An Old Award Winner

[Lye]

Pondering Assassin

Having just accomplished his training in the undead fields of Scara Brae, Lye had found himself in Corone. Here, his life would take a trip into his past. Here, Lye would discover a hidden truth meant only to bring motives to life. Here, he would find new information to prove worthy on his hunts. Here, he would take the first step into eternal victories ahead.

Currently, Lye had found himself within the outskirts of Corone. He was just planning to take a rest at a calm and simple spring. Water flowed musically down a winding stream, its waters intertwined with the roots of trees and smooth surfaces of stone. The gurgling of the water was a harmonious sound, similar to that of a man choking on his own blood. Normally such a vile sound, it was perfect for the assassin.

The dying waters that summoned up the path of the stream came from the minor cliff above. Like a miniature falls, a small pool formed at the start of the life stream. A lagoon- the beginning of the path ahead. A beginning for the stream to originate; a beginning of a journey and end of things past. Though, by the sky's rain, by the mountain's snow, and by the Valley's fog, these fragments of crystal liquid will once again meet up in this lagoon once more. A rebirth, a renewal, a beginning to an end, and an end to spark a new beginning.

Hugging the stream, stood various forest trees, each needing the clear waters for themselves. Each leaf of every tree stood as a sign. Glazed over with the mist of the "dying" stream, they signified the human race. Its energy sapped from the very sky, as opposed to man's theft of the soil. In autumn, the leaves would grow old and take up their separate flags, as man would rival against one another and take up the colors of battle. Each leaf felled was a human's death. Each flower born was a human's birth. It was the cycle of life, a cycle that Lye was meant to disrupt. A cycle that he was meant to cut short.

* * * * *

It had been a long time since he had felt the taste of battle fresh, though, his mind still lingered heavily on the fool that had evaded his final blow atop the Onyx tower. The thief, the inexcusable wretch that stole his glory. The man that ripped the victory from his blood-soaked hands and cast it into the pit of hell. It was inexcusable. It was impossible. Was his plan faulty? No. Was he not trained enough? No, it wasn't that either. It was that man, that...Thief "Extraordinaire". It was his very living flesh that had torn out Lye's dead heart and stomped it into the mud of the earth. No, he simply didn't just stomp on it... he spat upon it and laughed in his face.

The sight of him, the sound of his voice, his despicable rules and worthless hopes, all of it made Lye's blood curdle with hate as he stared into the waters of the river. The light of the moon and stars taunted his very being by winking at him through the dying waters. He stared at the fluid; he wished that the thief body was lying there, split from the gut up. The raw flesh exposed to the night air. The heart, pumping its last few ounces before writhing and twisting the thief’s body in the cold breeze. Lye wished for his blood to taint the clean waters of the stream and poison the green trees hovering over his back. He wished that he could thrust his hand into the twitching body and rip out random organs just to have the blood pain his clothes.

All Lye could see in his thoughts, was his face. The face that stared at him while it held that dying stench, yet the same face that sapped the glory from the assassin's very soul. His bones screamed boldly within his body. The screaming echoed within his churning mind and drove his frame mad. His blood boiled with anger and his eyes fixed upon the water from his crouching position, hoping that it would boil in front of him. Hate poured from every gland on his mortal body and it seemed to smite the life of the grass below. Slowly, ever so slowly, did it die and shrivel into ashes. Slowly did it offer its soul the pure black of his heart. It had all become just too much.

The whisper of fresh titanium sang into the air. The blades sat steady in his violently convulsing hands. His body stood with his shoulder slouched as if he were rising from a grave. In a bust of fury, an inhuman roar exploded from his lips and the flash of two moonlit blades cursed the bark of a nearby tree with misfortune. The tree felt utter pain as it lost its vital blood from its wounds; the sap just drooling along side its effortlessly opened wound. Still, this was not enough to ease the soul of a corrupted, death bringing killer.

"I can't believe that son of a b*itch had the f*cking guts to steal my glory! By the ends of the earth I swear to impale his head on my very bones and drink of his blood!" the assassin shouted for the sky above and the dead souls below to ever remember in their existence. Not long, did another bellow burst from his mouth. Such a loud roar should be impossible for human lungs, but then again, Lye was manifested in death and was not even human in his soul. From the blackened depths of his soul, impulses poured into his body, bones, muscles, even the surrounding life of the forest. Within his rage of uncontrolled fury, he threw his weight into the bleeding tree. His shoulder met its bark with a twisted melody of breaking wood as well as shattered bone. Again, this crazed killer let an inhuman roar pour from his exposed lips. And, with that roar came the cry of a lost brother of the forest.
With his lungs heaving the bitter air, and his right shoulder hanging loosely from its joint, the crimson man stood over the lost soul of a fallen pine. The bark that had been so easily opened by the titanium of his weapons was utterly destroyed by the raw tackle of rage. The moist air pinned the soil to the ground, refusing to let the weak morsels of dust to fly away into the air. Eventually, this man had to calm. Eventually, this man was going to have to stop, for he was intent upon leveling the whole forest and bathing within the beautiful blood of the thousands of woodland creatures.

Though, the calm did hit his body with shattering force. Nature had taught him a lesson as he sat staring at his dead, loose shoulder. His slag grip let the titanium blade sink into the moist dirt of the soil. With eyes, now painted with shock of his own broken arm, staring at the dead limb, the assassin had finally met his calm.

"Im-Impossible... I cannot break.... I will not let my bones fail me! Take heed damn it! Take heed and mend yourselves back together!" he shouted to the limb. His bones were not of any living man... they listened, they felt, they grew and took form. For the first time in years, the pain of an injury painted his emotions and forced his eyes shut. With clenched teeth, he let the bones writhe within his flesh and tear about his body freely. They met one another like lost family and bonded like close brothers. Together, they formed solid bone. Together, they pieced back. Together, they listened to the command of the murderer.

His fingers gave a slight twitch; they had regained contact with his long lost body. Slowly, as his hand grasped open and shut, his eyes fixed to the renewed limb. Finally, his mind reached a clam and his eyes met the fallen blade, hiding from the assassin’s cold stare.

"As promised, I have a man to... pick a bone with..." he ironically stated as he retrieved and cradled the neglected blade. As a father would do for his sons, he slid them into their leather cradles and let a faint smile etch upon his lips.

His smile was short lived as the image of the thief was painted into his mind once more. Now, his face had been mutilated to hold the lust of a vile revenge. It had twisted into the face of a permanent killer. His fists clenched tight with aggression and his veins burst with the very same hatred that led to the massacre of innocent flesh and blood. Though, this time, his soul, his body, his very being, preferred the taste of only one man's flesh. They preferred to feast upon the brutal sight of a mutilated corpse that would be labeled as, Seth Dahlios, Thief Extraordinaire, Betrayer of death, and the man that tore Lye’s glory from his body. They called to feast upon his slow death, and soon... The hunt would begin.

Though, it was still not apparent, where he would find this revolting man. His emerald eyes met the eerie moon in hopes of getting a reply. They gazed into the very meaning of the glowing ball in the sky and demanded answer for his question. The veins of his body were ever filled with hatred, yet they died down as his hands unclasped. It seemed he was mesmerized by its being. The moon; existing in darkness, illuminating through like the disgusting man that shone through at the end of that fateful day. That bastard was able to pass through Lye’s thick, black evil and break through with a defiant grin. Not again; No, definitely not again. His blood, the cocky bastard’s blood, would indefinitely be more than enough to pay Lye’s hate.

Whilst he stared at the moon, the moon only glanced back with that same defiance. New and fresh, blazing with glory among the thick black of the night sky. It was despicable. Though, it seemed the moon was not all worthless. Whether it caved to the stare of this blood thirsty killer, tried to mock his being, or simply had no accord in the event, Lye picked up on the chanting voices of other men. Other future victims of his hand, probably draw to him by the show he put up no more then seconds ago. A smirk crept into his features and his thoughts died from that one man. If he was to ensure himself with the love of death, then he would use these innocents to paint the floor, sky, and the depths of hell itself. With their blood, he would begin a journey to feed his undying hate.

“Perfect”, the only word that could brave the air after such supple information had been brought to his thoughts. It was time to bite into the soft flesh of the living and feast upon the souls of their terror soaked screams.
Like a wolf, prowling about for a midnight snack, Lye weaved through the trees. His gloved hands reached down to the dull-black, delyn needles in his pocket. This pocket, meant only to store these half inch thick needles, was always filled with about five. He had intended on purchasing another five to add to his collection, though it seemed that prices were not of his favor. Still, the silver-haired assassin took up these five inch long needles and let them fan out in his right hand. Being the unwritten law of the assassin, Lye lift his left hand and tugged the loose fabric of crimson over his face. As his body continued to weave its way to the unknowing prey, his mind ran full with the thought of replacing his anger with pleasure.

The voices were close. By past experience, he judged them to be no farther than twenty feet. From as far as he could tell, he picked up the sound of two males. Also, as Lye predicted, talking about the roars from the depth of the shadow soaked forest. His body did what was needed on its own. Already his footsteps became silent as they patted against the moist dirt. His eyes shot through the thick cover of the forest to pick out the two shadows. A grin stretched upon his masked face as his body crouched low. Already, scenarios began to run within his mind.

He could burst forward and cram the needles into their skulls, but that just seemed too easy. He could lure them into the depths of the shadows, but that was too much to go through just to have fun. He could tag along behind them and slide the needles into the back of their heads, but that would be too risky. His mind suddenly came upon the conclusion of how he would use the black needles, though, the forest seemed to have other thoughts on what he should do. Unknown to Lye, he had put his weight on a cry twig and the twig had cried a warning to these two men. Under his breath, Lye cursed at nature’s intervention as the two figures seemed to stop.

“Hey! Is there anyone th’r?” the first man beckoned, his voice bold and similar to your common dwarf.

“Sam, it’s probably some wolf. If we just move on it’ll let us be.” The second voice replied.

Lye silently turned his back against the trunk of a tree. He swiftly shifted his weight out of sight and let his head poke from the shadows. His silver hair would undoubtedly be suspicious if it was seen, and he hoped that these two figures would not have noticed anything suspicious.

“A wolf?! How many wolves do you know roar like demons, eh?!” The bold one snapped back with the sound of a blunt hit.

“Augh! Alright you stupid oaf! There not be any reason to hit me. I’ll check it out...” the smaller one replied.

Lye cursed heavily as his hands tensed onto his needles. He sifted only two from the five and placed the remainders where they rightfully belonged. Again, his head peeked around the trunk to notice a leather boot poke through the under brush. ”They must be lightly armored,” Lye thought to himself. Regardless, Lye shifted his weight directly in front of the man. By the shadows of the night, Lye couldn’t distinguish his features, but the man was no more than a boy of sixteen. For a moment the assassin’s cold emerald eyes met the eyes of the stunned boy. The boy finally was recalled to earth as his lips opened for speech, but only the gurgle of blood emanated from him. Lye had a smirk on his face, hidden from the boy as his right hand lay extended.

Without ever knowing what had happened, the boy found that a needle had been tossed into his throat. His young, supple hands grasped at the black protrusion as fear etched on his face. His steps led him backwards a few before the boy fell to his knees. His young brown eyes began to dilate, right before rolling into the back of his head and falling backwards. His blood soaked hands fell from his neck as the lifeless face stared up at the burly comrade; the body still twitching with those last vain attempts for the heart to pump life into the condemned corpse.

“James... James! What the hell is—” but his deep voice was cut short by the wisp of black metal. Lye was hoping to hit this man in the throat as he did for the worthless boy, but it simply struck the man in the shoulder. Unfortunately his bad aim had given off his position and the oaf charged at him with a raised fist and intimidating war cry. Lye again played a grin on his hidden lips as he relocated his body slightly to the left. In the process, his previously soiled blade hit the brisk night air once again. And, as the man roared past, it sunk itself easily into his back. Lye let his body follow as his free arm locked the neck of this individual and brought him crashing down into root of a tree. Lye could still feel the pulse of the man, for the blow to the back and face had not killed him just yet. Lye took this moment and the circumstances for some... interrogation.

“You,” the calm voice of the killer began, “Where do you come from and why are you out here at night?”

Lye pulled the neck of the man skyward, leaving it exposed to night air to speak, while also limiting his breathing.

“I should ask you the same –” the man began to gurgle, interrupted by the twisting of the titanium blade within the soft flesh of his back. The man winced and let forward a raspy cry as Lye again spoke in his ear.

“Tell me again, where you hail. I am very impatient and I have no problem severing your spinal cord back here...” the assassin stated with the calm tone of enjoyment.

“Uugh! Fine! ...I hail from a team of bandits... They halt down the road a few miles...” he began to choke as the victim quirked a smirk on his face. “And when they find our bodies they’ll—”

Lye had his information and no longer needed to hear the man’s tongue. He simply did as he told before and let the titanium blade slide through the victim’s spinal cord like butter. With a few short spasms and chokes, the body simply lost all resistance in Lye’s nimble hands. Seeing that his prey hadn’t delivered him the satisfaction of being alive any more, he let the lifeless form flop into the mud. His blade slid out with a wet slurp, and was presented to the blood thirsty assassin’s nose. His emerald eyes rolled back into his head as he stood and inhaled the beautiful metallic scent of fresh blood. Returning from the land of the psychotic, Lye sheathed his weapon and cast a disgusted face upon the large corpse.

“I asked only for your answer, not some bull sh*t about revenge...” Lye stated as his tainted hands pulled the crimson cloth from his lips. This was the code of the assassin. This was why they hid their faces from sight. First, for the sake of being unidentifiable, and secondly, for the moments in which you reveal your face to the deceased that were unable to see the face of their killer. For that feeling in which you may taunt the dead and condemn them with your face to the pits of eternal torture. But, such ceremonies were cut short. Lye still lusted for more of this bandit blood and twitching corpses. He lusted to find this band of outlaws and slay them one by worthless one.
Just as any common townsfolk would, Lye made his was down the street. His black leather boots graced the moist, bight soil as his body prowled forth to seek out these bandits. Though, once again, it seemed that these voices found Lye first. Trying to hold the essence of surprise, his body shot into the forest underbrush. Lye was a tiger, crouching and peering through for signs of a meal, for signs of possible victims to ease his rage tonight. Instead, there was no one. Lye had been merely paranoid as the voices came further up the way.

Lye let his body sneak through the brush, making no more noise than a field rat. His emerald eyes glinted with the hope of innocent bystanders as his ears fixed upon the voices as a beacon. “The fools won’t know what hit them.” Lye whispered under his breath, the sound of it eaten by the crimson cloth hugging his mouth. He was hoping to hit them hard, taking out at least two of the six he thought he heard. Again he picked out the group to be mostly male, but that was changed soon. Out of the jumbled voices came a softer one, with Lye fixed on what she said.

“That bastard already took one of our men!” the melodious voice began, “Yet, even with two daggers! How is that possible?!”

“So, he’s a bit more skilled then we thought; so what?” a deeper, male voice replied. “I mean, what can one man do against us seven, with just black and white daggers?”

Lye’s eyes shot wide as his ears picked up the information spoken, “Black and white?!” his mind echoed. His rage began to flare up within his, for this was the same man that had stolen his glory... a thief of both a black and white dagger. Those two dagger’s that sunk into Lye’s skin just before the man jumped off the side of the tower and mocked him with the final words of some pathetic rule. In his mind, Lye repeated the gist of this rule “A man who fights with emotions stops short in life, a man without feeling goes far...” Perhaps it was best that Lye listen to this piece of wisdom, perhaps it had some truth in its vile intent to steal his glory.

Snapping out of his conniving thoughts, Lye let his body emerge gracefully from his hiding place. What was he thinking?! Had he lost his mind?! Or had he simply become a genius? That was all to be found out.

“You!” the girl began, standing from her seat around a campfire “Who the hell are you?!”

The five men also surrounding their campfire encircled Lye like flies around a rotten corpse. Their blades each stared at Lye’s throat as the cunning assassin merely threw his hands up and smirked under his mask.

“I’m merely an assassin,” he began with a cocky voice, “your buddies decided I might be of help while hunting this man.”

“We don’t need your help, kill him!” the girl demanded as she flicked her wrist in his general direction.

Lye’s mouth smirked with utmost glee. His body collapsed to the ground, his hands snapping to his chain. Lashing out his whip caught the leg of the burly man in front of him. The rest merely gazed in shock before lunging forward with their swords. Lye tugged the chain; the man collapsing in front of him, revealing the black haired female in his sights. His body lurched forward as the feel of blades wisped past his body leaving nothing but the tingling sensation of being tickled. The girl’s single ruby eye locked onto Lye, but it was far too late. He stuck out his arm and his body rotated behind her. The titanium chain found rest around her neck as he pulled her up to his body. While breathing hoarsely, she grabbed onto the chain in hopes of relieving the tension, but it was in vain. Lye’s inhuman strength far out matched hers as he moved her body towards her lackeys.

“Move and I’ll kill her!” Lye shouted with the tip pf the pointed chain touching her soft supple neck. The girl’s eye switched to her men as her hand came off the chain and signaled them to drop arms. Her other eye remained patched by black leather and it seems that this girl was not only their leader, but a great fighter in order to earn that position in the bandit anarchy.

“Listen, girl. Two of your men recruited me in town saying you needed help. Seeing as how a single man, such as myself, can kill you where you stand, you might want to take my services...” he whispered devilishly in her ear. Though in custody of a killer, this girl remained relatively calm, and nodded slowly between weak gasps of air. Lye smiled under the mystery of his cloth and loosened the chain before shoving her into the hands of her worried mercenaries.

“Now! Let’s act a bit civilized and talk about this man as a group of allies!” Lye shouted to the men, his devilish smile etching onto his face. His body brought him to the stone the woman was sitting upon and seated himself calmly. His cold emerald eyes shot to the men with a flare as they began to whisper among themselves and take seats. It really didn’t matter to Lye whether or not they helped him. He’d merely kill them in the end anyway. Once he had his information, that is. The female leader just gazed into his eyes with that single spark of ruby fire, her hand nursing her neck back into comfort. Lye could tell that this was to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship; then he smirked with the devil’s trickery.
It had been a few hours of constant whispering and controversy. No one within this league of morons seemed to trust the assassin, and they were smart in doing so. Though, it was Lye’s intention to lure them into trust so he could more efficiently take their lives without fuss. It seemed the band of outlaws already took up the factor of trust and began to question his truth. First off to attack his loyalty was their “previous” leader, the girl.

“So, if you say you’re here to help, then what were the names of the men that referred you.” The girl questioned, with food spitting from her mouth and waving the roasted field rat in his direction.

“You simply don’t trust me, do you?” Lye began with a simple smirk from his now revealed lips.

“Why should I trust you when you burst forward, and hold me under your weapon?!” she spat before taking another mouthful of the juicy rat.

“As I told you, James and another big guy said you could use the aid of another killer.” Lye returned, shoving a roasted rat back to the young man that offered it to him. Either some of the men were stricken with fear, or simply began to believe he was an ally. Either way, they were weak of mind.

“Really?” she started with a grimace, thinking she found a flaw in his story, “Then where are they?”

Lye let out a cunning sigh as he began to make his way past the question, “Not sure. The big guy mentioned something about a pub and prostitutes. Then he dragged the little one with him...”

“That’s our Braggart, all the way!” another man shouted as he burst into laugher. Some of the other men joined in with the comical relief. Yet, the ruby eyes remained still and kept piercing into the emerald ones that simply stared back. Lye was not going to snap to the questions, he had dealt with interrogations before. Normally he would’ve just slit her throat and took the men under his command, but he wanted to see how far that thief’s rule would take him.

“Fine, you may have fooled my men, but you cannot fool my eyes...” she bitterly warned through the laughter. Lye simply let his gaze stay calm before flashing the evil grin of death and malice between the flicker of the flame. The girl’s eyes shot wide, then blinked a few times to confirm her vision. Yet, Lye was quickly back to his calm appearance. Again her eyes narrowed and gunned him down as Lye let his lips pass words of false assurance.

“Believe what you will, I have nothing to hide...” he stated, again his eyes flashing that glint of malice and hate.

* * * * *

For the rest of the night, the men danced around the flames and rejoiced. They enjoyed the unending supply of drinks from a stolen keg straight through the mid of the night. The time that they celebrated, Lye joined in. His reasons for doing so were far from that of the bandits.

They danced for fun, Lye danced for death. He drank of the booze, in his mind being their blood. He sang of their songs, in his ears; hearing the gurgling of their blood swollen lungs. He watched and waited as they rejoiced, seeing only their spirits twisting in unending agony. The meanwhile, giving him the smile that the gods of death themselves, lived within. Though there was one, still refusing his alliance. May she not trust him for dethroning her, or simply by the way his well kept garbs shone through the torn and battered clothes of the men. Perhaps it was that flash of evil in his eyes; maybe it was the raw aura of darkness around his person. Whichever it may be, that women, that previous leader, refused to look at the assassin with acceptance. She would not, and could not trust that figure of a man. Such emotions were wise of a person in his presence; for all he saw of her was a supple neck ready to be slit and a body ready to suffer the tortures of death...

Finally, the men flopped to the floor as if dead. Unfortunately, it was only of the alcohol of their systems and the exhausting of the foolish celebration. Now, it was emerald upon ruby as they gazed at one another. A contest of who may remain awake. So that once asleep, they could kill the other by the crude way of the criminal. Yet now, conversation disrupted the crisp air of the night...

* * * * *

“Nice night,” Lye began, hoping to coax the woman to sleep with the soothing speech of conversation.

“Shut up, scum! I know you’re not what the others assume! I know that you’ll betray us somehow!” She spat.

“Hush, hush, woman...” Lye started, bringing a gloved finger to his lips, “you mustn’t wake your men; do they not have a man to kill at first light?”

“What do you care?! What has this thief done to you that you must—” she yelled before being knocked to the ground. Lye had darted over the flames and clasped a hand over her mouth while glaring at her with eyes of rage.

“What do I care?” Lye whispered roughly, a sound of hatred tainting his breath, “I have had my glory stolen by this man! This, thief extraordinaire! You don’t understand what it’s like to have glory stolen from you and let it slip past your hands! I do, I know what it’s like to have some bastard steal it from you just as you achieve it!”

Lye pulsated his hand over her mouth every time he ended his phrases, he shoved her head farther and farther into the dirt with each and every sentence. Though, still being as stubborn as she was beautiful, she wriggled her mouth out of his blood stained hands.

“I know what it’s like to have glory stolen...” she choked, “and you stole it!”

Lye’s eyes filled with mystery. He had stolen her glory. He had stolen her rank as leader. He even humiliated her in front of her own men. This all without recognizing it. Though, such was the motives of a killer, and his eyes again filled with the void of malice.

“They’re yours.” Lye stated getting himself off of her. His back turned to her foolishly as he stared to the lot of them. Their smiles filled their faces as they slept on top of another in a big ridiculous pile. Lye only saw a pile of bleeding, maggot filled corpses. His vision of the damned being how he took light of the world. His lust wanting so badly to watch their blood spilt on the soil.

The girl behind him looked to his silver hair as he rose. She was bewildered, why had this man not killed her? Why had he gotten up, and even more so; why did he state “they’re yours”? She slowly got off of the ground and stood upright, brushing herself off. Then it hit her. This was her chance; his guard was down and she could easily sink a blade into his back. She took no further hesitation as her hand called upon a knife sheathed in her boot. The steel made no sound as it caught the shimmer of the moonlight. Her arm arched back, and she was determined to watch him bleed. This may have well been the assassin’s final mishap...
The blade of her knife sang through the air, only to be muffled by a leather grasp. Lye had actually stopped the blade with his hand as the blood began to trickle down his and the girl’s arm. She stared at him in shock and his hand slithered behind her back and tugged her body against his. His deadly emerald eyes shot into hers, as she let the blade loose from her grip and softened to the hold of the crimson killer. Taking it as an advantage, he tore the dagger from her hand and presented the tip of it to the back of her neck. The girl let off a soft whisper of pain as it drew a morsel of blood from her soft skin.

One of her men slit his eyes open in a drunken attempt to respond to the cry. A big dumb smirk was slapped on his face when he saw the assassin and his leader. They seemed to him like two people intertwined under the moonlight as a single couple. Self assured that her yelp was of glee, his head flopped back onto the stomach of his comrade, the comrade mumbling junk about women until stirring into another comfortable pose.

“I don’t want to kill you, miss...” he stated, sniffing her midnight hair. He could smell the stench of fear, feel sweat of her body, and lusted it so.

“Then... Then what d-do you want fr-from me?” she quavered from his chest.

“Simply, your cooperation.” He assured her. Though, he was merely putting on a beautiful act. He wanted to use her to kill Seth, to kill the man that stole his victory. He simply wanted to use her like a tissue, then, toss her away to death. More so, he lusted to see her scream as his blades made ribbons of her skin and fell to the floor. Yet, his actions hinted no such motives. He, again, was trying to follow the bastardly words of the thief, testing if his words were true to battle.

“That’s... all?” she questioned softly, the blade at her neck giving no further pressure. For once, her eyes met his without the feeling of malice. Even though she could still sense the motives of a killer, she some how lusted at him. For a long time, she had never felt a man’s touch upon her waist unless it was sparring and with the intent to kill. In this case, his act of kindness had fooled her senses. Her normally cold heart was sparked by this man of moonlit hair and her body no longer reeked of fear. The smell she had, it was a mystery. The aura she had, it was unknown to Lye. He could feel the pit of his soul begin to hiss at her emotions. His face held bewilderment as his firm grip on her waist loosened.

“What are y—?!” her lips met his. His eyes were blasted with surprise, and his soul blasted backwards. His body followed as he stumbled away from her lustful eyes. With shock he gazed straight into her ruby eye. What was wrong with him?! His mind could not think! It was blank. She gazed back to him, her face quickly shifting back to the cold heart she had before. Her eyes also held a strange look as she wiped her lips and stared at her hand she did so with. Then her eyes glanced up to where Lye was, and saw him sitting on the stone throne he beheld previously. On the opposite side of the flame, his mind mixed itself with thought. Finally, it focused on his motives as he again glanced up to her with those cold emerald eyes.

She had collapsed into sleep. The hours of staring suspiciously at him must’ve drained her body of energy; that was the only conclusion he could make. Now, he sat awake among the sleeping. His mind mixed with his hatred and her actions. What would cause a woman to act under such circumstances as she? Had she gone mad with sleep? Yes, that was it. She had become delirious with sleep, and with this confirmation came the haunting face of the glory seeker. That thief, the one that reaped of his glory, and gave him a rule that had begun to lead to the man’s own demise. Lye had found that using his victims was much more efficient than basically slaying them for joy. He was going to use this man’s very words to bring a blade to his throat. Lye was going to make him bite his words and taste his own bitter blood upon his tongue. Lye nodded with agreement to this idea as his eyes glanced up to the silver moon.

“Not much life left to the moon tonight,” he stated as he glanced down to the fire in front of him. Though, he could not sleep; for his trust in the group and the girl was still faint. Suddenly, he let out a chuckle from deep inside his soul. It was amusing to him... just now, he recalled that most of his victim’s had no names. He’d kill them whether or not they were labeled with a human name, or not. Normally, he’d either eves dropped upon the name, or they simply spoke it in a threat. Lye shook his head as his hand reached into the pouch at his side. The jingle of glass scraping glass echoed from his pocket as he took from it two vials. One, an herbal combination to provide the body with artificial rest. The other, with an herbal combination to stop bleeding and double his healing time.

Before emptying the vials into his mouth, he let his eyes land upon the glistening blood of his hand. Then, to the tainted knife of the girl. Finally, to the girl herself. He grimaced at her when his mind recalled her vain attempts to slay him, but the grimace was killed with strictness. His mind again recalled the...kiss. His body got up, and his bloody hand retrieved her knife. After returning to his seat, he wiped the blood from its metallic surface and stared at his reflection upon it. His face, it was calm. Such a face he could not recall. His rage normally twisted the flesh into an array of anger and hate. Though, by exercising the words of his rival, he found himself calm. He smirked after choking down his formulas, and remained staring at the blade. Emerald eyes met emerald eyes as the laugh of a killer haunted the brisk air. By his new calm figure, he could now be more efficient. So efficient, that he was to be able to slay the girl with her own blade once her use was extinguished. With the thought in mind, he placed the blade in his beltline and glanced into the fire. His mind ran through rage and hate, occasionally twisting upon recent experience. All night he was going to think. All night he was going to watch the fire. All night he was going to plot their deaths, and he laughed.
Through the night, Lye remained staring at that fire. His gaze, occasionally switching to the curled mass of the girl on the earthen floor. Her short black hair lay peacefully on the moist soil, nearly making it seem that the dark earth was also of her hair. Her figure was so elegantly perfect and yet still capable of commanding a group of bandits. The moonlight struck her skin perfectly and gave her a nearly magical essence. In midst of this beauty, Lye had found himself staring. After scrambling his sight around, from trees, to moon, to fire, he finally fixed his sight on the girl’s knife. Somehow, he had taken it from its resting spot and cradled it in his gloved hands.

“What the hell is going on?!” he yelled within the confounds of his mind.

There truly was no answer to that question. Lye had found his concentration broken by her image; he found his thoughts obscured by her kiss. A man, living in arm with death, had never understood the emotions of actual lust. His only thoughts on lust were to kill and strive for the taste and smell of blood. He lusted for fear and he lusted to make others suffer. In this case, he lusted a woman, yet did not understand why he felt so. Shaking his head in a fury, he forced himself upon revenge. He refused to let such pity events take hold of his motives.

His thoughts fixed upon the thief. The Seth Dahlios, as he called himself. Lye focused on the hate; the disgusting smile and words of the man that stole his glory. Lye was to offer his soul to his true lover, death, yet the fool of a man attempted to escape at last notice. Not this time. Lye was hired to assassinate him; he was hired by death to rob his soul, and he would not rest until death cradled him in the next realm. Lye’s eyes fixed upon the fire, the spheres of emerald burning their own spiral of hate. Within each flicker of the flame, Lye found comfort with the visions he saw within the fiery pit. Visions of his blade tearing the man to shreds, visions of him tearing the heart from his corpse, visions of him tearing the soft flesh from the sturdy bone. His revenge was at hand, and no longer did he think of the girl. No longer did she bother him within the depths of the night. Though with every night came day, and with every day came new events to behold.

* * * * *

The flame had died out, remaining behind its corpse of black ash. The pile of brutish men stirred within the realm of morning. The girl of Lye’s torment still kissed the earthen dirt. All of this was soon disrupted by the morning rays.

Groggily, he came to life. Groggily, his eyes approached the searing light. Groggily, he woke from sleep. Somehow, past the herbs he used, he had drifted into the darkness of rest. This rest was disturbed by the soft hand of a woman. Her hand upon his face, he did not know. He did not know who, where, how. All was mystery as his ears attuned to rustling, his eyes attuned to light, his senses attuned to life. A lag in his eyes, the assassin rose from the earth to meet the look of a ruby orb. The girl, the one tormenting his thoughts, had again pestered his mind with a waking face. His senses finally hit their peaks; he was awake.

“Wake up, we have business together,” she whispered into his ear as a lover might do.

“What... God! It’s morning?!” he exclaimed, shooting his body upright. His eyes met hers and she held no sense of sleep in her eyes. Soon after, his astonished eyes met that of working bandits. By judgment, he had slept in.

“Yes, morning. For a smooth assassin, you sleep longer than the dead” she added to his thoughts.

Brushing himself off, he rose to his feet. The girl of crimson eyes glanced into his, that tainted feeling he sensed before, staining her features. He had no time for such petty nonsense and instantly was prepared to continue forth. Yet, she still stared at him, and his emerald pierced ruby. For a moment he stared, trying to understand. A moment soon followed by a shove as he made way past her.

“The thief, what of our plans?” he stated to the still unnamed woman.

Recovering from his aggressive actions, she gazed at him and sputtered response.

“Three men are to make their way in approach,” she explained. Lye was not satisfied with those words. They were missing something; they were missing him. He was not a factor to this morning demise and was not going to accept such circumstances. Yet, she seemed to have bested his motives.

“You, the youngest, and I are to wait on the sides. In turn that anything goes wrong, we are to intervene,” she said.

“What has made of Braggart and James?” one of the men questioned. Lye froze; his hands began to quiver upon the hilts of his blades. Those very words were within boundaries of blowing his cover. If such occurred, their blood would paint the earth below and he would celebrate upon their decaying bodies. His cold emerald eyes shot to the man asking the question. His blade glinted with morning rays, half removed from its leather clothing.

“You said yourself he was a man of women. He’s probably following up on his dame,” Another man replied before Lye’s blade could provide a different answer.

“In that case, we’ll do without. This is only a single man, and cannot take all of us!” The woman cheered to her men as they roared in approval. Lye had only one reply to this nonsense, yet his blade again was engulfed by the leather of its sheath. His head slowly nodded as the girl was caught from the corner of his eye. He was sure the plan she had made was to be her own demise. Surely her men would fail, for he had already gauged their strength in comparison to the thief. Lye had fought him hand to hand and knew the thief’s “experience” within the fields of battle. With his eyes upon her, he grimaced. Once she felt the need to intervene, he would hold her knife out as she advanced and gut her on sight. The boy, the boy would merely be slaughtered if he attempted to attack Lye. There was no emotion for either of them. The only emotion he felt was lust; the lust of death and demise. Once finished with the two, his sights would then end that of the man who stole his glory.
As a group, they made their way through the forest brush. Their footsteps were silent, yet outside the league of silence which belonged to true killers. Their form was sloppy, yet it did not matter. Their deaths would soon make their mistakes naught. Before departure, his face and resumed its hidden nature, always hiding behind the crimson cloth when on the prowl. The girl tagged behind him at his side; the boy took lead as Lye observed his messy form. Within his mind, he heard nothing but to sink the cold metal of his swords into the soft warm skin of that worthless maggot. Yet, there was no time. A soft tap on his shoulder called his attention to female words, “We’re here.”

Lye took his surrounding into account; instantly he spotted the prey. His target sat within the darkness of a cave, behind him, a dead fire and some types of crates. As it seemed, this cave was a merchant’s storage. Within it must be supplies of some sort: steel, food, cloth, it did not matter. Presently, the thief rose from a makeshift bed and began to leave the cave. Lye’s eyes shot to the woman that also observed the situation. His body began to tug though the brush as it was halted by her swift hand.

“Wait, he’ll be back,” she said, pointing to the jumble of fur skin by the flames. What seemed to be a blanket for warmth, soon shuffled, as the head of a young woman emerged from its hold. Lye smirked devilishly. It seemed there may be a change of plans. If this woman, this sorry excuse of a human proved to have emotional relation to his prey, then there would be a new way... a better way to get his revenge upon his victim.

The girl finally emerged upright. She seemed no more than a monk, a woman of holy order. There could be no possibility that such an untouchable body could belong to a thief. Yet upon his return, they embraced and shared a loving kiss. It was set. Whether or not he was in relation to a woman bound from him by her god, he had revealed his weakness to his hunter. Lye fixed his cold emerald gaze on her from the depths of the under brush. He only began to imagine the cold, ear soothing screams she would emit upon torture. He could only imagine her supple flesh being torn apart by the likes of a crimson murderer. Imagination was soon conquered by speech as the two began to share words. He could not hear the full phrases, yet he picked up the valuables from what was said.

He heard her mention The Order, a band of hunters fixed upon the death of demons and creatures. Lye gave a short glance at his hand, more better said, his bones. Being able to manipulate their form, he knew best that he could lure her into a trap by taking the appearance of a demon. From there he could do a bit of “acting” and throw the girl off course. Then, he’d take her as a hostage and provide her torture and torment. Then, once settled with her screams, he would make her bait. He would use their love to tear the thief into insanity and strike him down when vulnerable to emotion. Then, Lye smirked. “A man who fights with emotions stops short in life, a man without feeling goes far...” he ironically relapsed in his mind. Lye knew now, that he was going to make his glory hound choke and suffocate on his own words. Again, his ears caught them speaking of meeting at a place named Keller Hall. Lye smirked once more, for he now had a destination in which to assure her capture. Their simple words of hoping to meet again would simply mean their last meeting. The assassin had listened. The assassin had planned. The assassin was ready...

“Let’s move,” he heard on of the first three to die whisper.

To his right were the three to ambush the thief. Not only did Lye foresee them to be killed by Seth’s hands, but he had confirmed that thought upon seeing his devotion to the monk. Undoubtedly he would slay them faster, easier, in a pitiful attempt to save his “love”. Again, his cold emerald eyes met the sight of the two embrace. Again, Lye's mind touched upon the night before. Again, his arm twitched upon her blade. Again, he recalled his plans to spill her blood upon the soil. He remembered his plans and he made himself devoid of feeling sympathy. This little “act” had gone long enough. It simply had to end. He was sick of her taunting his memories and sick of her touching him and giving him that strange look. Not only was he going to make her scream in pain, but he was going to accompany such melodious sound with the gurgling death of the boy.

“Something wrong?” the haunting girl asked to the assassin.

“No, everything is going to plan, is it not?” the assassin replied, as the three men made their way into daylight.

“Just remember, upon my signal, we’ll intervene if necessary.”

Lye nodded with a hidden smirk upon his face. Unfortunately, everything was going to plan- his plan. The first man was instantly confronted with the thief. The nimble man flashed the dagger he called “ebony” into the air before sinking it into the bandit’s throat. In a sudden shrill, the monk reacted to the scene. Soon followed was the brave remark of the thief.

“Run Liliana! I’ll take these men! Just get out of here—ugh!” the man bravely demanded, soon followed by the sword of another bandit. Again, the girl let go a shrill. Recovering from her love being assaulted, she darted to escape.

“Not so fast, little darlin,” the third of the men proclaimed. His body soon pursued the girl and the thief caught eye of it, parrying the blow last sent his way. Having to remove the dagger from his throat, the leader of the operation fell to the ground at Lye’s feet. His eyes had beautifully rolled into his skull and the crimson fluid poured freely from his open mouth. The look upon his face was pure astonishment, as if he had not expected the thief to kill him so fast. Lye found joy in this man’s death, and Ruby (as he named the girl of his torment) saw this. As the thief soon executed another bandit, the one holding the monk, Ruby gave him an uneasy glance before speaking.

“It’s time we inter—” she was stopped short by his hand. His face menacingly gazed into her shocked eyes. The boy to his left drew arms and was silenced by a black needle to the throat. With one arm clasping the mouth of the girl and the other extended from the throw of the needle, Lye sat atop the annoying woman as he did the night before. The boy behind him gurgled as planned and fell into the soil with a self assuring thud. Lye smirked under his mask of cloth and let his hand slip down to the girl’s throat as she let escape a scream. Such beautiful tone, such beautiful sounds... now, she had achieved true beauty in his eyes. With a snap from both arms, he took hold of her hands and forced them into the dirt. In the background, another clang of metal was sounded before the succulent sound of a body dropped. The thief had killed the third man, just as planned. Footsteps grew faint as the two true targets began to flee in opposite paths, while Lye shot that cold emerald gaze onto his living toy. It was time to play...
“What are you doing?!” she cried from her pinned position.

“What does it look like?” Lye shot back with a demonic chuckle.

“I thought you were going to—”

“Lies, they were simply lies. You fell for it- all of it. Just an assassin’s acting. You betrayed yourself with a kiss,” he called between her words, a single crystal tear forming in her eyes. Whether it was fear was unapparent. It was sadness. She cried as he used his leg to keep her arm pinned while retrieving her own knife from his belt line. She may have cried for other reasons, but tears were not going to help her; she was going to die.

She wept and sobbed, for hours it seemed, yet only seconds. She sobbed at the sight of her blade gazing at her throat by the hand of a single killer. She did all she could to struggle but his weight was far too much for her to compare. Her sadness and fear had brought her weakness, or was it that she was initially weak? Regardless, he gave her the lifeless stare of death and gave her an emotionless touch of pain to follow. The blade rose. The blade descended.

“But I love you!” she cried turning her head in acceptance of death.

The blade stopped...

He stopped himself naught but hairs away. His eyes filled with a wild fire of hate. His body rejected his thoughts as they echoed those very words through the depths of his black soul. His body hated his sudden change of heart. His body hated the girl that opened her tear filled eyes as they gazed into the face of a killer that looked to the sky.

“How do you know that is true..?” he spoke “How do you find yourself in...love... with a killer?”

She stared at him, her mind as blank as his. She did not know why he stopped if he was to kill her. She did not know what he was speaking. She had no words to answer. She could only remember his touch on that night and how a single man not only took her into custody three times, but in the meanwhile, had the touch of a lover upon her waist. She had no words yet only sobbed.

Lye’s head broke sight of the sky and gained sight of her tear-painted face. He did not understand. Why didn’t he kill her? Love, what is it? Where did it come from and what was its purpose? A memory painted his thoughts. His mother and father. Once, Lye was a child, once, he had a mother and a father. Once, he felt loved by two people and felt the emotion called happiness. Such memories long lost; brought back by the three simple words “I love you”. He knew his reason for stopping now. He knew why he had not taken her life, because once, Lye had his love for his parents stolen by a beast of the wild. It killed them while he slept and stole the bond of love between parent and son. Though he killed the beast, he was overwhelmed with pain. His only comfort for the pain, was to inflict it upon others. This was his way of life. This was how he pleased himself, and this was how life existed in the cold emerald eyes of the assassin.

“Then love...” he stated, his face again to the sky, “Love and do not falter. I pain you no more...”

His words lead to actions as he lifted his body off hers. She was still of no words and still could not see his eyes. She shuffled away from his figure and scrambled to her feet before pressing her back into a tree. Fear had taken over her, yet sadness and glee were mixed within the chaotic swirl.

“Why? Why did you stop?” she choked, a quiver in her voice.

“I... cannot tell you,” he replied.

“Tell me! Why did you not finish me there?! Was it not what you were meant to do?!” she shrieked at him, her emotions blended within her disbelief and sorrow.

“I simply... You simply stopped me,” he said turning to her. His cold emerald eyes were painted with glass. A single tear fell from his eye and nested within the fabric hugging his face. His pain was monumental; his eyes burned with a fire that no hate could spark. The pain was the first he acknowledged past the wounds of battle. Such memories were not meant to be awakened, and such memories were not meant to be taken into the form of a ruby-eyed woman.

“Now go!” he choked, motioning at her with the knife in his hand, “Love as you will freely! I care not who you choose to love, just go!”

She stared at his tears with awe. She did not expect a man as him to cry, yet he did. Perhaps there was reason she found emotion to his touch, perhaps there was reason to her foolish emotions, perhaps, she did love this man. All did not have meaning, yet only escape manifested in her mind. The sight of her knife brought fear to her eyes as she gave foot in the dirt and disappeared from sight.

Lye watched her leave, and the pit of darkness, known as his soul, rejoiced. Past the touching memories, the evil of his being still clasped onto him. Lye’s mind now was focusing on his real targets. Past his pain, past the unexpected tears, Lye had a mission to complete an employer to satisfy, as well as the empty gap of glory stolen. His arm rose to his eyes, and purged the deadly spheres of tainted water. Again, they felt malice. Again they felt hate. But this time around, there was a girl that disrupted the cycle. Now, there was another factor that punctured his thoughts within the darkness. Past the thought of a killer, there were three words that made him impure. Though, at this time, they held dormant to the goal at hand. A girl to be captured and a man to torment. The sights were now clear and it was about time to take again onto the true reason at hand.
His eyes landed upon the cave in front of him; bodies lined the soil as their blood formed beautiful pools around the corpses. All but one. The body stirred; perhaps the last one felled in battle with the thief. The minor cut to his arm and scuff to his temple proved that the thief was till formidable. Ridiculous, though, that he may not finish his prey before leaving.

“Y-You, sir. H-Help me...” he whimpered, reaching at Lye’s feet.

“I have no use for you”, Lye stated with cold eyes of emerald and kicked his hand away, “You are no more than scum...”

His feet swept the ground and his body spun into a dance. From the middle of the dance, blast a foot into the chest of the boy. Like duck would do in their years of migration, he flew. His body crashed loosely into the crates, and Lye smirked. He truly had no fun today, and he was looking to this boy to provide it. The glint of metal flashed in the air as the body of crimson rushed the stirring man.

“Why do you struggle when you know you can’t win?!” he called as the boy glinted at him with a swollen eye. So young, and yet such mysteries in his future. All the better to kill him now and smile. Lye slid to a stop, the dirt spraying into his prey’s wounds. The scream followed the dirt and the blade followed the scream. From there, only the beautiful sound of gurgling and the lovely sight of twitching. The corpse lost blood by the ounces and nothing soothed this assassin’s hate in comparison. There was one thing, the thief, but at this point in time, his attention was directed towards massacre. He grimaced as he slide the blade up and into the victim’s chest. Limbs of the boy surged with the senses still left within the confounds of the cold body. From there, Lye shot his free hand within the boy’s chest and took hold of whichever organ he pleased. His body felt strength and lifted the empty shell off its resting place of wooden crates. Like crimson rain, the blood spat upon the cave’s earthen carpet. Without apparent reason, his emerald eyes still remained fixed on those that had rolled into the skull of the corpse.

“You people best entertain me when dead...” he devilishly spewed as his arms flexed with strength. In a quick burst of rage, the body flew into the cave wall. The body left its stain upon the stone as the assassin redirected his thoughts on his next victim: the thief’s obsession.

How was he to catch her? Yes, by playing a demon, yet acting as a helpless human. What then? Restraint? Yes, that was good. His eyes caught sight of the various supplies. There were crates topped with dry goods, crates topped with furs and fabrics, crates with cooking tools and utensils. With a smirk, there was a crate topped with rope and spare wood. The gloved hand, moistened with blood, grasped onto the rope. The stain of his fingers left marks upon its coarse surface. Sheathing his tainted blade of titanium, he took between his hands this same rope. A tug tested it’s durability within the needs of this killer. His cold emerald eyes followed his hands as he fixed the rope around the latch that held his chain. Then he turned to his decaying audience and amused himself.

“This rope should be perfect for a hostage. What say you?” he questioned the man mangled with the wall. Though, enjoying his company ever so much, he knew there were bigger things at hand. He had to go to Keller Hall and await the thief’s princess. Once she was unaware, he would face her in battle until he had taken her unconscious. Nodding with his thoughts, he picked to bind her with rope next. From then, he’d use her as bait to lure his antagonist to the Theatre of War. Finally, he would cause him madness by torturing the girl and ridiculing him as Seth had done to this assassin.

A simple laugh escaped his mouth as his tainted fingers removed the blood-red cloth from his lips. Weaving his way through the bodies of the damned, he began his stroll to Keller hall. He vowed he would make the thief pay. Yet, by getting involved with this girl, Seth had only made it easier for a killer to seek revenge. Again, that laugh was heard. Again, it cursed the air with blackness. Again, he thought of the thief’s spectacular death. Again, he recited: “A man who fights with emotions stops short in life, a man without feeling goes far...” Then, he walked quietly onward, his mind intent on making that very fool choke upon his very words. Only time would lead to insanity, and that would lead to Lye’s cue. A debt repaid- it was only to come...

To be Continued...

Foreword and Credits:

This solo is part of a much larger series between the two writers, Dissinger and Forbidden Nine-Tails (myself). Before the creation of this quest, another was done before known as “Of Thieves and Priests”. This thread included the love story of Seth Dahlios (Credited to Dissinger) and Liliana (Also one of his characters). After giving some discussion, a plan to create a partnered story line was formed. Indirectly, we used liquid time in a chronological order and created an epic. Starting from “Kill the Forbidden”, “Skeletal Remains”, “Of Thieves and Priests”, and the judges’ choice, “Onyx Tower”, this epic will begin to take place by two separate story lines confronting into one. This epic was given the title, “Crimson Thief”; originated by the combination of the two nicknames of “Thief Extraordinaire” and “Crimson Assassin”. I am glad to have gotten involved with such a storyline and I ask that the ones, who may read one of these threads, please stay attuned for the continuation of the story. I guarantee that it will have in-depth plot as well as twisted surprises. With that, I wish happy reading.

--A bunnying permission was granted by Dissinger.

--The words and events correlated with “Of Thieves and Priests” were altered slightly for story purposes. (This was approved by Dissinger as well)

--Specific details of “Ruby” are preferable an NPC accounted to myself.