Visara chapter 3

I should explain something before I start: One, the Gerrard in the fic just happens to have that name, he's not the real one. Two, in this fic, so far, Visara is human. You'll find out why later. And of course it's AU- I havn't read all the books or nothing, I just play the game and made a world where the game fits. Sorry to be misleading.

She made her way quickly through the streets in the city, making herself blend in as much as possible, to puzzle things over. So. The collar would probably track her... she couldn't just run away. But she couldn't kill the target without taking out the collar- he'd have her killed. Indeed, she had a sneaking suspicion he'd already hired an assasin to take her out. And surely not ALL the guards on the rooftops were actually guarding anything?

She set part of her mind to puzzling this over while she thought about her target. This Gerrard... Shipman, his name was. Master of a small fleet, nothing special except that he was the bastard son of the Grand Vizir. So that was his plan.. kill the Cabal, the Vizir would step into his place, then.. what, kill the Vizir? Or had he been promised a high position by his father?

She made her way down to the docks, blinking a little, coming out of her thoughts long enough to notice the city around her. Stenches from allyways where homeless citizens dwelled mixed with tantalizing smells of various fried foods. There was noise everywhere- no need to disguise the sound of her footfalls. Bright colored umbrellas sheilded market stalls from the hot sun. The entire city was like a large market: tall concrete buildings housed people and larger buisnesses such as taverns, and the stalls sold anything a person living there could want. She flipped a man a silver piece for an orange- lunch. She couldn't afford to put on much weight or it would be harder to hide. Then she snorted at herself and bought one of the fried dough things another man was selling. Why bother keeping fit, when she was going to die anyways?

No, musn't think like that, she reasoned. She would escape somehow. So what if nobody ever escaped from the Cabal before? Doing the impossible was her job. She had been trained by a retired pitfighter- the best fighting teachers, since only the best come out of the pits alive. She was small and thin and pretty, and she had bumped off many an important individual. She knew all the tricks of the trade- who could harm her?

Ah, but assuming she was invincible was pure folly. Invaulnerable, maybe, but she was fallible nonetheless. She came to the busy docks and looked up. She paused a moment to gape like a tourist: she never had gotten used to the size of the royal ships. Immense, many times a man's height. She looked about for the Impermeable, the ship this Gerrard was captain of. There- the largest, with the king's own colors on the emblem, and flying bright flags. Not black- even though the city was a Black city, only pirates flew black flags. Funny, how the most colorful cities were Black. She'd been all over, and seen White cities, with their pure white cloth for stalls and their white cities. Even the pidgeons were white. And Greens mostly lived in the forests- Elves, not even proper humans, and various beasts they swore were sentient. Reds kept to the barbarian lands, but they made good pit fighters and tended to migrate to Cabal City. Blues- Wizards mostly- kept to their Towers, with wonderful magical artifacts. It was even rumored that some of the Blue citizans were artifacts themselves! But that was silly- things like that were outlawed in most Black lands she'd been to, and she assumed it was much the same everywhere else.

And then there were Slivers. Her eye went to a small animal which she had assumed to be the ship's Firecat, and gasped in horror. A Sliver! Didn't they know that just by getting it withen a few miles of any others, it would become a super killing machine? What with the Sliver Raids getting bad in other parts of the continent, it could suddanly mutate at any second... she laughed a little to herself. What a way to toy with death! Keeping a Sliver chained up on the deck, they could tell if a port was under attack before they reached it. Problem was, they'd be under attack as well. And if there was an Overlord about... she'd heard those were nasty.

So. This Gerrard was a bold one, brave, flirting with death. He'd be a difficult target. Perfect. And who knows, maybe a secret admirer would slip him a rune of protection... A Black Circle of Protection, perhaps? And who knows, her journey to find information might take her to just the right White city to get one... her mouth twisted into a smirk, and she moved on, muching her dough thing, pretending to be just another tourist, fresh off the train.

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