Whispers and Murmurs
11-14-07, 11:59 PM
Hi there, this is Kovalai, posting a second character(s)! Unfortunately Mirena would never be found in a battle arena, so these guys need to be called upon. The history is perhaps a bit long, but I really enjoyed writing it! I hope you have fun with it =P
Name: Zahil and Senka Fairen
Age: 12
Race: Human
Hair Color: Black and Brown respectively
Eye Color: Brown
Height: 5' and 5'2"
Weight: 82 lbs and 85 lbs
Relationship: Senka is Zahil’s imaginary twin sister.
Personality: Zahil is quiet and withdrawn. He doesn’t like people other than his sister Senka, and tends to be curt, while trying to sound mature. On the inside, Zahil is bitter about how he’s been treated by the people he’s met, starting from his parents, and expanding to everyone else. The only person he cares about is Senka, and he tries to make her happy when she isn’t being a brat. Zahil must feel important, special, and does so by proving himself better in his eyes than other people. He loves secrets and knowing things others don’t makes him feel superior. To this end he goes out of his way to both horde his own secrets, and learn the secrets of others whenever he can.
Senka is a cheerful, sometimes childish girl. Though she can be selfish, she tries to think about what’s best for both her and her brother. Above all though she loves having fun, and likes to play games. Her favorite games though, are the ones that tap into her sadistic nature, and she greatly enjoys talking her brother into playing with other people. Senka is more intelligent than Zahil, though he could be described as cleverer.
Appearance: Zihal looks much like a regular adolescent boy, albeit a bit dirtier. His tangled black hair is jaggedly short, and looks like most, but not all, of the grime and dirt that was in it was rinsed out. His large brown eyes are constantly moving, trying not to miss a single detail in a situation. He’s usually seen with the quiet, self satisfied, ‘I know something you don’t,’expression. He has the gangly build of a twelve year old, but still retains a measure of the roundness of youth
Zahil is dressed in a mismatched assortment of clothes. On the one hand, he wears a surprisingly fine shirt of dark blue sifan, tapered to fit along the wrist and lower forearm. This is matched by a pair of charcoal gray pants, also made of sifan. Despite the high quality of these clothes however, they’re quite dirty, and about as worn as sifan is lightly to get. Over these clothes he wears a ragged old dark brown peasant’s jerkin, overlarge and reaching to his middle thigh. His outfit is completed by a simple belt and a pair of mismatched blackened leather boots. Tucked into his belt is a dagger, nine inches long, tapered and edged on both sides.
Senka, could anyone but Zahil see her, would seem to be an oddly dressed noble’s daughter. She wears a loose, navy blue shirt of finest silk, slashed with silver. Matching this is a pair of silvery black silk pants tucked into soft leather knee-high boots. Her boots are matched by her gloves, which nearly reach her elbows. Her thick auburn hair touches her shoulder blades, and her face is graced by sparkling brown eyes and a light, cheerful grin. Her hair, clothes, and face are of course perfectly clean.
History:
It was late autumn in Radasanth, and though inside the houses and inns the night was warm and smoky, in the streets and alleys the air was crisp and icy, like winter coming early. Down one such alley, a small boy of about six years sat wrapped in rags. He sat with his arms curled around his knees, pulling his legs close in a vain attempt to keep the heat in. The air burned in his nose as he breathed, and with a shiver, he tucked his head beneath his arms, condensing himself further.
A hand nudged his shoulder, and looking up, he saw his sister had sat down next to him. Her hand shook, and her cheeks were pale. “Zahil, I’m cold.”
“I know Senka, so am I.”
“Let’s find somewhere inside, I don’t want to sleep out here anymore.”
“We can’t. We...we’re evil. We’re demons, remember?” He was cold. He wanted to cry, but he had given up on tears months ago, or maybe had run out. Why do we have to stay outside? He didn’t understand it, but he knew there was something wrong with them.
Senka shifted from complaining to angry. “No we aren’t! We are not demons, Daddy’s wr-”
Zahil lept to his feet, whirling to face Senka. The cold was forgotten in his anger, and his eyes blazed. “Never say that name again!” He shouted down at her. He took a shuddering breath, and though there was a prickle behind his eyes no tears came. Trying to sound grown up, he said “You’re right, I don’t like being out here, it isn’t any fun. Let’s go find somewhere warm.”
Senka laughed and jumped up, giving him a big hug. Together they walked into the night. They weren’t sure what they were looking for, but eventually decided they would find a house without any lights on. Lights meant people would be angry at them. Eventually they found a house that looked like the Old House where they used to live. No lights shone between the shutters, and they tried the door, but it was locked.
Zahil closed his eyes, and let his world become dark. In the dark, the world became both further away, sharper and less distinct at the same time. He could taste, feel the inside of the room, and he Stepped toward it. His heart rushed, and he gasped. His skin felt tingly, like it always did when he Stepped, and it didn’t go away afterwards. It went away later, he knew, proud of himself for not being scared. It was like wearing another set of clothes that felt thick, but didn’t get in his way.
Senka giggled, and he shushed her. We have to be quiet, he thought, sneaky and silent and hidden. Senka whispered to him “But it tickles!” He shushed her again, glaring as best he could. She could be such a baby sometimes! But, it was exciting. He looked around, feeling a small thrill. They were in a kitchen, and it was warm. Starlight filtered in through the shutters, and the embers in the fire glowed dimly. There was a table, and chairs, and a pot, and a lantern that wasn’t lit, and then his tummy growled. He began to look around for something to eat, and found a loaf of bread sitting on the table, next to a knife. Snatching the loaf, he tore off a piece with his teeth. It was too big, in hindsight, but he wouldn’t let that stop him.
Fighting with his bread he at first missed the glare Senka gave at him, but couldn’t avoid noticing when she pushed him. Distracted and off balance, he fell over. Senka jumped on him and triumphantly grabbed the loaf of bread, taking a bite of her own. With a quiet battle-cry, he threw himself at her, and they wrestled with each other until with a thump Zahil ran into the wall. Almost in slow motion, Zahil saw the big dinner pot slip from the mantle place, and he had time to think uh oh before it crashed thunderously into the floor, ringing like a giant bell.
Zahil and Senka both froze with fear, unable to move. Moments later, a door slammed open and a man jumped into the room. He hesitated, off-balance in the unexpected darkness. “Who...Who’s there!?” Zahil’s eyes were wide with true fear. This was a grown up, and they were in trouble. The man had a dagger held out in from of him, and his eyes roved around the room.
Zahil stood frozen, waiting for discovery. But, after several instants, it dawned on him that discovery would not come. The man’s eyes had not stopped looking around, and though he had fallen silent, he was moving forward slowly. Scared. This dawned on Senka as well, and she laughed. He gave her a wide eyed, incredulous look, and she covered her mouth, subsiding to smothered giggles. Zahil was grinning too though. He tried moving, a few cautious steps, but the man didn’t notice.
His excitement was short lived though, as he realized that the man was walking toward them, toward the table, and the lantern. Zahil panicked, unsure of what to do. The man would light the lantern, and they would get caught. Zahil climbed on the chair and looked at the lantern. It was big, he wasn’t sure how easy it would be to run away with. He looked back over his shoulder. The man was almost here, he would catch them. He looked back at Senka. She looked scared and excited at the same time.
Then he saw the knife. He shivered. He had played with a knife before back when he was little, and gotten in trouble. He reached for the knife, it felt heavy and awkward in his hand. Turning back to the man, he crept around him, not wanting to stand in front of him. He took a deep breath, and with eyes squeezed shut, swung the knife. He felt it cut lightly into something soft, heard a tear of fabric. The man shouted in surprise, and spun around, swinging his dagger wildly.
Senka gasped loudly. Zahil tumbled back and away, but couldn’t stop staring at the blood welling out of the man’s arm. The blood was bright, luminous red, dripping down his wrist, and along his hand. The man had pulled his arm close to him, and was still whirling around, eyes huge and wild. “Where are you!? What are you!? Show yourself!” The man’s voice was shrill, higher than it had been. Zahil made no sound, but his heart was thumping so loud he was sure the man could hear it. He told it urgently to shush.
The man was backing up now, but his back was to Zahil. “Gods help me... You...you’re not human. Where are you, monster?” Something dark and hot and scary knotted up inside of Zahil. With a shriek, he threw himself at the man’s back.
“I am not a MONSTER!!” The knife, held in both hands slid like wind into the man’s back. He screamed and fell. The knife descended again, and again. Blood spurted, and felt warm on his arms. The screaming ended. Everything was dizzy, Zahil couldn’t see, everything just swirled. He dropped with a thump, sitting on the ground and staring at nothing.
Senka had crawled forward, fixated on the body. She stood over it, and then giggled. Whirling, she took Zahil’s shoulder and tugged at him. Her eyes were huge, she cheeks flushed and she had a big grin on her face. Her voice was a breathless whisper “Look...look what we did! That was a grown up! And he’s gone now! We aren’t going to get in trouble, we aren’t like regular kids!” Her eyes seemed to shine in the dark.
“What... are we then?” I’m not a monster!
“We’re special.”
“Special?”
“We’re better than other kids! Other kids get in trouble, but we don’t!” Special... Zahil wanted to be special. He was different, and different was bad. But special was good. He looked over at the man on the floor. They weren’t in trouble, Senka was right. Zahil smiled to himself. You stupid grown up, thought you were better than me, but I’m better. You can’t do anything to me.
“This is a fun game Zahil! We’re like grown ups! We can be how we want now, because we’re special! We don’t have to sleep outside, or wear old clothes, or be hungry!” Zahil nodded. He looked down at his bloody hands. Shrugging off the scraps that remained of his shirt and pants, he cleaned them off as best he could.
******
Zahil smiled at the scene taking place below him. He lay on the rafters in the back room of some bar, he couldn’t remember the name, while beneath him fools thought they held their business in private. He couldn’t blame them, really. He was Shrouded, the familiar tingle like a second skin, and their was no one who could find him. The room could’ve been big, if it wasn’t packed with old crates and barrels. It had only one window, and the air was smoky and acrid from the bad oil in the lantern.
The two men beneath him were both old, and criminals, but beyond that the similarities ended. The closer one was fat, bald, sweating, and keep glancing around nervously. Some cheap merchant wanting to make a bit more coin, apparently. The man on the other side, though, he was interesting. He was muscular and fit, with a full head of dark hair. Relaxed, casual. There was a sword on his belt, and he looked like he knew how to use it. Zahil didn’t like him.
It looked like a smuggling deal, the fat one trying to get some cargo, furs, without paying his dues. Though it was nothing so interesting as a murder plot, or even something more interesting than furs, Zahil still watched intently. A secret was a secret, and it was his now. His attention was broken though, when Senka spoke up.
“Zahiilll, I’m bored. We’re gonna be here all night, and not do anything. Why can’t we play with them?” She said, grinning at him. He, on the other hand, frowned irritably.
“No, we aren’t playing with them. I want to keep them. Shut up, they’ll hear us.” There was silence in the rafters, and, having expected a response, he looked at her in surprise. She was sitting with her arms crossed, and face set in a masterful pout. He rolled his eyes, “Oh please, you don’t even mean that. You don’t care.” She looked away with a ‘hmpf!’ “Come on! We played yesterday! I’m keeping these ones, don’t be so childish. You’re supposed to be twelve.” He whispered fiercely.
She whirled on him, eyes fiery and sparkling. “Oh, I’m childish!? Hah! We always just hide and listen, and you always get to do what you want, and we barely ever play, and I just want to play this once, and they’re just stupid smugglers, what do you care? But no, it has to be Zahil’s way! You’re no fun anymore!”
He sighed. It just wasn’t fair. “Fine! Fine. We’ll play with them, happy?”
She laughed and gave him a hug. “Yay! Thanks brother, it’ll be fun, I promise!”
“Yeah yeah, whatever.” He closed his eyes, and Stepped. The rush of blood, the flash of another place, another world, and he was there, hidden behind a barrel on the floor of the back room. He loved the feeling of Stepping, it was his favorite secret. He slipped out from behind the barrel. He was bigger than he used to be, and the room was lit better than he was used to. But the lantern hanging from above the table was blowing gently in the wind from a broken pane in the window, and the shadows spun in hazy circles around the room. Between the Shroud, and his improved stealth, this was no challenge.
As he snuck forward with Senka at his side, she whispered to him, “not to fast, remember. It has to be fun.” He threw a sarcastic look at her, and then nodded. Like he needed to be told how it was done! He crept along the floor. His feet were murmurs, and he was little more than a ghost. He had forgotten the conversation between the two, but paused to listen from right behind the fat man as he slid his dagger from it’s sheath.
“You joking with me, Syril? You want me tuh take my men past three guard patrols for a pathe’ic five percent? No way that’s happening. We need twenty-five percent.” The grizzled man looked serious, but Zahil could see the satisfaction in his eyes. The merchant, Syril, choked on his cheap wine, staring at the other man incredulously.
“That’s...that’s just impossible! You’ll bankrupt me! I could never give you more than ten percent.” Zahil frowned. Senka was right, these people were boring. Remembering Senka’s warning, he took the last step behind the merchant. With a grim smile he took his blade, and quickly sliced through the man’s hamstring. Senka had slipped around to the side of the table, and seeing the pain exploding on his face, she laughed delightedly. Meanwhile, as Syril screamed in pain and tried to stand only to fall to the ground, writhing as the blood exploded out of his leg, Zahil was already looking toward the smuggler, the dangerous one. He wasn’t worryed about the screaming, the door had been barred from the inside, and this would be over before they could get it open.
That one’s eyes had widened in surprise when Syril had screamed, and when the merchant fell he had leapt to his feet, kicking his chair out of his way, and drawing his sword. He glanced at the door, but didn’t try to run. Instead, he scanned the room, and it was only a moment before he saw Zahil crouched behind the fat man’s chair. The man cursed loudly, and backed up, but didn’t run. Zahil was surprised; the man had sharp eyes. Zahil knew what he looked like when Shrouded, and he smiled. This warrior was afraid of him. But, he should’ve been more afraid. This was new and different.
Zahil half stood, and cautiously began walking around the table. Watching his movements, sword held in both hands, the man stood his ground. As he crested the table, the man lunged. This caught Zahil off guard. He had been in more than his fair share of knife fights and brawls, but this was different. Startled, Zahil leapt back out of reach, keeping his distance for the moment. The man smiled grimly. “You might be ungodly quiet, shade, but you’re no match for me.”
Zahil frowned. He didn’t like this man at all. But still, there was something. His heart was beating like it did when he stepped, and he was just standing here. He watched the tip of the man’s sword, he would dodge past the man, he thought, and cut out his heart. Exploding into motion, he dashed toward the man. The sword started to move down toward him, and he dodged left. But too late, the man reversed his sword and spun the swing straight at Zahil’s side.
The sword sheared through his jerkin, and crashed into his side. There was a blinding pain, but it was dull. His shirt had stopped the cut. I suppose it was real sifan after all. But then the sword was already snapping back up and into his neck. As the blade began slicing through skin, Zahil panicked. He Stepped, away, anywhere. The world rushed around him. And many seconds later he realized he was Shrouded amidst the crates at the back of the room.
Too late, Zahil realized his mistake. Fighting was like secrets, and like murder. You had to watch their face, then you could see their thoughts, their fears, their pain. He felt the blood on his neck, and his heart drumming wildly in his chest, the adrenaline flying through his veins. Then Senka was next to him. She had been gleefully watching Syril as his screams dried in his throat, and his body began to freeze in pain. However, she had seen what happened between Zahil and the man, and gasped as she watched Zahil barely escape death. Hand on his arm, she reached out and touched the blood on his neck. She was breathing fast, eyes alight. She looked across the room, and pointed.
The man was still standing with his sword out, looking around. Someone pounded against the other side of the door, his voice muffled by the thick oak. After a long moment, he smirked. “Told you shade, you were no match for me.” He glanced down at his clean sword blade. “Thing didn’t even bleed. Oh shut up will you?” He said toward the general direction of Syril as he turned toward the door.
“He’s going to get away,” Senka whispered urgently.
“No he isn’t.” Zahil Stepped, and the instant he appeared behind the pirate, thrust his dagger into the man’s kidney. The man cursed loudly, spinning with his sword to take Zahil in the chest. But Zahil was ready for him, and rolled beneath the blade, coming up on the right side of the man. He snapped his sword back at Zahil, still cursing, but his wound betrayed him, and the move wasn’t as smooth as it could’ve been. Dodging past the blade, Zahil shoved the man’s elbow, forcing him to continue his swing as a dagger was driven under his ribcage.
The man grunted, and with a quiet “demon bastard,” crumpled to the ground and died. Senka bounded over and threw her arms around Zahil, grinning. She would be euphoric on the death, he knew, and ignored her. She ran to the body, staring at it, then a fit of giggles took her, which turned into full blown laughter. She dropped to the floor, rolling and giggling. Zahil watched her curiously now. This was a bit unusual.
She eventually stopped laughing, and pulled herself to her feet. She grabbed Zahil’s hands, cheeks flushed and breathless. “We fought him! We fought him, and we beat him! I like this a lot. This is the best game!” She broke into a fit of laughter again, cutting herself off. She spun in circles, quickly getting dizzy and falling to the ground.
Zahil considered his own feelings. His heart was still thumping, and he felt more satisfied than he had in a long time. He smiled down at the men lying dead on the floor. I know your secret. I killed you, and no one else will know. Your death is mine. He could smell the blood in the air, overwhelming the rancid oil.
“Brother, brother! We have to play this game again! Let’s play more!” She tugged at his arm, her willpower battling to put a serious expression on her face to mask her grin.
Zahil nodded. “Yes, you’re right, we do have to play again. Let’s go, sister, I know where to play.” They Stepped out of the room and into the night, leaving the bodies to be found by the barkeeper when the door was finally broken open.
******
Skills: Zahil is below average with his dagger, but better than you would expect of a child. He still lacks the strength and fine muscle control to really be good. Senka is probably better with a dagger than Zahil, though more reckless (Average). His years of living on the streets have honed the skills he needs for survival. Zahil is surprising fast and acrobatic, and is well versed in sneaking about (Above average)
These skills, however are minor compared to their true talent, that which makes them special. Zahil and Senka have the ability to manipulate shadows. There are more than a few ways for this to be done, and Zahil and Senka can perform some of them, but only relatively weakly.
Shadow Gifts:
The Shroud - The Gifted can wrap themselves in a veil of shadows. This may be something as simple a deepening of the shadows on themselves, or something as drastic as an apparent complete change of surface shape. The purpose of this ability is concealment, and when Shrouded, the Gifted is not only extremely difficult to see (when within other shadows, of course), but the sounds they make are muffled, and even other sense like smell or touch (possibly even supernatural senses, if the Gifted is powerful enough) can be repressed.
The Step - The Gifted can flit through the world on wings of shadow, a single step taking them great distances. As they are relatively weak, Zahil and Senka are not very good at Stepping, and can do little more than Step from within one shadow to another nearby. It’s possible to Step from without shadow into shadow, but significantly more difficult, and though in a technical sense, Stepping from outside shadow to another point outside shadow is possible, as far as Zahil is concerned, it’s impossible. Stepping is roughly as tiring as running the same distance would be, so a single Step would mean next to nothing, but a chain of them would leave them close to collapse.
The Sight - A Gift that is in some ways weaker, and in some more frightening than the others, the Sight allows the Gifted to look into the hearts and souls of others, and see the shadows that lie upon them. As far as Zahil and Senka’s ability has progressed, this means nothing more than being able to sense negative emotion weighing on someone’s soul, but they lack the ability to distinguish differences in heart-shadows, or act upon them.
Connected, but separate from the Sight, Zahil and Senka are able to see in almost all but pitch darkness.
Senka: Though most of the time, in their minds Senka exists separate from Zahil, it is possible for Senka to take control of Zahil’s body. When this occurs, Zahil’s personality falls into unconsciousness, and Senka takes over. Senka always wears the Shroud, and has stronger, more intuitive grasp of the Shadow Gifts, though it is unclear why.
Equipment: Nothing beyond the clothes on their backs (or, more precisely, the clothes on Zahil’s back, considering that Senka’s aren’t exactly real), and Zahil’s dagger.
Name: Zahil and Senka Fairen
Age: 12
Race: Human
Hair Color: Black and Brown respectively
Eye Color: Brown
Height: 5' and 5'2"
Weight: 82 lbs and 85 lbs
Relationship: Senka is Zahil’s imaginary twin sister.
Personality: Zahil is quiet and withdrawn. He doesn’t like people other than his sister Senka, and tends to be curt, while trying to sound mature. On the inside, Zahil is bitter about how he’s been treated by the people he’s met, starting from his parents, and expanding to everyone else. The only person he cares about is Senka, and he tries to make her happy when she isn’t being a brat. Zahil must feel important, special, and does so by proving himself better in his eyes than other people. He loves secrets and knowing things others don’t makes him feel superior. To this end he goes out of his way to both horde his own secrets, and learn the secrets of others whenever he can.
Senka is a cheerful, sometimes childish girl. Though she can be selfish, she tries to think about what’s best for both her and her brother. Above all though she loves having fun, and likes to play games. Her favorite games though, are the ones that tap into her sadistic nature, and she greatly enjoys talking her brother into playing with other people. Senka is more intelligent than Zahil, though he could be described as cleverer.
Appearance: Zihal looks much like a regular adolescent boy, albeit a bit dirtier. His tangled black hair is jaggedly short, and looks like most, but not all, of the grime and dirt that was in it was rinsed out. His large brown eyes are constantly moving, trying not to miss a single detail in a situation. He’s usually seen with the quiet, self satisfied, ‘I know something you don’t,’expression. He has the gangly build of a twelve year old, but still retains a measure of the roundness of youth
Zahil is dressed in a mismatched assortment of clothes. On the one hand, he wears a surprisingly fine shirt of dark blue sifan, tapered to fit along the wrist and lower forearm. This is matched by a pair of charcoal gray pants, also made of sifan. Despite the high quality of these clothes however, they’re quite dirty, and about as worn as sifan is lightly to get. Over these clothes he wears a ragged old dark brown peasant’s jerkin, overlarge and reaching to his middle thigh. His outfit is completed by a simple belt and a pair of mismatched blackened leather boots. Tucked into his belt is a dagger, nine inches long, tapered and edged on both sides.
Senka, could anyone but Zahil see her, would seem to be an oddly dressed noble’s daughter. She wears a loose, navy blue shirt of finest silk, slashed with silver. Matching this is a pair of silvery black silk pants tucked into soft leather knee-high boots. Her boots are matched by her gloves, which nearly reach her elbows. Her thick auburn hair touches her shoulder blades, and her face is graced by sparkling brown eyes and a light, cheerful grin. Her hair, clothes, and face are of course perfectly clean.
History:
It was late autumn in Radasanth, and though inside the houses and inns the night was warm and smoky, in the streets and alleys the air was crisp and icy, like winter coming early. Down one such alley, a small boy of about six years sat wrapped in rags. He sat with his arms curled around his knees, pulling his legs close in a vain attempt to keep the heat in. The air burned in his nose as he breathed, and with a shiver, he tucked his head beneath his arms, condensing himself further.
A hand nudged his shoulder, and looking up, he saw his sister had sat down next to him. Her hand shook, and her cheeks were pale. “Zahil, I’m cold.”
“I know Senka, so am I.”
“Let’s find somewhere inside, I don’t want to sleep out here anymore.”
“We can’t. We...we’re evil. We’re demons, remember?” He was cold. He wanted to cry, but he had given up on tears months ago, or maybe had run out. Why do we have to stay outside? He didn’t understand it, but he knew there was something wrong with them.
Senka shifted from complaining to angry. “No we aren’t! We are not demons, Daddy’s wr-”
Zahil lept to his feet, whirling to face Senka. The cold was forgotten in his anger, and his eyes blazed. “Never say that name again!” He shouted down at her. He took a shuddering breath, and though there was a prickle behind his eyes no tears came. Trying to sound grown up, he said “You’re right, I don’t like being out here, it isn’t any fun. Let’s go find somewhere warm.”
Senka laughed and jumped up, giving him a big hug. Together they walked into the night. They weren’t sure what they were looking for, but eventually decided they would find a house without any lights on. Lights meant people would be angry at them. Eventually they found a house that looked like the Old House where they used to live. No lights shone between the shutters, and they tried the door, but it was locked.
Zahil closed his eyes, and let his world become dark. In the dark, the world became both further away, sharper and less distinct at the same time. He could taste, feel the inside of the room, and he Stepped toward it. His heart rushed, and he gasped. His skin felt tingly, like it always did when he Stepped, and it didn’t go away afterwards. It went away later, he knew, proud of himself for not being scared. It was like wearing another set of clothes that felt thick, but didn’t get in his way.
Senka giggled, and he shushed her. We have to be quiet, he thought, sneaky and silent and hidden. Senka whispered to him “But it tickles!” He shushed her again, glaring as best he could. She could be such a baby sometimes! But, it was exciting. He looked around, feeling a small thrill. They were in a kitchen, and it was warm. Starlight filtered in through the shutters, and the embers in the fire glowed dimly. There was a table, and chairs, and a pot, and a lantern that wasn’t lit, and then his tummy growled. He began to look around for something to eat, and found a loaf of bread sitting on the table, next to a knife. Snatching the loaf, he tore off a piece with his teeth. It was too big, in hindsight, but he wouldn’t let that stop him.
Fighting with his bread he at first missed the glare Senka gave at him, but couldn’t avoid noticing when she pushed him. Distracted and off balance, he fell over. Senka jumped on him and triumphantly grabbed the loaf of bread, taking a bite of her own. With a quiet battle-cry, he threw himself at her, and they wrestled with each other until with a thump Zahil ran into the wall. Almost in slow motion, Zahil saw the big dinner pot slip from the mantle place, and he had time to think uh oh before it crashed thunderously into the floor, ringing like a giant bell.
Zahil and Senka both froze with fear, unable to move. Moments later, a door slammed open and a man jumped into the room. He hesitated, off-balance in the unexpected darkness. “Who...Who’s there!?” Zahil’s eyes were wide with true fear. This was a grown up, and they were in trouble. The man had a dagger held out in from of him, and his eyes roved around the room.
Zahil stood frozen, waiting for discovery. But, after several instants, it dawned on him that discovery would not come. The man’s eyes had not stopped looking around, and though he had fallen silent, he was moving forward slowly. Scared. This dawned on Senka as well, and she laughed. He gave her a wide eyed, incredulous look, and she covered her mouth, subsiding to smothered giggles. Zahil was grinning too though. He tried moving, a few cautious steps, but the man didn’t notice.
His excitement was short lived though, as he realized that the man was walking toward them, toward the table, and the lantern. Zahil panicked, unsure of what to do. The man would light the lantern, and they would get caught. Zahil climbed on the chair and looked at the lantern. It was big, he wasn’t sure how easy it would be to run away with. He looked back over his shoulder. The man was almost here, he would catch them. He looked back at Senka. She looked scared and excited at the same time.
Then he saw the knife. He shivered. He had played with a knife before back when he was little, and gotten in trouble. He reached for the knife, it felt heavy and awkward in his hand. Turning back to the man, he crept around him, not wanting to stand in front of him. He took a deep breath, and with eyes squeezed shut, swung the knife. He felt it cut lightly into something soft, heard a tear of fabric. The man shouted in surprise, and spun around, swinging his dagger wildly.
Senka gasped loudly. Zahil tumbled back and away, but couldn’t stop staring at the blood welling out of the man’s arm. The blood was bright, luminous red, dripping down his wrist, and along his hand. The man had pulled his arm close to him, and was still whirling around, eyes huge and wild. “Where are you!? What are you!? Show yourself!” The man’s voice was shrill, higher than it had been. Zahil made no sound, but his heart was thumping so loud he was sure the man could hear it. He told it urgently to shush.
The man was backing up now, but his back was to Zahil. “Gods help me... You...you’re not human. Where are you, monster?” Something dark and hot and scary knotted up inside of Zahil. With a shriek, he threw himself at the man’s back.
“I am not a MONSTER!!” The knife, held in both hands slid like wind into the man’s back. He screamed and fell. The knife descended again, and again. Blood spurted, and felt warm on his arms. The screaming ended. Everything was dizzy, Zahil couldn’t see, everything just swirled. He dropped with a thump, sitting on the ground and staring at nothing.
Senka had crawled forward, fixated on the body. She stood over it, and then giggled. Whirling, she took Zahil’s shoulder and tugged at him. Her eyes were huge, she cheeks flushed and she had a big grin on her face. Her voice was a breathless whisper “Look...look what we did! That was a grown up! And he’s gone now! We aren’t going to get in trouble, we aren’t like regular kids!” Her eyes seemed to shine in the dark.
“What... are we then?” I’m not a monster!
“We’re special.”
“Special?”
“We’re better than other kids! Other kids get in trouble, but we don’t!” Special... Zahil wanted to be special. He was different, and different was bad. But special was good. He looked over at the man on the floor. They weren’t in trouble, Senka was right. Zahil smiled to himself. You stupid grown up, thought you were better than me, but I’m better. You can’t do anything to me.
“This is a fun game Zahil! We’re like grown ups! We can be how we want now, because we’re special! We don’t have to sleep outside, or wear old clothes, or be hungry!” Zahil nodded. He looked down at his bloody hands. Shrugging off the scraps that remained of his shirt and pants, he cleaned them off as best he could.
******
Zahil smiled at the scene taking place below him. He lay on the rafters in the back room of some bar, he couldn’t remember the name, while beneath him fools thought they held their business in private. He couldn’t blame them, really. He was Shrouded, the familiar tingle like a second skin, and their was no one who could find him. The room could’ve been big, if it wasn’t packed with old crates and barrels. It had only one window, and the air was smoky and acrid from the bad oil in the lantern.
The two men beneath him were both old, and criminals, but beyond that the similarities ended. The closer one was fat, bald, sweating, and keep glancing around nervously. Some cheap merchant wanting to make a bit more coin, apparently. The man on the other side, though, he was interesting. He was muscular and fit, with a full head of dark hair. Relaxed, casual. There was a sword on his belt, and he looked like he knew how to use it. Zahil didn’t like him.
It looked like a smuggling deal, the fat one trying to get some cargo, furs, without paying his dues. Though it was nothing so interesting as a murder plot, or even something more interesting than furs, Zahil still watched intently. A secret was a secret, and it was his now. His attention was broken though, when Senka spoke up.
“Zahiilll, I’m bored. We’re gonna be here all night, and not do anything. Why can’t we play with them?” She said, grinning at him. He, on the other hand, frowned irritably.
“No, we aren’t playing with them. I want to keep them. Shut up, they’ll hear us.” There was silence in the rafters, and, having expected a response, he looked at her in surprise. She was sitting with her arms crossed, and face set in a masterful pout. He rolled his eyes, “Oh please, you don’t even mean that. You don’t care.” She looked away with a ‘hmpf!’ “Come on! We played yesterday! I’m keeping these ones, don’t be so childish. You’re supposed to be twelve.” He whispered fiercely.
She whirled on him, eyes fiery and sparkling. “Oh, I’m childish!? Hah! We always just hide and listen, and you always get to do what you want, and we barely ever play, and I just want to play this once, and they’re just stupid smugglers, what do you care? But no, it has to be Zahil’s way! You’re no fun anymore!”
He sighed. It just wasn’t fair. “Fine! Fine. We’ll play with them, happy?”
She laughed and gave him a hug. “Yay! Thanks brother, it’ll be fun, I promise!”
“Yeah yeah, whatever.” He closed his eyes, and Stepped. The rush of blood, the flash of another place, another world, and he was there, hidden behind a barrel on the floor of the back room. He loved the feeling of Stepping, it was his favorite secret. He slipped out from behind the barrel. He was bigger than he used to be, and the room was lit better than he was used to. But the lantern hanging from above the table was blowing gently in the wind from a broken pane in the window, and the shadows spun in hazy circles around the room. Between the Shroud, and his improved stealth, this was no challenge.
As he snuck forward with Senka at his side, she whispered to him, “not to fast, remember. It has to be fun.” He threw a sarcastic look at her, and then nodded. Like he needed to be told how it was done! He crept along the floor. His feet were murmurs, and he was little more than a ghost. He had forgotten the conversation between the two, but paused to listen from right behind the fat man as he slid his dagger from it’s sheath.
“You joking with me, Syril? You want me tuh take my men past three guard patrols for a pathe’ic five percent? No way that’s happening. We need twenty-five percent.” The grizzled man looked serious, but Zahil could see the satisfaction in his eyes. The merchant, Syril, choked on his cheap wine, staring at the other man incredulously.
“That’s...that’s just impossible! You’ll bankrupt me! I could never give you more than ten percent.” Zahil frowned. Senka was right, these people were boring. Remembering Senka’s warning, he took the last step behind the merchant. With a grim smile he took his blade, and quickly sliced through the man’s hamstring. Senka had slipped around to the side of the table, and seeing the pain exploding on his face, she laughed delightedly. Meanwhile, as Syril screamed in pain and tried to stand only to fall to the ground, writhing as the blood exploded out of his leg, Zahil was already looking toward the smuggler, the dangerous one. He wasn’t worryed about the screaming, the door had been barred from the inside, and this would be over before they could get it open.
That one’s eyes had widened in surprise when Syril had screamed, and when the merchant fell he had leapt to his feet, kicking his chair out of his way, and drawing his sword. He glanced at the door, but didn’t try to run. Instead, he scanned the room, and it was only a moment before he saw Zahil crouched behind the fat man’s chair. The man cursed loudly, and backed up, but didn’t run. Zahil was surprised; the man had sharp eyes. Zahil knew what he looked like when Shrouded, and he smiled. This warrior was afraid of him. But, he should’ve been more afraid. This was new and different.
Zahil half stood, and cautiously began walking around the table. Watching his movements, sword held in both hands, the man stood his ground. As he crested the table, the man lunged. This caught Zahil off guard. He had been in more than his fair share of knife fights and brawls, but this was different. Startled, Zahil leapt back out of reach, keeping his distance for the moment. The man smiled grimly. “You might be ungodly quiet, shade, but you’re no match for me.”
Zahil frowned. He didn’t like this man at all. But still, there was something. His heart was beating like it did when he stepped, and he was just standing here. He watched the tip of the man’s sword, he would dodge past the man, he thought, and cut out his heart. Exploding into motion, he dashed toward the man. The sword started to move down toward him, and he dodged left. But too late, the man reversed his sword and spun the swing straight at Zahil’s side.
The sword sheared through his jerkin, and crashed into his side. There was a blinding pain, but it was dull. His shirt had stopped the cut. I suppose it was real sifan after all. But then the sword was already snapping back up and into his neck. As the blade began slicing through skin, Zahil panicked. He Stepped, away, anywhere. The world rushed around him. And many seconds later he realized he was Shrouded amidst the crates at the back of the room.
Too late, Zahil realized his mistake. Fighting was like secrets, and like murder. You had to watch their face, then you could see their thoughts, their fears, their pain. He felt the blood on his neck, and his heart drumming wildly in his chest, the adrenaline flying through his veins. Then Senka was next to him. She had been gleefully watching Syril as his screams dried in his throat, and his body began to freeze in pain. However, she had seen what happened between Zahil and the man, and gasped as she watched Zahil barely escape death. Hand on his arm, she reached out and touched the blood on his neck. She was breathing fast, eyes alight. She looked across the room, and pointed.
The man was still standing with his sword out, looking around. Someone pounded against the other side of the door, his voice muffled by the thick oak. After a long moment, he smirked. “Told you shade, you were no match for me.” He glanced down at his clean sword blade. “Thing didn’t even bleed. Oh shut up will you?” He said toward the general direction of Syril as he turned toward the door.
“He’s going to get away,” Senka whispered urgently.
“No he isn’t.” Zahil Stepped, and the instant he appeared behind the pirate, thrust his dagger into the man’s kidney. The man cursed loudly, spinning with his sword to take Zahil in the chest. But Zahil was ready for him, and rolled beneath the blade, coming up on the right side of the man. He snapped his sword back at Zahil, still cursing, but his wound betrayed him, and the move wasn’t as smooth as it could’ve been. Dodging past the blade, Zahil shoved the man’s elbow, forcing him to continue his swing as a dagger was driven under his ribcage.
The man grunted, and with a quiet “demon bastard,” crumpled to the ground and died. Senka bounded over and threw her arms around Zahil, grinning. She would be euphoric on the death, he knew, and ignored her. She ran to the body, staring at it, then a fit of giggles took her, which turned into full blown laughter. She dropped to the floor, rolling and giggling. Zahil watched her curiously now. This was a bit unusual.
She eventually stopped laughing, and pulled herself to her feet. She grabbed Zahil’s hands, cheeks flushed and breathless. “We fought him! We fought him, and we beat him! I like this a lot. This is the best game!” She broke into a fit of laughter again, cutting herself off. She spun in circles, quickly getting dizzy and falling to the ground.
Zahil considered his own feelings. His heart was still thumping, and he felt more satisfied than he had in a long time. He smiled down at the men lying dead on the floor. I know your secret. I killed you, and no one else will know. Your death is mine. He could smell the blood in the air, overwhelming the rancid oil.
“Brother, brother! We have to play this game again! Let’s play more!” She tugged at his arm, her willpower battling to put a serious expression on her face to mask her grin.
Zahil nodded. “Yes, you’re right, we do have to play again. Let’s go, sister, I know where to play.” They Stepped out of the room and into the night, leaving the bodies to be found by the barkeeper when the door was finally broken open.
******
Skills: Zahil is below average with his dagger, but better than you would expect of a child. He still lacks the strength and fine muscle control to really be good. Senka is probably better with a dagger than Zahil, though more reckless (Average). His years of living on the streets have honed the skills he needs for survival. Zahil is surprising fast and acrobatic, and is well versed in sneaking about (Above average)
These skills, however are minor compared to their true talent, that which makes them special. Zahil and Senka have the ability to manipulate shadows. There are more than a few ways for this to be done, and Zahil and Senka can perform some of them, but only relatively weakly.
Shadow Gifts:
The Shroud - The Gifted can wrap themselves in a veil of shadows. This may be something as simple a deepening of the shadows on themselves, or something as drastic as an apparent complete change of surface shape. The purpose of this ability is concealment, and when Shrouded, the Gifted is not only extremely difficult to see (when within other shadows, of course), but the sounds they make are muffled, and even other sense like smell or touch (possibly even supernatural senses, if the Gifted is powerful enough) can be repressed.
The Step - The Gifted can flit through the world on wings of shadow, a single step taking them great distances. As they are relatively weak, Zahil and Senka are not very good at Stepping, and can do little more than Step from within one shadow to another nearby. It’s possible to Step from without shadow into shadow, but significantly more difficult, and though in a technical sense, Stepping from outside shadow to another point outside shadow is possible, as far as Zahil is concerned, it’s impossible. Stepping is roughly as tiring as running the same distance would be, so a single Step would mean next to nothing, but a chain of them would leave them close to collapse.
The Sight - A Gift that is in some ways weaker, and in some more frightening than the others, the Sight allows the Gifted to look into the hearts and souls of others, and see the shadows that lie upon them. As far as Zahil and Senka’s ability has progressed, this means nothing more than being able to sense negative emotion weighing on someone’s soul, but they lack the ability to distinguish differences in heart-shadows, or act upon them.
Connected, but separate from the Sight, Zahil and Senka are able to see in almost all but pitch darkness.
Senka: Though most of the time, in their minds Senka exists separate from Zahil, it is possible for Senka to take control of Zahil’s body. When this occurs, Zahil’s personality falls into unconsciousness, and Senka takes over. Senka always wears the Shroud, and has stronger, more intuitive grasp of the Shadow Gifts, though it is unclear why.
Equipment: Nothing beyond the clothes on their backs (or, more precisely, the clothes on Zahil’s back, considering that Senka’s aren’t exactly real), and Zahil’s dagger.