Frozen Echoes - Tainted Memories.

[Lye]

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This thread takes place after Soothing The Blood-Thirsty Fires Within. (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?26140) & Crimson kissed snow. (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?26495).

“Where is she?!” the assassin shouted, a man quivered in his threatening grip.

“I-I don’t know!” he stammered in reply.

“I fucking told you to make sure she did not leave here without my knowledge!” Lye’s muscles tensed and a roar slipped through the crimson vlince about his lips. The overseer, Volkin, flew through the air with azure silk robes slamming into barren stone walls. The glasses that usually sat on his serpentine eyes cascaded across the polished stone flooring before they came to rest beneath an angry boot.

“S-sir,” Volkin coughed as he tried to regain his breath and composure, “she said she was seeking you out to take leave.”

Crunch.

The assassin’s boot made powder of his colleague’s visual crutches.

“You’re telling me…” Firm steps neared a thin frame, struggling to rise back to his feet. “You let her wander off without an escort?!”

Fury stung in Lye’s veins. His blood was set ablaze and his mind became lost to the inconceivable failure they somehow managed to accomplish. Rigid fingers wrapped around the hilt of an eastern short sword to the assassin’s back. The blade quivered during the slow draw.

“P-please s-sir, it was an oversight. W-we can find her. We’ll bring her back!” Volkin slid his way to a defensive stance, arms attempted to shield himself from the radiating hatred burning holes in his soul with a deep green gaze.

“You won’t...” the killer stated frigidly and the blade slid into flesh.

Thin fingers struggled to grip at the object pinning its body to the wall through the neck. The honed edge of the titanium wakizashi made quick work of any appendage foolish enough to lay grasp. The mural of crimson grew in contrast to the vibrant azure silks as it rolled off the human canvas and pooled at their feet. The flicker of desperation in his eyes joined with the moist gurgle of labored breaths - Lye smiled.

He jolted the weapon back and cocked his head to the side in twisted observation. The bubbling, desperate writhing, and horrified expression soothed the slayer's furry. The luxurious thrill of stealing another man’s life calmed him like no other mortal vice. Silence gripped the air and the overseer was no more. What blood still struggled to stay within now joined the growing pool and pushed it to the edge of boot-crushed spectacles.

“Get me his contract!” Lye shouted over his back at two entrance guards staggered by the sudden loss of their second in command. They shook themselves of the scene and moved into action, vanishing to one of many rooms. The assassin stood in the serenity of his kill. Left to admire his loosed fury in brief isolation, he gripped his crimson scarf and cleaned the scarlet molasses from the length of his blade. The tattered vlince voraciously consumed Volkin’s remains and restored the lustrous shine as though the blade had never seen use.

“S-sir, we have the --”

“Clean him off my floor,” the assassin demanded as the clink of sheathed titanium jostled the two ruffians’ nerves. “Don’t bother wrapping this one in silks. Drag him to the Deepwoods and let the beasts desecrate the remains. Then seal his contract and burn it.”

“S-sir?”

“His soul will burn for eternity like a traitor.” Lye turned to the two with venom in his gaze. “This will not be a problem.”

Two intimidated men nodded and dared not utter another words lest they join the human remains that grew cold on the floor. The vengeful leader strode past them with the echoes of anger still in each step. His gloved hands slammed into the twin massive doors, riveted in iron, which gave entrance to the grand hall of Blackmist Reach. His weight leaned into them and forced movement in groans of wood. As they gave way, the bitter cold of Skavia lashed at his exposed flesh and the grey haze of the Hollows wrapped about him. Scattered in the muted sunlight, several other shady characters locked themselves to their own tasks. Men fought with one another in brutal, non-lethal combat drills. Others carried supplies from one building to the next and those not in the midst of productivity lazily listed about.

“We have a defector!” Lye roared, freezing those within earshot and commanding their attention. “Her name is Noir, the same woman your fellow comrades died to save! She has left our stronghold against direct order and has broken a vow of trust! Those able to leave will do so now and return her, alive! She will then answer for her actions… to me.”

The sudden orders echoed through the grounds and left some halted in expressions of confusion. Those who were sharp witted and loyal broke into immediate action. Tasks were abandoned to the rising roar of men charging forth in unflinching obedience. The assassin remained in the open doorway, his chest heaved. Through wind tossed strands of platinum hair, two emerald spheres gazed forth, one of them scarred. They held a certain heat about them, yet behind that anger hid a small shadow of concern.

[Noir.]

After Zai’s much needed distraction near Dire Wolf Lodge, violet hues refused to peer back at Archen. A picturesque landscape crawling further off to the distance would be the remnants of disturbing memories to remain anyway. Nothing good would come of a final glimpse to a town she dare not venture again; previous events saw to that. In any respect, perhaps this decision was for the best. Such a quaint town did not need an unstable entity in its vicinity. A new path soon followed after she demand to be set free of Lye’s binding contact. Who knew of what to expect from Knives Edge or worse yet, the assassin’s answer, for rules were broken to journey off without permission.


An unfamiliar sensation crept over nearly every inch of skin, continuous warmth radiating from lengthy fur fashioned into a coat. Glossy locks hidden beneath an oversized hood did not become tousled by wintry gales, and each step toward Black Mist headquarters were not in frosty agony. Passing through recognizable brush caked with layers of fluffy snow, only crunching of progressing footsteps echoed through numerous peeling white birches. Time seemed to stand still during this excursion, she wondered all the while if Zai escaped safely. These thoughts halted with approaching tramples much like a brigade, nearing in haste with heavy exhales. Lowering into a defensive stance, fingers began conjuring a long icy sword until these men--Lye’s men came into view. This could only mean one troubling notion, and a sigh of contrition escaped her roseate hued lips. Did he not think she would return? Clearly, where would she wander off to?

Not exactly known for their hospitality, these brutes oftentimes used excessive force, so relinquishing any weapon may prove hazardous. None of these men were especially fond of the mystic and were simply waiting for her luck to run dry at any menial task. To leave appendages amputated across ivory snow, a reasonable option but otherwise a bit excessive. Sneaking past them, easy enough although a sign of goodwill came with turning oneself in. Feet shaped a path behind Noir, snow parting while closing distance to heavily armed members of The Order. Glittering light off her ice sword reflected on the alabaster powder like tiny dancing stars within the galaxy. All at once it sunk into the fluffy layers below by a massive hand, shattering to pieces.

“Oye, wench!” shouted the filthy barbarian leading the pack of others, “Y’know that th’ boss ain’t happy ‘bout you pissin’ off on yer own. He don’t trust ye, and neither do we.”

He approached her proximity, the foul odor making its years of poor hygiene known.

“You best be commin’ with us. Unless you’d like us to rough ya up a little first…” he jeered. The others in his command shared similar expressions of twisted thoughts.

A crooked finger slid across impeccable features by a loathsome swine, trailing down from side swept bangs to her chin. Pungent odor emanated from every crevice, leaving a gag inducing sensation of slime on Noir’s facial profile. Befouled teeth crept through cracked upturned chops, relishing the touch of a well-kept woman. Remaining idle instead of grimacing, fierce violet hues unwavered from the stranger’s repulsive mug much to his surprise.

“Awe, come on now! Where’s th’ slappin’ my hand away? No snide remark?” he mocked as Noir remained firm and silent. “That won’t do, they’re much more fun when they struggle. Besides, y’owe us for all the men you got slaughtered tryin’ to save you!”

He raised a hand to strike her.

“Y’want th’ demon to cut your fuckin’ hand off?!” shouted the much thinner bandit behind the apparent leader. “He wanted ‘er back alive and untouched!”

“Blame it on some trouble she ran into,” He brought his hand down toward her face and was halted with the slap of flesh on flesh. The brute’s arm lay inches from her face, caught by the arm of another.

“Y’know damn well if y’piss ‘im off he’ll kill every one of us! I ain’t chancin’ it. I’ll cut yer hand off myself if I have to,” remarked the insubordinate member of the group.

“Shame, bet this one can take a vat of pain.” Sneering through gritted choppers a rough hand harshly gripped around a sleeved entity’s upper arm. Loose fur not able to cushion his ogre like vice as he cruelly hauled Noir like useless cargo back to Black Mist. Such a blessing in disguise with the parting of Zai’s company for once, undoubtedly her bold words and actions alike would result in unnecessary bloodshed.

Almost as renowned, Lye’s temper struck fear into the hearts of many men. Albeit experiencing that rage of his first hand, terror never veiled itself over her but curiosity had. Given their unique circumstances even so, she expected nothing less than sheer outrage to transpire soon. All too soon a recognizable lofty exterior came into view, and sensations of restlessness arose but were contained. Collectively each shady member trailed behind Noir and the aggressive beast of a man; with several bodies passing through this sizeable foyer.

After reaching the headquarters desired location a tense hook released, flinging her small frame toward the center of Lye’s throne room like a rag doll. While descending gracelessly on all fours, her attached hood slipped backward revealing doe like crystalline orbs through cascading tresses of lavender. Like a pupil to their master, eyes rose to meet his. A questionable expression covered pristine features, showing a bit more emotion than usual.

“Lye, how have I displeased you?” Timidly a familiar sentence cracked such strained matters. It was either that or nothing at all, and perhaps silence would have been the better option for once.

[Lye]

Tap...

Tap...

Tap...


The steel needle in his grasp rhythmically rapped against the ivory bone of his throne. Discontent oozed from every pore, and he remained slumped in his seat with head braced by an idle hand. The echoes of each kiss of steel bounced off the empty walls of The Order’s Grand Hall. The feasting table, still stained with the blood of the fallen, remained the object of his gaze. Every dozen taps, he would shoot a quick glance at the two massive oak doors. For two days they mocked him with their permanence. They did not open to produce what he desired, and he waited without sleep until they did. The thin fibre of patience that kept him together began to fray.

The fibre finally snapped.

The needle in his grasp felt the strength of his anger. Knuckles whitened and the prong of steel buried itself inches deep in the doors he hated. Simultaneously, he rose to his feet. As if the entrance to his hall had decided to retaliate, they split down the middle and washed him with the cold Scavian air. The first thing to emerge from their wooden mouth was a small, pale woman. Lye’s emerald stare narrowed to a knife’s edge. Behind her stormed in the retrieval group.

“Bring her here,” he commanded in a deep, thunderous tone as he descended the steps to his throne.

They forced her forward, cascading her to bended knees in front of the furious leader. Those soft, lavender eyes looked upon him with a ranging degree of emotions he had not yet seen from her. His chest heaved as if to pounce on her like one of his many victims, yet he stood immobile. Her velvet voice filled the hollow halls with a simple question. His anger was slain.

“Noir, I--” he stopped, fixing his gaze at the grinning thugs and bandits whom he held under his command. The fleeting moment of serenity burned to cinders, and his brows wrinkled together yet again.

“Was I not clear?!” he roared to his men’s jeers of approval. “You are not to leave this place without my approv--!”

“I wish to leave.” Noir suddenly stated midway through his booming speech. Letting unexpected words sink in a moment, never breaking eye contact with the fierce assassin. Silence again befell the room with only the whisper of winter’s wind to taint it.

“Excuse me?” Lye inquired. His stance became offensive, and his form became rigid.

Legs ascended, standing before him she rose and began once again, unwavering.

“I wish to live out my final years in solitude with Zai in Knive’s Edge. I do not want to be apart of your organization any longer.”

“Th’ only way ye’ leave Th’ Order is in pieces, witch!” barked the gruff voice belonging to the flunky which lead the search. A fire lit in the assassin’s verdant eyes which forced the man to stumble backwards.

“Leave,” Lye commanded, his tone dark, sinister, and cold. Smaller men immediately turned foot and quickened their steps to the tundra. The last of which grew expressions of intimidation to ones of disdain. Though hesitant, they too left without a retort. The oaken groan ended with a metallic cough, signaling their isolation from the outside world. His watch transferred to her defiant posture. The hairs at the back of his neck stood on end.

“You caused several deaths that now stain my hall’s table, you nearly claim my life protecting you from the wilds, and you have the audacity to request leave?” he hissed, chest once again heaving with the heat that began to swell within. “You said you have no home. You told me you were just a wandering spirit, and now that you have disrupted my hunt, and more so my Order, you tell me that you wish to create a life with that beast?!”

“Is this what you request of me, to stay then even though I am nothing but a burden to your position?” Ears grew weary of constantly hearing about how unfavorable her actions were, and what they had caused. “I thought you were not a man of debt.” Softly she implied seemingly finding her voice, and recounting words on his behalf in what seemed ages ago. He paused, shocked by how vocal she had become.

“A burden?” he reiterated. “No, you’ve become a burden by stepping outside the boundaries laid before you. Your staying here because I had a lapse of judgment, and showed kindness. A mistake I will not make again.”

Lye reached to his back, placing his gloved hand upon the cold hilt of his blades.

“You are correct though…” The hiss of metal drawing from the scabbard sounded. “I do not have a need for debt; I kill what gets in my way and take what I desire.” The faint ring of a titanium edge rang free from its home, now held at the ready.

“You will return to your quarters, or you will be hunted.”

“So be it.” Noir bluntly quipped.