Tera
10-06-06, 10:48 PM
(SOLO, From syndicate mission, whiskey, and hold the olive)
~Two nights ago...
Blue twilight slowly crept to black on the horizon as her body stirred under white linen sheets. Her eyes opened to the form of a lifeless man, his head turned away from her as his shell lay next to her in the bed. She thought for a moment about getting rid of his body, but changed her mind when she remembered that it was he who brought her to this room the night before.
She rose and found her clothes for she knew that there was business to be completed this evening. A letter from one of her old contacts told that there was work to be had at the tavern next door. Her kind of work.
She reached for the doorknob, but hesitated a moment before turning around and looking at the corpse. Better safe then sorry she thought as she retrieved a dagger from his belt and plunged is several times into his chest. No need to alert the locals to a vampire if we can help it. And to ensure it she took the blade across the bite marks she had left on his neck, flaying the flesh open.
She left the hotel and stepped down the street towards the Barrel of Monkeys. A rather less than reputable place that made her question the authenticity of her contacts information. She squinted her eyes in disgust as she entered the doorway; there was no way that this could be a front for such a high standing criminal organization.
Either way she stepped up to the bar in time to learn how they shined glasses around her.
“I would like a Whiskey, and hold the olive.”
“Finally something a bit easier on the eye.” Otacon thought with a barely visible smirk as the redhead approached the bar and asked another of the drinks that were on the ‘special menu’. The spindly barkeep measured up the lithe lass with a quick surveying look, his one operational eye seeing more in less then a second then most men saw in minutes. And there was something peculiar about the girl. He couldn’t quite put a finger to it, but his gut was telling him that she wasn’t just another piece of homeless scum in search for some quick cash. Then again, he was a rather aged man; it could’ve been that he just had gastric issues and was wrong about the girl. Either way, she asked for a drink – albeit a rather bitter one – and he was not about to turn the redhead down on account of his gut feeling.
“A whiskey without an olive, eh? For a while there I thought nobody would’ve wanted such a... khm, high profile drink, shall we say?” Otacon said with a sly smirk, finishing shining the mug and placing it behind the bar, in the long line of look-alikes. “Alright, the job is simple. Gisela’s annual fair is a grand celebration of the harvest... or so the yahoos down in Yarborough barony think anyways. The mark will be holding a speech on the opening of this fair. No doubt the pompous prick would be followed by fanfare and all the simple glamour that practically paints a target on his forehead, so he would be really hard to miss, especially once he gets up on the stand and the crowd offer him their ears.”
Otacon shuffled closer to the girl, leaning on his elbow on the bar in front of him and eyeing the nearby customers. Once he was satisfied with the looks on their faces, he continued. “It is then that you must strike him down, when all the eyes are on him and he feel like he has the world in his hand. Whether you do this from afar with a bow or you like to get up close and personal, we don’t really care as long as he goes down during his speech. I would suggest either taking an elevated spot on the roof of some of the buildings or disguising yourself as one of his guards. I would also suggest that you don’t do this alone. Taking him down will be difficult, but escaping afterwards would be even more so.”
“Our representative – called The Reaper – will meet you in Gisela and provide the tools for this task if you need any. A word of warning though; we received a rumor that our target would be escorted by one of the members of the Scarlet Brigade. If that is the case, I would advise to you to hit from the distance and run like the wind unless you have a death wish.” Otacon finished. The rumor was unconfirmed at this point, but if it was true, then the girl was in for a rough ride indeed. The Scarlet Brigade was the group of the most elite warriors of Althanas, sworn to guard the highly ranked officials. Ruthless machines they were, seeing and hearing and knowing seemingly everything, practically invincible. Otacon knew that it was probably not the truth, but in all his life – and it was a lengthy and adventurous life indeed – he never heard that somebody attacked the member of the Scarlet Brigade and lived to tell the tale.
~Tonight…
A sigh escaped her as she followed the crude scribbles that were somehow supposed to be a map to her contact in Gisela, The Reaper. The back streets of the city were less than she had hoped, buildings crumbled, unwashed people hid from her in crude huts and hovels of sticks and refuse. The stench of feces and rot made her upper lip quiver into a sneer of loathing for these people.
She tried to focus on things other than turning and massacring every degenerate that lay within that ally. She gazed at the reflection of the moonlight as it glistened off the moistened cobble stones and occasional puddle. She walked another four blocks before checking her map.
“The door with a burning skull,” she muttered under her breath as she looked around, having to take a double take on a crudely scrawled, almost cartoonish skull with what was a bad attempt at flames around it cut into what at first looked like an old door, but was really rather new and reinforced with iron studs.
She nodded a little in approval as she walked up to it and reached to knock. She stepped back out of shock when it opened just before her hand touched.
“Well don’t stand out there like that, get in here girl” said a crackling dry voice beyond the dark portal.
~Two nights ago...
Blue twilight slowly crept to black on the horizon as her body stirred under white linen sheets. Her eyes opened to the form of a lifeless man, his head turned away from her as his shell lay next to her in the bed. She thought for a moment about getting rid of his body, but changed her mind when she remembered that it was he who brought her to this room the night before.
She rose and found her clothes for she knew that there was business to be completed this evening. A letter from one of her old contacts told that there was work to be had at the tavern next door. Her kind of work.
She reached for the doorknob, but hesitated a moment before turning around and looking at the corpse. Better safe then sorry she thought as she retrieved a dagger from his belt and plunged is several times into his chest. No need to alert the locals to a vampire if we can help it. And to ensure it she took the blade across the bite marks she had left on his neck, flaying the flesh open.
She left the hotel and stepped down the street towards the Barrel of Monkeys. A rather less than reputable place that made her question the authenticity of her contacts information. She squinted her eyes in disgust as she entered the doorway; there was no way that this could be a front for such a high standing criminal organization.
Either way she stepped up to the bar in time to learn how they shined glasses around her.
“I would like a Whiskey, and hold the olive.”
“Finally something a bit easier on the eye.” Otacon thought with a barely visible smirk as the redhead approached the bar and asked another of the drinks that were on the ‘special menu’. The spindly barkeep measured up the lithe lass with a quick surveying look, his one operational eye seeing more in less then a second then most men saw in minutes. And there was something peculiar about the girl. He couldn’t quite put a finger to it, but his gut was telling him that she wasn’t just another piece of homeless scum in search for some quick cash. Then again, he was a rather aged man; it could’ve been that he just had gastric issues and was wrong about the girl. Either way, she asked for a drink – albeit a rather bitter one – and he was not about to turn the redhead down on account of his gut feeling.
“A whiskey without an olive, eh? For a while there I thought nobody would’ve wanted such a... khm, high profile drink, shall we say?” Otacon said with a sly smirk, finishing shining the mug and placing it behind the bar, in the long line of look-alikes. “Alright, the job is simple. Gisela’s annual fair is a grand celebration of the harvest... or so the yahoos down in Yarborough barony think anyways. The mark will be holding a speech on the opening of this fair. No doubt the pompous prick would be followed by fanfare and all the simple glamour that practically paints a target on his forehead, so he would be really hard to miss, especially once he gets up on the stand and the crowd offer him their ears.”
Otacon shuffled closer to the girl, leaning on his elbow on the bar in front of him and eyeing the nearby customers. Once he was satisfied with the looks on their faces, he continued. “It is then that you must strike him down, when all the eyes are on him and he feel like he has the world in his hand. Whether you do this from afar with a bow or you like to get up close and personal, we don’t really care as long as he goes down during his speech. I would suggest either taking an elevated spot on the roof of some of the buildings or disguising yourself as one of his guards. I would also suggest that you don’t do this alone. Taking him down will be difficult, but escaping afterwards would be even more so.”
“Our representative – called The Reaper – will meet you in Gisela and provide the tools for this task if you need any. A word of warning though; we received a rumor that our target would be escorted by one of the members of the Scarlet Brigade. If that is the case, I would advise to you to hit from the distance and run like the wind unless you have a death wish.” Otacon finished. The rumor was unconfirmed at this point, but if it was true, then the girl was in for a rough ride indeed. The Scarlet Brigade was the group of the most elite warriors of Althanas, sworn to guard the highly ranked officials. Ruthless machines they were, seeing and hearing and knowing seemingly everything, practically invincible. Otacon knew that it was probably not the truth, but in all his life – and it was a lengthy and adventurous life indeed – he never heard that somebody attacked the member of the Scarlet Brigade and lived to tell the tale.
~Tonight…
A sigh escaped her as she followed the crude scribbles that were somehow supposed to be a map to her contact in Gisela, The Reaper. The back streets of the city were less than she had hoped, buildings crumbled, unwashed people hid from her in crude huts and hovels of sticks and refuse. The stench of feces and rot made her upper lip quiver into a sneer of loathing for these people.
She tried to focus on things other than turning and massacring every degenerate that lay within that ally. She gazed at the reflection of the moonlight as it glistened off the moistened cobble stones and occasional puddle. She walked another four blocks before checking her map.
“The door with a burning skull,” she muttered under her breath as she looked around, having to take a double take on a crudely scrawled, almost cartoonish skull with what was a bad attempt at flames around it cut into what at first looked like an old door, but was really rather new and reinforced with iron studs.
She nodded a little in approval as she walked up to it and reached to knock. She stepped back out of shock when it opened just before her hand touched.
“Well don’t stand out there like that, get in here girl” said a crackling dry voice beyond the dark portal.