Aurelianus Drak'shal
07-28-14, 12:51 PM
Closed to Urei
He turned the letter over in his hands again, serpentine eyes scanning the tight, flowing script.
Breathing a stream of smoke into the muggy night air, Aurelius smirked to himself. Even under such overcast skies, his inhuman sight had no difficulty making out every word written there. Finishing the letter for the hundredth time, the tiefling tucked it away in a pouch at his belt and turned his attention outward. He stood in a quiet back alley of Knife's Edge, with three others, none of them saying a word. But it was writ across every face - they were tense. Two humans leaned against the rough stone walls flanking the small group, trying to appear unconcerned by what they were doing tonight. The third, a slender Aleraran elf was making no attempt to conceal how jittery she was. Breana was her name, and she was pretty.
Can't say I blame 'er for shittin' bricks, he thought, taking the cigarette from his mouth.
They all lurked in the shadowy confines of the alley, located behind a butcher shop and a small tannery. The two buildings shared the lane which eventually opened out into a small run-off canal. The smell was unpleasant at best, and even at night flies hovered over the waste-polluted water. Aurelianus tried not to dwell on the unpleasant memories of Ettermire that the reek of tanned leather dredged up, instead turning his thoughts back to the fun and games ahead.
The missive was from one of the half-breed's many informants in the city, delivered the previous week for Aurelianus' eyes only. As the Master of The Word, it was his job to collect rumours - 'scanning the chant', in his own outlandish vernacular - and cherry-pick the choicest morsels for the attention of the Crimson Hand. Most days, the work consisted of basic things; blackmail material; what the local law-dogs were up to, and the requisite bribes to keep that kind of information flowing; who wanted whom dead, and for how much... The usual intrigues that kept a city such as this running. It was a job Aurelius relished, precisely for special occasions such as this.
Something was loose in Salvar's capital.
Of course, for a creature with his.. proclivities, this kind of chant always found its way to the tiefling. His bloods all knew the kind of thing that got their master's mouth watering. So as soon as the second and third bodies had been found drained of blood, as soon as the Sway Church operatives in the city had first uttered the word 'vampire', the little darlings had been at his side with whispers in his tapered ears.
Aurelius brought his hand back to his mouth and sucked another lungful of bitter smoke from the cigarette, trying to ignore the occasional errant trickle of sweat underneath his leather armour. The weather was close, stuffy. A thunderstorm was about due to clear the air. He had been dismayed to find that, even here in Knife's Edge, the Summer weather got uncomfortably warm - it never fully got rid of the snow, but it did leave the streets slushy and muddy underfoot. Tonight he had found it too much, so had opted not to wear his trademark coat. Instead, he stood in only his bladed leather armour, horns and quills bare, every sharp edge and point gleaming maliciously.
"How much longer will this take?"
The voice cut through Drak'shal's thoughts, stirring him from his musings with a low growl of irritation. The speaker was Styr. Of course it's pikin' Styr, the half-demon thought, glancing at one of the two men standing with him. Pale of skin and fair of hair, the Salvaran had all the airs and graces one would expect of a high-born. Always quick to look down on others, the arrogant human often forgot he worked for Aurelius and not the other way around.
"You got somewhere better to be, cutter?" Aurelius asked softly, twin coils of smoke curling from his nostrils.
"I could think of half a hundred places that fit that description, boss," the young man replied without missing a beat.
He always did that. He always added that little inflection to the word. It irked Aurelius to no end. But, despite his severe dislike for the man, he was a damned good assassin. Worse, he knew it. It made him cocky.
Won't stop me pennin' you in the dead-book, you uppity little cunt, the half-breed chuckled to himself.
Styr had a point though - they had pissed about long enough. It was time to get to work.
Over the past few nights, Aurelius had been sending some of his bloods out - a mix of male and females, whores and bashers - to wander the streets. He had had some modicum of success in that, twice now, one of his girls hadn't come back from their excursions alive. His men had gathered up the bodies before the Law caught wind of anything, though, and the bodies had been disposed of in the usual manner. There were two other girls out on the streets tonight, both as attractive as Breana, and all with the same job - they were bait. Turning to scan the girl, Aurelius clicked his forked tongue loudly against the roof of his mouth.
"Breana, c'mere luv. Time we got this ride goin'," he smiled. It was more predatory than reassuring.
The girl rose to her feet in a swish of soft skirts and sable curls, her every movement fluid and graceful. It was no wonder she was such a high earner back at the brothel; Aurelius had sampled her himself, and could testify to her talents. But for the creature they hunted tonight, he wasn't sure if that would be much of a factor. As she approached, the tiefling pushed back the collar of her fur-trimmed cloak, exposing the girl's slender, dark-skinned neck. His hand flashed up from his side, moving almost faster than her black eyes could follow. She bit back a startled gasp as the cold touch of steel opened a tiny cut on her dusky flesh. She hadn't even had time to see Aurelius draw the wickedly curved dagger from his belt. A tiny trickle of crimson followed, before Aurelius pulled her collar back into place. Without another word, he waved her away and Breana left the alley to wander. The cut wasn't going to be fatal to the girl, but it would certainly get the smell of blood into the air. He could smell it himself, the demonic blood in his veins gifting him keener senses than the average body.
Aurelius hadn't really much experience with vampires (if that was indeed what was out in the city), but he had heard the chant on them often enough to hazard a guess at how one would hunt such a creature. A body could hold a lot of blood, so to drain the victims dry spoke of either insatiable hunger or sheer gluttony. Either would work in the tiefling's favour tonight. He finally turned to the two men.
"Johan," he addressed the taller, broader human, "go find Lelia and keep your eyes peeled. You got the signal?"
Johan, running a hand through his thick black beard, nodded. He patted a stocky length of wood hanging at his belt and with a nod to Aurelius, he too left the alley. Styr, waiting for the tiefling to acknowledge him, produced an item identical to the one Johan carried. They were wands, essentially. Enchanted to give a one-shot blast of light into the sky.
"You waitin' for an invite then?" Aurelianus snapped, stubbing out his cigarette against the wall. "Piss off."
With a self-assured swagger, the slender Salvaran gave a mock salute and drifted off to find his own ward for the evening.
The plan was basic enough, really; each man had their own girl to watch over from a distance, each of the girls bleeding in a similar fashion. Orders had been clear to remain out of sight and try to utilise the multitude of alleyways and back streets to follow their girls. Hopefully the blood and apparent segregation of the youths would take some of the element of chance out of this venture, and draw the vampire in. The signal wands were to be used when one of the men spotted Aurelius' prey.
Piece of piss, the half-demon nodded. His eyes drifted skyward, now that he was alone. Junior was up there too, the animated foetus flapping around and straining every unnatural sense it possessed for their quarry. The grotesque little familiar had whined and screeched at Aurelius all damned day, refusing to be left out of the fun. Eventually, the warlock had indulged his pet. As if on cue, the abomination darted across the gap overhead, fish-belly white against the murky sky. At least if something went wrong, the guttersnipe knew his familiar was up there keeping an eye open. Figuratively, at any rate he grinned, picturing the sutured eye sockets.
All preparations made, there was nothing left for Drak'shal to do but head off after Breana. Running his hands through his crest of quills, wiping the sweat from his horned brow, the tiefling's hobnailed boots churned the slush lining the narrow lanes.
He had a feeling tonight was going to be his lucky night.
He turned the letter over in his hands again, serpentine eyes scanning the tight, flowing script.
Breathing a stream of smoke into the muggy night air, Aurelius smirked to himself. Even under such overcast skies, his inhuman sight had no difficulty making out every word written there. Finishing the letter for the hundredth time, the tiefling tucked it away in a pouch at his belt and turned his attention outward. He stood in a quiet back alley of Knife's Edge, with three others, none of them saying a word. But it was writ across every face - they were tense. Two humans leaned against the rough stone walls flanking the small group, trying to appear unconcerned by what they were doing tonight. The third, a slender Aleraran elf was making no attempt to conceal how jittery she was. Breana was her name, and she was pretty.
Can't say I blame 'er for shittin' bricks, he thought, taking the cigarette from his mouth.
They all lurked in the shadowy confines of the alley, located behind a butcher shop and a small tannery. The two buildings shared the lane which eventually opened out into a small run-off canal. The smell was unpleasant at best, and even at night flies hovered over the waste-polluted water. Aurelianus tried not to dwell on the unpleasant memories of Ettermire that the reek of tanned leather dredged up, instead turning his thoughts back to the fun and games ahead.
The missive was from one of the half-breed's many informants in the city, delivered the previous week for Aurelianus' eyes only. As the Master of The Word, it was his job to collect rumours - 'scanning the chant', in his own outlandish vernacular - and cherry-pick the choicest morsels for the attention of the Crimson Hand. Most days, the work consisted of basic things; blackmail material; what the local law-dogs were up to, and the requisite bribes to keep that kind of information flowing; who wanted whom dead, and for how much... The usual intrigues that kept a city such as this running. It was a job Aurelius relished, precisely for special occasions such as this.
Something was loose in Salvar's capital.
Of course, for a creature with his.. proclivities, this kind of chant always found its way to the tiefling. His bloods all knew the kind of thing that got their master's mouth watering. So as soon as the second and third bodies had been found drained of blood, as soon as the Sway Church operatives in the city had first uttered the word 'vampire', the little darlings had been at his side with whispers in his tapered ears.
Aurelius brought his hand back to his mouth and sucked another lungful of bitter smoke from the cigarette, trying to ignore the occasional errant trickle of sweat underneath his leather armour. The weather was close, stuffy. A thunderstorm was about due to clear the air. He had been dismayed to find that, even here in Knife's Edge, the Summer weather got uncomfortably warm - it never fully got rid of the snow, but it did leave the streets slushy and muddy underfoot. Tonight he had found it too much, so had opted not to wear his trademark coat. Instead, he stood in only his bladed leather armour, horns and quills bare, every sharp edge and point gleaming maliciously.
"How much longer will this take?"
The voice cut through Drak'shal's thoughts, stirring him from his musings with a low growl of irritation. The speaker was Styr. Of course it's pikin' Styr, the half-demon thought, glancing at one of the two men standing with him. Pale of skin and fair of hair, the Salvaran had all the airs and graces one would expect of a high-born. Always quick to look down on others, the arrogant human often forgot he worked for Aurelius and not the other way around.
"You got somewhere better to be, cutter?" Aurelius asked softly, twin coils of smoke curling from his nostrils.
"I could think of half a hundred places that fit that description, boss," the young man replied without missing a beat.
He always did that. He always added that little inflection to the word. It irked Aurelius to no end. But, despite his severe dislike for the man, he was a damned good assassin. Worse, he knew it. It made him cocky.
Won't stop me pennin' you in the dead-book, you uppity little cunt, the half-breed chuckled to himself.
Styr had a point though - they had pissed about long enough. It was time to get to work.
Over the past few nights, Aurelius had been sending some of his bloods out - a mix of male and females, whores and bashers - to wander the streets. He had had some modicum of success in that, twice now, one of his girls hadn't come back from their excursions alive. His men had gathered up the bodies before the Law caught wind of anything, though, and the bodies had been disposed of in the usual manner. There were two other girls out on the streets tonight, both as attractive as Breana, and all with the same job - they were bait. Turning to scan the girl, Aurelius clicked his forked tongue loudly against the roof of his mouth.
"Breana, c'mere luv. Time we got this ride goin'," he smiled. It was more predatory than reassuring.
The girl rose to her feet in a swish of soft skirts and sable curls, her every movement fluid and graceful. It was no wonder she was such a high earner back at the brothel; Aurelius had sampled her himself, and could testify to her talents. But for the creature they hunted tonight, he wasn't sure if that would be much of a factor. As she approached, the tiefling pushed back the collar of her fur-trimmed cloak, exposing the girl's slender, dark-skinned neck. His hand flashed up from his side, moving almost faster than her black eyes could follow. She bit back a startled gasp as the cold touch of steel opened a tiny cut on her dusky flesh. She hadn't even had time to see Aurelius draw the wickedly curved dagger from his belt. A tiny trickle of crimson followed, before Aurelius pulled her collar back into place. Without another word, he waved her away and Breana left the alley to wander. The cut wasn't going to be fatal to the girl, but it would certainly get the smell of blood into the air. He could smell it himself, the demonic blood in his veins gifting him keener senses than the average body.
Aurelius hadn't really much experience with vampires (if that was indeed what was out in the city), but he had heard the chant on them often enough to hazard a guess at how one would hunt such a creature. A body could hold a lot of blood, so to drain the victims dry spoke of either insatiable hunger or sheer gluttony. Either would work in the tiefling's favour tonight. He finally turned to the two men.
"Johan," he addressed the taller, broader human, "go find Lelia and keep your eyes peeled. You got the signal?"
Johan, running a hand through his thick black beard, nodded. He patted a stocky length of wood hanging at his belt and with a nod to Aurelius, he too left the alley. Styr, waiting for the tiefling to acknowledge him, produced an item identical to the one Johan carried. They were wands, essentially. Enchanted to give a one-shot blast of light into the sky.
"You waitin' for an invite then?" Aurelianus snapped, stubbing out his cigarette against the wall. "Piss off."
With a self-assured swagger, the slender Salvaran gave a mock salute and drifted off to find his own ward for the evening.
The plan was basic enough, really; each man had their own girl to watch over from a distance, each of the girls bleeding in a similar fashion. Orders had been clear to remain out of sight and try to utilise the multitude of alleyways and back streets to follow their girls. Hopefully the blood and apparent segregation of the youths would take some of the element of chance out of this venture, and draw the vampire in. The signal wands were to be used when one of the men spotted Aurelius' prey.
Piece of piss, the half-demon nodded. His eyes drifted skyward, now that he was alone. Junior was up there too, the animated foetus flapping around and straining every unnatural sense it possessed for their quarry. The grotesque little familiar had whined and screeched at Aurelius all damned day, refusing to be left out of the fun. Eventually, the warlock had indulged his pet. As if on cue, the abomination darted across the gap overhead, fish-belly white against the murky sky. At least if something went wrong, the guttersnipe knew his familiar was up there keeping an eye open. Figuratively, at any rate he grinned, picturing the sutured eye sockets.
All preparations made, there was nothing left for Drak'shal to do but head off after Breana. Running his hands through his crest of quills, wiping the sweat from his horned brow, the tiefling's hobnailed boots churned the slush lining the narrow lanes.
He had a feeling tonight was going to be his lucky night.