She woke up suddenly, disturbed. Something was different. The room was darker, the moon having drifted behind a wall of heavy clouds. It took her a minute to adapt to being awake before she realized what it was. There was no snoring. She still felt the weight of the Vectorian in the bed, but his normal heavy snoring was missing. She also felt something wet on her arm, the one she held defensively between herself and her captor. Trying not to move much, she slowly moved her other hand over and rubbed at her arm. Lifting her hand, she saw it was smeared in some dark liquid.
Slowly sitting up, she propped herself against the headboard and examined her hand. Blood. She realized that it was blood. But not hers. Looking over at the slumbering Vectorian soldier, she noticed that his throat bore a new wound from ear to ear. The bed was soaked in his life blood And covering his eyes were two platinum coins: one showing a grinning skull, the other a ticking hourglass. Startled, she jumped slightly and tried to push herself away from hit body.
She sucked in her breath and was about to scream...
'Shhhhhhhhhhh'
The noise caught her off guard and she swallowed her scream. Turning towards the window, for the first time she noticed a figure perched on the window sill. Clad in dark leathers and a heavy cloak, the figure's face was almost completelyshrouded in darkness. However, one leather gloved hand was held up near the face, one finger extended over the mouth in the universal sign for silence.
For some reason, she felt a need for modesty and she quickly pulled her robes up over her naked body. The figure in the window only chuckled softly, smiled, and jumped. Just as quickly as she had seen him or her, the figure was gone out the open window...
It was right about then that she remembered to scream.
[The Contract] Beginnings Pt I
The moon was cold and beautiful in the night sky, illuminating the streets of Westbridge on the other side of the window that acted as her only portal to the outside world. She had been here for so long she had lost Days? Weeks? Months? It was hard to tell anymore. The days blurred into nights and back into days. He wouldn't let her leave. Not that she was really living in squalor or anything like that. The accommodations were clean, and there were always meals provided. But nevertheless, she was a prisoner. A slave. His play thing. Ever since they had come, it had been like this.
Standing before the window, she stared longingly at the city which was beyond her grasps. So engrossed in thoughts of freedom, she didn't even hear him approaching. When he touched her shoulder, she shuddered involuntarily. He leaned in uncomfortably close and kissed her neck.
His rancid breath invaded her nostrils as he whispered in her ear, 'Don't fret precious, I'm here. Step away from the window. Let's go back to bed.' He ran his hand down her spine and lightly spanked her butt before walking back to the filthy bed against the far wall.
He threw himself into the bed and leaned backwards, presenting his naked body as if it held some sort of sex appeal. Swallowing the bile that creptup into her mouth, she lowered her head submissively and slowly walked towards him. Shrugging off her robe, she slipped into the bed beside him. Without even the slightest hint of tenderness, he flung his leg over her and prepared to mount her like a wild animal. All she could do was close her eyes and send her mind to a far away place, isolated from this room that had become her prison.
Within moments, he was done. He unceremoniously rolled off of her and quickly began snoring. Like every other night since she was taken, she wrapped the blanket tight around her body and quietly cried herself to sleep.
Standing before the window, she stared longingly at the city which was beyond her grasps. So engrossed in thoughts of freedom, she didn't even hear him approaching. When he touched her shoulder, she shuddered involuntarily. He leaned in uncomfortably close and kissed her neck.
His rancid breath invaded her nostrils as he whispered in her ear, 'Don't fret precious, I'm here. Step away from the window. Let's go back to bed.' He ran his hand down her spine and lightly spanked her butt before walking back to the filthy bed against the far wall.
He threw himself into the bed and leaned backwards, presenting his naked body as if it held some sort of sex appeal. Swallowing the bile that creptup into her mouth, she lowered her head submissively and slowly walked towards him. Shrugging off her robe, she slipped into the bed beside him. Without even the slightest hint of tenderness, he flung his leg over her and prepared to mount her like a wild animal. All she could do was close her eyes and send her mind to a far away place, isolated from this room that had become her prison.
Within moments, he was done. He unceremoniously rolled off of her and quickly began snoring. Like every other night since she was taken, she wrapped the blanket tight around her body and quietly cried herself to sleep.
[The Contract] Signing
Crovax leaned back in his chair, raised his right arm, and motioned briefly to one of his guards. The soldier stepped forward and produced a fairly large leather pouch, clearly heavy with coin. The guard dropped the bag on the table with a loud thud, the unmistakable clinking of coins filling the air. Crovax slowly pushed the pouch across the table. Dryden leaned forward and casually glanced inside.
'Consider this a deposit. Much and more will be provided should you follow through with the deal,' Crovax said as he watched Dryden counting the coin in his head.
'One final question. Do you have any requirements or restrictions about how we accomplish the mission?'
His eyes narrowed slightly in confusion, but Crovax shook his head. 'None. Do what you must.'
Dryden smirked slightly. 'Very well. Then all that is left is a little bit of paperwork...' Without breaking his gaze, Dryden motioned over his shoulder. A man clad in plain gray robes stepped out of the shadows with a parchment in hand. He laid it down before Dryden and handed him a quill. Dryden quickly signed his name along the bottom of the document and then slid it over towards Crovax.
Crovax looked the document over, reading everything that had been discussed during the meeting. He looked up at the scribe still standing over Dryden's shoulder and chuckled. 'My, do you work quickly.'
The scribe smiled bashfully and nodded his thanks. Crovax then picked up the quill and scribbled his signature before sliding the document back to Dryden. Grabbing a small metal seal and a stick of blood red wax from the other side of the table, Dryden held the wax over one of the candles until it started to melt. He then quickly smeared it on the document, next to the signatures and firmly pressed the seal into the hot wax. Pulling the metal stamp away from the document, a grinning skull plastered in blood red wax finalized the document. Dryden handed the document back to the scribe who quickly slipped away.
'When shall we begin?'
'Consider this a deposit. Much and more will be provided should you follow through with the deal,' Crovax said as he watched Dryden counting the coin in his head.
'One final question. Do you have any requirements or restrictions about how we accomplish the mission?'
His eyes narrowed slightly in confusion, but Crovax shook his head. 'None. Do what you must.'
Dryden smirked slightly. 'Very well. Then all that is left is a little bit of paperwork...' Without breaking his gaze, Dryden motioned over his shoulder. A man clad in plain gray robes stepped out of the shadows with a parchment in hand. He laid it down before Dryden and handed him a quill. Dryden quickly signed his name along the bottom of the document and then slid it over towards Crovax.
Crovax looked the document over, reading everything that had been discussed during the meeting. He looked up at the scribe still standing over Dryden's shoulder and chuckled. 'My, do you work quickly.'
The scribe smiled bashfully and nodded his thanks. Crovax then picked up the quill and scribbled his signature before sliding the document back to Dryden. Grabbing a small metal seal and a stick of blood red wax from the other side of the table, Dryden held the wax over one of the candles until it started to melt. He then quickly smeared it on the document, next to the signatures and firmly pressed the seal into the hot wax. Pulling the metal stamp away from the document, a grinning skull plastered in blood red wax finalized the document. Dryden handed the document back to the scribe who quickly slipped away.
'When shall we begin?'
[The Contract] Requests
'Please, have a seat,' he motioned to the vacant chairs across the table from him. Crovax stepped forward and took a seat, brushing his cloak over the back of the chair. Dryden made a subtle motion with his hand and a pair of guards clad entirely in black appeared as if from nowhere, flanking the Vox of the Hoard.
'Gentlemen, we would like a little bit of privacy to conduct some business. See to it, if you would.'
Nodding almost in unison, the two guards moved away from the table, quietly slipping through the crowd. As if their mere presence was message enough, the patrons of Smuggler's Haven seemed to disappear into the night. Within moments, the bar was completely empty, save for the guards, the bartender, and the party gathered around the table in the corner.
'Can I offer you or your friends a drink? Some food perhaps?'
Shifting his chair forward slightly, Crovax rested his forearms on the table. 'I require the services of your brotherhood. I have been led to believe that you can help me with a unique situation.'
'Straight to the point, I can respect that,' Dryden chuckled softly. He leaned back in his chair, a slight smirk playing across his lips. 'And what can I do for you, Crovax?'
'We have a... how shall I say? A situation that is approaching. During this engagement, we need the assistance that you and your brotherhood specialize in. We require supplies. A steady stream of them, delivered to specific locations.'
Nodding slowly, Dryden idly flipped a platinum coin over his fingers. 'Seems simple enough, which of course means there is a catch. What supplies are needed? And how much of them?'
A slightly smile crept across Crovax's elven features. 'True enough, true enough. The supplies are fairly basic. We will need provisions - both food and drink, mounts, and basic armament for roughly one thousand men.'
Dryden's eyebrow raised slightly in curiosity and amusement. 'And the delivery locations?'
'Well, that is more likely to change over time. But for now, we will need initial deliveries to be on the Westbridge side of the Tripower Blockade.'
While his eyes seemed almost to be laughing in amusement, the rest of Dryden's face was an indiscernible mask. He watched Crovax without blinking for a few moments, before slowly nodding.
'That will cost you.'
'Gentlemen, we would like a little bit of privacy to conduct some business. See to it, if you would.'
Nodding almost in unison, the two guards moved away from the table, quietly slipping through the crowd. As if their mere presence was message enough, the patrons of Smuggler's Haven seemed to disappear into the night. Within moments, the bar was completely empty, save for the guards, the bartender, and the party gathered around the table in the corner.
'Can I offer you or your friends a drink? Some food perhaps?'
Shifting his chair forward slightly, Crovax rested his forearms on the table. 'I require the services of your brotherhood. I have been led to believe that you can help me with a unique situation.'
'Straight to the point, I can respect that,' Dryden chuckled softly. He leaned back in his chair, a slight smirk playing across his lips. 'And what can I do for you, Crovax?'
'We have a... how shall I say? A situation that is approaching. During this engagement, we need the assistance that you and your brotherhood specialize in. We require supplies. A steady stream of them, delivered to specific locations.'
Nodding slowly, Dryden idly flipped a platinum coin over his fingers. 'Seems simple enough, which of course means there is a catch. What supplies are needed? And how much of them?'
A slightly smile crept across Crovax's elven features. 'True enough, true enough. The supplies are fairly basic. We will need provisions - both food and drink, mounts, and basic armament for roughly one thousand men.'
Dryden's eyebrow raised slightly in curiosity and amusement. 'And the delivery locations?'
'Well, that is more likely to change over time. But for now, we will need initial deliveries to be on the Westbridge side of the Tripower Blockade.'
While his eyes seemed almost to be laughing in amusement, the rest of Dryden's face was an indiscernible mask. He watched Crovax without blinking for a few moments, before slowly nodding.
'That will cost you.'
[The Contract] Introductions
The ageless blond elf walked confidently into Smuggler's Haven, flanked on either side by Warriors of the Radiant Heart. The shady tavern in the depths of Makou was crowded at this time of night, just about every seat taken by some random denizen of the outlaw city. Stopping just inside the door, he started to peer around, searching the faces that surrounded him.
Almost immediately, a young boy slipped through the crowd beside the elf and his entourage. Clad in rough spun, nondescript clothing, he couldn't have been more than four and ten years old. Motioning to the trio, he turned his back on them and started to slowly push through the masses, cutting a path towards the back corner of the bar. The soldiers followed behind the boy, moving smoothly between the patrons until they reached a table against the back wall.
The massive wooden table, covered in half burned candles and scattered with parchment, was occupied by just a single person. His tattooed face bathed in the light of a cluster of candles, he seemed absorbed in the document resting in front of him.
'Sire, may I present sir Crovax Brightmantle of the Order of the Radiant Heart,' the young boy said, puffing up his chest and looking straight ahead.
Looking up slowly, his cold eyes seemed to take in every detail of the people in front of him. Finally looking at the boy, he nodded slowly.
'Thank you, Morigon. You may go,' he said as he slid a coin across the table. The boy scooped up the coin, beamed brightly, and quickly disappeared back into the crowd.
'Please, have a seat.'
Almost immediately, a young boy slipped through the crowd beside the elf and his entourage. Clad in rough spun, nondescript clothing, he couldn't have been more than four and ten years old. Motioning to the trio, he turned his back on them and started to slowly push through the masses, cutting a path towards the back corner of the bar. The soldiers followed behind the boy, moving smoothly between the patrons until they reached a table against the back wall.
The massive wooden table, covered in half burned candles and scattered with parchment, was occupied by just a single person. His tattooed face bathed in the light of a cluster of candles, he seemed absorbed in the document resting in front of him.
'Sire, may I present sir Crovax Brightmantle of the Order of the Radiant Heart,' the young boy said, puffing up his chest and looking straight ahead.
Looking up slowly, his cold eyes seemed to take in every detail of the people in front of him. Finally looking at the boy, he nodded slowly.
'Thank you, Morigon. You may go,' he said as he slid a coin across the table. The boy scooped up the coin, beamed brightly, and quickly disappeared back into the crowd.
'Please, have a seat.'
Lost Causes
Late evening cast it's gloom down upon the city of Kefkaburg as Escalore strode through one of the many run down squares within it's walls. The streets were empty save a dark elf slipping through the northern gate and a dirt laden begger who slumbered in the doorjam of a shop that had closed for the day. It seemed to Escalore, that even the Vectorian patrols were lighter than the last time he had passed through. Leaning down he picked one of the two gold pieces from the hat which lay beside the begger and held it up to the dying light of day thoughtfully. Gold, the drug in which it seemed every cursed being on the forsaken planet was a victim too. The priests and their fallen pantheon, those who claimed to be the rightous. They all needed it just as much as the begger who lay at his feet, there was no difference between them all. Escalore himself detested the fact that he needed it to charter the passage for his mission. Perhaps it would be far simpler to commandeer a vessel with which to ply the eastern seas with. No. Those actions would draw far too much attention, and there would be enough of that in the days to come.
'Travel across the Sea of Swords. Within it's waters lies the key to salvation. Bring it home.' These were the simple words that had kindled the flame that lit the path before him. What would happen when he got out there was left in the hands of the Son. So long as it brought closer the inevitable and cut short any unnecessary prolonging he didn't care how far he needed to travel.
Escalore tossed the gold coin idly back into the begger's hat, inadvertently waking the man who turned his tear streaked face up towards him. 'Shh, it will all be over soon. ' Escalore crooned as he stood, looking down at the man. 'Yeh speak o'the occupation?' the begger croaked as he looked up with weary eyes. Escalore's lip curled up in a half sneer half smile, putting the man in visible discomfort. 'I cannot attest to that. After all, it's inconsequential who claims to hold control over this lost cause of a city. ' The man's mouth open and closed not unlike a fish out of water as he attempted to formulate what was certain to be a question to which answers would bear no level of understanding. Escalore simply stood as he set his mind to the task before him. 'Ah coin fer the trouble?' the begger had finally found his voice. Escalore made no attempt to hide his disgust as he left the man behind him, his words lingering as smooth as silk. 'I'll not feed your addiction unbeliever.'
'Travel across the Sea of Swords. Within it's waters lies the key to salvation. Bring it home.' These were the simple words that had kindled the flame that lit the path before him. What would happen when he got out there was left in the hands of the Son. So long as it brought closer the inevitable and cut short any unnecessary prolonging he didn't care how far he needed to travel.
Escalore tossed the gold coin idly back into the begger's hat, inadvertently waking the man who turned his tear streaked face up towards him. 'Shh, it will all be over soon. ' Escalore crooned as he stood, looking down at the man. 'Yeh speak o'the occupation?' the begger croaked as he looked up with weary eyes. Escalore's lip curled up in a half sneer half smile, putting the man in visible discomfort. 'I cannot attest to that. After all, it's inconsequential who claims to hold control over this lost cause of a city. ' The man's mouth open and closed not unlike a fish out of water as he attempted to formulate what was certain to be a question to which answers would bear no level of understanding. Escalore simply stood as he set his mind to the task before him. 'Ah coin fer the trouble?' the begger had finally found his voice. Escalore made no attempt to hide his disgust as he left the man behind him, his words lingering as smooth as silk. 'I'll not feed your addiction unbeliever.'
Profit
The rumors had been true: Kefkaburg's North Gate was quite the sight. Five people, all hanging on the gate by the ropes around their necks, Vectorian sentinels standing over the scene on the walls as if displaying goods they were selling. The act itself isn't what surprised Relic, but the manner in which it was done. Ever since Westbridge was taken under Vectorian rule, murder, especially aimed at Espers, had become less of a rarity. Though a public hanging wasn't a mere murder, it was a message. The intended recipient, it seemed, was headed towards the gate at this very moment. Rushing towards him down the path that cut through the northern plains were several rider-ladden chocobos. The grasslands offered small options for cover, though Relic had taken cover behind a small outcropping of rock a bit to the east of the gate itself. He doubted attention would be directed at him anyways, due to the situation at hand. He was too far from the riders to hear any words but shortly after they had stopped one of them, most likely the one in charge, began speaking. Several of them split off in different directions while one turned back the way they had come, kicking his chocobo into high gear. Most likely reporting the scene. These men weren't hard to discern as members of the TriPower. Their leader, now dismounted and peering upwards at the bodies, was armored with the unmistakable red and blue of the TriPower.
Relic smiled slightly. A message of blood, hung directly under the TriPower's nose. He had never cared who ruled what city or why, but as long as power continued to shift, there was money to be had.
He took a deep breath. It had not been since his days in the Brotherhood that his abilities were allowed a true target. This message sent the smell of war a hundred miles in all directions. War created targets, for both sides. It was only a matter of time now, before one of those sides needed a target dealt with, by one means or another.
Smiling again, Relic, keeping low, slipped away along the city's wall. It was time to get wispers in the right ears.
Relic smiled slightly. A message of blood, hung directly under the TriPower's nose. He had never cared who ruled what city or why, but as long as power continued to shift, there was money to be had.
He took a deep breath. It had not been since his days in the Brotherhood that his abilities were allowed a true target. This message sent the smell of war a hundred miles in all directions. War created targets, for both sides. It was only a matter of time now, before one of those sides needed a target dealt with, by one means or another.
Smiling again, Relic, keeping low, slipped away along the city's wall. It was time to get wispers in the right ears.
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