Prepare for the #LodanRespawn2024 Existing characters may choose to be displace from/have memories of different timelines, thereby allowing returning members the option to retcon their whole character. These changes are the result of the "Unnatural Fog" plot device that is running between now and the Respawn. The plot is simple: no matter where your character is, that place is shrouded in a thick fog that suspends time, but not thoughts or memories, so even if they're repeating the same day over and over again, they continue to remember, so each time feels like a new day. For those retconning OCs; this is where new versions of themselves have the opportunity to replace the old versions. Official lore and tree updates will be announced asap
OPEN TO CAEsAL The crowd cheered. They rose to their feet, and they clapped their hands in thunderous applause. Stage left a certain red headed puppeteer signaled the performers from the final act to take their curtain call. Behind the scenes some stage hands managed the ropes and dropped the heavy red folds in synchronization so they blocked out the audience and muffled the sound of their call for encore.
Edelweiss looked across the closed stage to a surly crowd of people who stood in the shadows backstage. With an imperceptible nod from their leader, the group turned as one to reveal a heavily bolted broom closet door. Working with quick efficient ease the shady group unlocked and pulled wide the thick wooden door. Inside was a dark space with no visible sense of depth. Every one of the cloaked figures filed inside despite the illusion of a shallow utility closet.
Down in the cellar level was a dark dank room with only one escape, the stairs to which were now occupied by that handful of clandestine figures coming down. Waiting nervously below were a couple of initiates who had managed to capture the secret organizations attention and warranted a trial. They were rounded up and herded here to await their destinies, and chance the fates.
Post by Alexander Treymane on Feb 18, 2014 1:51:06 GMT
The tall, dark-skinned male stretched in the darkness, preferring isolation, as he had put himself in such the majority of his life. It seemed that the only source of illumination within the confined space of an abyss was the male's eyes, or at least as far as he could tell. He lowered himself slowly, guiding himself with a hand behind him as he fumbles for the wooden chair. He rests easy for the moment, before the sounds of bolts moving, and a nice thunk followed by footsteps entered his ears. He tilts his head before looking over to the rough direction of where the sound is coming from. He sits. Waiting until he sees someone, or something.
Post by Stephen Leland on Feb 18, 2014 2:02:59 GMT
Stephen adjusted the collar of his coat, glancing around the room with his yellow eye. He was leaned up against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and one foot propped onto the wall. When he heard that he had to take a trial he was furious. A Leland does NOT need to be given a trial. Then again, they did not know he was a Leland. Still, he was upset and nervous about it. What did these trials entitle anyways? If they were going to make him walk on a small wooden plank over a alligator infested pit, then he would had in his resignation immediately. This place was not worth risking his life over and he would not play their silly games.
The brunet pointedly ignored the two other candidates in the room. The yellow eyed one did not seem to want to talk anyways, not that Stephen cared. These people were not worth his time in his mind. When the loud thud of a bolt being moved echoed into the room, Stephens yellow eye snapped over to glare at the door. Joy, the dumb games where about to start. His constant grimace deepened as he prepared himself for what was to come.
Post by Addison Halloway on Feb 18, 2014 2:16:32 GMT
The faintest of smiles played on the magician's lips and an itch of excitement spread through him like a wildfire devouring a forest. He lived to entertain and breathed for attention yet here he was found in a dank cellar in the company of two others. Despite his love of socializing, Addison was not one to create personal ties and therefor this was an exception for not associating with the two. For all the hatter knew these other two could be targets to prove himself in this "trial" of sorts.
The entertainer stood near a wall away from the two, both of his hands folded over the top of his cane. He stood with excellent posture though his head was tilted down so that if any light shown in the room, his top hat would cast a shadow over his features. The sound of the bolt and footsteps echoed and now he became pleasantly aware that others would be joining him. His hands shook ever so subtlety has his excitement was beginning to grow impossible to control. What would they have to do, he wondered.
When the group reached the cellar floor they fanned out around the room with the comfortable ease of many practiced trials. Only one remained in front of the stairs and it was impossible to tell in the dark how many had scattered throughout the room. If the inductees were not put on edge by this then their sense of awareness was sorely lacking. The sound of a match striking was followed quickly by a tiny glowing spark near the ground where it was struck. It slowly rose as the holder (which the slight glow could not illuminate) rose to his feet. Up, up, and up the little flame climbed, till it was well over seven feet in the air and touched to an oily wick. The wick caught and the light spread to reveal a hanging iron and glass lantern on rustic chains just dangling over the front of the room. The light helped to see the base of the stairs and a few feet fanning out around the landing, but the inductees and their company were shrouded in shadows that seemed unwilling to relent the space to the light.
"Welcome," the man with the match spoke in a gravely voice. He let his hand drop back down to his side, though it still held the burning match. He wore a cloak that covered his head down to his boots, which were laced with small roughly notched beads of brass. They were generally the size of an iron bullet and would fire from a gun in a pinch if he was so desperate as to unlace his shoes to reload his weapon.
"You have been brought here on account of our scouts seeing something that either impressed them, or... infuriates them." He gave a long pause, snuffing out the match that was burning its way down to the stub. "Either way, this means you were practicing your -skills- in our territory, "unsponsored" so-to-speak, by the lot of us." He opened his arms wide to indicate the others that came down with him and the shadows gave a meaty chuckle from a few men and even the ring of a woman's voice. When they quieted he continued. "Since you all seem like agreeable practitioners of our beloved art, we have decided to give you a chance." The air grew stale as his voice dropped into a hard seriousness.
"If you're thinking to yourselves now that this is going to be some kind of school-boy initiation where we blind fold you and feed you maggots instead of grits, you are sorely mistaken. If you're thinking this trial is optional you are likewise mislead. Each one of you has shown our organization that you have a certain lust for shadowy justice and we cannot allow you to continue your behaviors ungoverned by the code."
There was a shuffling sound as the unseen members of the shadows began to withdraw weaponry, free their hands for spell casting, and such. The air grew thin and full of the burnt taste of electricity. When the silence stretched, and their guests seemed alert, the man tilted his head back far enough to reveal a scruffy chin and a twisted smile.
"This trial will be deadly. It's a pass/fail grade, so do try your hardest and give it your best shot. Because you will only get one. Are you ready?" There was the sound of a bolt being slid free and the white light of the upper stage trickled down to war with the warm glow of the lantern toward the bottom step. No one came down, no one went up. Everyone waited to hear from the inductees.
Post by Alexander Treymane on Feb 18, 2014 23:34:27 GMT
Alexander covered his mouth with his hand, slowly shaking his head side to side as people filled into the black hole he sat in. The male follows the light glow of burning phosphorus with his eyes, blinking slowly as the lantern wick catches, and dawns the room in light, yet denying the right to see those around him..odd. He listens intently as his back stiffens and he sits up straight, drawing in every word that this...ringleader is saying. To avoid looking at the man, he lets his neck fall, and places a hand on it, looking around the floor and skimming his environment. Alexander lifts his head after the man is done speaking, nodding softly. He's pushed his thoughts out of his head, and he's ready.
Post by Stephen Leland on Feb 18, 2014 23:34:48 GMT
Stephen knew something was bad when the people filed into the room. This thought was only increased when he heard weapons being drawn. Then what looked like the leader began his speech and Stephen turned his head to him, listening intently. This day could not get any better, could it. Not only would he have to go through with this stupid trial but it was also possibly deadly. Great, just the fun he liked to spend his Tuesday nights with. NOT. He glared furiously at the mysterious man blocking his only exit. Oh if looks could kill. Stephen let out a tired sigh, relaxing himself. No use letting his anger take over now. He needed to focus on the task at hand.
The creepy fellow had said "ungoverned by the code" so maybe this meant they would be tested on how well they follow the code. What was the code again? Do not blow your cover. Do not compromise the Association. Do not shed blood without reason. He had made sure to memorize that code just in case they tried to pull something stupid, like this. Lucky for him, I guess. Might as well get this over with. Stephen got off the wall and stood straight, facing the man. "I am ready." he stated firmly. Fear was trying to ebb it's way into his mind but he aggressively pushed it to the side. There are three things that can kill a man: Fear, Anger and Love. Stephen blanked out his thoughts and prepared himself for the upcoming challenge. The last thing he needed today was to die.
Post by Addison Halloway on Feb 19, 2014 0:23:41 GMT
The magician grew alert to the number of footsteps he heard as people shuffled around and the light only served enough purpose to confirm there were quite a few yet not enough to know exactly who they were or what he would be in store for. The weapons their hosts drew gleamed with the faint light provided and the ring leader's voice reached the entertainer bringing a small frown to his lips. His excitement earlier dulled and now with a clear head he contemplated. They had eyes all over to know of their skills without them knowing and that was dangerous. There would be no choice here, it would be join or die, Addison thought over, and quite frankly Addison was not prepared to surrender his life so easily. Besides, a trial just meant another form of a show, neh?
His dulled excitement soon gave way to curiosity and with an exhale, the man unfolded his hands then stepped forward, the metal end to his cane making a 'tink' sound whenever it came into contact with the ground. His other hand dipped behind him into his coat where two decks of cards sat comfortably in there proper pouches attached to his belts: one a typical, ordinary deck and the other fashioned into thin blades meant to pass as cards specially made not by his own hand. "I am ready for your test," he spoke confidently.
The one who held the matches smiled and it was chilling. "Good, follow me." was all he said before turning his back like there weren't three killers standing behind him. Why should he worry when his killers stood behind those three. Up the stairs he went until they emerged once more back stage. Waiting for them on the surface was the redhead from earlier, holding the door ajar. Matches gave a mock bow to the puppeteer and the redhead responded him with another slight nod.
The sounds of the auditorium emptying could be heard but not seen behind the curtain. Once all of their guests and companions had come back up, the last closed and secured the door. for the first time, they could see that the door was bolted and padlocked. The first to speak was the leader of their guild.
'Behold, my fellows, behold and be welcome. I’ll not ask you why you’re here. Money. Revenge. Pride. Justice. Every and each one of you must have your reasons." Their behaviors that had garnered the guilds attention had been reported to the leader already, so the leader already technically knew why they were here, so what he or she didn't know or care to know what motivated them to do those things that landed them in their presence. Still each was regarded with keen eyes.
"I only ask of you, not to let those reasons become excuses. We’re not indiscriminate murders. We purge them from the streets. We only write off the criminals and dangerous elements that our ‘lovely’ military fails to."
Matches cleared his throat and spoke the code with memorized surety, "Do not blow your cover. Do not compromise the Association. Do not shed blood without reason. Those are your duty, and only rules to remember."
The redhead nodded. "We’re the ones who bring safety and clean the warred Lodan from the shadows. They don’t know us. But they need us - allow it to stay that way. Alone or in group. When, or where, or how you do your job, and how do you choose your list is up to you. Each member here present must have a code-name and respond by it while on duty, and the same patch of any member of CAESAL. See the name who better fits you, and be welcome to our fellowship of faceless allies. Unregarding of methods, deep inside you know: we have something in common. Something outsiders must not know. We work doing the same, bringing peace through death.United by shed blood, we are a family."
In synchronization, all of the cloaked figures recited the anthem: "Be efficient, be careful, be discreet and dutiful. And you’ll be rewarded. For us all who walk in darkness and clean Lodan by dirtying our own hands. We’re the shadows that allow the light to glow brighter."
The puppeteer handed three slips of paper to Matches and turned to walk away. He looked at the three slips long and hard, a cruel smile curling on his lips as he read each one in succession. After the longest of uncomfortable pauses he spoke. "When you're trials are over and you become one of us, we afford you the freedom to choose your own targets. Today though, that is not the case. You haven't earned it yet." He passed one of the papers to each inductee. "For the trial, we give you your target and its up to you to figure out how to eliminate them according to the code. If you succeed in killing your target, but fail the code, you fail us and will become our next target. And lads... there are a lot of us, and only a few of you so I suggest playing nice and following the rules eh?"
"Oh and before I forget, code-names are given to you, you do not give them to yourselves, so once we've seen what you can do we'll figure out what to call you." He cheesed, struck a match and lit a cigar which he put to his scruffy lips. "Like me, they call me Matches." The group of figures gave a mixture of groans and chuckles. they gave the trio a chance to look over their papers before adding one last helpful tip.
"Fortunately for all of you, your targets came to see the show tonight, so you already know that they are out of their homes and about the city, affording you ample chance to get the job done. But since the show is over, they're all leaving the theater, which means you need to get moving. Good luck boys."
Post by Stephen Leland on Feb 20, 2014 21:53:09 GMT
This Matches' fellow did not sit well with the young Patrician. How dare he instruct who he should bring justice to! There were rules in this group but he had a few rules of his own. Any other day he would have given this bloke a piece of his mind. But time was of the essence and he had a pack of killers right behind him so..
Stephen studied the slip of paper handed to him. Frank Delves: Child Murderer- 7 victims was written simply in the middle of the thin scrap of material. This name sounded familiar. Ah. Mr. Delves, the well to do merchant. Amazing how the same person that you bought you pocket watches from turned out to be your target at the end of the day. Stephen's lip raised in disgust at the reason for his death sentence. Seven Victims? Some people really deserved what was coming to them.
Stephen slipped the paper into his pocket and nodded to Matches before turning on his heels. Walking brusquely towards the exit he contemplated where the scum of a man might be. Probably heading towards central square, but there might be a chance that he could be trailing a child who had went to the show tonight. If that was the case, he better hurry. It would not look good if the man managed to get another death toll before he brought the murderer to justice.
Post by Addison Halloway on Feb 22, 2014 11:23:24 GMT
Obediently, Addison followed these strangers up the stairs until they emerged to a dimly lit backstage belonging to a theater. The words of the woman passed over the brown haired man as he stood with his eyes fixated on her. The rubbish in regards to code name goes passed Addison without a care. To him, he did not care about having code names, let alone what it might be. For all he cared, they could call him sugarplums and he would be perfectly fine with it. ((Please, not sugarplums)) When the documents were distributed and his eyes passed over the words written, he quickly rolled up the paper and turned on his heels to exit. “Consider him dead,” he called over his shoulder and gave a tip of his hat. His thoughts were no longer there within the theater but else where and if his target was here only moments ago, he had no time to lose, but had to wait long enough not to cause suspicion.
Outside of the theater, the clouds hung heavy behind the tall buildings and the light played amongst the world’s surface. Soon it would be dark as most plays and theater events customarily took place within the evening leaving Addison to mull over how he must attempt his murder. The man was fairly old, perhaps in his mid fifties but the women he had murdered would not excuse him from his sentencing. As the thoughts passed one by one on how to deal with this man, Addison had wandered down the street trailing behind groups of people that had evacuated the theater and occasionally broke off from one another, thinning until all were scattered like bugs when a rock was lifted from them.
At the corner of the street was a dress shoppe to which the entertainer casually strolled into. If a man targets only women, then what better way to get closer to him than to be one was his thought. “Hello, sir,” called a woman’s voice and by the tone, she was rather surprised to see him there. “Good day, Madame,” came his reply as he lifted his hat. “I was hoping to find a dress for the ma’am and well, perhaps you can assist me.” His lie either seemed to work or she didn’t seem to care enough to pry but showed him several dresses to which he declined until he found -the- one. Truthfully it wasn’t all too modest but was fairly elegant and would surely do the job. What he did not have, he could make up other ways, he told himself as he left the shop.Another place he stopped was to purchase a wig that was not fine but would serve enough to appear natural--especially since it would be dark enough that it would not harm him any.
In a safe place, the magician changed into his planned disguise then safely hid away his deck of cards in a pouch attached to a holster on his thigh. He almost had to laugh at himself. Once in his life he would never dream he’d don women’s attire but when it came to performance, nothing was beyond a good show. Ready for the part, Addison stuffs away his own garments and gear then hides them beneath some trash before leaving the alley. It was dark now and undoubtedly, the man would be out hunting the woman he would slay tonight. As expected, it would likely be a woman alone, who appeared promiscuous, and in a place that was likely to be dangerous. The entertainer didn’t wait long, for after only a few minutes of walking along the deserted street he could hear the soft tapping of heeled boots. He was being followed.
Around a corner he went, walking faster until he safely ducked into an alley. Further back he went into the alley knowing there would be a dead end but not going to fast that the man would lose sight of him. The sound of his heart pounded in his ears from the adrenaline he felt. When he came upon the alley’s end, he heard another pair of feet pause behind him. His fingers itched as they slipped beneath his skirt for his cards. “I wouldn’t do that, lass,” came the gruff voice behind him. Strength was never on his side as his frame was fairly small but what he lacked in that regard, he made up for speed. Unhooking the pouch and drawing his cards, he turned to face the man with a card in hand ready to throw. To this, his assailant chuckled, whether it was because he realised his mistake that he was no woman or because he would dare defend himself with mere cards. “Those won’t help you,” the man called out calmly as he went to reach for his dirk.
Quick to react, the magician threw the card at the man’s hand. As he was not expecting it, the card sliced open the back of his hand. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he repeated back to the man with raised brows making it clear he was mocking him. Shock was displayed on the stranger’s face then was quickly taken over by anger. If he hadn’t known before, he was certain now Addison was male and drew the dirk before charging at him. With little to no room to move within the alley the murderer was easily on him, his thick hand around his neck, lifting him away from the wall only to slam him into it. The magician’s face contorted in pain then let his eyes open to stare into his assailant’s. For a brief second, fear overtook him but was quenched just as quickly as it came. He wouldn’t die just yet, this man savored the kills.
In his document it listed how this man killed the women slowly then stole their organs but that would not be him. “You’ll pay for how you fooled me,” his voice came out low, controlled, and his breath was rank from his day’s worth of meal and beverage. “I’m not so sure it will be I who pays,” the magician called between breaths as he felt the hand squeezed tighter. He could feel the cold metal of the dirk press flat against his skin and then felt a shiver run through him. One spell. He would only need one spell to grant him three seconds, but if he failed to act within those three seconds, well… he won’t fail.
The words were on his lips as the the stranger pulled the dagger back ready to plunge into him. A flash of bright light emitted from the magician to disorient his target. The hand holding the dirk immediately shot up to shield the man’s eyes as a distressed grunt escaped him. Taking his opportunity, Addison rushed his knee up to collide with the man’s genitilia bringing him to his knees. Dropping his dirk, the man’s hands went to hold himself gingerly as pitiful sounds escaped him. The magician smirked to himself as he snatched up the dagger then drew a card. “I was hoping you’d put up more of a struggle,” he spoke with disappointment as the man began to regain his composure. “Anderswelter,” came the snarled reply. Addison allowed a frown to grace his lips before planting his foot into the man’s chest forcing him down then plunging the dirk into the socket of his left arm.
“You savor the kill, do you not,” he asks the gentleman as he cried out in pain. Leaning in closely, he whispered, “So do I.” The man writhed on the ground as he brought his free hand to try and free his arm but the hand was soon crushed down by Addison’s boot. His victim’s age was beginning to show now but Addison did not seem to care. Seating himself on the man’s chest, he lifted the card to show him. “Wait, please,” the man cried. “Oh, please he says,” Addison’s lips curl into a smile. “Would you have spared me? I think not,” he grinned maliciously as he drew the card across his juggler to create a shallow cut. Again and again he drew the card over the same cut making it deeper all the while the man pleaded and begged. It wasn’t until the man grew exceptionally loud that Addison drew the card across his throat in a quick, fluid motion to silence him that the magician was through. He shut his eyes to shield him from the torrent of hot liquid that sprayed him before standing over the gurgling man, departing before anyone came to investigate.
Post by Alexander Treymane on Feb 23, 2014 7:27:39 GMT
Alexander follows the main man up the steps, looking over his shoulder for a second, before searching above him, his eyes always searching. Being surrounded by all the killers and cut-throats doesn't bother him, no. It's the eeriness brought on as they all move a long silently, and when they start chanting, it doesn't help. His golden eyes are hidden as his eye-lids narrow his vision to Matches. He reaches out and accepts his card between two fingers, looking down at it. He nods slowly, stepping backwards on a light foot before hurrying to disappear into the dark corridor that lead to the lobby.
Post by Stephen Leland on Feb 23, 2014 17:03:17 GMT
There had only been six kids at the show tonight. Of those six kids four of them had been with an adult. That meant that two would be on their way home without adult supervision. Easy targets. Thankfully, the two had been going home together so that made things easier for him. He had managed to catch up with them and was trailing them from a ways away. Just as he thought, Mr. Delves was following them as well. The sick bastard, he wanted to bring him to justice right here in the middle of the streets. But that would attract too much attention.
Stephen was brought out of his thoughts when he saw the two kids part ways. They waved and went down separate streets. Mr. Delves paused then turned to follow the smaller of the two. Stephen picked up his pace so that he could catch up with them before they turned the corner. He hoped the other little girl would be okay on her way home. Why did the parents of these kids just let them wander about?! Did thy not know that these streets were dangerous at night! The stupidity of people enraged him sometimes- actually, all the time. Then again, these children might not have parents. He sighed inwardly as he turned the corner.
The street was deserted, all the shops were closed up save a few bar rooms. Central square usually shut down around this time. Mr. Delves had the gall to actually go and talk to the child. Stephen leaned up against the side of a building and watched the two out of the corner of his eye. Then man gestured down a nearby alley way saying of few words. In response the girls face, which had originally ben suspicious, lit up with interest. The building Stephen had leaned up against looked to have a side entrance to the alley way they looked like they were about to go in to. Silently, he slipped down the back street and ran quickly over to where the two pathways met up. He pressed himself against the wall, letting the shadows thrown the nearby bar lights conceal him.
For a moment he feared they would not go down the alleyway and he had just lost them but his fears were put to rest when he saw Mr. Delves leading the small girl into the alley. His hand was on her back, guiding her forward. Stephen glowered in disgust. "Mr. Delves, I do not see the clockwork puppy you were talking about.." the girls voice rang out nervously. "Don't worry, he's just down a little further my dear. He's a shy little fellow. He'll love to meet you though." came the cool, practiced reply from the child killer. They had reached the end of the alley and the poor girl looked around fruitlessly for the non-existent pup. "...Mr. Delves, It is late, I should go home... Maybe I could see the puppy another tim-" she started quietly but was cut off when the man spun her around roughly so that she faced him. "Oh no my dear, your chance to go home is long gone now. Such a pretty little girl. Will you parents miss you once I am done with you I wonder?" the vile man cooed. The girls small green eyes opened wide with fear. "P-Please Mr. Delves, I do not understand. Why can I not go home..?" she asked numbly, the situation not fully sinking in. "Ah you are a slow one aren't you? You won't be going home because I am going to kill you, my little lovely!" he chirped happily, reaching into his coat for something.
Stephen had heard enough. He sprung into action as the man was momentarily distracted. In a flash, he shoved his way between the two causing them to both jerk with surprise. He covered the young girls eyes just as he smashed him knife into the mans throat. A gurgle escaped the mans lips as he collapsed to the ground, dead in seconds. The girl was shivering in shock and fear, to afraid to move away from his hand. Stephen sighed and scooped the girl up in his arms gently, making sure to still have her eyes covered so she would not have to see the horror of his actions. The poor, frail thing went limp in his arms. She would have been an easy kill; Thankfully, he had been able to save her before the man had harmed her. He set the quivering girl down at the end of the alley way so that she faced the street. "Go home. I need to have a little chat with Mr. Delves. Next time you go out, do not go alone foolish girl." he said in a gruff, unrecognizable voice. He pushing the girl forward and uncovering her eyes. She took off in a sprint, npt daring to glace back as she clumsily ran home. Stephen turned to glace at the unmoving body behind him. "Mr. Delves, I hope you rot in hell." he said quietly as he turned to leave. He trail the girl a little further until he saw she had safely reached her home. Turned out she was the daughter of one of the noble families here in Central Square. Leave it to the aristocracy to let their daughter run around freely. Why were the rich all fools.
Stephen turned and walked casually down the streets, heading back to the theater district. Either he had done well on his mission, or he had set his own death trial. Either way, it would be cowardly to run off and hide. So might as well face what was to come heard on. Why did everything have to be such a hassle.
The cloaked figures from the theater followed from a distance in dutiful silence. It was all prearranged, orchestrated so they could operate without uttering a word. In pairs they broke apart and trailed stealthily after the three candidates for their guild. One by one they watched them assess their targets and devise a method of dispatching them. Matches followed Addison with one of his brothers. They kept to the shadows and crawled over awnings and rooftops to never lose sight of the game. More than once Matches was jabbed in the side by his comrade for snickering at the young lads penchant for dress-up. Even if he was a shoddy killer, he would have fit in well with the performers of their guild, the above board professions that they hid their true selves behind. He became more sober and intently interested in the boys method of murder when the time came to carry it out. With silent apprehension they took it in together and after the grand finale they shared a glance that communicated their decision.
Dropping back down to street level the cloaked figure waited at the turn of the alley while matches stood in plain sight on the sidewalk waiting for Addison to re-emerge from the scene. He struck a match and lit his cigar as the kid came through and he smiled with feral delight.
"Well played kid," he grunted right before the other man stepped behind Addison and laid a cloth over the boy's nose and mouth, sending him to sleep. Together they wrapped him in a rug and hoist him up on their shoulders. Aside from Matches whistling a tuneless song, they traveled silently back to the theater. Another pair of assassins trailed after Alexander, watching him closely for signs of chickening out. He had been given the hardest target of all. Not because of what the criminal was capable of, but because of her gender. Alexanders target was a woman, with the slight figure and complex of a sweet faced doll. But what she had done was no less evil than the other two who's lives would be wrung dry this night. The question really was whether or not Alex could stomach targeting a woman, or if he would flee and leave it to the duo to finish his mission for him, before starting one of their own. If so, he had better run fast and far away from Lodan, or face the inevitable consequence when they come for him. Stephan was trailed by both a man and a woman, though both were utterly indistinguishable under their cloaks. Without a word they followed his every move and watched curiously as he paced out his plan. Not everyone bothered to question the legitimacy of the target cards, but every once in a while they would see someone who did, and like Stephen did now; they would wait for visual evidence of the crime before dealing out the irrevocable punishment. Beyond the shadow of a doubt mr. Delves was guilty. The cost of this proof was leaving potential witnesses to the act. Regardless of what he told the child tonight when he set her free at the end of the alley, she would find in the days to come that her assailant had met his untimely end. They chewed over this risk assessment while they followed the empathetic killer to the girls house. Not once did she turn back and identify him. Lucky. The boy was a contradiction, someone who was smart enough to think for himself, but too irrational to mitigate risks. Once the boy requitted himself of the mission, turning away from the girls home and making his way back the way he came the two assassins shared a look. She nodded her head meaningfully at him and raised a chemically covered cloth. The other shrugged his shoulders and pointed up the road in the direction the boy was already going. She gave a more sarcastic shrug like 'what is that supposed to mean' and waved the hankie around with enthusiasm. Her partner tossed his head back to soundlessly plead the heavens for patience before snatching the rag from her and marching quietly up to the inductee. His footsteps weren't silent and the moment he could see Stephen stiffen from his approach he dove on the boys back and covered his face with the cloth.
After his body went limp the two assassins tossed back their hoods and breathed in the fresh nights air. "C'mon," the girl sighed, unrolling the rug from her back and laying it on the ground. Her partner made haste to wind the boy into it like a twisted croissant before grabbing his upper half and hoisting. The girl circled her arms around Stephens knees and hefted. Together they debated the merits of dinner before desert, and vice versa all the way back to the theater.
Post by Addison Halloway on Feb 24, 2014 4:59:25 GMT
The blood Addison was soaked in quickly grew cold and he could feel it drying on his skin, dress, and wig. It made his nose wrinkle in disgust to be covered in such filth but the feeling would be overpowered by the grin he wore. Oh what a splendid night, but it was a shame the old man didn't struggle more. Perhaps he could have been more inventive with how he carried out the act but there was always next time, he thought. Quietly laughing to himself, he took one last look at the work before turning to the exit where the sight of someone made him freeze. It took but a moment to recognize that it was Matches and scowled at him before stepping closer to him allowing space for the second observer to fall behind him. Kid? His brows raised from the insult-- or was it perhaps a compliment to be thought of so young? His mouth opened to retort to the man when he felt the presence behind him and the cloth pressed to his face. How foolish he'd been! His eyes widened from the surprise but soon they rolled back into his head and collapsed against the man behind him.
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