment. I’ll write down the address for you.” Cassandra swept behind the door and closed behind her. Any excuse to hide her face Evan figured.

“Why the main residence?” Brody said with a quizzical gesture. “That was the first place we checked. He’s not there.”

“I don’t expect to find him there.” Evan said with a smile. His dark skin almost literally brightened at the prospect of intrigue. “I’ll be looking for clues as to who he would trust.”

“Well before you head out I’ve hired some muscle to keep you safe on the job. Lilith’s request. They’ve been briefed on the situation, and they understand that you are in charge.” Brody took a puff from his pipe and looked at the muffin. “Why did I even pick this thing up? I hate cranberries.”

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Radasanth. Home. No. Salvar was home now. And I'd become an enemy of the state. I keep thinking about how all this started. And it was simply because of the assassination of key members of Radasanth's government. That's where it all began. Corone sanctioned the Inquisition to become it's lethal enforcers and weed out anyone who opposed the new regime. I am part of a group called the Gol'Bron. Roughly translated to Cult of the Thaynes. You see, I am a follower of N'Jal. And by aligning itself to the Empire, the Inquisition was given free reign over the Empire's enemies. So to make a long story short, I fled Radasanth and ended up in Salvar. I acquired my fiefdom in Salvar along with the title of a lord during a recent job (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=8720) up there.
It was hell in a hand basket. For the first time I tested my skills against a Spider Magi and would've been destroyed if not for the assistance of my leader, Sorahn'Un Rohnahmeh. We both fought as bravely as we could with the assistance of fellow members of the Church of Ethereal Sway. An organization of which I am also a member.

But that was just one particular sect I belong to. Being a member of the Gol'Bron meant I had to follow one of the Old Gods. I was a follower of the Thayne known as N'Jal. My goddess. Of whom I owed all life to. It was the will of the goddess that currently placed in me in Radasanth once again. She was testing me. Testing my skill anew. With the Inquisition running rampant, and the dangerous times with the Corone Empire in full swing, a new era had come to Althanas. I was but a small piece of the puzzle. But I had significant pull in the scheme of things. I made sure of that when I'd obtained lordship and rights to my own fiefdom in Salvar. I thought about home even as I came off the ship that took me to Corone. Serenti was a port City. The trip to Radasanth would take a while, but I would definitely make it there in time. And so, with my destiny at the helm, the games were about to begin once more. I could see Radasanth looming over me with my mind's eye. I'd traveled through its streets so many times before that I'd memorized almost every back alley and side street that I had access to.

But that was then.

This is now.

The tavern was located on the same block as Brody's house. Lorenor's drink sat on the table before him. It was a red wine native to Salvar that had a particularly powerful kick to it, or so Lorenor had heard from the rough fellows that worked the port city of Y'hanz Zaa in Salvar. Lorenor had only taken a few sips of the drink because he didn't like such concoctions. He only ordered the drink as a matter of fact sort of detail to fit in. This was how Lorenor ended back up in Radasanth of all places. The very place that he was trying to flee! I guess it sucks you in doesn't it? Once a Radasanthian, always a Radasanthian. I guess these things do happen. A person brushed up against his sensory array despite the fact that many persons were within the tavern. All of them talking about current events. Many were refugees from various parts of Corone, Salvar, and Raiaera. Times were hard all over the globe. Lorenor turned his attention towards the stranger. He seems to be a native Radasanthian. Maybe he's looking for the bounty on my head. By instinct, one of his hands went to his sword but the movement was noticed.

"There's no need for that Mi'Lord." The man said. He was a typical Radasanthian male. He had light skin, reddish hair, brown eyes, and a well formed nose. The man had thin lips and spoke with a gruff eastern accent, he was clearly from one of the eastern districts of Corone. Lorenor found that slightly amusing. He took a quick sip from the goblet before him and felt the kick of the drink in its content. He wore a flinch on his face that be visible if not for the fact that he wore his hood up. Lorenor released the grasp of his weapon and sat in a more relaxed position. "What do you want?" Lorenor asked. The man nodded politely. "May I sit down? I'd like a moment of your time." Lorenor nodded and waved extravagantly at the empty chair at his table. The man sat down, he had average height and stood only at about five feet and three inches. Lorenor judged that by a quick glance and study of his companion thanks to his enhanced senses. The man was sitting next to him and was well within his sensory array's influence, everything outside of the Salvarn Lord's sphere of influence appeared as a foggy image at best.

"Thank you for the time. I'll get right to the point. You ever heard of a man named Brody?" Lorenor frowned at the mention of that name. It was an old contact from his younger days in Radasanth. Lorenor had never directly contacted Brody himself, but had met with various of his agents in a vast intricate network of clients. Lorenor took a sip of his drink and placed the goblet down on the table letting a minute pass. "That all depends on who is asking." The mutant responded keeping his voice level. He was trained in matters of etiquette and protocol. His education when he obtained lordship was complete. Having dealt with all matters of people he'd picked up a few things and tricks of the trade. The man chuckled. "My name is Lesner. I am one of Brody's specialists, if you will. I was informed by Brody himself that a job is currently traveling up the pipeline. Muscle needed for an important task by a member of the aristocracy that chooses to remain anonymous." Lorenor laughed when he heard that. Muscle? Anonymous? Do they think I'm some bloody idiot?

"Those are rather vague terms and conditions. Can you be more specific than that?"

"I'm afraid due to the fact that we are in the eyes of the public, I cannot say much more other than this. The mission is open to only certain individuals who are aware of the network. You've been busy in Salvar of late, Brody has taken an interest with someone of your particular talents. All I can say is that an individual's heir has gone missing. You will be tasked with assisting the party that is locating this heir." Codes. Lorenor heard codes within that particular system of talk. Lorenor was thinking for a moment as he tried to interpret what the man was saying. "Don't worry about the trade speak Lorenor." The man said revealing that he knew the mutant's name. Again, Lorenor became suspicious. "Interesting Lesner. You know my name huh? It seems you may have other information on me. Very well. I will assist you on one condition." The man nodded and prepared to listen to Lord Lorenor's terms. "You are going to have to pay me a hefty sum once we determine the status of your missing heir." Lorenor watched his facial expressions become dark. "How hefty?" Lorenor's body weight shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

He was getting greedy. That gut feeling in his stomach appeared and made his intestines tighten. Lorenor grinned. "My price is Two Thousand gold. Plus whatever valuables I might find along the way." The man's eyes went wide as if to suggest that Lorenor was insane. Then, he thought about the potential truth behind the rumors of Lorenor's legend and settled down, at least a little. "I can pay you an upfront profit now and the rest when the job is done. We prefer that the heir is brought back safely, but this is not a priority. Your priority is to ensure that the others responsible for this mission are acting according to the plan and nothing goes wrong. If something goes wrong you are to retrieve the heir yourself. Am I understood? The heir must be brought back alive if at all possible." This was the first time that Lesner spoke in a cold voice. Lorenor nodded that he understood what was going on and decided to proceed. "I accept the job then."

"Follow me."

************

Lorenor waited patiently outside of the house on 326 Omni Lane. Lesner had entered before him in order to discuss some matters with the individual named Brody, or at least whoever his employer was. Lorenor understood that Brody could have been a cover up identity for any number of individuals. Times in Radasanth were dangerous. It was morning and Lorenor had his UASU artifact fully activated and armed. He was prepared to face the worst. Lesner came out of the house approximately an hour later. "You are now welcome in the Lady Cassandra's Manor. Please wait in the dining hall for your next set of orders." And so that's how the games began. Lorenor found himself waiting outside the house. He was waiting alongside Lesner for a long moment. Lesner had given him five hundred gold as a down payment for his contract and would give him the rest of the gold when the mission was complete. Lorenor kept his arms folded across his chest and stood in a relaxed fashion. Even as he arrived at the house, he saw two people standing there already.

[Winterhair]

Vincent groaned as a mild headache made its way into his system, an aftereffect of last night's heavy drinking with Samantha and the Duke of Eizen'Braz. He had stayed up way too late, and while his body felt fine for the most part, his head felt like it was going to explode. He winced as another heavy step of his sent shocks up his body and enhanced the feeling, and he growled in irritation. Vincent liked to believe he could stave off the pain of the morning hangover, but this one in particular was proving him wrong.

Where was he going anyways? He rubbed his eyes as he slowly walked through the mist, dark figures scattering away and early-waker's like himself also slowly shuffling along. It was too damn early, he thought to himself. Why the hell had he left the Scarlet Lady in the first place when he could have had a full breakfast and headed over to the Citadel for some training?

Then he dimly remembered the events prior to his drinking. He had been to the bulletin board on Omni Lane, seeking some work. Even though Vincent was a wandering swordsman, that didn't pay for his excursions at the bordello, nor food and residence, and so he had to resort to picking up odd-end jobs like those on the board, even if he hated it. However, he had not seen any thing that piqued his interest, and was just about to leave when someone had laid a heavy hand on his shoulder.

On instinct, Vincent had spun around and with his right hand grasped the hilt of his massive nodachi, a serrated blade that had been made for the swordsman specifically. His movement had turned him to face the tall man who had touched him, and a snarl was placed on his lips at the man's impudence. Drawing himself into a low crouch (which was about making himself 3 feet tall in comparison), Vincent had been prepared to draw his blade and demand why the blond man had touched him in the first place when the other man backed away in mild surprise, holding his hands out to show he held no weapons.

"Hey, hey!" The tall man said, backing up a step. His eyes widened in mild amusement at the swordsman's reaction, and a smirk slowly made his way up his face. However, Vincent did not notice this: he was too busy looking the man over like a hungry predator. He took note of the man's clothes, well groomed and tight upon his lean body, and of the single white streak of age that hung from his blond hair. "Don't worry, I'm not hear to start a fight. I just noticed your looking for a job...?" He gestured casually to the bulletin board behind the white haired swordsman, ignoring the fissure of apprehension that went through Vincent at the movement.

"Whats it to you?" Vincent replied, his hand still caressing the hilt of his blade and his body still ready to spring at any moment. The silver orbs he called his eyes stared down the tall man before him, searching the other's for any trace of antagonism.

The other man again gestured casually as he spoke, and Vincent took a step back in his position, still unsure of what tricks this man may hold. "It just so happens that my client is in need of some...muscle, you could say. Would you be interested in providing your services as a bodyguard?"

Vincent held still for a few moments, never blinking, still trying to see past the ruse if there was one. He wasn't used to random strangers coming up to him and offering him jobs still, even though he had it happen to him once or twice beforehand, as with his battle with the angel Yukina at the Citadel. After a bit, Vincent straightened in one movement and stood above the blond haired man, his left had now on his hilt as he was still wary. "I guess. I 'aven't much experience in being one, though." He replied to the man, his voice returning to its normal soft gravel. Rubbing the back of his neck, he cracked it for a moment before glancing at the sky unconsciously, taking note of the darkening sky. "But ah'll do it. When and where?"

The other man smiled at Vincent's willingness. "Good. And don't worry, one other has already been secured as a bodyguard as well: You can just concentrate on the hacking and slashing if things get ugly." A small smile pulled at the shorter man's mouth, and Vincent felt one tug at his own. The other man's choice of words attracted Vincent, that was for sure. "My name is Brody. Come to this address on this address--" Brody suddenly slipped a small piece of parchment from his sleeves, and again Vincent felt a shiver of apprehension make its way down his spine. That was never good. "--tomorrow morning, and you'll be filled on the rest of the details." He extended the parchment out to Vincent, and the swordsman took it without reading it.

"I don't need any details." Vincent replied, a smirk on his lips. "Just tell me who to kill, and I'm good." He put the parchment into his traveling sack by his side, making a mental note to look at it later.

Brody grinned, showing pearly white teeth. "If you say so. Its been a pleasure doing business with you, Mr...?" He left the sentence hanging for the snowy-haired swordsman to finish it for him.

"Winterscar." Vincent replied, and left it at that. He did not trust this man with the golden locks and the fancy clothing, as the last man who had approached him in this manner had sent him with purposes other than stated. "Just call me Winterscar."

Brody nodded and walked away, waving his hand in farewell as he spoke over his shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow morning then, Mr. Winterscar." Then he disappeared as he turned the corner.

Now it was that morning, and Vincent trudged sluggishly along as he looked at the writing on the piece of parchment, gazing at the numbers on the houses intently. 318...320...322...god damn it, why do there have to be so many houses? He cursed silently, the dull throb in his head only pounding worse at his inability to truly think at the moment. The only relief he had to that feeling was the feel of the cool morning mist across his body and the dull glow of sunlight that had begun to creep over the horizon, spilling into Radasanth like a flood of light.

Ah, here it was. Vincent stopped by the house numbered 326, an aristocratic place with iron rails lining its steps and coated with concrete, its two stories towering above the silver eyed swordsman. Two figures stood on the steps: One Vincent recognized: It was the blond haired man named Brody who had brought him here in the first place, and he was animatedly talking with a second man that Vincent did not recognize. This other man was of average, height and build, with raven black hair, but what Vincent noticed most was the color of his skin. A golden brown, it stood out in contrast to the dull gray of the sky, a vivid clash of colors. Vincent's skin was tan, yes, but never to this degree.

" 'Ey!" Vincent spoke loudly to catch the other two's attention, his left hand dangling near the hilt of his sword while he waved the slip of parchment in his right in front of his face. "Seems I got the place right, eh'?"

Brody smiled at the swordsman before taking a puff from his pipe and holding up a cranberry muffin. "Hello, Winterscar. Winterscar, this is Ballantyne--he'll be the man you're protecting. Want a muffin?" He gestured quickly to the bronze man next to him before waving the muffin in front of the swordsman. "I'd have in myself, but I hate cranberries."

"Nah, I'm good." Truth be told, so did Vincent, and his stomach recoiled at the thought of the cursed things even entering his mouth. He turned to the man named Ballantyne and nodded his head, letting a slightly insane grin make its way up his face. "Well, as ya know, I'm Winterscar. I won't ask any questions as to why or where or when--just point me at someone and tell me to kill 'em, and thats good enough for me." His mouth opened a bit wider to reveal the incisors of his teeth, sharp enough to rip through skin and tear through jugulars.

It was then that he noticed a third figure. Although much shorter than Vincent, this figure held an aura of power about itself, and kept himself away from the other two as he simply stood with his arms crossed. His eyes were gone: instead, glowing inside them was a sinister light. His hair was long black dreadlocks than hung in front of his face, and his body was covered by a huge black cloak with a red symbol on the back of it.

Intrigued by this freakish-looking being, Vincent smiled that same grotesque smile at the newcomer. "And who might you be?" He asked brashly, his hand casually stroking the handle of his blade.

[Ballantyne]

“Mr. Winterscar, this is Lord Lorenor V'halkulus. The two of you will be providing tactical support for Evan today if he requires it.” Brody said. He didn’t seem the least bit astonished by the characters he had chosen for the muscle of the operation, a short obsidian mass of malice with purple luminescent jewels for eyes, and a tall wall of muscle with an evil fang filled smirk. It took everything inside the Southerner to keep from jumping up and down with glee. Brody looked at Evan. “As I said before they’re well aware that you’re in charge. Proceed as you see fit.”

“Tactical support is a good choice of words, Brody.” Evan said as he revealed a sheathed blade at his right side. Until now it was hidden under a small navy blue cloak that had been fastened on his left shoulder. “I consider myself a pretty capable fighter, but it’s good to have the two of you on board. I’m sure you’ll be valuable allies.”

The door opened again and Cassandra came out with a slip of paper in her hand. She leaped at the sight of the two new figures before her, but calmed herself quickly before she spoke. “Forgive me, gentlemen. It’s not that your images scare me. I have just been on edge as of late. This is the address. You can find his home on the eastern side of town near the edge of the city limits.”

“We’ll do what we can, my lady.” Evan said with a reassuring nod. He drifted down the stairs and strutted briskly along the sidewalk as his new cohorts followed. He notably changed his tone. “Alright, gentlemen, I need three things from you for this game to work. First of all, I need to know that you’ll follow my instructions efficiently and without hesitation on your part. Second, you need to avoid killing unless absolutely necessary. Being charged with murder is worse than being charged with breaking and entering, and we don’t have time to dispose of a body. Last thing I need is a full description of skills, equipment, and abilities from the both of you.”

Now that he was some distance away from Cassandra, Ballantyne’s face beamed as bright as the emerging golden sun.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Only when the ghoul saw the woman who was apparently their true employer did his face light up. He nodded respectfully towards Winterscar's position, obviously some sort of codename. Yet another enigma. Lorenor was not liking this mission more and more however, he decided that Lady Cassandra would be a worthy pursuit after their mission was done. Lorenor wouldn't have minded bedding her on another occasion.

After the introductions were made, Lorenor followed Evan and Winterscar taking up the middle position of the group. He kept pace with Evan's walk standing alongside the individual after a moment or two. They covered some distance from the house, Lorenor memorized the position of the house and where it stood on Omni Lane. He considered that it would be useful information later on. Lorenor stopped when Evan stopped and took a rough position of about a pace and a half to Evan's side. Lorenor wanted to give Winterscar enough room to face Evan as well. He's asking too many questions. He thought about the terms and conditions of the contract and started feeling a bit uncomfortable. We're hired muscle what do you expect? At the thought of not being able to kill unless necessary, Lorenor immediately began to devise tactics and strategies created with the sole purpose of keeping enemies alive. As Evan's next instruction was voiced, the mutant shifted uncomfortably where he stood. He had many skills and powers, how could he explain himself?

"It's best that I show you my ability rather than attempt to explain it. Because it would get too complicated and I understand we don't have a whole lot of time right now." Closing his eyes, the mutant called forth the endless. It was a parasite organism that functioned as a living protective skin for armor. The armor wrapped itself around Lorenor's skin and tightened creating a layer of sentient darkness about the mutant. "That is my power." He raised his right arm and took the glove off. "I also have this." It was an enchanted steel bracer that completely replaced his right forearm. "It's called an Aegis Shield. It can help protect against attack and I've used it as a weapon countless times. I'm also an Artificer. I collect and employ the use of various artifacts in my arsenal. There's not much time to explain them all. And I have these." Lorenor said casually, unsheathing one of the three swords in his collection. The weapon was a masterwork quality longsword made out of purest damascus. The metal was lacquered a black color to reflect the darkness in Lorenor's heart.

The mutant spun it around a few times to show his skill with the sword, and then quickly sheathed it. "I have decent fighting skill with both sword and hand." Lorenor said at the end of the movement. "Will that be enough? I like to keep certain of my secrets to myself. It keeps the whole air of mystery element. I don't like to let the enemy see me coming." He grinned as he said that, a horrible looking expression.

[Winterhair]

Vincent had been about to reply to Brody on what he meant by "tactical support", but was quickly interrupted when a short attractive woman burst through the door. Vincent was already on edge because of his distrust of the man Brody, and his body tensed up unnecessarily at the woman's abrupt entrance into their little group. She jumped slightly at the sight of Lorenor and Vincent, but kept her voice calm as she explained that it was not their visages that frightened her, just her nerves. Pssh. Vincent almost snorted out loud. Yeah right. A giant with a mouth full of fangs and a man seeming to made out of shadow and death. She's not frightened at all.

Keeping his sarcasm out of his voice, though, Vincent muttered a greeting to the younger Lady, not knowing exactly who she was until she greeted the man Ballantyne, giving him the address of their supposed destination and sending the three on their merry (or not so merry) way. However, he took a quick look backwards and thought he saw the woman staring coolly at his back with ice-cold eyes. When he blinked and looked again, however, she was waving good bye cheerfully and offering Brody another muffin, which he grudgingly accepted.

Vincent followed the creature named Lorenor and the strange man named Ballantyne, watching their movements and the way they held themselves in case either decided they didn't need the white-haired swordsman. He was still quite unsure about this whole deal, but he needed the gold, honestly, and was willing to risk his life more than a little for it. That didn't help his unease, though, and kept one hand on the hilt of his giant blade just for reassurance.

Suddenly the "leader" of the group, Ballantyne, stopped and turned to his two body guards, speaking animatedly about what he expected of the two and what he needed to know. Vincent raised one thin eyebrow at the conditions and was about to demand why the hell the man needed to know when suddenly the shorter man spoke up quietly, telling both of them that it was better he show his ability than try to explain it to them.

In honesty, Vincent hadn't only gotten the jist of it when the creature/man summoned forth some sort of creature that wrapped itself around the being like a symbiont, creating some form of pseudo-armor around Lorenor. A humongous shiver of apprehension slid itself down Vincent's back as he watched the process, and he took an unconscious step backwards, trying to put some distance between him and the dark thing before him. His eyes narrowed in wariness, half expecting the creature to leap out at him and try to rip his throat out, but Lorenor simply continued on, explaining little bits and pieces about his abilities and what he was. In truth, Vincent was only half listening, still on edge from the sudden appearance of the symbiotic armor that now coated the other warrior. However, as Lorenor drew one of his masterwork damascus longswords, Vincent's eyes brightened in interest. He watched with a small grin as Lorenor twirled the blade around a few times to show his skill, the keen sword humming through the air before being sheathed once more.

Vincent grinned as he reconsidered his first opinion of the shorter, smaller man. This being would be fun to fight one day, that was for sure. Had he not been in a job with Lorenor, he might have challenged the mutant to a duel right then and there. But as Evan and Lorenor turned to Vincent in a silent question, he relaxed his stance and stood upright, holding his sheathed blade outwards and drawing it slowly as to show off each jagged ridge of the edge, shining brilliantly in the morning sunlight.

"Myself, what you see is what you get. Like I said before--you tell me who to kill, and I'll kill them. Tell me to hurt them but not kill them, and I can do that too." He swiftly took off his light coat so the other two men could examine his body, every ridge and muscle straining against his skin as if seeking release from that mortal shell. "I'm a swordsman, obviously. My skill...well, thats up to ya to decide if I'm good or not." He grinned, a smile not unlike the grotesque one Lorenor had given earlier, and put his coat back on in one movement, flapping softly in the morning air.

[Ballantyne]

Show off, Evan thought to himself as he watched smiling from ear to ear as Lorenor instantly wrapped himself in an onyx armor that seemed to have a life of its own. It was an exotic ability, and while it didn’t startle Evan to any degree, he was amused and impressed to no end. The people of the Great South were capable of a wide variety of abilities, but nothing like that, where the armor seemed to… live. Lorenor then exposed a pale grey blade and demonstrated his swordsmanship. The demon’s direct swings and cuts made him feel feminine with his curvy xiphos at his side. Winterscar took a more conservative approach to his request. The white haired warrior revealed his serrated blade and his super muscular frame. Evan could only imagine how he used both assets as weapons, but hopefully he’d find out.

“This is good, y’all. This is really good.” The Southerner said with a calm chuckle and a slow applause. “I just needed a quick synopsis of what the two of you can do so that I know what the three of us are capable of. As for myself I dabble in the sword a little bit, I play with light, and I can take flight with a good running start. I’m not much compared to you two, but hopefully I can prove myself in one way or another.”

Evan glanced down at the address in hand. “I’m pretty sure I know where this is. My sister and I had brunch with someone who lived on this street. It’ll take us about an hour on foot with no public transportation available this early, but if we see any we’ll take it.”

The motley trio pressed on east towards the rising sun. Evan’s estimations were right. It took them about an hour to reach their destination, and by now the morning fog had lifted and nothing could escape the sun’s golden paintbrush. On this side of town there were no crowded rows of townhouses, no large streets to contain high population densities, there weren’t even any street lamps. Vast and elaborate gardens served as superfluous preambles to mansions dozens of acres in. Sinister thoughts arose in Evan’s mind as he took mental notes of ambush points, eavesdropping spots… and even burial places. This would have been the perfect setting for a murder plot in a game of the Great South, and he could’ve been the murderer just as easily as the pursuing detective.

“This is the place.” They stopped at a gilded gate framed by white stone walls. Behind it was a brown stone road with a green hedge maze on both sides. In the distance a stucco mansion stood in all its vanilla glory at the top of a hill. There were no guards at these gates like there were for the other properties, neither was there a lock on it. It wasn’t designed to have one, but for a man with Peter’s job there should have been some measure of security working his property. Evan reluctantly stepped up to the gate and gave it a light push. Its hinges chirped like grasshoppers as it swung open. Something wasn’t right here. “Keep your eyes peeled, gentlemen. Be sure to stay at my ten and two.”

They traversed the brick road slowly, but it gave Evan proper time to assess their surroundings. The grasses on the edges of the road poked about like an un-kept head of hear. The occasional branch reached out like an emerald finger on the hedge maze walls. A cascading fountain complimenting the front flight of stairs was not running. Spotty puddles of still water remained. One served well as a mirror. A lone auburn horse munched on the grass in a garden a few yards away, and its nearby droppings gave a putrid scent for the wind to carry to their noses. Then there was the icing on the cake, the giant double doors that resembled the front gates standing partially open for all to enter. Everything indicated that the property had been recently vacated, or that they were being set up for a trap. Either way it was a good time for Evan.

“Everyone stay close. We need to head up to the master bedroom. That's where most of his personal effects would be, but stay on the look out for any clues as to where the occupant might have gone.” A crooked grin came about his face. “And look out for traps.”

[Mutant_Lorenor]

All bunnies approved.

Drawing one of his swords, Lorenor moved into a loosely positioned combat stance meant more for agile movements than anything else. He took a glance at the general shape of the water fountain as they passed it pondering going over to its form and studying it. Time was of the essence though. He felt the temperature growing hotter as the world changed from night to day. The sun was traveling upwards, reaching the apex of its movement and filling the sky with its glowing light. The morning sky was filled with clouds that were traveling towards the west. Lorenor glanced up at the sun and shielded his eyes for a moment to prevent himself from going blind. He was thankful for the UASU artifact, otherwise he'd be going up in smoke right then and air. Lorenor kept the hood of his vlince cloak up above his head covering his head with darkness and shadow. His eyes were in front of him as he studied the layout of the acres before him. Some shapes were beyond his immediate peripheral vision, shapes that he couldn't decipher because of their distance from his person. Lorenor's world was confined to a four foot sphere.

After that, it was up to the rest of his senses in order to decipher clues as to what the rest of the world was like. In this fashion, Lorenor was capable of developing keen supernatural senses.

He kept a steady pace as he moved across the single stone path that wound its way towards the huge house before them. It was quite a walk but the mutant did it without complaint. He kept his sword at the ready the whole entire time, pointed to the ground. Preparing himself for any threat that might show up in this particular situation. He was ready to face anything.

Lorenor observed the entryway of the old house. Judging by the wear and tear of the stucco bricks. Lorenor saw the brownstones and admired their perfectly cut sections and angles. He studied the entryway for a moment, noticing the particular arches and busts that were erected on either side of the doorway. The doors were set in a fine liviol finish, lacquered in a deep wine color. Lorenor saw that they were still partly open, and noticed his reflection on the finish. He turned to look back towards Evan and Winterscar, they were still following him which was good. His hand shook partially with anticipation as he opened the door. He'd concentrated as hard as he could and detected not a single trap located in the doorway. Lorenor opened the doors and held his breath as they swung open with a loud creak on the hinges. He looked up and saw various numbers and symbols etched upon the triangular crown of the entryway. It had a small window attached to it that that was made of imported Fallien glass. It was clear that this family possessed incredible sums of money to their name.

Lorenor breathed a sigh of relief and entered the old house first. Its structure and design reflected the particular architectural styles of the past few centuries. Much of it was humanoid nomenclature, not possessing the intricate flare of the Elves of Concordia Forest, or the Dwarves living in the Daggerfall mountain range. Lorenor was pleased when he found a carpet, still intact, of the finest materials and designs. It was imported from Fallien judging by the strange symbolism that appeared upon it. Lorenor guessed Fallien but it could have been from Dheathain or Antioch as well. The carpet was a purple thing that filled the entirety of the main hall. Lorenor kept his weapon in his hand walking towards the main fireplace that lurked before him.
It was still on. Lorenor walked over to the fireplace bypassing an oak eating table that still had pastries, food and drink from whenever the last meal took place. That was never finished either. Logs burnt in the fire casting its warmth into the room. There was a painting on the wall above the fireplace that depicted an image of what Lorenor assumed was Peter. He saw a man surrounded by a large group of people numbering about forty heads all together.

There were two staircases heading up to a second floor. Lorenor looked up and saw a fancy chandelier. He turned his attention back towards the painting on the fireplace memorizing the details of the man he assumed was the master of the house. There was a child in the painting. This must be the heir that Lesner was mentioning. Our target. Lorenor mostly kept quiet as he made his way towards the staircase to the left. There were many portraits and paintings alongside the walls going up the staircase. Lorenor looked at the food and drink for a moment. Such a waste. He thought to himself as he walked towards the staircase on the left. It was built at a slight angle and moved upwards to the next floor. "I'm heading up. " The mutant said as he prepared to ascend the staircase knowing that the others would follow him up to the next floor.

[Winterhair]

All previous bunnies, and all future bunnies for that matter, are approved.

Vincent followed Lorenor and Evan calmly, gazing around at the luxurious housing with impressed eyes and a ready blade. The air was still--too still for the swordsman, who had lived in a city for far too long. As it was, he felt dirty compared the the sheer expensiveness of the mansion, a feeling he knew shouldn't have bothered him but did. Brushing the feeling aside, Vincent reached up and grabbed Lorenor's cold shoulder, hissing a little at the lifeless feel of the skin. "Wait. Ah'll go up this time." He grinned as Evan and Lorenor looked at him in surprise, as he had fallen silent until this point. "The master bedroom, you said? Well, lets go. Hopefully there'll be someone up there, I'mma itchin' for a fight." His grin widened and he headed on up, hoping that the strange man in black and their dark skinned "client" would follow suit.

As he reached the top of the staircase, Vincent gazed down into the main room and noted the height between the first floor and the second. It was strangely high, a good twenty-five foot drop before anyone would hit the floor. Why the height difference? Vincent thought to himself and frowned, but otherwise let the matter go as he continued to stride from the stairs into a hallway.

It was dark, and immediately Vincent's warrior instincts roared to life, causing him to reach and and grasp the hilt of his sword. However, there wasn't enough room in the damn space to allow him to be able to swing it: the ceiling was a mere ten feet, low enough where Vincent could reach his arm up easily and touch the ceiling with little to know trouble, and the hallway was about as wide as if he had extended his hands out and made them that way, leaving little room for combat space. "Shit...can't use it here, then." Vincent growled to himself and let go of the hilt for the time being. The walls were covered in paintings of people and of architecture, of memories long faded onto the canvases of their owners. There was one, however, that snagged the swordsman's attention immediately.

It was of a brown haired man laughing and playing with a small child. Both were shown to be nobles from their dress attire, and the mansion in the back round was exactly the one that Vincent and the other two had just entered. The swordsman peered at the picture, trying to figure out what had captured his attention so, before taking the painting off the wall and handing it to Evan, pressing a quick finger to his lips as he continued on.

Suddenly he heard a noise to his left, and he spun to find a pair of double doors before him. He didn't know where they led to, but he had definitely heard a noise within them. Without waiting for Evan's approval or Lorenor's back-up, Vincent snarled and kicked the doors open, half drawing his serrated blade before he stopped moving, his eyes wide.

There was paper everywhere. Obviously, this was the master bedroom, judging from the lavish quality of the drapes and the giant king sized bed that filled the left side of the room. However, it was a mess, as someone had obviously recent vacated the room after ripping into drawers, cabinets, etc...Clothes, paper, antiques, swords, scrolls, they all lay everywhere, a huge explosion of a mess. "What...the..." Vincent stammered, something he usually did when he was at a loss for words, which seemed to often. The glass doors leading to the balcony just beyond the bedroom were open, letting the wind come and stir the paper and clothes. All of a sudden Vincent heard a grunt coming from beyond the balcony, and he leaped forward, using his mass kinetic energy to push him forward and almost over the balcony. But he was too late: all he could see now was a small, dark figure running off into the distance, having leaped over the bushes and disappeared from view.

Vincent cursed as he turned to his two companions, a snarl on his lips. "Seems we're not the only one's here without permission."

Sorry for the short post. I was limited on time but wanted to get this done for you.

[Ballantyne]

Ballantyne nodded his head in compliance as he walked across the bed making a bee line for the nightstand on the other side. His senses had been cluing him into another presence in the house as far back as the stairs, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He didn’t want to make faulty assumptions, but now that there was visual confirmation of another person in the house he knew that this was a trap. “I recon we have three minutes. Find anything and everything that could tell us about this man. If all else fails grab the closest document and stuff it in your belt. We don’t have time to scrutinize everything we come across.”

People on this side of the world used a postage system that depended on letters and addresses as recon points. If Evan was lucky, Peter couldn’t memorize all of his contacts and he stored them all in some kind of personal address book. If he left it in haste, it was likely to have been in one of two places, his study or his nightstand. Evan stepped down from the large crimson sheet bed and opened the ornate drawer of the nightstand. He rummaged through the envelopes and money notes with his left hand as he slipped several papers on the bed into his belt with his right. This was close, very close. Peter often wrote his letters in the solitude of his bed, but he either took his address book with him or left it in the other place he wrote.

It had to be somewhere close. People liked convenience. If they wrote rough drafts of their letters in the confines of their beds they wouldn’t want to go all the way into another room to simply write the final draft, address it and seal it. No. If the address book was still in the mansion, it would be here in this room. The tall oak bookcase? No. The small breakfast table in the center of the room? No. The desk on the opposite side of the room? Absolutely! “Lorenor! Check the drawers of that desk beside you! See if you can find an address book of some kind.”

It was then that Evan put two and two together. If Peter could afford a property of this caliber, he could certainly afford a security force formidable enough to make him comfortable in his own home. Cassandra was supposed to be the one disappearing, not him. He was the supposed hunter, so why would he go off the grid and why would he even set a trap? Rushed footsteps from downstairs travelled through the integrated wooden skeleton of the mansion and met Evan’s ears like a miniature stampede.

“Winterscar! We have visitors!” Evan said as his heart pounded as if attempting to escape from its ribcage. It felt good. “If possible, keep them alive.”

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Orders were promptly shouted out once Lorenor acquired a general sense of comfort within the master bedroom. The building was fairly new, but the foundation was considerably older. It was clear to the mutant that the building was refurbished several times in its history. Something about the building was interesting the Spider Magi a lot more than the mission itself. He wanted to get to the bottom of it but knew that he could not. There wasn't enough time on hand to explore to his heart's content. When Evan gave the order to investigate the piece of furniture that was located nearest to his person, the mutant complied. Walking over to the furniture for a moment, the mutant realized it had a sort of lock mechanism on one of the drawers. The mutant growled audibly at that. It was a setback. Lorenor didn't possess any lock picking skills but he had sheer force of brutality. Synchronizing his sensory array so that he could focus on the piece of furniture at hand, the mutant concentrated on attempting to detect any hidden traps within the locked desk. When he was satisfied that his current ability with that power detected nothing, the mutant assumed that the desk was reasonably safe.

He drew one of his masterwork damascus swords and pointed the tip to the ground for a moment. Lorenor's tactics admittedly required a ton of finesse, he would be the first to admit that. But he used whatever worked to get the job done. Looking at his damascus sword for a moment, one of the collection of three, the mutant decided to hammer the desk upon with a little bit of style. There was a loud crashing sound as the mutant skillfully struck downward with all his might. The desk was made out of solid oak, but his weapon was made out of solid damascus metal. Spirals of wood reflected the blade of the weapon upon its well lacquered surface. Lorenor's attack swung with the might of a hammer. He felt the impact of his weapon against the desk and saw several cracks appear from the impact point. The mutant hit the desk several more times and created an ample crack within the finely made desk. A network of cracks appeared that made the thing look a spider web's pattern. The cracks were shard-like splinters that were ready to be removed to reveal the treasures within.

Rotating his weapon and sheathing it a moment later, the mutant began to quickly make short work of the desktop. Whatever other items were on it were irrelevant to the ghoul. He dug with his steel hand and pulled up the broken wood pieces with a degree of effort. Tossing aside the wooden shards, the mutant saw the contents of the drawer underneath the top of the desk. Once he'd cleared the wooden pieces away, the mutant prepared himself to filter through the contents of the drawer. There were some papers, various sorts of files, some small pictures, and a few notebook style journals. He figured that these were the most important of the personal items in the desk. Lorenor grabbed the three notebooks he found, pocketed them and turned to look at Evan for a moment. Lorenor was about to say something when he heard, no, felt the guards approaching his four foot sensory array. Lorenor's eyes narrowed as he could see the heat signatures from beyond the walls. Lorenor drew one of his swords again and prepared for imminent combat when Winterscar acted before him.

Several heavy scents approached the mutant's sensory array. Lorenor hissed at this. He walked over towards Evan's position in an attempt to provide the lad with necessary cover. He went to hand the Southener Peter's journals in the hopes that some sort of clues would be visible within. Lorenor held one of his damascus swords in hand, the same one he'd used earlier to destroy the table with a loud series of cracking noises. Lorenor stood in a basic combat position and awaited for their mysterious assailants to arrive.

"Winterscar I have your back."

[Winterhair]

Vincent winced at Ballantyne's orders to specifically not kill the warriors coming up the stairs. Dammit, he had been hoping for a little leeway to just let loose, but it seemed that would have to come another time. The other man, the dark smaller one who had just proceeded in tearing the room apart even further, came up behind Vincent and told him he "had his back." The silver eyed swordsman smiled grimly at the mutant, cracking his neck before two guards, each dressed in basic plate armor and wielding short swords made of masterwork steel, trotted before them. Experienced eyes watched the giant of a man and the shorter, more swifter warrior with caution and anger. They're not just your ordinary guards...Vincent thought to himself as he threw off his coat to the side and proceeded in cracking his knuckles roguishly. "Intruders! Throw your weapons to the ground and kneel, or you will be forced to submit!" One of the armored warriors barked in command to the three, pointing his sword at each of them while the other prepared to charge.

Vincent hissed as one word echoed throughout his head. Submit. He closed his eyes as memories of himself being forced to the ground, covered in mud, pushed aside, whipped brutally until his back was covered in scars. Submit. His eyes opened and glared at the guard who had spoken, and the silver orbs swirled in fury as Vincent clenched his fists, the effort of doing so cracking his knuckles once more and sending the sound resounding throughout the room.

Are you going to, Vincent?

"Like hell." He snarled in response to both the voice in his head and to the guard's command, tossing his serrated blade aside as crouched low like an animal. Vincent didn't know much martial arts; what he had learned and incorporated into his sword style he had picked up from watching others do it. That wasn't enough, obviously, for him to become a martial artist himself, but it had given him the basics of it at the least. Pressing the pads of his fingers to the ground Vincent said to the mutant beside him; "Do what ya will; just don't get in my way." His voice was filled with anger, mostly at the one guard who's eyes had widened and mouth had murmured the word "berserker" to his companion who had nodded in agreement. Springing forward, his powerful legs carried him through the air and to his opponent, who tried to stab Vincent in the air. Unable to maneuver properly, Vincent felt the tip bite into his flesh and slash his left arm but ignored the attack mostly, his feet coming crashing down onto the guard's chest, sending both of them to the floor. Vincent rolled to the side and to his feet, expecting to see the guard down from the impact, but was surprised to see him getting to his feet as well.

"You'll have to try better than that, you low born scum." The guard sneered and banged his plate mail, which had obviously absorbed most of the impact, or there was something Vincent didn't know about it. Growling, the swordsman slowly retreated, making his way slowly down the stairs before shouting; "Lorenor! Get my sword, will ya?"

[Ballantyne]

“Journals?” Ballantyne looked at the demon with a mixed expression of confusion and disappointment. It looked like he was going to have to do all the brainwork for himself, but he should have expected that. Lorenor and Winterscar were hired security, not junior detectives. In most cases one would have expected to find a little leather book with the words ‘addresses’ or ‘contacts’ on it, but if the information in these books was important enough to have them locked it was worth taking a gander.

Evan flipped to the first page of one of the little notebooks to find that it was dated as far back as ten years ago. The page, now aged brown like fine whisky, was filled from top to bottom with black cursive written in the first person. This was Peter’s intimate diary. That was good, but he had to find something with more tangible benefits, so he pocketed that one and went on to the next.

The first page of the next notebook was exactly what he was looking for. It was a list of addresses, and, if they were added chronologically, the first page contained contacts of the people Peter knew the longest. I guess Lorenor was on the right track, Evan thought to himself as he read off the names to himself. Hopefully they were his oldest friends and colleagues from his early career and personal life. He pocketed this one as well, but it left him to wonder. Why would a man as powerful as Peter have to keep his list of contacts in an unmarked notebook, why would it be locked up, and why would he leave it behind?

The Southerner moved on to the next notebook just as the two guards laid down the terms of surrender. He shrugged his shoulders and spoke to Lorenor without taking his eyes of the third notebook. “Don’t worry about me. Just get them out of our way.”

He had faith that his two body guards could properly deal with a couple of common guards, so he let them do so as he skimmed through what seemed to be an account book. Numbers riddled every page in a meticulous order. Every first page had a large number at the top in positive value, which was presumed to be the advisor’s six figure income. It was followed by fifteen pages of tiny negative values, every single purchase large and small, from food to furniture. The last of the fifteen pages showed the net income, usually only half as large as the number on the first page.

Evan pocketed the third little notebook and looked up just in time to see Winterscar launch himself into the air and dropkick one of the guards outside the bedroom doorway. He tilted his head back and laughed at the sight. As much as he wanted to join in on the fun that narrow corridor outside the bedroom wasn’t large enough for five combatants. He’d only get in their way. It was only polite to offer assistance.

“Let me know if you need me.” He said with his hand under his petite cloak. “I’ll be right here.”

Sorry for the wait.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Positions of his opponents changed rather quickly. Lorenor heard the words flowing from Winterscar and then from Evan himself. The mutant nodded calmly and prepared to move towards Winterscar's sword. He'd kept himself on guard the entire time waiting for any resistance to come his way. A part of him worried that there was some other task he needed to complete. A nagging desire that kept taunting him. Lorenor wrapped his hand around the giant sword's handle and began to lift. Possessing no unnatural super human strength, the mutant felt worried that he wasn't going to be able to lift the weapon at all. Pulling with all his might, he almost lost his balance when the weapon was easily wielded. Lorenor lifted the thing off the ground, took a peak across the room and prepared the next part of the plan. He needed to move the weapon quickly towards Winterscar, but something happened. The second guard intercepted Lorenor's action. "You should have surrendered!" Moving into a low crouching position, the man suddenly rushed Lorenor with a dead on tackle-style maneuver. All that the mutant could think of was getting the sword to Winterscar.

"Ugh! Head's up!"

Using all of the might his small frame could muster, the mutant reacted to the attack at hand as best as he could. No deaths. Lorenor remembered and clenched his teeth tightly as the air was knocked out of his lungs. The man rushed forward, pushing Lorenor up and off the ground, slamming him down to the floor. He'd crashed through a table that happened to be sitting there in the position that he landed at. Crunch! Was loud and resonated throughout the room as Lorenor broke the table with his force of momentum and body weight. Wooden splinters hit the ground as the mutant impacted with it. The air left his lungs and burnt with the agony of the moment. He felt like his face was going to explode from the blood rushing to his head. "You dumb bastard. I'll teach you a lesson." The small warrior managed to cough out before the man on top of him prepared a secondary tactic. "There will be no lessons taught, fiend. The only lessons to be learned are the lessons of what happens when you cross us!" The man's face was hidden behind a visor that was covering it.

It was worn downward and attached to an iron helmet. The armor was masterwork in nature. Lorenor could see the designs on the plate mail that revealed what factions the warrior belonged to. The markings were none he recognized. The man gave off a tremendous anger that crackled through the air. Lorenor felt a strike against his side, it was the man's fist. Lorenor was being overwhelmed! Stealing a glance towards Evan, the mutant managed to bark an order of his own. "Get out while you still can. We'll hold them off here and meet up with you later!" Lorenor cried as another strike connected with his chest. It was only now he managed to get his breath back. You fool. The Aegis Bracer! Lorenor remembered his metallic forearm and suddenly burst both of his arms upward underneath the guard of the man. The man reacted by attempting to shift his body's weight, but he was already locked in mid-movement. He was swinging towards Lorenor's face whilst the mutant swung upward and underneath the man's maxilla structure.

Before he was tackled to the ground, Lorenor managed to throw Winterscar's sword through the air. It sailed and made its way like a throwing lance towards the warrior's general direction. The Spider Magi had completed his job as he lay on the ground taking his licks. Matters slowed down as he felt adrenalin pulsing through his body. His heart felt like it was going to explode as it pumped large amounts of blood through his vessel. Absorbing the shock of the blow, the endless covered for Lorenor's deficiencies. Lorenor's head was knocked to the side a bit and he felt a crick in his neck. A bruise developed everywhere the man punched him with his iron quality gloves. The mutant waited and his hands connected with the bottom of the man's skull, right underneath the jaw. There was a disgusting popping sound where the man was hit with the Aegis Bracer. Lorenor was thankful the man had a helmet on, for he saved the man's life in the process. Despite the fact that the Aegis Bracer was a masterwork steel item. Far superior to the quality of basic iron. Lorenor heard the man grunt in pain and reach down to attempt to grab at his neck where the mutant had struck him.

Reaching upwards now, the mutant wrapped both of his hands around the man's neck and began to squeeze. One of his hands wasn't going anywhere, anytime soon.

[Winterhair]

Vincent could not pay attention to anything else as he backed down the stairs; his entire concentration was focused on avoiding the guard's heavy strokes with his blade, backing slowly down the stairs. "Ugh, damn you!" The guard cried as Vincent avoided yet another would-be-fatal stroke, the blade gouging into the wall above his head as the swordsman ducked. Vincent grinned and reached up, grabbing the man's forearm in an iron grip, before roaring with the effort of throwing the heavily armored man against the wall. The armor clanged loudly at the impact and resonated through the air like a bell, momentarily stunning the guard beneath his visor. Using that moment, Vincent jumped back as he noticed his blade sailing through the air to the bottom of the stairs. The guard too had recovered and was now swinging his short blade horizontally so as to cut the swordsman in half, and Vincent reached up and grabbed the hilt of his blade, pulling it out just in time to block the strike. The two blades screeched in pain as Vincent's serrated edge scraped against the sharp keen one of the guard's blade. He saw the man's eyes widen as he slowly began pushing the man back into the foyer, giving the two more space. Vincent's sheath had kept on going, eventually hitting the wall and falling to the floor with a loud hollow sound.

"You're not half-bad." Vincent said to guard, grinning as the two continued to lock blades. The wanderer's silver eyes had begun to swirl lazily, staring at the armored man through the metal visor.

"Shut up, you scum." The other growled, putting his entire weight into his blade. Still it was not enough to push Vincent back, but the swordsman chuckled at the effort. "I don't want compliments from low-born trash like you!" Breaking away, the man took a couple hops back, holding his sword out before him to distance himself from Vincent.

"Oh c'mon. Why're you so angry?" Vincent laughed quietly, a wry grin spreading across his face as he shouldered the huge blade he held, the tip pointing off to the side. "I'm not gonna kill ya, so we might as well 'ave some fun." Suddenly Vincent's arm exploded from that position, swinging the blade he held with such speed and power that it nearly knocked the other sword from the man's hands. As it was, the guard was forced to take a couple steps back as his arm swung back from the force, and he gasped in pain.

"You bastard..." The man growled, his breath coming out a little sharply now. "...don't you feel fear?" Without waiting for a response the guard rushed Vincent once more, pushing off as his metal armor clanked heavily. slowing him down. His sword was poised to impale the wanderer, its keen tip gleaming brightly. Vincent swung his sword back around, the blades clashing once more as Vincent's heavier swing knocked the lighter weapon aside. He stepped to the side, putting some more space between the two as the guard spun around and slashed, missing.

"Why should I? This is what its all about." Vincent said cockily, cracking his neck before he looked up, listening to the sound of armor hitting armor. "Looks like we're not the only one's takin' our time." Looking back to the guard, who was spinning his sword warily in his hand while watching Vincent, he said; "Well, come at me already. Don't leave me bored."

And so the guard did with a roar of frustration. Vincent rolled his eyes and prepared himself once more.

[Ballantyne]

Evan folded his arms and tapped his feet impatiently as he watched the demon warrior get manhandled by a common security guard. Today seemed to be full of disappointments. A simple stipulation such as leaving someone’s life in tact had hindered Lorenor substantially, which was a tactical shame. Every good warrior should have effective non fatal tactics, Evan thought to himself as the guard’s iron glove hit the demon’s obsidian armor with a snare like strike. His patience was wearing thin, not because Lorenor was getting beat down, but because he needed Lorenor’s help. The Southerner didn’t know Radasanth well, and he needed someone to look for anomalies in the address and account books.

With that thought Evan drew his xiphos and walked across the bed just as he did when he first entered the room. He turned it so that the organically curved blade was facing up, and just as he dropped down from the bed he swung the hilt down on the guard’s forehead like a hammer. The helmet didn’t make any difference against a blunt force of great velocity, which was made painfully obvious as the armored attacker’s body went limp. He tossed the address book on the floor beside Lorenor and said with a sarcastic smile. “That’s yours.”

Now for my other assistant. The unmistakable ring of two blades clashing came from the hallway outside. Evan rolled his eyes and laughed, He’s taking his sweet time too? He opened up his left palm as he strutted out to the corridor with purpose. Winterscar was simply playing with his opponent, grinning and trading insults as flurries of slashes ended in chiming stalemates.

“You’re done.” Evan calmly said as he raised his left palm, which held a blue hot ball of energy a mere inch from the skin. Waves of heat rose from the small projectile as though it rippled the fabric of reality itself. The guard froze in mid swing with wide eyes on his hand. Of course he wasn’t going to kill the guard, but the guard didn’t know that. Evan loved bluffing. He liked to think he was good at it. “It’ll burn you to death.”

“You won’t.” The guard said as his lips curved up in a smile. Evan would have loved to see his eyes, but they were covered by the metallic visor on his helmet. Nevertheless the game wasn’t a new one. The guard was calling Evan’s bluff. “You wouldn’t.”

Evan charged and the guard’s sword descended upon Winterscar, but in one great lunge the Southerner’s xiphos was between them. Pressure mounted as the stood in a deadlock, the guard with his heavy two handed blade bearing down on Evan and his one handed xiphos. The guard would have won if Evan hadn’t aimed his projectile at the guard’s bare throat. With great strain Evan, mumbled “You think I wouldn’t?” as he raised the projectile closer to the guard’s throat so that he may feel the heat.

The guard rose his blade off of Evan’s, dropped it on the ground, and stepped back against the wall. Evan kept the projectile up as he too stepped back and sheathed his sword. He couldn’t help but smile at the tactical poker hand he’d just won. A double bluff was rare, but it was always entertaining. He waited for a moment before he spoke, “Where’s Peter?”

The guard crossed his arms. “You tell us.”

“You’re his security, no?”

The guard shrugged his shoulders. “Sure.”

That didn’t sound convincing. This man was giving him the run around, but that was okay. Evan would have more fun finding Peter on his own. Finding out now would take all the wit and legwork out of it. Besides, he got the feeling that these guards honestly didn’t know where the political advisor had gone to. If he was Peter, he wouldn’t tell his guards either. This man was no use to him, so he raised his foot and launched it at the guard’s head. The guard was immediately rid of all conscience as his head bounced between the bottom of Evan’s right boot and the wall. He dropped like a child’s doll.

Evan turned to Winterscar and gave him Peter’s account book. “This has every purchase Peter’s made up to the time he left. Find any consistencies, a bar or restaurant he frequents, a merchant that he favors. Lorenor needs to look in the address book for any locations outside Peter’s normal path. If it’s inconvenient for Peter or outside his normal beaten path, it’s worth looking at.”

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Evan interfered with Lorenor's battle which kind of made the mutant upset at his superior officer. Normally, Lorenor worked in a completely professional sort of mannerism and had his reputation to consider. The mutant felt the guard's body go limp. Holding the lad for a few moments longer, Lorenor let the man fall off to his side. After the deed was done, the mutant rose from the ground and quickly snatched the notebook into his possession. The motion was an angry one.

Hearing the commotion downstairs, the mutant decided he would take his time with the investigation of the small address book. He noticed started to flip through the book casually leafing the pages. He found many addresses of various individuals that were important within Corone's aristocracy. Peter was apparently a very well connected individual. Memorizing certain key addresses for his own personal use down the road, the mutant was familiar enough with Radasanth that he would be able to contact these individuals later on. One particular contact especially caught his eye. Peter was familiar with one of the Viceroys of the current Corone Empire. Lorenor memorized that address and decided that he would be paying the Viceroy a visit in the very near future. Examining the pages quickly, the mutant soon discovered two particularly suspicious looking residences. They were marked with various notes written in Peter's hand writing. Lorenor noticed something particularly interesting about the residencies themselves, they were in completely opposite ends of Radasanthia herself.

This was an interesting find that greatly bothered the mutant. He closed the book and decided that he would tell his finding to Evan when he met back up with him. Looking at the fallen guard for a moment, something about the uniform of the man kept bothering the mutant. Lorenor knelt down and investigated the man a bit further. There were no interesting markings upon the uniform of the man, it seemed to be just a standard suit of armor. The mutant felt as though he'd seen the configuration somewhere before, and the fighting style was familiar to Lorenor as well.

Something was starting to add up. For the most part though, Lorenor had to assume that these men were simply just hired mercenaries. That Peter was using his funding in a time of great paranoia to put his guards to work. But that didn't sit well with the mutant either. Lorenor wasn't the most intellectual of people, but he wasn't an idiot either. When something didn't sit well with him, he pondered the situation and attempted to come up with conclusive answers. Peter had enough money to have his own personal guard, and home security force. Why would he need to hire mercenaries for something like home defense, when he could hire professional soldiers? And his connections? None of it made any sense. Lorenor saw high prestige contacts on the man's address book. The revelations were worrying him greatly. Some were individuals that Lorenor himself knew. Some were elder Monks of Ai'Bron, some were Knights of Dawn. It was an impressive list of clients and contacts that was in that address book. Lorenor kept the finding to himself and made sure to keep it for safe guarding. For an assassin like him, having such a black ops listing would be invaluable down the road.

Lorenor moved silently like a specter in the dark. His form moving with complete control. He was already anticipating the next battle. Where there was one mercenary, there would be many more waiting in the pipelines. The mutant didn't pay attention to Evan and Winterscar as he passed them, he mere stopped at Evan's back. "I found something interesting. Two residencies on either side of town. But this is not the safest place to talk." Lorenor said casually. "Let me know which end of the city you want to head to first, North Radasanthia, or South Radasanthia." Lorenor said casually already knowing where the addresses were. The buildings listed in the notebook were in key portions of the city herself. He'd even walked by them a few times during his stay here in Corone. Lorenor made his way towards the front door and stepped outside. The doors were still opened from where the mercs had made their ways into the house. Out of instinct, Lorenor drew one of his swords and kept it pointed to the ground.

As he prepared to step outside of the building, the mutant remembered the addresses again. Thinking about them, he made sure he had the addresses memorized. The first one was 55 Meritime Lane and the second was 110 South Mayonaise Street. Before the mutant stepped outside, he stopped and turned to look at Evan. "Our destinations are 55 Meritime Lane and 110 South Mayonaise Street." Lorenor said calmly. He'd remembered both areas from previous trips in Radasanth. The mutant was becoming quite cultured after all. He smiled and stepped outside.

[Winterhair]

The swordsman didn't even glance at the object that the Evan was trying to hand him. He was pissed. His nostrils flared in anger as he swung his hand, the back of it knocking the checkbook from the darker-skinned man's hand. "Who the hell do you think you ARE?!" Vincent nearly roared out the words as veins popped from his forehead. His inhuman fangs bared in threat to tear out the other man's throat. "You do NOT take away someone else's prey!" Without warning Vincent made as if to attack Evan, bringing his serrated sword around so the point was directly in front of the other man's chest, shaking slightly from sheer adrenaline. "...You do it again...and I'll kill you. Do you understand me?" Without waiting for an answer from the other man, the point of his sword dropped and Vincent was off with a swish of his black coat, sandals stepping soundlessly upon the cool pavement. He paid no attention to the fallen guard; the battle was over. However, he did quickly snatch up the account book he had knocked from Evan's hand; it would be useless for them to have come all that way for nothing.

Instead, Vincent focused on containing his anger, letting it simmer for a bit under a tight lid as he bit his lip, drawing a small amount of blood. The feeling of self-inflicted pain always seemed to be able to control his temper, and the exquisite taste of his own blood made him close his eyes for a moment of ecstasy. Upon opening his eyes, the silver eyed swordsman saw the dark form of Lorenor contemplating something in the courtyard, and felt the presence of the other man, Evan, behind him. He was still bitter at the loss of his prey, but even he knew better than to strike a client. The dark mutant ahead of Vincent turned to Evan, saying; "Our destinations are 55 Meritime Lane and 110 South Mayonaise Street." Even though his voice was calm, Vincent too noted that the mutant held an aura of coldness towards their client.

The words struck a memory within Vincent. 55 Meritime Lane...Mentally did the huge man scratch his head. He didn't know where he had heard those words before, just something inspired him to open up the account book he held in one of his tan, scarred hands. Searching through it, he was barraged by an invasion of numbers and words, none which seemed to make sense to the simple man. Still, he searched, relying on his instincts to guide his actions now. Page after page he flipped, trying to make sense of the damned thing, when suddenly saw the words he had been searching for.

"55 Meritime Lane..." He murmured, half to himself and half to his companions. Dragging a finger down it, he studied the numbers. "...wow. This Peter guy has spent an awful amount of time and money there." At the questioning looks of the other two, Vincent showed them the book, pointing a single line there. "Some whorehouse called A Timeless Dream, I guess."

[Ballantyne]

Evan’s sword stood between his chest and Winterscar’s jagged weapon. For a moment his eyes were wide on what just happened. What immature and selfish principles did this warrior live by that he would be angry enough to threaten the life of someone who assisted him? He looked to the obsidian demon, who couldn’t help but show the same frustration in his body language. Lorenor was thinking the same thing Winterscar was. In fact Lorenor probably wanted to do the exact same thing Winterscar did, or even more. Evan didn’t expect to feel this today, genuine anger. Here he was playing a favored role in an ever intriguing plot, and now these two warriors living by archaic codes have to go and screw it up by keeping score.

He sheathed his blade and crossed his arms as the two babies exchanged the relevant information. When they finished, he gave them an awkward moment of silence just to make sure they understood his disposition. Then he spoke. “55 Meritime Lane it is.”

He took the books from their hands and walked ahead of the two of them, but stopped and turned and looked at them for one last comment. “By the way, Winterscar, if you and Lorenor here want to be as petty as to keep your so called ‘prey’ to yourselves that’s fine by me, but don’t waste our time playing with your food. The faster we get this done the faster you get your payment, and I find it hard to believe that melee artists of exceptional ability such as yourselves can’t incapacitate two average skilled guards.”

Internally Evan had to do everything he could to keep from plotting to rid this world of Winterscar. The Southerner wasn’t as great a swordsman as him. To be honest Winterscar would make quick work of him, but there was no one in the world better at indirect treachery as Ballantyne. There were two things keeping him from carrying such a plot out; this wasn’t one of the Games of the Great South meaning if he ended the warrior’s life he wouldn’t come back, and Winterscar was a man of lesser thought.

Out of the three of them, Lorenor knew the city best so he led them to the north end of Radasanth. On the way Evan mentally prepared himself for the images he was about to face, not pertaining to the brothel, but pertaining to the area of town he was about to enter. He was fine with whore houses with half naked women ready to give themselves up to him. It was the area of town in which they were usually located that irked him. There was never anything pleasing to the eye because no one could afford to make anything look good.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Unlike Winterscar, Lorenor was able to focus on the task at hand with a greater ease than he thought possible. His temper subsided, and he kept thinking about the mission that lay ahead. Lorenor had to stay focused in order to win the day and outshine his companions. To the mutant, this was all fun and games. He was skilled enough to back himself up out of any dangerous situations, and he was well-armed enough to back up the trash he talked. The problem was, that Evan wanted to keep opposition forces alive. Where Lorenor went, death and mayhem soon followed. He soon calmed himself down, but made it a point not to forget the situation that Evan brought upon himself. Evan was not a stupid man by any means, but he lacked discipline with himself. Lorenor respected where Winterscar was coming from. The man was equally angry at Evan but had less self control than Lorenor had. The mutant was impressed at Winterscar for not outright killing the client. Something about the foundation of the building drew the mutant to its structure constantly. He kept looking at the house as if expecting to find something that resonated to him from within.

When he couldn't find anything, Lorenor simply sighed with admitted disappointment at that fact. The house was beautiful to look at, and had he the money in his possession; he would have purchased it from this Peter fellow himself. Lorenor cared little for the dark dealing of others being that he himself was such a dark individual. He merely respected the wishes of his client. 55 Meritime Lane. Radasanth's Red Light District. So. This Peter seemed to be an unscrupulous person indeed. A married man who spent so much time in a whorehouse? Time and good money? An important clue just fell on all of their laps. Lorenor was thinking heavily about it, if he was seeing hookers, then perhaps some loose change could excite loose tongues. At the same time, none of this made any sense. The contacts in the journal, the house, the paintings, the mercenaries attacking them, the woman who hired them, none of it made any sense. Lorenor took a glance at Evan and tried to think about what the man was pondering. Evan was obviously a brilliant man, and Lorenor could see the fierce intellect in the man's eyes.

Evan would make a most intruiging ally.

Stepping outside of the mansion, Lorenor took a look back at it once more. If it was truly abandoned, perhaps, just perhaps, Lorenor could buy the house from real estate agents located in Radasanth. Something about the mansion kept pulling Lorenor to it’s distinctive architecture. Lorenor guessed that the house was at least one hundred years of age. There were probably secrets located within the house that the mutant was yet unable to uncover. But in time would be able to. The house resonated with a deeper part of his soul, and the mutant wanted to possess the house. He could use it as a base of operation for his own dastardly deeds. As Lorenor walked up the pathway, he kept thinking of the house. Turning back once to take a look at the house, he memorized it and made it his personal agenda to try to figure out a way to purchase that house on Omni Lane. Lorenor walked forward in silence, having no need to say anything. He kept the book in his possession with addresses; he knew it would become handy to him later on in his life.

Peter’s contacts could become his contacts.

****
Radasanth during the epic Civil War was a completely different place than the mutant remembered. The districts remained largely unchanged on the surface. But underneath the veil, a clockwork machine was churning up change like the wind. The face of the Radasanth street was filled with propaganda from anti-government organizations, such as the Cult of N’Jal. Graffiti in red lurked on many of the building walls and statues that were located on the streets of Radasanth.

The walk to the northern district of Radasanth was a three hour affair. Many faces were visible within the city of Radasanth as each of the districts was passed. One face of Radasanth shifted to another as each of the physical masks became more and more intricately woven to the vast effects of the Civil War. Radasanth’s “Red Light” district was primarily an entertainment depot. Wares of all kind and luxuries of all kind could be found within the intricate hub of illegal activity. Many organizations functioned out of the Red Light district also known as Old Town. Old Town was one of Radasanthia’s most ancient districts, preceding the Demon War of lore. Hence the name, Old Town and its alias, the Red Light district. One of the most important wares in Old Town was the commerce and sale of the flesh.

Men with power, influence, and wealth could pick up the bounties of the flesh and for a short while obtain whatever pleasures they wanted. But there was a steep price to pay for such earthly desires. The face of the Red Light District was different than the rest of Radasanth for it was an ugly face of the flesh. Architecture pre-dated the Demon War and was primarily elven in design, with a few edifices constructed in the basic architectural design of the human race. Building constructed by human hands had the simplistic Radasanthian aesthetics to them. Round domes on rooftops, columns, and arching doors. Human symbols were etched on strong oak doors signifying the clans that the building belonged too.

The parts of the neighborhood that were Elven in design had more intricate architecture based upon the aesthetics of the Elves. Buildings were elegant and brightly colored, sporting the basic architectural design popular during the era prior to the Demon War. Old Town was a melting pot of ideas and races. Several districts were allocated to the slums area of the Red Light district. Poor and impoverished folk lived there that had little to do with the Civil War. They were mostly crushed underneath the boots of the Knights of Dawn. Propaganda on the streets was most concentrated in this area where Meritime Lane lurked. Women, men, and transgender individuals of all age groups were walking the streets and selling their wares. Pimps watched close by that were of every gender as well. Local whore houses were visible on every major street sporting such names as “Dragon’s Den,” “Heaven’s Cloud,” and so on and so forth. The propaganda was most visible in this section because of the disenfranchised poor living within this area attempting to wage a war of ideas against the Corone Empire. A propaganda machine was in a place that was part of a group of anarchist calling themselves the Cult of N’Jal. They operated primarily out of this central hub. Statues of N’Jal appeared in the streets that had a terrifying visage of the Spider Queen. These were newly constructed statues that were largely ignored by local authorities.

Statues appeared deep within Old Town where the Knights of Dawn had little to now influence. For every single statue that the Knights defaced, a new statue was erected shortly thereafter with blood money. New statues appeared everyday, and even more shocking, a temple of N’Jal had appeared somewhere within the district. Membership was active and the populace was proactively seeking a valid escape from the horrors of the Civil War.

Lorenor lead the group to 55 Meritime Lane. Even numbers were on one side of the street whereas odds were on the opposite side. The building they were looking for was in one of the areas quite deep within the Red Light District. On every corner of every block, prostitutes sold their bodies. Lorenor looked upon this area of darkness with a scowl on his face but kept his opinions to himself. There would be time to deal with the vagrants later. After a considerable amount of time, Lorenor found an address that matched 55 Meritime Lane. He stopped and looked at the building, it had human architecture suggesting that the building was constructed within the last century or so. The bricks were bright red and the outside of the building had several columns holding up a triangular atrium. Lorenor looked up at the building and saw that it had several floors. Peter could possibly be holed up within the whorehouse. Individuals noticed the Salvarn Lord right away and moved to the small warrior quickly like vultures. The mutant frowned much more deeply at that point and turned to look at Evan.

“I believe this is the place Evan.”

Sorry for the long wait, I had some difficulty writing this post out.