Pact of the Fallen.

[Noir.]

Closed to Lye, Aurelianus Drak'shal, Ciato Orlouge, & Noir.

Onyx eyelashes leisurely fluttered opened, violet irises recoiled slightly restricting the flood of light spilling into the room from a new Ettermire day. Zai uncurled from a tight ball in fox form, resting on the pristine floor intently watching its assumed master’s movements. Lye and Noir had arrived only in this massive steam powered city yesterday, seeking refuge from the long strenuous travel. They had decided on an inn towering skyward in the shape of a twisting spire on a more prosperous side of town. Most of the city architecture was based on this particular imposing design. Perilous events would soon follow this day, and she did not know if they would survive, let alone gain another decent night’s slumber.

Presently the duo would meet up with two more members of The Order who would be seeking entertainment in The Bottomless Pit, a shady tavern where brawls commenced and illegal gambling derived—regardless of the questionable location, the whole situation sounded very lucrative. Afterward a trip to The Under would insure, leading way deep into the sewers where the adventure of discovering The Fallen would thus begin. Noir had not come in contact with any members other than her dearest Lye so far, and the thought of cooperating with others was not a particularly fond concept demanded of her—but she would play nice for the time being.

A small yawn escaped Noir’s mouth as the outline of her slender frame stretched outward a bit under thin beige sheets, adjusting to movement once again before scooting out of the smooth bed. Her body was flawlessly bear with no detectable scars surprisingly after eons of existence. Prominent shoulder blades were hidden behind lengthy violet hair, which pooled around her as crystal hues scanned the floor for garb to change into. She did not usually awaken this way; it had been a long while since her body rested upon a warm mattress. The Skavian wilds had been her home, the random blizzards shielding her from most passersby finding solace in the frigid terrain, and serenity of blistering wind. This kind of lifestyle would be refreshing to experience more often she casually thought while slipping her porcelain figure into a shimmery dress. Lacing a corset usually required a second set of hands, but her nimble fingers achieved this task in minutes. Noir taught herself to be ambidextrous; duel wielding came easy along with other everyday bothers.

Those same fingers glided through silky yet disheveled hair, working the kinks out of each strand as her feet slid into wedge slippers. The last item to collect would be ten steel talons, which always accompanied her on every venture. These individual metal pieces glistened, adorning her fingertips creating weapons sharp as steel rarely used in combat, but lethal just the same. Knuckles gently knocked on the metal frame as a warning before proceeding into Lye's quarters. Though Noir was separated from Lye, the rooms were adjoining with an unlocked door to give them minimal privacy. The fact that he could wander in at any moment without notice did not bother her, in fact she would welcome the notion.

"Good morning Lye." A hauntingly familiar ethereal voice spoke forth as she cast a subtle longing glance toward him. Stealing glances of his bare muscular torso embossed with scars when she was able, admiring his intense demeanor.

"Trust you've slept well?" Noir placed a hand on her left hip, and with the other hand placed the tip of one steel claw to her mouth in a clear contemplative state. Although she would prefer to take part in idle chat there were more pressing matters to discuss, and Lye was usually not one to engage in menial conversation anyhow.

“I have been thinking about our task, and the other men that will assist. Do you know of their true intentions? Say you find a means of taming these beasts. Are you sure you can trust them with such information?” Deciding to voice a concern that had been troubling her thoughts recently, she could not help but question the motives of the others who would be participating in this quest. Noir had little faith in humanity

[Lye]

The change in weather was uncomfortable for the chilled assassin. His home was in the frigid mountains, surrounded by the absence of life and devoid of any warmth. Without the biting winds and feet of snow, the land seemed foreign. More so was a city founded on the idea of steam technology. Where once was frozen water, was not a constant steam. This bothered him the whole night and sleep was better than before, yet not without its discomfort.

Prior to this venture from home, he was simply a man bathed in the bloody path of revenge. Now, he had a partner - a woman by the name of Noir. Never before had he traveled with another, but for some unexplainable reason, he grew an attachment to her. This attachment rooted deeply into his past and stirred memories of a love long lost to the hands of a traitor. The similarities from the past caused changes in him. Changes that were not without excruciating cost. She awakened memories that were long since buried in madness. After nursing him back from the brink of death and defiantly opposing his menacing threats, there grew an odd feeling of familiarity. Something about her rekindled a flame within and he found himself compelled by her presence. When he heard a stir from the other room, his eyes shot wide. If it was too silent, he grew impatient. The leader of The Order had grown extremely protective of someone - things were changing.

He was awake long before the morning light infiltrated his rented quarters. He sat at the edge of his disheveled bed, linens strewn about in epilogue to his restless night. He firmly gripped at bare shoulders, rubbing out the knots from a long night of tossing and turning. Clad in only his leggings, the warm light washed over the pale, scarred skin that told a story of his life. Sinews of muscle showed through in gentle ridges which defined the pristine fitness his lifestyle maintained. Arms became outstretched and wrenched side to side with loud, wet pops. His torso twisted with each swing to get the blood flowing in his veins. He took a deep breath of the musty, humid air and closed tired emerald eyes.

The silence was stirred with a knock. His recent female obsession produced herself from the conjoined room and was met with a glance over his nude shoulder. The flare of fight or flight stung at the base of his skull, a hand gripping one of his throwing needles tightly out of instinct. He came to rest after a moment, taking more notice of his current state of dress than her presence. Trying not to seem stirred, he lifted his undershirt from the worn, yet sparkling clean floorboards and slipped it over platinum hair.

"Morning," he replied plainly as the midnight cloth hugged his body as a second skin.

"I have had better nights," he stated while fetching his leather vest from the wooden stand at his bedside. Its long days of use creaked from the black stained hide while he slipped through it and fastened it to his person.

"There are many within The Order that do not fall under the term 'trustworthy'," he replied to her uncertainty, adding steel-bladed boots to his ensemble. Fingers worked feverishly and fluidly to accomplish the task. "These men have not simply joined my cause but have been chosen. They all had to complete a task written by my own hands and all of them completed it without fail."

Bare hands and forearms were next to get their layers of black leather.

"Just as you were, they also were made to sign a blood pact," he paused as the last glove pressed firmly against his skin and turned to meet those enticing violet hues, "Should they become a risk, they will die by my own hands if necessary."

He could not look into those defiant, yet comforting eyes for long; they stirred too many unknowns within him. His attention turned to the harnesses that contained his weapons, now finding a home upon their master.

"These beasts need no taming," he smirked as a precursor to his next words, "they need to know a direction for their skills and who not to cross..."

The assassin stared at the final garb for a moment - the crimson vlince scarf. He held this possession in the highest regard, but would never let another soul know it. The true reason behind its value was still being rediscovered. All he knew is it belonged to a time long past and a lover long forgotten by this world. Its tattered fibers wrapped around the lower half of his face and covered his neck, excess hung loosely behind him.

The light skinned warrior had completed his dark transition and now stood in his full, menacing ambiance.

"The ravens should have directed the others to meet at the underground fighting area here in the city. We should be making our way in that direction," Lye tugged at his scarf to loosen its over taught grip. "Are you set to go?"

He found his tone cold and firm, yet his mind wanted to convey a slight warmth which was to little avail. Instead, he kept focused on their next venture. He had enough of the musty comfort this place had to offer.


Thread eligible for featured region boost for November. 20% extra EXP and 100 GP bonus.

[Noir.]

Engrossed, Noir listened to his reasons while watching her emerald sentinel gather his belongings, and found herself soon satisfied with the answers. Nodding in agreement nothing else needed to be voiced, so they were free to carry on toward the harsh underbelly of Ettermire. Zai followed behind the two bodies closely, bouncing eagerly for a ways before vanishing into a puff of stealthy black fog before reaching the outside.

The Alerar heat had not yet progressed to a scorching degree as per usual, but the dry desert like atmosphere was still unpleasant to the skin. The dim glow of azure lights once illuminating through the smog long since faded away come day break, though the faint haze remained. Further passing along bustling workshops, and colossal factories the scenery seemed to disintegrate vastly and rapidly. Radiant spires becoming a looming backdrop to a gritty underworld most would dare not venture without reason. Seedy patrons were spotted lingering the outsides of most of these foundations, a foul stench clinging to them while permeating the air as well. Loud bustling of brawls and glasses shattering emanated from a hole in the wall known as The Bottomless Pit, the desired location.

Passing through doors already partially ajar, the rickety bar’s commotion in full view that was much more heinous than previously expected. Questioning how the decrepit structure managed to stay upright. The exterior matched the interior unfortunately, and the crowd behaved in a rowdy manner most intoxicated from ingesting numerous amounts of weak ale. Curious and aggressive stares were exchanged between the customers; clearly Noir and Lye's presence were peculiar compared to the plainly attired citizens, stirring questions as to why they were here. Eyes in violet shade scanned over each corner trying to detect an entrance toward the hushed underground fighting arena. A burly man with arms crossed in a huff caught her attention, guarding near steps. She signaled to Lye with a small nod in the direction of this brute, the underground fighting arena must be in that way.

An abrupt snap halted further advancement, Noir arched a brow while turning around to examine what ceased her movement. Half off a bar stool a fumbling drunk mumbling in random slurs had latched onto the back of her lengthy dress, refusing to release. This wobbly man was met with a fierce stare, and a sudden tug himself as a clawed hand gathered a bit of the loose material and yanked the man straight out of his seat accidentally. This reaction caused uproar of boisterous laughs echoing throughout each crack and crevice. One feeble minded patron arose, abandoning a half empty glass mug sweating with condensation. Noir’s defensive action caused a bit of an unwelcome confrontation.

“Oye, what 'as that for?! He was just gettin' a feel!” one of them blathered with drunken chuckles shortly to follow.

She did not take too kindly to his advance and intercepted a shaky hand before it could rest anywhere upon her figure. Quickly twisting his wrist downward in an awkward serrated hold with a sly stare, stepping close as to whisper nonsense into his ear. This performance was intended to cover his injured arm with the side of her body and not to alarm any possible onlookers.

“Aye, you bitch!” spat the man in a raspy tone clinging to his hand gradually feeling the sear of penetrating blades. Before anything more could transpire she just as quickly released, casually walking away leaving the man to manage the light wounds in a drunken stupor. If he complained, no one would take him seriously or be able to understand mumbled words. Finding way to a lone table near the stair entrance of the fighting arena, roaring cheers resounding through the musky air validating an exhilarating brawl was taking place.

[Lye]

His fair-skinned maiden remained at his side while they traversed the heated smog of the Ettermire streets. Although drastically different in climate, the aura of poverty, crime, and desolation was not much different than Rubble Town in Knife’s Edge. Children both human and elven seemed malnourished and sickly. Many of the people wandering the roadsides seemed stricken with some form of ailment. One could easily understand the reason after a mere night being subject to the thick metallic fog of cycled steam and moldy odors. It was very befitting that their contracts would need to be executed in such conditions, however Lye could not help the feeling of disgust from being displayed on his stern features.

His mood lightened upon the sight of the shambles held together by spilled drink, loud ruckus, and criminal vermin – The Bottomless Pit. Members of the Hand decided this to be the most incognito place to meet up with one another before embarking to The Under. Lye had agreed to join this contract for several reasons. First, was Aurelianus Drak'shal, a tiefling that had already provided The Order with several leads on juicy blackmail for future expeditions. Also, he was informed that this charismatic demon had prior experience in The Under which would prove invaluable in the underground labyrinth. Second, was Ciato Orlouge, a brother to the great Sei Orlouge and master of the Ixian Knights. Lye was interested to witness firsthand what these men of Mystic lineage could accomplish. Plus, any information he was willing to share on his kin would once again provide another dagger in the shadows to be called forth at a later date. Lastly, the assassin was interested in these beasts they came to search out. Having claimed the lives of several helpless peasants in gruesome ways, he couldn’t help but be piqued at what they looked like, where they came from, and if they could be used.

Following behind Noir, Lye entered into the stench of unbathed patrons soaked in poorly crafted mead. Quite easily of its own merit, the odor alone would disable a weaker commoner. Missing teeth, curled thick body hair, hoarse guttural voices, and hostility were abound. Clearly people as well dressed and foreign as he and his partner were somewhat of a diamond in the rough to these bottom feeders. This was made more apparent when a set of five sausage fingers curled tightly around Noir’s dress. By the moment Lye had placed a gloved hand against the chain sickle coiled at his waist, she had the man in the most awkward of positions. Blood, of all things, was an odor he was well accustomed to, and a smile cracked across lips hidden by his crimson scarf. Although their partnership was still fresh and uncertain, he could not help but to appreciate the finesse and elegance to which she quickly corrected her assailant while also leaving him an injury to remember.

As they continued to weave through the swaying drunkards that packed the walls, Lye came to pass on the filth cocky enough to harass the wrong woman. His gloved hand tucked into the pouch at his back before emerging to grasp the injured patron’s hand. His face flushed with concern while he flipped the injured hand between his own, the drunk quickly jutting it back.

“I do apologize,” Lye stated to qualm his concerns, “She doesn’t care for being touched. Please, take this for your trouble.”

The assassin dug out a fivepiece of gold and flicked it gracefully into the man’s empty mug. He and his mates gave Lye a curious glance of stupor before baring their poorly cleaned teeth into a smile. More booze was enough to get them back into their merry ways.

“Suppose no ‘arm done,” replied the thug, returning his attention to fishing the coin from the frothy remains clung to the bottom.

The assassin gave a curt nod, something not typical for his public repertoire, but the poison he applied to his hands moments before handling the man’s wounded hand would be more than enough to compensate for this act of courtesy. Come nightfall, that same person who was currently buying another beverage with a damp fivepiece would be walking the fine line of teetering into the abyss. Lye was a little overprotective.

He continued his way over to his quiet companion. She had found an empty table in this sardine can of thugs and ruffians which seemed to overlook quite the scene. Dark elves, dwarves, and humans alike all pressed themselves up against a wall made of cage, looking down upon a large dirt ring. These rowdy and roaring bunch occasionally gave up their viewing spot to weasel over to one of many tables covered in coin and paper – gambling. This section of the pub must be specifically for those that wish to gamble on the lives of those fighting brutally below.

“We’re looking for a pale skinned man with... odd red hair,” Lye stated to Noir as he moved close to her side, “Interestingly, he goes by Lyesmith around here. The other is named Ciato, he will be distinguishable by hair like mine, yet slicked back, and an odd purple vest. More importantly, he has a problem with those lesser than he, so look for someone causing a scene – it will most likely be him.”

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

The Bottomless Pit heaved like a living beast. The sweating masses crowded inside pressed together, the air permeated with the sharp tang of their sweat as they vied for a better view on the blood-sport below. Dwarves, elves, men.. race didn't matter in this place; all that mattered were the two men in the pit, beating the life out of each other to a resounding chorus of cheers, matching every hard meat-on-meat impact of fist on flesh. Cheap alcohol flowed, and so too did the coin. Every bookie in the place had staked out his own little fiefdom in the chaos, their pockets filling with more and more coin as the simple-minded, bloodthirsty mobs sought to profit from the violence and exertion of the fighters. Every now and again a brawl would break out in the crowds, but the management quickly put the offending patrons out.. or put them down. The entire room stank of blood, and sweat and booze.

Tucked away in a small booth near the back of the establishment, Aurelianus Drak'shal felt right at home.

It had been a long while since Aurelius had found himself in this neck of the woods, and he wasn't entirely happy to be back. Ever since his first trip to Ettermire (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?25044-Child-of-Darkness), the tiefling had avoided the place like the plague - with the rightly feared Swanra'ann out for his blood, it was a smart move to keep as much distance between himself and Alerar's capital as humanly possible.. and yet here he was, apparently not concerned with the fact the Skinner Queen of Ettermire had a price on his head.

While that was far from the case, the Anarchist had been contacted and so he had come, more out of curiosity and a chance of personal gain than any sense of duty. It was lucky coincidence that he had business to attend to here in Ettermire anyway, or he might have ignored the summons - but places like this were fertile ground to sow the seeds of insurrection, and he had brought a few of his fellow Anarchists with him to recruit new blood. Shadra lurked somewhere in the crowds with a few of his lads, his keen eyes marking anyone who looked like a potential candidate, and keeping tabs on who won the bare-knuckle brawls in the pit.

Running one hand through the quills adorning his head, touching the twin hydras inked across his scalp, Aurelianus raised the battered flagon before him to his lips. He took a deep swallow of the bub, wiping the foam from his lips as he cast his serpentine gaze over the crowds. Half watching for anyone paying too much attention to him, half watching for the one who had called him here, the warlock finished yet another pint of ale before casting the tankard aside idly. Leaning back in his chair the half-breed cocked his head from side to side, releasing audible cracks from his neck and setting the myriad rings through his pointed ears ringing like so many bells.

On top of the knife-scarred table squatted Junior. The tiny albino creature scampered around on bladed hands and feet, sniffing everything like some sort of mutilated puppy. Aurelius ignored him for the most part, letting the crow-winged monstrosity lap up the various little pools of spilled alcohol. He was starting to get impatient waiting for Ulroké to appear. The bloke was a good source of jink, usually compensating Aurelius nicely for the information he brokered, but the message that had come by raven had hinted at something more.. hands on. That ain't a bad thing, he thought with a slight smirk. He couldn't contain the small laugh that accompanied the memory of wandering back into his kip to find Junior eating the dead messenger bird, the small note still attached to its leg.. a foot away from the rest of the corpse. Reaching under his trademark duster coat, the horned malcontent pulled a silver cigarette case from an inside pocket, deftly avoiding the myriad blades and barbs on his leather armour. He planted the hand-rolled cigarette between his lips and lit it with a tiny burst of Hellfire in his palm.

His almost permanent smirk widened slightly as Shadra appeared at his side, the lean human keeping his icy blue eyes focused on the crowds as he knelt by Drak'shal. He brought his mouth close to the tiefling's alabaster ear, and muttered in it loud enough to be heard over the roaring mob. Aurelius could feel the prickly stubble on the man's face.

"They're here, chief. Guy you described, and someone else with him."

Aurelius nodded, exhaling a stream of smoke from his nostrils. "You sure it's them, cutter?"

"Tomin overheard them mention the name Lyesmith. It's definitely your friends," he chuckled the last word sardonically. Both of them knew the word "friend" didn't really fall into the plane-touched warlock's vocabulary.

Junior took to the air, lazily flapping from the table-top to land on its master's shoulder, nuzzling its dead face against his neck. Shadra's lip curled in distaste, but he knew better than to voice his revulsion in front of the boss. He knew what was required of him, and with a brisk nod at the smiling half-demon, he slipped back into the crowds. As a former war veteran, few things unnerved the man, but Aurelianus and his pet abomination were high on the list of things that came close. Keeping one hand close to the hilt of the dirk hanging at his belt, the slender Coronian sauntered slowly over to Lye and his companion.

He stood before the pair and gave them a barely perceptible nod, his ice-cold eyes locked on Lye Ulroké's.

"You're looking for Lyesmith." It wasn't a question. He folded his bare, tattooed arms over his slender chest, looking the woman over quickly. But his attention was mainly focused on the assassin.

"This way, friend," he said quietly with a thumb jerked over his shoulder. The former Coronian Armed Forces sergeant didn't even stop to see if they were following him as he made his way back over to the table Aurelius sat at. The plane-touched gave him a nod, and he disappeared back to watch the fights.

Aurelianus smiled broadly, taking the cigarette from between his lips and letting the smoke curl from the corners of his fanged mouth. He gestured for the pair of sods to take a seat, barely paying any attention to the violet-eyed chit. Junior hissed malevolently from its perch on his shoulder, needle-fangs glinting in the dimly lit chamber, but Aurelius silenced him with a tap on the head.

"You, be'ave!" he snapped, before turning his snake-like eyes to the one who had had the temerity to invite him along on this ride.

"'ello cutter," he said quietly, running his forked tongue over his fangs. The man replied with a soft nod. They had only done business a few times now, so the plane-touched still didn't know quite what to make of the killer-for-hire, but there was nothing wrong with the money he offered for the tiefling's services.

"So," Aurelius cocked his head and leaned forward in his chair, steepling his fingers on the table before him and ignoring the missing half of his left ring finger, "'ow can I 'elp you today?"

[Ciato Orlouge]

The crowd cheered at the crimson rain that had filled the underground arena. His pale features had become stained a dark red. His breathing had become heavier with each opponent he had brought to his death. Killing had been made an option down here, but for him, such things were non-negotiable. These were, at least in his pristine eyes, rats that needed to be exterminated from these sewers. His grip tightened around the ankle of his latest victim as he thought about what scum would approach him next.

He dragged the body of the twenty something man across the bloodied arena floor, his limb head crashing back to the ground with every misshapen stone that had been crafted to the floor. He grunted, tossing the long haired brunette into the pile of six other bodies. Many of the victims were missing various appendages. Hands, feet, an even a heart had been strewn about the fight clubs stage. To Ciato Orlouge, the viscera and carnage were nothing more than minor notes in what would soon become a symphony of melancholy and chaos.

His eyes had wandered to the door between each foe he had slain. When his contacts were not seen for a few minutes, the Mystic would turn on the offensive, and toy with his prey like a cat with a mouse. It had, at most, been a way to not only kill time but also rid the world of a few more uncivilized simpletons. With each death at his hands, Ciato reviewed the belongings of the newly deceased. Aside from a pool of blood and lifeless eyes, each new person had nothing of true value to the Mystic.

The copper taste of his prey left a bitter taste in the regal Mystic’s mouth, causing a sneer like that of a royal who just ate a hot dog. His eyes shifted upwards once more as the announcer made some asinine announcement about Ciato being the ‘Champion of the Day’, much to the applause/boos of his captivated audience. He smiled when he watched the cloaked man and his female companion make their ways down the stairs and into the crowd, his eyes moving towards the large body that stood before him.

The man was easily six feet, and at least a good hundred pounds over Ciato. The large man laughed at his meager-looking foe for a good second before Asterodeia sung straight into the man’s heart. The giant’s eyes grew wide for just a moment before the blade was withdrawn with a satisfying vacuum like sound. Ciato followed up his opening deathblow with several more stabs in the same area of the man’s chest. When he was finished, the man fell on his back to the ground, revealing enough punctures to in his chest to have formed a cartoon like heart chiseled into the actual artery. Blood sprayed from the titan like a fountain and was accompanied by an uproarious reaction from the crowd. Ciato walked over the body of the bested behemoth, his own form getting a fresh coat of life as he did so.

He approached the end of the arena and gave a solitary thumb down into the air. This had become the universal symbol for retiring within the confined of this fight club. The men who had betted on him cheered for their earnings made, while those foolish enough to bet against his well-known last name were now destined for the poor house. His body still dripped with blood as he made his way through a rather scared and uneasy crowd. Such respect and fear for his person made locating Lye and his company rather easy, not that Ciato himself did not stand out currently.

“It is time then?” Ciato asked, bringing his rapier across his hand and coating the weapon with an azure blue. His own blood washed the weapon far better than the nasty red of humans. “Good. Such mindless drivel was starting to grate on my nerves.”

[Lye]

This will count for Noir and myself. Feel free to post next.
The roar of drunks, shouts, and cheers was maddening. The cacophony tested the limits of his hearing and nearby conversation was near impossible to make out. Something clearly had the crowd riled. Although it took an immeasurable amount of concentration, Lye could still make out small talk between the patrons. More importantly was the solitary figure weaving through the sea of writhing flesh. The direct eye contact, deliberate movement, and stern demeanor meant it was a contact or a potential threat. Subtlety, Lye moved a hand to the hilt of one of his titanium blades mounted horizontally to his mid back.

A slight nod of understanding followed after listening to Lye’s explanation of the “allies” to come. Each sounding unique and distinguishable enough, her crystalline hues still did not notice either of these particular characters. Musty odors of stale apparel occasionally floated through the air, and the pungent stench was enough to make Noir slightly wince a few times in disgust. Silent moments were spent this way before the first appeared to acknowledge them, an unearthly man with a serrated grin.

The mention of Lyesmith was the key to avoiding open confrontation and he let his grip relax. He was not keen on making bodily contact with the other filth that packed this building, but it seems that the teifling was situated just past the thickest of the crowd. As he bumped, evaded, and maneuvered, he took note of the tables he past. Some were littered with coin, others were scattered with legal documents, and the only one that seemed somewhat clean belonged to a pale man of vastly unique characteristics with a grotesque abomination skittering about. As he approached, Aurelianus gestured for the two to take a seat. Lye began to oblige himself before quickly checking the action and pulling the chair out for his frigid companion to take instead.

An appreciative half smile illuminated Noir's customarily cold features as she took the seat with angelic elegance, a hand sweeping the crinkles out of her dress' pearlescent material. The assassin met eyes with those that halted to show their lustful appreciation of his guest. He was quick to correct them with a menacing glare of his own. Once content, he too took a seat across from the half demon, but also on the same side as the revolting creature with black wings. His scowl was luckily hidden from sight by the crimson scarf around his neck. It was quick to share its own distaste with a wet and guttural hiss. A low growling immediately followed from the invisible Zai after the strange man’s pet sounded in disapproval. The stealthy demon was none the happier with the winged creature tagging along as well.

Ignoring both uppity familiars’, Noir threw a brief unfazed glance toward the man with bright red quills in place of hair, currently appearing just as disinterested with him as he was of her. Although it was not often Noir saw someone of his unique stature, others’ appearances were the least of her concern.

"Afternoon," Lye greeted in return, still keeping a close eye on the clawed cretin nuzzling its owner's face. "I understand you go by many names, some of which have a certain... gravity. For this job, I would like to know what to refer to you as."

As he mentioned the job, Lye reached into the seam of his stitched up leather vest to produce a small roll of paper tucked within. Nimble fingers twirled the scroll about in display of finesse before placing on the scarred wooden surface firmly beneath his middle and index fingers.

"Granted we are still waiting for the third, but--"

Both Lye and Noir’s attention suddenly turned elsewhere mid-conversation, noticing the loud ruckus of disappointed cries echoing from the downstairs arena. Emerging from the greasy crowd a man fitting the description of the last member approached. Freshly dripping from the previous battle sporting an autocratic presence, and ready to carry on with what seemed unflinching stamina.

"Speak of the devil, I believe that would be him," Lye managed after the outburst quelled to a reasonable level. Sure enough, the blood stained champion joined their table. His personality and arrogant statement grated slightly on the killer's nerves, but he knew the man to be exceptionally talented.

"As I was saying," he continued, ignoring the additional attention brought to them by the mystic's recent fame, "Our objective is going to be in the sewers beneath the city. There are rumors around these parts that pertain to some messy corpses discovered near the washouts. Essentially, we need to head down there and do some poking around to find out what is responsible."

Lye motioned to their pale serpentine colleague by flicking the rolled parchment toward him.

"You have prior knowledge of what we are in for and some experience of how to navigate down there. Since this isn't the proper place to discuss all of the details aloud, I brought a collective of information for your input. Since you seem to have a way with information in our prior dealings, it is better left in your capable hands."

Lye gave a glance to Noir, her intrigued violet hues had been scanning over the parchment not long ago taking in all the information carefully. Something seemed amiss however, and with Lye leaving valuable information in the hands of this stranger was unsettling to her.

"Between the four of us, we should be able to handle whatever we find. There is more, but that will have to wait until we have made it to The Under. That being said, I would prefer to leave whenever you are ready."

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

Aurelius nodded slowly to himself, his serpentine eyes flickering over the paper in his hand.

"We'll stick with Lyesmith for now. Good a name as any," he muttered absently.

He paid no attention to the newest arrival yet, but his senses were nearly overpowered by the metallic reek of the viscera staining his well-toned physique.

The tiefling was preoccupied, however, reading the information Lye had provided and cross-referencing it with the information his own sources had managed to gather. He read through the parchment twice, leaning back in his chair and propping his hobnailed boots up on the table before sliding it over to the blood-stained pit fighter. A quizzical eyebrow rose as he finally noted the glistening blue blood along the mercurial length of his blade.

There was a flash of recognition in the back of his mind at the sight; he had seen blue blood before, not that long ago. But then, he already knew the name of the man sitting beside him. There was hardly a body in the land that hadn't heard mention of the "great and mighty" Orlouge family. This just provided proof it wasn't just someone with the same name, but one of the Mystics themselves.

Junior skittered down its master's arm and squatted on the table-top again, sutured eye-sockets turning to them all in turn. Glancing out the corner of his own eye, Aurelianus marked the attention the Blue-blood's arrival had brought on them. His forked tongue slid over his fangs in irritation; the more attention that was directed at them, the less the plane-touched could tell if it was being directed at the pit fighter, or him. The sod's show-boating had just made it damn near impossible for the warlock to know if one of Swanra'ann's men was watching him.

Well, he thought mildly, keeping the frustration from his face, bollocks.

Aurelius brought his cigarette back up to his lips, taking a draw slowly and marking the three berks sat before him. Ulroké's face was inscrutable, hidden as it was behind the crimson face-scarf, but the warlock could see everything he needed to - the man's casual yet alert posture, the hint of toned, lean muscle under his clothing, the obvious weapons stashed about his person, and the scent of poison clinging to him like a lover. The last was harder to pick out over the stink of coppery blood splashed across the fourth of their ragtag little group, but it was there. Lye was a killer, that much was obvious. The same was true of the other bloke, revelling in the crude, brutal slayings of his foes down below. I'll 'ave to keep an eye on this pair, he mused, exhaling a stream of smoke into the already dense air of the Pit. His eyes wandered finally to the girl. And 'er pair, he added to himself, with a lascivious grin. There was something.. off about her, but the half-demon couldn't quite put his finger on it. Still, he had time to study her during this little adventure Lye was sending them all on, so he ignored the violet-haired girl for now.

"Well, cutter, while you were stickin' it to the 'ired 'elp," he grinned, cocking his horned head toward Noir, "I was scannin' the chant about the latest deaders found. Nasty bit of business," he chuckled, recalling the vivid details his informants had brought him from the Watch patrol who had stumbled across the body. Apparently, stumbled through the remains was a more accurate description.

"So I 'ope for your sake, you're right. Be a shame to watch you all wind up in the Dead-book," he grinned wetly. His sardonic expression was plain for them all to see.

Clamping the smoking roll-up between his pale lips, the tiefling reached down by his feet and lifted the battered capotain hat from down by his chair. The leather hat had been taken from a Witch-hunter back West of Knife's Edge, and every time he wore it, the half-demon pyromancer couldn't help but savour the irony. He sat it on his head, tucking his unique quills and tattoos out of sight, the brim sitting low over his four glossy horns. His eyes shone lambently in the gloom.

"We can be at the entrance I picked out in under an hour, long as we don't piss about. I'd rather wait 'til it gets a bit darker before we 'ead out - none too popular with some of the local bloods," he added with a shrug, "but sod it, you're footin' the bill. Your jink, your say."

He brought his heavy boots down on the sticky floorboards and dragged himself to his feet, smoke trailing from his nostrils as he looked through the assembled men and women.

"That bein' said.. gimme a minute, cutter. Got one more thing to do before I can play tout."

With that, he slid into the crowds, disappearing for a good few minutes while he tracked down Tomen, one of the Red Right Hand that had accompanied him from Radasanth. He found Shadra, ever the recruiter, perched on the bar and chatting quietly to some younger men, exchanging soft words and sly smiles. Aurelius didn't want to interrupt Shadra while he was doing the faction's work, and moved off to the very edge of the room. Tomen, the young-blood, was watching the contender who had taken over after Ciato's departure from the pit, shouting encouragement and abuse in equal measure. The young lad, no more than seventeen, almost shat himself when Aurelius appeared at his back, but after he caught his breath, he handed the Anarchist a relatively hefty leather pouch with a few words, impossible to make out over the ruckus around the ring. They parted with a handshake, hands gripping wrists, before the leather-clad half-breed returned to collect his allies for the day.

He tucked the pouch away in an inner pocket of his battered coat, smiling to Ciato, though there was no real humour in it.

"Too bad I can't take bets on you fightin' what we're huntin', mate. I'd pikin' love to make some jink watchin' one of you Orlouges end up a deader. Still, you've made me a pretty penny today, so 'ere - for your trouble."

He gave a small flourish of his hand, a silver coin appearing between his nimble fingers in a display of legerdemain. He flicked the coin to the blood-soaked pit-champion, laughing softly under his breath.

With that, without waiting on a retort, the smug bastard turned on his heel and started toward the exit of the Bottomless Pit, whistling softly over his shoulder for Junior to follow. The snow-white little abomination took to the air, flapping swiftly between Lye and Noir as it caught up to Aurelius, landing on his shoulder again with a ruffle of sable feathers and scalpel-talons.

"You lot comin'?" he called back to the group.

[Ciato Orlouge]

He crossed his arms and allowed the others to speak, his hand instinctively clutching the money that Aurelianus had thrown to him. His eyes darted between Lye and the girl in an attempt to see what kind of connection the two had. There was a tension there; much like Ciato had once had with the beautiful demoness Asterodeia. He stuck his tongue out and lapped up the blood from around his lips to reveal their almost purple like hue.

He could hear someone approach from behind the group around the time Aurelianus started to walk away. Each loud footstep brought with it a slight rumble, and Ciato could clearly hear swears he would not even use against his brothers. A large man with a fire red beard stood behind the Mystic, opened his mouth, and proceeded to be decked in said mouth by the butt of Ciato’s rapier. The blow was enough to send the angry gambler onto the floor, several of his teeth sprawled upon the ground.

“I find it funny that the demon thinks I will fall. Why don’t we make this a little more interesting, since we’re so confident?” He spoke loud enough so that Aurelianus could hear from his position. The Mystic’s eyes finally met with those of his forked tongue ‘friend’. “We see how many of these things we can down while we’re down there. If you perish, you lose, and whomever has the higher count by the end of the night is the winner.”

Aure’s eyes perked up at the idea. “And just what is it we’re wagin’, Cutter?”

“I’ll wager you my life if you win,” Ciato said, a grin creeping across his face. His form resembled human-shaped red gelatin, his white teeth all the more obvious when he smiled, “And if I win, I get to rip that distasteful tongue of yours from your mouth.”

His eyes shifted back to Lye. “Huh. Distasteful tongue. I made a funny. Anyways, I am at your beck and call, Lichensith.” Ciato bowed respectfully to both Lye and his female companion, “If you wish to leave now, then I am prepared.”

[Lye]

"Then let's not waste any more time," Lye spoke with steady resolve. "I'd like to wash my hands of this place as soon as possible."

The assassin rose from his shoddy wooden seat. His ghastly female companion mimicked him in silence. Luckily for the killer, since the absence of Ciato from the ring, the crowd had dispersed substantially. While The Pit thinned, the Orlouge bowed respectfully to the assassin. Lye looked down on him with a watchful gaze. It was not out of disrespect, but rather out of observation. Ciato remained bowed, covered in blood, unphased by this fact and furthermore, he remained formal in the presence of people who surely wanted his head.

"Confident," The assassin commented, "Let's hope that confidence stands for good reason. I highly doubt what we'll be dealing with is anything like the dimwitted sacks of meat you skewered down there."

This comment floated to some of those that best against the blue blood. Their faces twisted in anger, but their eyes told of the paralysis their fear instilled.

"Rise. Let us find a real challenge."

Junior reminded the group of wasted time with a chirp somewhere between a banshee's yell and a dead man's gurgle. Lye motioned to Noir and the two wove their way behind Aurelius. Ciato fell in tow.

The noise and chatter of Alerar's most unsavory pub quickly drowned out as they emerged to the hazy streets of Ettermire. The lower city, where they currently stood, bathed in the sun's morning heat. The fires of oranges and reds typically on the horizon dances whimsically in the dense fog of steam and chemicals which lingered around them. This time of day, foot traffic had yet to pick up for the mid-day bustle.

"We should be safe to discuss the details more openly now," Lye stated as he walked along the warlock. His fleshy pet jostled each step upon his shoulder, but kept its hungering eyes fixed upon the assassin. "Word is, we're dealing with something more or less than human. Judging by the reports - most likely from your contacts - the remains were quite... messy."

The black winged cretin ruffled its feathers in the context of the discussion. A chitter escaped its sewn lips and Lye gave it another firm expression of disgust. Without a doubt, this thing was only around to feed on whatever remains they found... or made... or became. Its priorities interestingly provided insight toward its master.

"What we need is to get down there, find this thing, and see if it would be of some use to us. If not, you can have a new trophy for your little office I've heard about."

The quilled fiend listened intently as he lead them. The alleys, backways, and turns felt like mice being led through a maze. Whether he was fucking with them or genuinely had a purpose to this path, would be something only the half-demon knew. Regardless, his satirical expressions and well timed puffs of tobacco both grated at Lye, yet soothed him with its uncertainty.

"I've also uncovered some rumors that have some interesting coincidences to the details I've heard back. We may be dealing with some creatures remnant from the Demon Wars."

Aurelius grinned, and smoke seethed from his exposed teeth.

"I want to know where it/they came from and of course, see if it is as lethal as its made out to be," Lye concluded before looking to the others.

"Once we are down there, eyes open, watch your corners and when we find it, take it alive if you can."

[Aurelianus Drak'shal]

As soon as they emerged from the Pit, Aurelius took charge. It had been a while since he had banged around Ettermire, but he made a point of memorising every city he was in as best he could - with his.. proclivities towards mischief, knowing the back alleys and shortcuts was always a canny move. The tiefling surreptitiously palmed a handful of shurikens, erring on the side of caution as they moved away from the crowds that were starting to pick up as the sun headed towards peak.

The heat was fast becoming unpleasant, and Aurelianus forced himself to ignore the beads of sweat trickling under the high collar of his leather armour.

They wove their way through narrow side-streets and paths, the groups' boots splashing through water tainted with all manner of vile pollutants being pumped into the air in the name of industry. The half-breed deliberately took a much more circuitous route than was required, doubling back on their trail several times and circling the same streets before they moved on. The ride to come should have been his main concern but all his preternatural senses were focussed firmly on making sure he wasn't being tailed. It didn't take a canny sod to realise Swanra'ann must already be aware of his presence in her city, so he was taking no chances in being tracked by her hired blades. He had already given her the laugh once; the half-demon didn't fancy his chances a second time.

Lye walked alongside him throughout the trek, filling his informant in on what he knew and the goals of their little venture. He kept up the chit-chat as they passed between looming buildings of grim stone, covered in a greasy sheen of chemical residue. Aurelius parked his ears at the last line, a vicious grin splitting his features.

"Chant 'as it down as a right 'orror, chief. Take it alive?" he chuckled, blowing another stream of smoke from his blackened lungs before flicking the dog-end away. "Think you might be a little more concerned 'bout stayin' out of the dead-book."

It was true; whatever was stalking the Ettermire sewers had the high-ups shitting themselves. Whatever the Hells it was, it had butchered men in a way that made the word 'butchery' an understatement. The local law enforcement wanted its existence kept dark - as always, their policy on such matters was to treat the population like mushrooms. Keep them in the dark and feed them shit. If this creature was a remnant from the demonic battles that had raged across Althanas... well, least we won't be given the yawn today, he thought with a soft smirk to himself.

An hour passed, maybe a little more, but the further they walked, the less the group saw people. They were passing out of one of the residential districts and heading for the outskirts of the main industrial quarter of the sprawling metropolis. Aurelius relaxed a little more, confident now that he wasn't being followed, and slipped the three-bladed projectiles back into their quarrel. Every step closer to the sewer entrance brought back vivid memories of his first time in the city until eventually the buildings either side of them dropped away entirely. The mismatched quartet emerged in an open area, an overflow outlet for the sprawling sewers that fed rivulets of fetid water to the nearest river cutting their winding paths through thick, cloying muck.

"We're 'ere," he stated, looking down at the very same sewer entrance into which he had once followed a young scribe and her muscle-bound minder. It seemed like a lifetime ago, now. In truth, only a year or two had passed.

Very little had changed though; the same muck and slime surrounding the slick stone tunnel, the same smog hanging overhead in a sickening yellow miasma. The smell of shit, and pollution.. and blood. As the tiefling made his way down a small incline to the muddy entrance, Junior erupted into the air in a shrieking fury. The foetus' wings beat the air and it hissed and spat at the dark opening. Aurelianus tried to hush the familiar, as it thrashed talons and gnashed tiny needle fangs. After a moment, it recoiled in fear and landed in its creator's cupped palms. It quivered violently, sutured eye sockets glaring at the gaping maw of the Under, while Aurelius whispered to the animated horror in the Infernal tongue, trying to soothe his pet. Eventually, the abomination settled, scampering back up to curl against its master's neck, shrouded in sable feathers.

The reaction confirmed for Aurelius what Lye had already surmised - there was something in the depths more unnatural than the things Drak'shal already knew. If it was enough to terrify Junior...

"Any of you ever wandered 'round down 'ere?" he asked the assembled group, taking off his hat and stuffing it inside the satchel hanging by his hip, wiping the sweat from his horned brow with the sleeve of his coat.

A resounding chorus of shaken heads.

"The shit they're pumpin' out yonder," he gestured to the huge chimneys and factories visible less than a mile away, "it pikes up the beasties down there somethin' soddin' awful. Last time I was down there, saw spiders the size of dogs, rats with fangs like bloody flensin' knives.."

He let their imaginations fill in the blanks as he checked his weapons and tightened up a few straps on the bladed armour adorning his lean frame.

"So whatever you're after down 'ere, chief, it must be a right cunt to be top of the food chain."

Finally, he was ready. Well, Aurelianus thought as he took one last glance at the world above, in for a copper, in for a crown. Turning on his heel, the fiend-blooded warlock prowled into the subterranean labyrinth. One of his green-steel knives slid reassuringly into his right hand, the slow, rhythmic throb of the glyphs along the serrated blade matching his heartbeat. His senses were instantly assaulted by the powerful reek in the narrow confines, and the warlock tried to avoid whatever was dripping from the dank ceiling in a steady staccato beat. The hell-tainted blood flowing through his veins allowed Aurelius' eyes to penetrate the gloom with ease, but the tiefling had no doubt the humans would have more difficulty the deeper they went.

"We follow this tunnel, we'll be at the entrance to the Under proper inside half an hour. Stick to me like crabs on a whore's snatch, jig?" he murmured over his shoulder, eyes darting around the murky tunnel for any sign of life.

The tiefling spared his companions for this little misadventure one last smirk as they entered behind him, snake-eyes dancing with barely contained excitement.

"Welcome, boys and girls, to the arse'ole of the world."