Crime and Punishment

[Smoker]

((Solo/closed; warning-may contain content not suitable for young readers, reader discretion is advised.))

The sounds of a busy mid-day market filled the air. Children laughed and darted into and out of the crowd. Animals added their voices to the din, notably dogs, chickens, pigs, and sheep. Those few vendors not attracting many customers advertised their wares as loudly as they possibly could. Only one man, dressed in a black robe, remained quiet, and his silence was so loud it drowned out all the noise nearby, reducing it to a mere buzz in the background, as of a noisy fly.

Having absolutely nothing to his name and precious few coins, he was very interested in what sort of items were being bought and sold in the Scara Brae marketplace. A newcomer to the area, he was disappointed with the mostly-mundane selection. Those few items of special interest to him that were available cost far more than he had to spend. He toyed with the idea of buying a small writing pad or a leather-bound journal to record his studies, as well as a pen and ink, but feeling his meager purse was enough to convince him that now was not the correct time to buy such things, even as necessary as they were. It would be easier to write in charcoal on the wall of an inn’s room which he planned to rent.

The thought of renting a room made him wonder how Jester was faring at the moment. His long-time guardian and friend had a strange aversion to Scara Brae and absolutely refused to enter the city, promising to meet in Radasanth at an old inn he knew of.

For the first time in his life, Dusk was completely alone. He quickly analyzed how that made him feel. Loneliness, in his short experience with the strange feeling, was mostly a quiet emotion, almost beneath notice when it first set in. However, it intensified with time, lingering even in happy moments, and sharp pangs of loneliness could be triggered by the most innocent and random of thoughts. Another interestingly unique property was the memories of the friends he missed, how even the most joyful occasions of years gone by could make him feel sad in the present moment. Loneliness was deeply entwined with the human tendency to become dependant on social interaction, long recognized as a blessing and a curse in itself.

Loneliness is quite the interesting experience, he concluded. I will have to make a note to study it further…it could easily be used as a weapon against even the most wary opponents.

Dusk took a deep breath to clear his head. Studying such dangerous emotions was fine, as long as the test subject was someone else. He could not afford to have any sort of emotion skew his calculated logic. On to the more important tasks at hand…

Having scoped out the marketplace and finding nothing particularly satisfactory, or even anything that was remarkably easy to steal, Dusk began trying to push his way through the colorful crowd to find a decent inn. He had barely squeezed himself free of the grip of the marketplace when a heavy hand fell upon his shoulder and roughly pushed him into an alley.

A gravelly voice spoke softly next to his ear as a knife was pressed into his back. “Drop your purse and you can go free.”

Dusk was so shocked that he couldn’t find the voice to respond. The irony made him want to laugh, though that wouldn’t be a good idea at the moment. He was honestly being mugged!

[Smoker]

The knife was pressed harder into his back after another few seconds of silence. The gravelly voice spoke again.

“Well?! Drop your purse and you can leave. Or you could always try to resist us. It’s just as easy to take your purse after you’re dead, m’friend.”

Dusk finally found his tongue. The irony was no longer amusing, and the situation was rather bothersome, in fact.

“I am not your friend, first of all. I also have too few coins in my purse to interest you. If you walk away now, I won’t kill you.” It was a pure bluff, but Dusk was angry enough to make the words sound quite sincere.

The man holding the dagger to his back laughed, and Dusk could feel the blade move ever so slightly up and down as the pressure against his back was relaxed. The feline part of his subconscious tried to take control, it’s survival instinct triggered. It would be so easy to give himself over to the Cat, to take advantage of it’s speed and dexterity…not to mention it’s slashing claws. The more he thought about it, the more it sounded like a good idea, even when he knew otherwise.

The man was still laughing when the Cat took over, catching Dusk off-guard. A prisoner in his own body, a spectator watching through his own eyes, entirely without control, Dusk wasn’t sure if he should leave the Cat in control or try to take over himself. Fortunately the Cat was more decisive. Spinning away from the laughing man with a sudden burst of feline strength, Dusk’s hands both sprouted three curved two-inch-long claws from between the knuckles. The man quickly stopped laughing.

Since he didn’t have to worry about controlling his body, Dusk could take the time to observe his surroundings more thoroughly. The alley was unremarkable, just as dirty as one would expect it to be. More urgent, though, was the surprising discovery that the man with the dagger was not alone.

“Get him, Cleave!” A tall, gangly man urged on his friend with the dagger, who was apparently the leader.

“Shut up, Jay! Cleave can handle him!” A third man who was missing no less than four prominent teeth declared.

Cleave himself was bigger then both his friends, and had a small scar on his cheek that indicated he was not inexperienced when it came to fighting.

The Cat hissed, and the sound was not modified when it came through Dusk’s human throat. Cleave stepped forward, and the Cat hissed again, this time much more threateningly. Suddenly unsure of himself, Cleave awkwardly began toying with the dagger as though trying to make up his mind. Such a tiny blade was not suited to such an oversized man, and the effect, had it not been such a dire situation, would have been extremely comical. The Cat flexed his claws meaningfully, and also stepped forward, allowing a soft purr to escape through Dusk’s lips.

The stand-off was interrupted by a sharp whistle and four uniformed guards, armed with spears and shields, poured into the alley. Dusk was able to wrest control away from the Cat in the confusion of the moment and the claws shrank to non-existence as he did so. His hair was too long to stand on end, but he felt goose bumps recede along his back just the same. Cleave, Jay, and the other one began to skulk away under the glare of the guardsmen, and Dusk started to follow suit, heading of in the opposite direction.

“Still!” An albino housecat had silently padded up to his side and rubbed against his leg. He had lost his familiar in the crowd, and was pleased she found him in such good time. He spoke softly to the cat. “Follow the one with rotten teeth and report back to me when he falls asleep somewhere. I’ll be at the nearest inn I can find, I’ll leave my window open for you.”

The cat purred agreement and silently scampered off, between the legs of the last guardsman as he waited for Dusk to leave. Stepping back into the market crowd, Dusk began trying to find an inn. The guard scanned the alley one last time and turned away, leaving it completely deserted.

[Smoker]

“Scara Brae Inn.” A simple name, which suited the simple inn just fine. Dusk was led to a small room on the first floor, as per his request, and was satisfied with the sparse furnishings. A single bed stood in the center of the room, and a small pine nightstand was set on the right of the bed. A large oak trunk stood open at the foot of the bed, rounding out the furniture. A single window rested to the left of the bed, and except for the door which led to the hallway, that was the entirety of the room.

“Perfect,” Dusk whispered. He closed the empty oak trunk and noticed that it had no lock, though one could be attached. He might have to look into that, though he had nothing to lock up inside the trunk. He sat down on the bed experimentally, and was surprised to find it was of decent quality. The straw mattress was quite comfortable, and the pillow was a genuine down pillow. The sheets even seemed clean, a true rarity. Dusk didn’t bother to undress as he settled in to sleep. The noontime sun shone through his open window, but didn’t keep the darkmage awake at all.

*****

The albino cat jumped through the window as the sun began setting, and was plased to find it’s master asleep in the bed. Hopping up onto the bed, she awakened Dusk by rubbing against his face.

“Still... Give me a moment.” He sat up and shook his head to clear it, bringing himself fully to consciousness. The Cat stirred within him, though it didn’t try to push itself to the fore. It was merely reminding Dusk of it’s presence.

“I’m awake. What did you find?” Dusk listened intently as the cat mewed, understanding her perfectly. He nodded several times, thinking deeply. He smiled as the cat finished her tale.

“So now you know where he lives, and you’re absolutely sure you could led me there. Good girl, Still. I’m going out tonight to see if I can find a suitable subject to study. The subject of loneliness and social interaction, human relationships…I don’t know exactly why, Still, but it’s been much on my mind of late.”

Still meowed knowingly. Dusk sighed. “You’re right, of course. It’s because Jester isn’t here. I’m simply accustomed to his constant companionship, and something feels amiss without him. But regardless, I would still like to study the subject on someone else more closely. The knowledge would be quite useful in developing new spells. I’ll be taking to the streets.”

Still curled up on the bed, ready to guard the haven in her master’s absence, while her master slipped out through the window and pulled his hood up over his face.

[Smoker]

Dusk had been wandering the sleeping city for almost two hours, and had yet to come across a single person who was worth more than a glance. He wondered again why he had supposed the night to be better to find a subject than the day. The only people out so late were the criminals, and he had had enough of criminals for the time being.

Turning a corner into an alley, he found himself at a familiar spot. Somehow the alley seemed more menacing when it was unoccupied and silent than when he was getting robbed in that very location. Suppressing a shiver, he moved further into the alley. Someone had left three barrels on the left side, and these were approached cautiously. They stank of stale, infested water, and a lazy fly was looping circles over the nearest one. Wrinkling his nose in distaste, Dusk backed off, but than an idea struck him. He would be able to travel faster on the rooftops, and he might catch something interesting in a second-story window.

Gingerly he tested the nearest barrel. It was about half-full, presumably of water. The second was entirely full, but the third was just about empty. He lifted the empty barrel and wrestled it until it sat perfectly on top of the full one. Then he pushed the half-empty barrel closer to his barrel tower, and carefully climbed on top of it. The water held the barrel steady and allowed him to balance rather easily, but as he had guessed, one barrel did not give him sufficient height to reach the roof. Taking a deep breath and moving very slowly, he managed to climb on top of the empty barrel. It lacked a lid, so he placed his feet across the rim as he stretched for the roof. Finding the roof still just an inch out of reach, he jumped up to reach it, arms outstretched.

The barrel unbalanced and fell over with a loud crash, breaking the silence. Dusk cursed and quickly pulled himself up to the roof, albeit noisily.

“What was that?” a familiar voice asked. Dusk crouched low on top of the roof, hoping to remain out of sight. He heard the whoosh of a torch being lit, and saw the glow enter the alley. As it brightened, it illuminated the face of the person who was carrying it. Dusk instantly recognized Cleave, and Jay and the missing-tooth man followed close behind, carrying a struggling young girl between them.

“Looks like a cat knocked over a barrel. Doesn’t matter. Hold her down, boys, I’m first.” Dusk watched in revulsion as they began tearing her clothes off. He closed his eyes, not wanting to watch but unable to block out the muffled screams as the girl was raped. Though he dabbled in the dark side of magic and studied people like lab rats, Dusk was utterly repulsed by rape. After all, he had grown up with six sisters, and if one of his sisters was getting raped, he would…

He looked down again in horror, and noted how her hair, her eyes…Oh, dear gods…she looks just like Diamond! But, it can’t be…his sister was killed seven years ago. The girl tried to scream again, and the voice chilled Dusk to his very core. It sounded…

Just. Like. Diamond.

Something snapped inside him, and Dusk leaped down from the top of the building into the alley.

“Get off her!” He shouted, and he felt the Cat well up inside, baring it’s claws mentally. His own anger, however, was so strong he hardly noticed, and the Cat wouldn’t have a chance.

Cleave whirled around in surprise, pulling his trousers up at the same time. He thrust the torch towards Dusk and grinned evilly. “So, it’s my friend from earlier, come back to play. We’re not sharing, so if you want to join the fun you’ll have to find your own.”

Dusk spared a fraction of a second to glance down at the girl who was still struggling against Jay and the other man. She was bloody and bruised, as badly battered as one would expect, given the circumstances. She still looked exactly like Diamond. Dusk glared back up at Cleave, his anger and his resolve completely renewed.

“You will let her go or you will all die here,” Dusk’s voice quivered with emotion, something extremely rare for him. Cleave laughed and turned to resume his deed. “Release her I said!”

Beginning to grow angry, Cleave faced Dusk once more. All pretense of good humor was gone. “Alright, if you care so much about the wench, I’m sure you’d like her pain to stop.” Cleave let the implication hang heavily in the air, and Dusk’s eyes widened as the thought sank in.

“No…” he said softly. The emotion no longer completely clouding his reason, he was at a loss for a logical next step.

“No?” Cleave laughed, but it was a dry, humorless laugh. “Then you should leave now so we can continue.”

A whistle sounded in the distance, reminiscent of the guard’s from that morning. Cleave cursed. “Now look what you’ve done, bringing the dogs down on us again!”

Turning to his friends, he motioned a finger across his throat. The toothless man flashed down three times with a dagger that appeared in his hand, and the girl stopped struggling. Cleave and Jay had already started running, and the toothless man turned to follow, snarling wordlessly at Dusk as he passed.

Dusk took one last, lingering look at the still body that could have easily been his own sister, and flew after him in pursuit. It was no use. Dusk turned a corner and nearly collided with a troop of guards. Dashing away before they could react, he slipped into the shadows, and carefully made his way back to the inn.

He was sobbing.

[Smoker]

Dusk had composed himself by morning and formed a vengeful plan. Twice those three men had bothered Dusk, and they deserved to die.

And more importantly, I want them to die. And not just to die, but to die as horribly as I can possibly arrange.

He went over the first step of his plan with Still, who was able to remember the basic layout of the one-room flat the toothless man lived in. Little more than a shack nestled into an alley, almost invisible from the main road, she told him. Perfect, he told her.

It didn’t take very long for her to lead him there, and breaking in was a simple matter of opening the unlocked door. He wasn’t home, so Dusk figured he would have until well after midnight to set everything up. There was a single window, a bed, an old armoire, and a chair. Numerous half-empty bottles of liquor littered the floor. A lantern rested on the chair. He even found a knife under the pile of rags that served as a pillow. He couldn’t have asked for a more perfect setting for his murder, and he had several hours to get everything ready.

He emptied the armoire and found a rusty sword. Putting it aside for later use, he used the knife to cut a large hole in the back of the dresser, big enough for a man to climb through. He pushed the heavy armoire over to the window and looked up at the setting sun. He hadn’t realized how long it took him to carve up the thick wood with the dull knife. No matter…that was the hard part.

Collecting every bottle which still had even a drop of alcohol, he poured it all over the bed, soaked every scrap of rag, and drenched the floor, giving extra attention to the wood under the bed. He poured roughly half of the lantern oil onto the pillow as well, and the other half he saved. Replacing the lantern on the chair, he checked to make sure he had a path of non-alcohol covered wood, then he scattered the empty bottles artfully, and took up waiting at his post behind the door.

It was a long wait, but Dusk savored the anticipation. Long-awaited revenge would be that much sweeter for every minute he craved the taste. But finally his moment came, and his man pushed the door open and stumbled in, completely. He made a staggering bee-line for the bed, and just about collapsed onto it.

Dusk was glad that he was too drunk to notice the furniture changes, but slightly disappointed as well…a sober victim would have been more fun to toy with, perhaps. But it mattered little, Dusk knew how to make his own fun.

He waited until he heard the man snore. Now was the time. He walked over to the bed, glad to see the man laying on his back. He grabbed the lantern and threw the oil in his face as though it were water.

“Hey, get up! Wake up, wake up!” Dusk shook the man vigorously as he groaned. “Still tired?” Dusk threw the lantern down in his face, and the glass shattered, shredding the victim’s face. This brought the man not only to full consciousness, but complete sobriety, as well.

“Wha-what? What the hell?!” The man sat up quickly, wiping blood off his face, only to be laid down again by a blow from the chair. Dusk laughed, swinging the chair down again, hard, and then a third time, with as much strength as he could muster.

“You stabbed her three times.” Dusk said accusingly, a twinkle in his eye. The man on the bed groaned and held his head, glad the pummeling was over. As the man struggled to get himself vertical again, Dusk flailed out with the chair again, forcing him down. Leaving the chair on top of the man, Dusk pulled out his flint and tinder and struck them together over the bed.

He jumped back as the flames roared to life, leaping to consume the bed and the man laying on it. The man screamed as the flames kissed him, then squirmed about trying to escape the deadly embrace. He screamed again, a delectable piercing scream that reflected mortal terror and exquisite pain. Adrenaline alone allowed the man to stand, but wherever he stepped, the flames eagerly followed, not allowing him to escape. The man continued screamed as the flames continued licking him, and he dropped to his knees, unable to withstand such powerful torment.

In another few moments it was all over, though the fire still burned brightly over the corpse. The stench of burning flesh was becoming unbearable and the house was a blazing inferno, though Dusk still took a second to admire the way the smoke curled up and away from the still-burning body. Plunging the sword into the head of the body, he decided the upside-down cross would serve as a sign that this man was murdered most cruelly.

As the town guard’s piercing whistle came near, Dusk made his escape through the armoire, out the window, into the alley, towards the shadow, and from there to the safety of his own room. He had no trouble falling asleep, and did so with a smile on his face.

[Smoker]

It was the coming of dusk that caused Dusk to awaken. Still was curled up comfortably on top of the trunk, purring softly to herself in her sleep. He smiled as he watched her squirm slightly, wondering what she was thinking. He turned away as he donned his black robe, trying to plan his next move. One man dead, and two more will shortly follow…as soon as he found out where they would b sleeping for the rest of the week.

The obvious next step was to do what Dusk did best: gather information. He slid out the window and into the streets, heading for the familiar alley on a hunch. However, he was disappointed to find it deserted. It no longer seemed so threatening when empty, but rather it seemed sad, a tragic character in it’s own right. The barrels were gone, and it seemed huge in it’s emptiness.

And loneliness.

Dusk backed away, then began scouring the city for a convenient way to reach the rooftops. He figured some windows, crates, a drainpipe, even heavy ivy on a wall would do nicely. It took a quarter of an hour for him to find a good spot, which came in the form of a very rough wall with two windows. It was a tough climb to the roof, but Dusk made it without incident.

Once there, it was a simple matter to make his way from rooftop to rooftop. Indeed, it seemed like a very efficient method, and Dusk decided he would be performing much of his studies up here from now on. The buildings were, for the most part, crammed so closely together he had little problem even leaping across the road to continue traveling on the other side.

Soon enough, as he readied himself to jump to another building, he heard some quiet talking. Unable to make out exactly what was being said, he peered over the edge, but saw only darkness. He strained to listen, but heard nothing more. With a sigh, he eased himself over the edge, ready to drop down into the streets below, when suddenly the voices came closer.

“…And they said they found a sword stuck through ‘is head. No accident, there.”

“Musta been that guy in the hood. Remember how he appeared when you was just starting to have fun with that wench?”

Dusk pulled himself back up to the roof. This was exactly what he had hoped to find. Now if only he could glean some information from it.

“Could be.” The voice Dusk identified as belonging to Cleave grudgingly admitted.

“And how you tried to rob him in the alley?” This had to be Jay, the other accomplice.

“Yes…” Was that a note of fear in his voice?

“He’ll be after you next, Cap’n. You raped his girlfriend and tried to rob him. Shame on you.” Jay seemed to be trying to absolve himself of all guilt by blaming it on Cleave. Interesting. Was it fear that motivated him to do that, when at the time he seemed to be enjoying himself?

“Enough! I need to find an inn where the murderer would least expect to find me.”

“We should split up, so if he finds you, I’ll still be free. To, uh, avenge you.”

“That’s a surprisingly good idea, coming from you. Where are you?”

“Red Dragon.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll try…Gryphon?”

“Not a chance. Too rich for you.”

“But he’d never expect to find me there.”

“Try the Scara Brae Inn. Nice place, there, and y’can afford with a single day’s work.”

“Good idea, Jay. I’ll go there first thing in the morning. Are you up for some cards?”

“Nah, I’ll be heading back to catch some shut-eye. I’ll meet you tomorrow at the Scara Brae Inn.”

“Noon.”

“Aye.”

Dusk could hardly believe what just happened. He knew where to find both of his targets, and Cleave was staying at the very same inn he was. As long as he could keep himself safe for another night, and Cleave didn’t know he was there, everything would work out just perfectly. Dusk waited an extra five minutes after he heard the men walk away, just to make sure, then made his way over the rooftops in the direction of the Red Dragon.

[Smoker]

With his usual calculated cunning, Dusk waited nearly an hour before slipping into the inn through a broken window that led to the cellars beneath the building. Even in the dim light, it didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for in the ample supplies of the inn. Plenty of rope was to be had, and there was a box of candles, which he helped himself to.

Creeping up the stairs, he began systematically opening every door and inspecting every room. It took a little while to find the right one, but it was unmistakably Jay who was tossing and turning in the dirtiest room the inn had to rent out.

Dusk wasted no time setting upon his task, tying the sleeping man gently but firmly to his bed. Twice he almost regained consciousness, but Dusk would back slowly away until the man fell peacefully back into his deep slumber.

Thank the gods he’s such a heavy sleeper. It wouldn’t be nearly so much fun if he wasn’t.

Satisfied that the bindings were secure and quite inescapable, Dusk set up a few candles and lit them. Urging the smoke to grow thick and black, he soon got the desired effect. The atmosphere needed only one last touch. With a sharp, very deliberate movement of his left hand, Dusk evoked his magical spell. He clapped once, just to test. Nothing.

“Wonderful,” he said, and no noise came out. The bubble of silence killed all sound in the tiny room, even the snores of the tall, skinny man. “So no one will hear you scream!”

He found what he was searching for in the man’s pocket, though his rough probing brought the man into the realm of wakefulness. As Dusk pulled the curved dagger from it’s sheath, the man was greeted with a terrifying sight.

The smoke curled all over the room, obscuring his view of everything except Dusk’s face, which was eerily lit by the flickering glow of several candles. The light danced off the dagger’s blade as Dusk quickly bent to his task.

Jay tried to scream, but no noise would come forth. In a few seconds, Dusk was holding up Jay’s severed middle finger for him to see. The dripping blood stained the bed sheets as Jay struggled against the rope trapping. The knots held. Jay’s face was contorted in a silent scream.

Dusk didn’t pause as he hacked away at the next one. The flesh and bone gave way sickeningly, and he was sure there would have been disgustingly satisfying sounds if only he could have heard them. In another moment of work, Jay’s entire right hand was a bloody, fingerless mess. Another moment, and the hand itself was gone. Then Dusk turned to his left hand…

The arms, face, chest, and nether regions were all thoroughly mutilated in about a half hour, and Dusk had had to renew his spell of silence to complete the brutal deed. But the mangled body was now quite dead, having had it’s life bleed away long ago.

I might need to get myself a new robe…this one seems to be a bit bloody.

Laughing softly to himself, Dusk left the dagger on top of the pile of fingers, and commanded the smoke to dissipate before it brought unwanted attention. Softly he put out the light of the candles and tip-toed back down to the cellar.

***

The robe’s darker colored spots were slowly drying and hardening, providing a sort of camouflage. Dusk draped it over the bed post and admired his bright red hands for a moment before cleaning them in a small bucket of cold water that he had prepared before leaving the hose for just such an eventuality.

He slid into bed and watched the sun rise from his window. Idly he wondered how deliciously terrified Jay and his friend must have been as they were dying. Experiments with death were only problematic because the subject could not reveal how they felt about it later on, leaving inconclusive speculation as the only definitive result. He wondered what Cleave would think when his partner failed to come to their meeting at noon.

His last thought before he drifted away to a contented sleep was of how exactly he would kill Cleave. He hated repeat performances…

[Smoker]

Night had already fallen. He had slept much later than he wanted to. But it didn’t much matter, for he didn’t have to travel far to find his final target. Anticipation was eating him from within, idea after idea began forming in his head.

Strangle him…hang him…poison him…smother him…

He wanted something very personal, very terrifying, very horrific, very disturbing. Cleave’s final moments had to be as ghastly and terrifying as Dusk could possibly make them. It was, after all, legitimate study into human nature. He wondered what role loneliness was playing for Cleave right now, as his two closest friends had been horrendously murdered.

Casting about for inspiration, he looked down at the bucket of water, now dyed red. Drowning? He imagined how terrifying it would be to fight for breath, struggle to escape the bloody water, but be forced down into it, kicking and screaming until finally, water filled his lungs and his struggles ceased.

An interesting idea. Perhaps he could add something to it…if he was strong enough to drown Cleave, it would be a most fitting end. Hanging and drowning together? Hmm…he still had enough rope left from finishing off Jay that he could try to tie Cleave up and drown him, hanging the body afterwards.

Yes, that should just about work. He opened the window to let Still go hunting for some mice on her own, donned his black-and-blood robe, and quietly opened the door. The hallway was lit by a single candle in an iron holder on the wall. There was only a few doors to try downstairs before having to search upstairs, and he was met with disappointment at every door.

Creeping up the stairs, wincing at every noise. The Cat welled up inside him, impatient with the noise and the clumsy human attempt at stalking silently. Dusk was caught off guard; the Cat had been silent for days. He didn’t resist as it took over, guiding his body up the stairs without so much as a single creak of the old wooden floor. Moving quickly but without sacrificing the all-important stealth, the Aspect continued the hunt, and found the correct room with zeal.

Cleave was utterly still in his bed, a matching sword and dagger resting at his side. Forgetting about trying to drown his foe, the Cat put the bucket on the floor and padded over to the bedside. As he extended his claws, he leaned over the bed, ready to make the kill in one quick, clean slice. Dusk watched, fascinated. But something seemed out of place. Did Cleave just open his eyes?

Before he could think a warning to the Cat, Cleave jumped out of bed, sword half-drawn. Snarling, the Cat leapt to the attack, sharp claws seeking a sheathe in the man’s throat. Cleave was ready for the move, however, batting the outstretched hands aside with his own open palm and slicing down with his sword in the same instant.

With reflexes befitting the swiftest of felines, the Cat sidestepped the blow, attempting to trip his opponent as he bared his teeth in fury. Cleave was born to fight, it seemed, and had already moved to make the trip attempt impossible. His sword flashed down again, and the Cat was not so quick this time.

The slice left a painful cut along his shoulder, and the Cat howled his displeasure, the sound distorted into a yelp by Dusk’s human vocal chords. Taking control again, Dusk fought back the Cat and dove for the window, afraid of who might have been waked by his noisy scuffle. The glass shattered outward and fell like snow upon the ground, and Dusk landed heavily on his left leg, which buckled beneath him. The shards continued to rain down on him, at best stinging like a small insect, at worst stabbing deeply like a dagger. His blood-stained robe was cut and torn badly, a reminder of hasty actions.

Gingerly standing up, he nursed his leg as he staggered away, calling to the shadows to shield him. His magic brought the darkness to life, and they twisted and tangled around him, drawing him into their protective blanket. He stumbled into an alley and waited a few moments to catch his breath. He half-fell, half-crawled back to his open window, and laboriously pulled himself through. Dropping his cloak on the ground, he crawled into bed and tried to sleep away the pain, hoping he would not be discovered.

A shrill whistle pierced the night, and Dusk lulled himself to sleep with thoughts of sweet revenge the next night.

[Smoker]

He awoke the next morning with a fresh throbbing pain in his shoulder where he’d been cut, but his leg seemed to be ok. He cautiously stood up and walked around the little room as Still watched. Apparently he met her approval, as she purred and nuzzled his hand. She suggested getting help, an accomplice or two, to execute a more complicated plan.

He sat down on the trunk, and looked out the window. The market was already bustling a few streets over, and he could hear the clamor clearly. A plan clicked into place and he left the room without a word. Still, completely unfazed, curled up and yawned widely, and was quickly asleep.

Dusk checked the bar of the Scara Brae Inn, and was delighted to find Cleave telling of how five demons entered his room last night to a crowd of eager listeners. “So I killed the first four with my sword, and the last got scared and jumped out the window after I cut off it’s tail. The bodies all vanished in a puff of smoke.”

Dusk chuckled to himself as he hurried towards the marketplace. He found what he wanted quickly, and after a bit of haggling, he received a large iron lock, a very heavy specimen of it’s kind. “Impossible to break,” the smith had declared, though Dusk was sure he was exaggerating. Even so, breaking it would be quite an amazing feat.

He set about his next order of business. Approaching a heavy-set bearded man in a kilt, he spoke quietly for a few moments. The bearded man stormed angrily towards the inn, pushing his way roughly through the crowd.

Following at a safe distance, he entered the inn and sat back at a secluded table in the corner, ready to watch the magic of manipulation unfold. The bearded man was already making quite a scene, shouting at Cleave so much his face had turned red. Cleave was shouting back, which only incensed the bearded man further.

“Then prove it!” The bearded man called for a round of ale, and the drinking contest began. Bets were placed and an eager crowd encircled the competition, obscuring it from Dusk’s view. He didn’t need to see, however, to know what was going on. The shouting of the crowd told him all he needed to know.

He remained aloof from the betting, despite the easy chance to make some quick gold. This was too important to fool around with such frivolities just now. There would be plenty of time to see to that later. He began to grow impatient as the two contestants reached the tenth round, and showed no sign of slowing. The fourteenth round came and went, and the bearded man showed the first steps of intoxication, accidentally dropping his mug and needing another to be refilled. But still, he drank it, and the shouts of the crowd told Dusk there was still a few rounds left to fight.

After another intense round of greedy drinking, and another, and another, and one more, Dusk heard the crowd’s mixed squeals of excitement and disappointment. Money changed hands and the drunken laughs of the victor were quite audible over the babble.

Dusk approached the table warily as the crowd broke up, and was relieved to watch the bearded man march into a wall before finding the door and heading back into the streets, accompanied by a joyous crowd of revelers who had bet on his victory. Cleave was left abandoned at the table, completely passed out.

Grabbing his arm, Dusk hoisted the big man over his shoulder and managed to reach his room with the heavy load. Cleave was completely and utterly senseless, allowing Dusk all the time he needed.

Still watched inquisitively as Dusk struggled to get the heavy man onto the bed. Lifting the lid the trunk, he rolled him over into the oak trunk. Fixing him in a fetal position to make his large mass fit, Dusk closed the lid triumphantly and fitted the lock onto it.

“Now, we wait.” He told Still, who quickly complied, curling herself into her sleeping position. Dusk smiled.

[Smoker]

“Let me out of here!” Cleave had been repeating that mantra for hours, banging and scratching at the oaken chest. It had only been a single day since his imprisonment, and the fear was obvious in his voice. Dusk had at first been amused and enthralled by Cleave’s suffering, but now his unceasing pleas for help and mercy were becoming tiresome. He had stopped talking to Cleave, hoping to give him the impression he had been left alone, but he just shouted all the louder. Luckily his voice was beginning to grow hoarse from the strain, and he wouldn’t be able to keep up such yelling too much longer.

Taking the liberty of searching Cleave’s room, he found enough gold to cover all his expenses, and the matching sword and dagger which Cleave had used against him. His shoulder ached just at the sight of them, and he was happy to take them. He also found a dirty change of clothes, much too big for him to wear.

Returning to his room, Dusk quickly set about using the dagger to cut a small hole in the top of the trunk. Motioning for Still to keep a guard over the trunk, he went back out into the bar, and returned bearing a loaf of bread and a salt shaker.

“You must be hungry in there, Cleave. You haven’t eaten in nearly a month.” Dusk’s voice was deceptively soft, the better to keep Cleave off his guard. Hopefully he wouldn’t catch the lie…locked inside a dark trunk with no food or water and no room to move, a day could very well feel like a month to Cleave.

“Let me out! Let me out!” Cleave resumed his shouting and banging for a few moments, then settled down. Sprinkling some salt over a chunk of bread, he dropped it down into the trunk. He could hear as Cleave used what little moving space he did have to finagle the bread into his mouth and chew greedily. Dusk treated another slice of bread with the salt, and slipped it down to the ravenously hungry captive. The entire loaf had been dusted heavily with salt and fed to Cleave, piece by salted piece.

“Water…” Cleave took up a new mantra, repeating it until he fell asleep several hours later.

As soon as he was asleep, Dusk left to find a strong back or two to help him move the trunk out of his room. It simply couldn’t remain there any longer. Fortunately, there were a still a few semi-sober tough guys wandering the streets in search of “booze and babes,” as one burly gentlemen put it.

Promising a reward of gold for helping, he oversaw the labors as the two big men hauled the trunk through the darkening streets and into a cemetery on the other end of town. Instructing them to leave it next to a particularly large crypt, he paid them each a few gold and went back to his room to get some sleep.

The next morning, Dusk took another loaf of bread and a container of salt out to the cemetery, silently listening to Cleave as he ate. He repeated the process for the rest of the week. It was seven days later that Dusk returned to the crypt to find Cleave had finally died of dehydration…if it wasn’t for the rainfall a few days before, he’d have perished much sooner. Purely out of curiosity, Dusk unlocked the trunk and peered inside.

The sight was not at all pretty. Cleave had begun to shrivel like a raisin in the sun, and his skin was leathery to the touch. Grooves made by desperate fingernails ran along the inside of the trunk’s lid, and there was still a few small pieces of salted bread growing stale in the bottom of the trunk.

“I’d be willing to bet it was rather lonely in that trunk.” Dusk said as he closed the lid. He turned the key inside the lock, and listened for the quiet click. Satisfied that it was locked, he dropped the key into the hole on the top of the trunk along with the dagger. Taking the sword he had stolen from Cleave’s room, he plunged it down inside the chest as hard as he could, breaking the wood and the body inside. Firmly entrenched in the oak and the bones, the sword would stand until a giant pulled it from it’s place.

“I think it might be time to look into getting that journal to take notes in. I’ve collected some extremely interesting data, and I have no doubt it will prove useful in my future endeavors.” Dusk returned to his room, wearing his bloodstained robe, and smiled in self-satisfaction as he drifted off into a very rewarding sleep. Tomorrow, he would continue his studies. Still rubbed her head against his in a display of affection, and Dusk forgot his loneliness entirely, dreaming of happier times. Dreaming of human nature.

Dreaming of Diamond.

((Spoils request: Nothing. He spent at least as much as he gained, and he threw away all the weapons he found. No material items were gained from this quest at all. Thank you.))

[Sword-for-Hire]

Interesting. Very interesting. Good job on this thread. Fairly quick read, but kept my attention since the very first post. Onto the judging!

Introduction: This was vague, but built into something cool. A little more background information about who his friend was or where the Cat came from would’ve really helped this part. I was confused for a while until I just rolled with it, but not all readers will. Watch out for not explaining big parts of who your character is… (5)

Setting: Nicely done for the most part. Wasn’t the best I’ve ever seen, but it certainly painted a decent picture in my head. You used the areas well and kept things interesting. Just be sure to watch how you explain certain actions in your settings. I had trouble following some of the smoothly. (5)

Strategy: I really enjoyed this part. Dusk really had the logical yet sadistic quality in his actions going well. How he did them and why he did them felt very worked out and enjoyable (in the sense that you like horrible ways for bad people to die). You earned this score. (8)

Writing Style: Decent job here. More errors than I would’ve liked to see with someone of your potential. Spell check and re-read. All I can really say, other than that, just make sure you keep up the smooth story telling. (5.5)

Rising Action: This was alright, but I felt it could’ve been better. I completely saw ahead of time what you were planning with the salt, but it was still a good idea. However, predictable outcomes aren’t always the best. You did get an extra point for the rainfall. I laughed at that. (7)

Dialogue: Not as good as strategy, but it was alright. The thugs however, seemed to flip-flop from time to time. Make sure character lines are consistent throughout the thread. It just throws the flow off when people start talking in different tones and styles. (5)

Climax: Nice. I liked the description of the body in the trunk and how it looked. Good job here. (7)

Character: I loved this part. Great job. His analytical view of society and even himself was very amusing and entertaining. He wasn’t overpowered and definitely had his faults and vulnerability in this thread. Keep this up. (8)

Conclusion: A little fast. It went from the trunk to his inn, tying it up with his thoughts back to the notebook and repeated theme of loneliness, but nothing of his friend or inner thoughts of himself, aside from Diamond (which I gave an extra half point). But it was completed and all loose ends were tied up. (6.5)

Wild Card: Definite potential for this story. I can’t wait to see this guy grow. Good job and keep on truckin’! (7)

Total Score: 64

Smoker gains 320 exp and 125 gp!

[Thoracis]

EXP and GP added!