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Into the Icy Darkness II: The Next Generation
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<blockquote data-quote="Emperor Valerian" data-source="post: 1624455" data-attributes="member: 15043"><p>A vicious sensation of falling, twisting and turning rushed through the five humans clustered together. Three, Tesseron Keldare and two of the finest members of the Imperial Household Guard, handpicked for the operation, were used to the rigors of teleportation, and had traveled inside its swirling mists before.</p><p></p><p>Raven and Valaron were not used to such travel. Teleportation often required years and many transits to fully adjust to. Valaron and Raven simply hadn’t had the time and transits pass.</p><p></p><p>The prince held up the best of the two. While nausea overwhelmed his senses and he felt like he would tumble over and vomit, he managed to stay upright, if swaying slightly. Raven was not nearly as lucky, and would need some clean shoes once the mists cleared into the single “public teleport” in Kulloden.</p><p></p><p>Teleportation was a luxury that few outside of the nobility and rich merchants could afford. As such, the vast majority of the time, people without the ability to teleport themselves used the local Mage’s Guild, or a local mage if possible. Very few “public teleports,” ones that were not affiliated with the Mage’s Guild and open to anyone willing to pay the proper (and usually extremely high) fee, existed within the Empire. </p><p></p><p>All were owned by rather wealthy merchants, eager to milk the need to rapid and (comparatively) safe travel by those with money and power. They usually kept only a few minor mages (usually apprentices or those who had a falling out with the local guild) to monitor the process. Should something actually go wrong, chances are the Mage’s Guild would be called in to fix the problem... which tended to happen frequently with these operations.</p><p></p><p>A rich merchant named Bladonicus owned the Kulloden “public teleporter.” Few knew of its existence. The Mage’s Guild did, of course, as did the Baron and several of the richer merchants who used it to leave the city quietly... such as when leaving to conduct a surprise inspection of an investment. Tesseron had rarely used teleporters (her personal connection to the planes of magic was powerful enough that she could teleport herself at will), while Raven and Valaron had previously always traveled the ‘official’ recieving area for the city, at the Mage’s Guild. The chances of someone recognizing them would be far less coming here than arriving at the Guild Raven’s mother headed.</p><p></p><p>As the swirling mists cleared, Raven fell forward, coughing and hacking, her world spinning. Several ruddily dressed (very common robes compared to the ornate robes of mages seen in Iskeldrun) mages stood around, small smirks on their faces at seeing what they assumed was a first time traveler. </p><p></p><p>“Ferdinas, see to your sister,” Tesseron said, stepping forward. Before leaving, the two had listened to her hum a few quite notes, and watched as her blonde hair had shifted to jet black, and her eyes shifted to a deep brown, her ears shifting towards a slight point... a half elf. Her clothing was a cut above ordinary, but merely functional... as were theirs. Under the robes of Valaron and the guards, the glint of chain hauberks were hidden.</p><p></p><p>Valaron bent down as his ‘mother’ instructed.</p><p></p><p>“You alright?” he asked Raven, whose eyes continued to nearly bulge out of her face, her face still slightly green from nausea.</p><p></p><p>“Um,” she nodded slowly, unsteadily rising to her feet with Valaron’s help.</p><p></p><p>“Good sirs, I believe we have been expected?” Tesseron’s voice, now a slightly high alto thanks to her disguise. “Our payment will be,” she reached into her pocket, pulling out a purse that jingled, “prompt.”</p><p></p><p>One of the mages smiled, and took the pouch of platinum from her. “Thank you, Lady Baracla,” he gave a slight bow. “We hope your business in the city goes to your satisfaction.”</p><p></p><p>“I do as well,” Tess responded, before motioning everyone to follow her out.</p><p></p><p>Outside, in the city streets, the two guardsmen, clad nondescriptly, fell into a flanking position to the three central members. Under this subtle cover, the five swept northward, into the heart of the city.</p><p></p><p>They passed the so called ‘Holy Row,’ the central plaza of the city upon which sat the large colonnaded temples to Tarantor, Hieroneous, Pelor, Kord, and Chaskoval (the god of fertility and crops). The first three were decorated as many of their kin were across the land; cold marble warriors stood watch in the courts of Hieroneous, emblems of nobility and the Imperial right to rule adorned the white walls of Tarantor, and giltwork brilliantly reflected the noonday sun in Pelor’s house.</p><p></p><p>The Temple to Kord in Kulloden was not as architecturally ornate as the others, friezes of chains and massively built men and women decorating its front. The Temple to Chaskoval was, to the untrained eye, little more than a small acreage of various crops, a small, well built building in the midst of the tiny fields.</p><p></p><p>The five swept on, through the richer quarters of the city, until they stood outside a well apportioned inn, the image of a knight slaying a boar adorning a sign outside its front door.</p><p></p><p>“Here we rest, and plan,” Tess said. </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Hemmel scratched the back of his leg, annoyed as an itch that had been bothering him for the past few days flared again. As he moved, a jingle in his pocket brought some relief to his torment. </p><p></p><p>He looked around the market crowd this day... farmers bringing produce from the field, shepherds dragging in lambs and ewes for shearing or slaughter, artisans plying their wares. It was everyday bustle for a small city like Kulloden, and to the untrained eye, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.</p><p></p><p>To Hemmel’s trained eyes, numerous, perhaps tens of subplots had caught his eye. The small boy eyeing the candy at a store across the street, his grubby face and hands along with his hungry look indicating a willingness and past of thievery; the well dressed man with his wife at his side, eyeing young boys as they went by; the quiet man in the corner, making a deadly stare towards a handsome, loud man across the street.</p><p></p><p>But Hemmel’s eyes were searching for something specific. Namely a single man.</p><p></p><p>Hemmel’s life had included its ups and downs, and he was familiar with the necessities of street life... such as discovering and using trusted fencers. After all, a scrubby peasant bringing in a small fortune worth of fine rings and jewels would raise more than a few eyebrows. Fencers were reliable at least in that they would be less likely to report his suspicious activity... they could just as easily be caught. And Hemmel had a good diea of what was fair for his items, and those who cheated him rarely had a chance to enjoy their ill-gotten gains.</p><p></p><p>The assassin felt a gentle tap on his shoulder, and without turning, he backed slowly and naturally into an alleyway. Once he was sure the normal market traffic was not paying him any attention, he turned to his temporary associate.</p><p></p><p>“’Ere you are, guv,” the young lad stated, slipping the long, sharp <em>jitte</em> back into Hemmel’s hand. The assassin kept his face stone cold, despite the smile that wanted to play across his lips as he felt magic slipping and sliding between his fingers as he grasped his weapon. “’Zactly as you asked!”</p><p></p><p>“Good work lad,” Hemmel nodded, before reaching into his pocket for the last ring he had... his last connection with his old, palatial life. “Here, for your work.”</p><p></p><p>The boy’s eyes lit up with glee as he saw the valuable, its gilt falcon head and glowing diamond eyes bright in the intermittent sun. To the young man, it was merely a ring of great beauty. To Hemmel it was a ring signifying his position as a personal manservant to the most powerful family on the face of the world. Hemmel at first held the bauble out, before suddenly clasping his hand around it again, his eyes flashing upward, looking about in alarm.</p><p></p><p>“Boy! Follow me!” he hissed, grasping the young man’s arm and pulling him after as he zipped through the alleyways. A small squeal of protest started from the boy’s lips, but died quickly, his mind clearly realizing that his customer had seen danger, and was trying to protect his fence.</p><p></p><p>After several twists and turns, Hemmel and the boy ducked under a grate, the fetid smell of sewage assaulting their noses. Hemmel continued to look about nervously, and the small boy strained to see what his customer was seeing.</p><p></p><p>After a few moments, Hemmel gave an audible sigh of relief.</p><p></p><p>“That was close. City watch,” he clarified. “They have moved on.”</p><p></p><p>The boy’s eyes grew wide at the statement, and a look of profound thanks fell upon his face. He’d clearly been on the bad side of the watch before... and the scar on the right side of his face showed it likely wasn’t a pleasant experience. Hemmel handed him the ring.</p><p></p><p>“It should be safe,” Hemmel motioned to the boy to climb back up. </p><p></p><p>Quite eagerly, the young man leapt upwards, his mind already focused on how he would fence this new ring, and spend the money from those earnings. He never saw Hemmel draw his <em>jitte</em>, or throw the weapon in the direction opposite, only to flash in a half-circle.</p><p></p><p>His last moment was a blast of immense, horrific pain in the back of his head, before all went black.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Hemmel pulled the <em>jitte</em> from the mess that was once the young man’s head. Taking the dead man’s robes, he wiped his weapon down, cleaning all organs and blood from its steel length. It was his only remaining <em>jitte</em>, he could not have it start rusting early.</p><p></p><p><em>So it does work,</em> Hemmel grunted in satisfaction. It had taken the pawnings of five rings, perhaps worth five thousand platinum all together, to get this little addition to his favorite weapon. Never again would he have a weapon be blocked at the last moment by another blade. </p><p></p><p>The assassin looked down at his latest victim, a small measure of pity in his eyes. <em>I needed a test subject,</em> Hemmel reasoned, putting his own psyche at ease. <em>And it was not as if this urchin was going to do much better. Thievery was in his future, and perhaps an assassin’s life. Nothing the world would miss.</em></p><p></p><p>His eyes then drifted to the beautiful ring still in the young man’s hand. For a second, he wanted to reach down ad pick it back up, till his training, plotting mind began to evaluate things.</p><p></p><p><em>No... no,</em> he thought. <em>They are in the city already. Let them know I am here. Let them worry that I am not alone. Let them see me in every shadow, every passing glance, every lost soul that brushes past their skin. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>A panicked foe is easy to predict.</em></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Emperor Valerian, post: 1624455, member: 15043"] A vicious sensation of falling, twisting and turning rushed through the five humans clustered together. Three, Tesseron Keldare and two of the finest members of the Imperial Household Guard, handpicked for the operation, were used to the rigors of teleportation, and had traveled inside its swirling mists before. Raven and Valaron were not used to such travel. Teleportation often required years and many transits to fully adjust to. Valaron and Raven simply hadn’t had the time and transits pass. The prince held up the best of the two. While nausea overwhelmed his senses and he felt like he would tumble over and vomit, he managed to stay upright, if swaying slightly. Raven was not nearly as lucky, and would need some clean shoes once the mists cleared into the single “public teleport” in Kulloden. Teleportation was a luxury that few outside of the nobility and rich merchants could afford. As such, the vast majority of the time, people without the ability to teleport themselves used the local Mage’s Guild, or a local mage if possible. Very few “public teleports,” ones that were not affiliated with the Mage’s Guild and open to anyone willing to pay the proper (and usually extremely high) fee, existed within the Empire. All were owned by rather wealthy merchants, eager to milk the need to rapid and (comparatively) safe travel by those with money and power. They usually kept only a few minor mages (usually apprentices or those who had a falling out with the local guild) to monitor the process. Should something actually go wrong, chances are the Mage’s Guild would be called in to fix the problem... which tended to happen frequently with these operations. A rich merchant named Bladonicus owned the Kulloden “public teleporter.” Few knew of its existence. The Mage’s Guild did, of course, as did the Baron and several of the richer merchants who used it to leave the city quietly... such as when leaving to conduct a surprise inspection of an investment. Tesseron had rarely used teleporters (her personal connection to the planes of magic was powerful enough that she could teleport herself at will), while Raven and Valaron had previously always traveled the ‘official’ recieving area for the city, at the Mage’s Guild. The chances of someone recognizing them would be far less coming here than arriving at the Guild Raven’s mother headed. As the swirling mists cleared, Raven fell forward, coughing and hacking, her world spinning. Several ruddily dressed (very common robes compared to the ornate robes of mages seen in Iskeldrun) mages stood around, small smirks on their faces at seeing what they assumed was a first time traveler. “Ferdinas, see to your sister,” Tesseron said, stepping forward. Before leaving, the two had listened to her hum a few quite notes, and watched as her blonde hair had shifted to jet black, and her eyes shifted to a deep brown, her ears shifting towards a slight point... a half elf. Her clothing was a cut above ordinary, but merely functional... as were theirs. Under the robes of Valaron and the guards, the glint of chain hauberks were hidden. Valaron bent down as his ‘mother’ instructed. “You alright?” he asked Raven, whose eyes continued to nearly bulge out of her face, her face still slightly green from nausea. “Um,” she nodded slowly, unsteadily rising to her feet with Valaron’s help. “Good sirs, I believe we have been expected?” Tesseron’s voice, now a slightly high alto thanks to her disguise. “Our payment will be,” she reached into her pocket, pulling out a purse that jingled, “prompt.” One of the mages smiled, and took the pouch of platinum from her. “Thank you, Lady Baracla,” he gave a slight bow. “We hope your business in the city goes to your satisfaction.” “I do as well,” Tess responded, before motioning everyone to follow her out. Outside, in the city streets, the two guardsmen, clad nondescriptly, fell into a flanking position to the three central members. Under this subtle cover, the five swept northward, into the heart of the city. They passed the so called ‘Holy Row,’ the central plaza of the city upon which sat the large colonnaded temples to Tarantor, Hieroneous, Pelor, Kord, and Chaskoval (the god of fertility and crops). The first three were decorated as many of their kin were across the land; cold marble warriors stood watch in the courts of Hieroneous, emblems of nobility and the Imperial right to rule adorned the white walls of Tarantor, and giltwork brilliantly reflected the noonday sun in Pelor’s house. The Temple to Kord in Kulloden was not as architecturally ornate as the others, friezes of chains and massively built men and women decorating its front. The Temple to Chaskoval was, to the untrained eye, little more than a small acreage of various crops, a small, well built building in the midst of the tiny fields. The five swept on, through the richer quarters of the city, until they stood outside a well apportioned inn, the image of a knight slaying a boar adorning a sign outside its front door. “Here we rest, and plan,” Tess said. Hemmel scratched the back of his leg, annoyed as an itch that had been bothering him for the past few days flared again. As he moved, a jingle in his pocket brought some relief to his torment. He looked around the market crowd this day... farmers bringing produce from the field, shepherds dragging in lambs and ewes for shearing or slaughter, artisans plying their wares. It was everyday bustle for a small city like Kulloden, and to the untrained eye, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. To Hemmel’s trained eyes, numerous, perhaps tens of subplots had caught his eye. The small boy eyeing the candy at a store across the street, his grubby face and hands along with his hungry look indicating a willingness and past of thievery; the well dressed man with his wife at his side, eyeing young boys as they went by; the quiet man in the corner, making a deadly stare towards a handsome, loud man across the street. But Hemmel’s eyes were searching for something specific. Namely a single man. Hemmel’s life had included its ups and downs, and he was familiar with the necessities of street life... such as discovering and using trusted fencers. After all, a scrubby peasant bringing in a small fortune worth of fine rings and jewels would raise more than a few eyebrows. Fencers were reliable at least in that they would be less likely to report his suspicious activity... they could just as easily be caught. And Hemmel had a good diea of what was fair for his items, and those who cheated him rarely had a chance to enjoy their ill-gotten gains. The assassin felt a gentle tap on his shoulder, and without turning, he backed slowly and naturally into an alleyway. Once he was sure the normal market traffic was not paying him any attention, he turned to his temporary associate. “’Ere you are, guv,” the young lad stated, slipping the long, sharp [i]jitte[/i] back into Hemmel’s hand. The assassin kept his face stone cold, despite the smile that wanted to play across his lips as he felt magic slipping and sliding between his fingers as he grasped his weapon. “’Zactly as you asked!” “Good work lad,” Hemmel nodded, before reaching into his pocket for the last ring he had... his last connection with his old, palatial life. “Here, for your work.” The boy’s eyes lit up with glee as he saw the valuable, its gilt falcon head and glowing diamond eyes bright in the intermittent sun. To the young man, it was merely a ring of great beauty. To Hemmel it was a ring signifying his position as a personal manservant to the most powerful family on the face of the world. Hemmel at first held the bauble out, before suddenly clasping his hand around it again, his eyes flashing upward, looking about in alarm. “Boy! Follow me!” he hissed, grasping the young man’s arm and pulling him after as he zipped through the alleyways. A small squeal of protest started from the boy’s lips, but died quickly, his mind clearly realizing that his customer had seen danger, and was trying to protect his fence. After several twists and turns, Hemmel and the boy ducked under a grate, the fetid smell of sewage assaulting their noses. Hemmel continued to look about nervously, and the small boy strained to see what his customer was seeing. After a few moments, Hemmel gave an audible sigh of relief. “That was close. City watch,” he clarified. “They have moved on.” The boy’s eyes grew wide at the statement, and a look of profound thanks fell upon his face. He’d clearly been on the bad side of the watch before... and the scar on the right side of his face showed it likely wasn’t a pleasant experience. Hemmel handed him the ring. “It should be safe,” Hemmel motioned to the boy to climb back up. Quite eagerly, the young man leapt upwards, his mind already focused on how he would fence this new ring, and spend the money from those earnings. He never saw Hemmel draw his [i]jitte[/i], or throw the weapon in the direction opposite, only to flash in a half-circle. His last moment was a blast of immense, horrific pain in the back of his head, before all went black. Hemmel pulled the [i]jitte[/i] from the mess that was once the young man’s head. Taking the dead man’s robes, he wiped his weapon down, cleaning all organs and blood from its steel length. It was his only remaining [i]jitte[/i], he could not have it start rusting early. [i]So it does work,[/i] Hemmel grunted in satisfaction. It had taken the pawnings of five rings, perhaps worth five thousand platinum all together, to get this little addition to his favorite weapon. Never again would he have a weapon be blocked at the last moment by another blade. The assassin looked down at his latest victim, a small measure of pity in his eyes. [i]I needed a test subject,[/i] Hemmel reasoned, putting his own psyche at ease. [i]And it was not as if this urchin was going to do much better. Thievery was in his future, and perhaps an assassin’s life. Nothing the world would miss.[/i] His eyes then drifted to the beautiful ring still in the young man’s hand. For a second, he wanted to reach down ad pick it back up, till his training, plotting mind began to evaluate things. [i]No... no,[/i] he thought. [i]They are in the city already. Let them know I am here. Let them worry that I am not alone. Let them see me in every shadow, every passing glance, every lost soul that brushes past their skin. A panicked foe is easy to predict.[/i] [/QUOTE]
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