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 Posted: Mon Jun 11, 2012 9:34 pm
“Damn you” Vilkas screamed as he drove the point of his sword into Gourey’s right side, just below the ribs. The tip of the sword cutting through the vest, metal plating, and shirt below to dig into an old scar, a scar with a matching mate just under Gourey’s left arm. The set of scars were once made by Vilkas long ago.
“You are mad.” Gourey growled back against the pain in his side.
“You have found out how to go back. You are leaving, and you will be taking me with you.” Vilkas dug his sword in just a little further. “Now! Get us out of here!” Vilkas screamed.
“I don’t know how! Why do you think I’m even still here!” Gourey yelled back at Vilkas, and struggled to unpin his hands again unsuccessfully. “Though the world then would be better without you, perhaps my life is worth less then who ever you’d manage to kill there assassin.”
“Oh, so noble, god slayer. Who knew you could be so selfless. After you nearly single-handedly destroyed the world. I think you still care more about yourself then any of the others back then.” Vilkas slowly pulled his sword back, then snapped it up just under Gourey’s chin. “Now, take us home.” Vilkas’ voice was cold and flat. Though it barely held together. Vilkas was losing it, he was trapped in a time not his own, in a place he didn’t understand or wish to. He wanted to get home and this man here was the only one who could help.
“The years have changed me I guess.” Gourey tilted his head just enough to look away from the milky white, dead looking eyes of the man above him. Looking back over the edge of the cliff he decided to give up, he may find a way to fit in here after all. He felt the normal burn in his right hand as he enacted magic. He drew upon everything he could find, which was close to none in this time. He planned to blast the small gem and shard from his hand over the cliff.
A blinding flash emitted from the gem then was gone, as well as the adventurer and assassin.
Chapter 1
To find a place in a new land
Vilkas hit the ground heavy, his head fuzzy, but the air was fresh and there was quiet in the air. Before there was a constant buzz and hum of the dreadful science man had made. Here there was none of that, just blissful quiet.
Vilkas slowly got up and sheathed his sword. Looking over his shoulder he watched Gourey get to his feet as well.
“You can’t feel it, but the air is full of magic here.” Gourey breathed deep, seeming to grow in stature for a brief moment. “This isn’t our time…” Gourey looked to Vilkas, his eyes a dull gold. Gourey placed a hand on the hilt of the sword at his right hip.
Vilkas slowly started to circle Gourey, ready to explode into action. Then Gourey was gone. Vilkas scanned the area, ready for action, but nothing was in the area. This wasn’t Gourey’s style. Then man appeared before Vilkas.
The man was tall and slender. Dressed in dark ordinary clothes. Black shirt, black pants with no shoes. The man’s hair was raven black, and fell halfway down his back. He looked sickly, was as pale as Vilkas, with a face that looked more of just a skull with skin still on it. The man seemed to emit a aura of death about his presence, and the only thing that seemed lively about this man was a single white flower tucked behind his left ear.
Vilkas’ sword flashed free of its sheath, seeming to really just appear in his hand.
“Hold” The man spoke softly, and raised a single white hand. “I am a friend.”
“Unlikely.” Vilkas circled around the man. Looking for an easy opening, the man didn’t seem to be armed at all, or be ready for a attack. Vilkas was still cautious though.
“Friend, do not fear. I have no Ill will toward you. I’m glad to see you here and in one piece, though of course I knew you would be fine. I’m glad to see your neck healed well.”
Vilkas’ hand went to his throat, to a scar just over an inch long. The wound was caused when Gourey had impaled him through the throat, and wove a death curse upon him. Of course with Vilkas’ odd condition, the curse didn’t effect him really, instead the magic seemed to really kill everything around him, even saving his body from decay. When magic faded Vilkas found himself alive and able to break free. Circumstances were strange about what had happened, but Vilkas figured it was just good luck. Yet with this man’s odd comment, his strange appearance, Vilkas was starting to think it wasn’t just good luck.
“So you have put it together.” The man gave a wicked smile.
“The price.” His voice was calm and flat, bordering on furious. Slowly sheathing his sword Vilkas stood straight up into a more comfortable stance. “Nothing is free in this world.”
The man’s smile grew even wider, showing the edges of wicked edged teeth bordering on being fangs. “Exactly. Don’t worry of the price though, its something you pay back later. Just live, do what you will. I will collect your debt in quite some time from now. Remember you have a friend in a very… low place.” With no warning he was gone.
Vilkas stared at the ground where the man was standing, a dead circle had formed where the man stood.
Something small to get stuff going, will try to keep regular updates on this.
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Posted: Mon Jun 18, 2012 6:07 pm
Vilkas took a quick stock of the area around him. Mountains to the south, river to the East, and the plain he was standing in continued towards both the south and west. It was a plain Vilkas was familiar with, the only real question was how him an Gourey had ended up there. They should have only traveled through time, not in any real direction. Something he figured he would think of later. For now he checked all his gear again, then started walking, following the river. If the land still held the same shape it had in his original time, then Vilkas was sure he would run across a city soon, maybe only a day or two worth of walking.
Vilkas followed the river pretty closely, preferring to keep it within sight rather then trying to cut a straight path from bend to bend. As he walked he thought of the many things he was going to have to do once he found a city. His trade was a dark thing, and he liked it to happen in the dark as well. Trying to find the proper contacts was always the first challenge. He had enough gear on him to carry out a few simple jobs, but if he fell into anything to elaborate he would have to find a supplier as well. Safe houses would have to be set up someday also.
Vilkas stopped walking as he came across an oddly colored plant. Letting out a sigh he continued on. The plant was foreign to him, yet it looked like it may have been poisonous. Yet without any knowledge of it, its side effects, or how careful you needed to be with it. Vilkas figured it wasn’t worth the trouble. After all it could be a completely harmless plant.
This time seemed similar to the one he had been ripped from. Though similar could also be a long ways from what he knew. Having new species of plants and animals in the world could mean that his old poisons could no longer be acquired. Perhaps poisons were now useless if some kind of miracle cure-all plant had been found. Vilkas tried to push that thought from his head. It was an impossibility after all. His poisons were made to have special side effects that carried no cure, and doubtfully anyone would search for a cure for something that hadn’t been active in the world for possibly hundreds of years if not thousands.
Vilkas was always cautious, always calculating though. He was determined to make this time as best as he could make it for himself. He would make the name Vilkas feared, all would know him, but all would claim him just a ghost story. As it was before, as it would be now.
The days passed slowly without much change in the area. Vilkas walked through the grasslands that surrounded the winding river. He saw no other travelers. Yet close to nightfall of the second day Vilkas came within sight of a road. His hopes lifted with the sight, knowing that would mean something was close by. He moved from the wild terrain and out onto the dirt road. It was a hard packed road containing wagon wheel ruts. Just seeing the obvious sign of wagons made this all the better. No more dealing with the noise and speed of the metal shells people of that foreign traveled in. Vilkas walked the road late into the night. As the sky began to lighten with the rising of the sun Vilkas caught the far off glow of lights of some sort. There would be no sleep tonight or the next day. He was going to enter the city that night.
The following evening Vilkas approached the city. It was a great walled city. Yet from the outside Vilkas could not make out much of the cities lay. He approached the wall slowly, keeping to the shadows. He moved along the wall scouting for any additional guards or any easier ways into the city. After a few hours of slow surveillance Vilkas decided that he found enough of an opening to get by. Guards moved along the wall between guard houses placed every hundred yards or so. No Guard was always vigilant though, and being a master of stealth didn’t hurt ones chances either. Over confidence did though. Vilkas' hand went to his throat, fingers feeling the scar that kept him humble. So even though he trusted his abilities to get him out of any tough situation, he never put himself into a position that forced his hand.
Vilkas placed a hand to the wall, the tips of his fingers finding holds that eyes could not see. In wearing no boots, only his light wraps, made it so his feet could follow the same holds. He scaled the wall like it was a ladder, moving easily and quickly. His skin was pale, ghost white, so it nearly glowed in the faintest of lights. To balance this he dressed blacks, and dark grays. His arms to the elbow, and legs almost to his knees, were in tight black wraps. His pants were a soft fabric bound tight at his ankles, yet loose enough everywhere to not restrict his movements in any way. His shirt and vest where a blend of colors, from black to just a grey. The vest though held many pockets an straps, holding many of the deadly items of Vilkas’ trade. Throwing darts dipped in a special poison, wire for climbing or strangulation, smoke bombs, and two metal rods strapped to the back that coursed with a powerful electrical current. His belt held a sword in a dull black sheath, and a dagger with a black blade tucked into the other side. His face was hidden under a a black mask that only left his eyes visible. Over this he had a black cloak draped over himself. As he climbed the cloak hung loose about him, it was tattered and seemed likely to fall apart. Each move he made the cloak move ever so slightly, making it appear as though a formless shadow was creeping up the wall.
Reaching the top Vilkas held himself just below the edge of the walkways and listened to the metal boots of the guard as he patrolled by. Just as the boots moved by Vilkas went up an over in an instant, the guard not even turning to look at something from the corner of his eye.
One the other side of the wall a wraith dropped down into the city streets. Walking with the surefootedness of a man with nothing to fear. Vilkas undid his mask and pulled it down around his neck, letting his white hair free to fall, stopping just above his pale eyes. Vilkas walked easily through the streets, pass inns, bars, whorehouses. He walked through the city streets filled with murderers, and up an coming assassins. Streets that smelled of death, waste. This is where the beggars lived, orphans, and all the misfortunate. Crime was apart of everyday life here. Vilkas smiled and walked through, like a man coming home after being gone for far to long.
Vilkas moved about easily. From one street to the next, down alleys, and through the dark places where others avoided as they walked through the day.
His eyes scanned the walls of the buildings as he passed. His eyes watched every person he passed. He looked for any sign of organization, for the sign of a guild house or anything resembling order. Yet everywhere he looked there was no sign of organization anywhere. In fact as his eyes studied everything around him there was no sign of any of the things a city as this should have. There were no shady dealers standing in ill lit doorframes, no bodies in the gutters. Something was very wrong here...
Vilkas hunched himself over some, then pulled the deep hood of his cloak over his head, a few moments later he looked just as an old helpless man. He needed to find some kind of crime web, some way to get into the organization that held this cities criminals in check. Every city he had been in before had one, even throughout different times he had found the organizations in all shapes an sizes. He knew where to look, how to draw them out, but so far there was no luck.
Down one dark alley though a man stepped out in front of Vilkas. Finally this was it, Vilkas thought to himself.
“This isn’t the kind of place for an old man. The enforcers don’t care what your age, they’ll beat you all the same.”
Vilkas was taken back by this, was this man really concerned about his well being? Obviously this disguise wouldn’t help him anymore anyways, so Vilkas stood back to his full height and flipped the hood back. Scanning for any other men about he spoke. “Actually I was looking for trouble.” Vilkas’ harsh voice was quiet, yet carried easily in the dark cold.
The man took a step back, hand going to his side. “An agent of Vexum?”
Vilkas was in motion before the man had finished his speaking. Lightning fast he was on the man. One hand grabbed the man throat, while the other grabbed the wrist of the arm reaching for a weapon. Next he slammed the man in one o the alley walls, holding him a few inches of the ground. It almost looked comical since the man easily outweighed Vilkas by fifty pounds. Yet to the man his eyes were wide in fear as he felt the cold fingers of this man digging into his throat like talons.
Vilkas spoke even quieter now, sensing this was a sensitive subject to be talked about. “A agent for who did you say?”
“Vexum, you are in his capital city, this is the god realm of Vexum” The man spoke quickly, afraid for his own life. Afraid this man was mentally unstable.
“God realm?” Vilkas lowered the man down, then spun him around slamming him face first into the wall. Looped into the back of the mans belt was an old rusted knife. Vilkas quickly relieved the man of the weapon, and threw it down the alley. “Now, I need some answers about quite a few things… I’m new to this area and need a guide. Thank you for being so charitable as to offer help.” Vilkas stepped back from the man, drawing his sword as he did so.
another part of the first one
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