Jald Nightson always detested being called for his presence at one of
Geras's 'dealings.' In truth, they were nothing but stylized executions for
the sadistic ferret's own amusement. As a member of the species, Jald had
always considered himself a fair warrior and despised that a member of his
own race could sink as low as Geras had.
Perhaps it was so odd after all, Jald reflected as he dressed in his traditional travel clothes, for he fully planned to sally forth on his hunt after the business of the day was complete...perhaps he, Jald Nightson, was the antithesis of his race, perhaps honor and pursuit of a great challenge were what set him apart from his race.
Jald Nightson was capable of great cruelty to his enemies, but Jald never lowered himself to levels of torture or debasement of others for his own amusement. There were some exceptions, when he had been a Calpathion, but enemies deserved no sympathy in the Manticore's mind
The reward for Vandashira's head that the mysterious employer had offered had been huge, but Jald never cared about material wealth. It was simply a byproduct of the job...he always obtained satisfaction from his hunts, always collected pleasure from the death of his enemies.
That he had so cowardly and cruelly abandoned Kalis Deiran to the nonexistent mercy of general Visla was Jald's greatest shame and regret. Had it not been Kalis who had welcomed him into the Calpathions, offering him refuge from his life of poverty that was all he had known in his old city...Kalis recognize his skills and fostered them.
Jald had no choice but to dismiss Kalis from his thoughts then...now, it could be of no use to dwell upon the past, however shameful it may've been to simply brush it aside.
Jald fastened his belt, made of the skin of the great adder Akariss, who Jald had slain nearly two decades ago, replacing his daggers and sword in their proper places.
Jald opened his door, stepping through and nearly colliding with Hallic, immediately leaping back as if struck by lightning, paw on his sword lest the unpredictable behemoth take such action as an attack.
Hallic seemed fortunately in a good mood, his grin revealing sharpened, curving fangs as he growled, "Nightson.. Lord Geras requests yer presence in th' main 'all..."
"I'm aware..." Jald remarked coldly, his emerald eyes locking on Hallic's red tinged orbs, showing no fear lest Hallic take it as an excuse to pull the ferret limb from limb. "I was just going there myself, Hallic."
Hallic nodded, "Good...execution today!" It seemed to make the savage unusually happy, "Either me or pitiful Davrag carries it out!"
"You have my prayers." Jald replies dryly. "Anyways, let me get to Geras..."
Hallic nodded and stood aside, allowing Jald to pass, Jald shook his head and waited until Hallic shrugged and turned to walk to Geras's meeting him, Jald following him at the back...seriously considering if a single dagger throw could be worth the problems the death of Hallic would bring upon his head.
In the end, Jald showed an all too similar exercise of self control and followed the large weasel to Geras's main hall.
The ferret head of Crimson Tears was seated on an elaborate, comfortable chair, flanked by his bodyguards, advisors and lieutenants: Sithrin the ferret and Kardran the otter.
Geras's merciless gaze was upon a stoat about ten feet away from him. The elaborate meeting room was decked in fine art and objects Geras had plundered from various other guilds or crime groups.
Seated cross legged on the floor by Geras's makeshift throne was Arithia, her favored whip close to paw, a wicked grin on her face as she observed the stoat, barely sparing Hallic a glance as he took his place near Davrag, Arredon and the female weasel Verria.
"Now, now, Jiruk." Geras was saying in a mock sympathetic tone, knowing the stoat knew that Geras carried not a shred of pity in his heart of ice, "I've heard your excuses before and they get rather tiresome...My dear, traitorous lieutenant, did you believe you could send information to the enemies of Crimson Tears and not incur the wrath of Geras?"
The wretched stoat, still holding his sword, shook his head pitifully. Jald nearly felt pity for him. Nearly.
Jiruk spoke up, his voice reedy and thin, "Geras, I didn't mean for-"
"Didn't mean for me to find out, Jiruk? Didn't mean to damage my business? Didn't mean to what? Have I missed anything? Do you assume me a fool, Jiruk?"
"No, Geras!" Jiruk cried, "I have nothing but respect and support for ye!"
"Good...then you'll approve of my decision to execute you. Perhaps Arithia would require a new plaything?"
Arithia's wicked grin nearly took in her ears, Geras pressed a paw to her cheek and with an affectionate purr she pressed herself closer to him. Geras smirked as all the blood drained from Jiruk's face, nodding to his flanking lieutenants as he replied.
"Well...perhaps that is too harsh...perhaps I could just turn you onto the streets, banished from Crimson Tears forever..."
"Oh, thank you, Geras! Thank you!"
Geras ntoed the wicked grins of most in attendance as he continued. "Provided that you can best one of my dear associates in a straight battle...Davrag, step forward."
With a smirk at the glowering Hallic, Davrag stepped forward, twin, curved swords snapped from their sheaths in the blink of an eye.
"Put your blades away, Davrag! I haven't given the terms."
Davrag gave a disappointed glance at the stricken Jiruk and snapped the blades into their scabbards as quickly he had removed them As Geras continued. "Look at my dear Davrag, Jiruk...isn't he too handsome for a killer? What fear does he inspire?"
Jald curled his lip in distaste, ignored as Geras continued, "Place one scar on Davrag's face, Jiruk... I wish you to give him a lesson in humility and let his visage be easier to fear...do so and you shall be released with your life."
Given confidence by the unassuming air of Geras's voice and the stoic motionlessness of Davrag, Jiruk drew his sword. With a snarl, the stoat sent the blade at Davrag's face with practiced ease.
The blade was intercepted so quickly, even onlookers familiar with Davrag's fighting style and speed weren't sure the blade had been parried, certainly Jiruk wasn't, a curious expression of confusion forming on his face.
The left sword came up and across, passing over Jiruk's throat, the right sword snapped up out of its sheath, running Jiruk through he heart and retracting. Jiruk fell dead, the expression of surprise still on his face. Davrag wiped the blood on Jiruk's shoulders and bows to Geras, returning the weapons to their sheaths and stepping by his comrades, flushed with the kill...it sickened Jald...only two years ago, it would have been like looking into a mirror.
Geras smirked to Kardran. "Have that disposed of in a few minutes...Jald!"
The ferret stepped forward and nodded, Geras grinned and replied. "Your hunt begins now...I suggest you go fast...Davrag will be observing you."
Jald clenched his fangs tightly, anger written on his features. The anger was ignored and Jald bowed to Geras, shooting a glare at the smirking Davrag.
Davrag personally believed Jald had no way of completing the hit on Vandashira, believed Jald would perish...in fact, the stoat killer was looking forward to it, but Davrag had other intentions...the stoat had always hungered to face Aleran Nightblade in combat...but with Aleran dead, he'd have to settle for others.
Jald Nightson was one of those on Davrag's list...the stoat was looking quite forward to the day when his blades feasted upon Jald Nightson's blood...if all went according to plan, that day would be soon.
Perhaps it was so odd after all, Jald reflected as he dressed in his traditional travel clothes, for he fully planned to sally forth on his hunt after the business of the day was complete...perhaps he, Jald Nightson, was the antithesis of his race, perhaps honor and pursuit of a great challenge were what set him apart from his race.
Jald Nightson was capable of great cruelty to his enemies, but Jald never lowered himself to levels of torture or debasement of others for his own amusement. There were some exceptions, when he had been a Calpathion, but enemies deserved no sympathy in the Manticore's mind
The reward for Vandashira's head that the mysterious employer had offered had been huge, but Jald never cared about material wealth. It was simply a byproduct of the job...he always obtained satisfaction from his hunts, always collected pleasure from the death of his enemies.
That he had so cowardly and cruelly abandoned Kalis Deiran to the nonexistent mercy of general Visla was Jald's greatest shame and regret. Had it not been Kalis who had welcomed him into the Calpathions, offering him refuge from his life of poverty that was all he had known in his old city...Kalis recognize his skills and fostered them.
Jald had no choice but to dismiss Kalis from his thoughts then...now, it could be of no use to dwell upon the past, however shameful it may've been to simply brush it aside.
Jald fastened his belt, made of the skin of the great adder Akariss, who Jald had slain nearly two decades ago, replacing his daggers and sword in their proper places.
Jald opened his door, stepping through and nearly colliding with Hallic, immediately leaping back as if struck by lightning, paw on his sword lest the unpredictable behemoth take such action as an attack.
Hallic seemed fortunately in a good mood, his grin revealing sharpened, curving fangs as he growled, "Nightson.. Lord Geras requests yer presence in th' main 'all..."
"I'm aware..." Jald remarked coldly, his emerald eyes locking on Hallic's red tinged orbs, showing no fear lest Hallic take it as an excuse to pull the ferret limb from limb. "I was just going there myself, Hallic."
Hallic nodded, "Good...execution today!" It seemed to make the savage unusually happy, "Either me or pitiful Davrag carries it out!"
"You have my prayers." Jald replies dryly. "Anyways, let me get to Geras..."
Hallic nodded and stood aside, allowing Jald to pass, Jald shook his head and waited until Hallic shrugged and turned to walk to Geras's meeting him, Jald following him at the back...seriously considering if a single dagger throw could be worth the problems the death of Hallic would bring upon his head.
In the end, Jald showed an all too similar exercise of self control and followed the large weasel to Geras's main hall.
The ferret head of Crimson Tears was seated on an elaborate, comfortable chair, flanked by his bodyguards, advisors and lieutenants: Sithrin the ferret and Kardran the otter.
Geras's merciless gaze was upon a stoat about ten feet away from him. The elaborate meeting room was decked in fine art and objects Geras had plundered from various other guilds or crime groups.
Seated cross legged on the floor by Geras's makeshift throne was Arithia, her favored whip close to paw, a wicked grin on her face as she observed the stoat, barely sparing Hallic a glance as he took his place near Davrag, Arredon and the female weasel Verria.
"Now, now, Jiruk." Geras was saying in a mock sympathetic tone, knowing the stoat knew that Geras carried not a shred of pity in his heart of ice, "I've heard your excuses before and they get rather tiresome...My dear, traitorous lieutenant, did you believe you could send information to the enemies of Crimson Tears and not incur the wrath of Geras?"
The wretched stoat, still holding his sword, shook his head pitifully. Jald nearly felt pity for him. Nearly.
Jiruk spoke up, his voice reedy and thin, "Geras, I didn't mean for-"
"Didn't mean for me to find out, Jiruk? Didn't mean to damage my business? Didn't mean to what? Have I missed anything? Do you assume me a fool, Jiruk?"
"No, Geras!" Jiruk cried, "I have nothing but respect and support for ye!"
"Good...then you'll approve of my decision to execute you. Perhaps Arithia would require a new plaything?"
Arithia's wicked grin nearly took in her ears, Geras pressed a paw to her cheek and with an affectionate purr she pressed herself closer to him. Geras smirked as all the blood drained from Jiruk's face, nodding to his flanking lieutenants as he replied.
"Well...perhaps that is too harsh...perhaps I could just turn you onto the streets, banished from Crimson Tears forever..."
"Oh, thank you, Geras! Thank you!"
Geras ntoed the wicked grins of most in attendance as he continued. "Provided that you can best one of my dear associates in a straight battle...Davrag, step forward."
With a smirk at the glowering Hallic, Davrag stepped forward, twin, curved swords snapped from their sheaths in the blink of an eye.
"Put your blades away, Davrag! I haven't given the terms."
Davrag gave a disappointed glance at the stricken Jiruk and snapped the blades into their scabbards as quickly he had removed them As Geras continued. "Look at my dear Davrag, Jiruk...isn't he too handsome for a killer? What fear does he inspire?"
Jald curled his lip in distaste, ignored as Geras continued, "Place one scar on Davrag's face, Jiruk... I wish you to give him a lesson in humility and let his visage be easier to fear...do so and you shall be released with your life."
Given confidence by the unassuming air of Geras's voice and the stoic motionlessness of Davrag, Jiruk drew his sword. With a snarl, the stoat sent the blade at Davrag's face with practiced ease.
The blade was intercepted so quickly, even onlookers familiar with Davrag's fighting style and speed weren't sure the blade had been parried, certainly Jiruk wasn't, a curious expression of confusion forming on his face.
The left sword came up and across, passing over Jiruk's throat, the right sword snapped up out of its sheath, running Jiruk through he heart and retracting. Jiruk fell dead, the expression of surprise still on his face. Davrag wiped the blood on Jiruk's shoulders and bows to Geras, returning the weapons to their sheaths and stepping by his comrades, flushed with the kill...it sickened Jald...only two years ago, it would have been like looking into a mirror.
Geras smirked to Kardran. "Have that disposed of in a few minutes...Jald!"
The ferret stepped forward and nodded, Geras grinned and replied. "Your hunt begins now...I suggest you go fast...Davrag will be observing you."
Jald clenched his fangs tightly, anger written on his features. The anger was ignored and Jald bowed to Geras, shooting a glare at the smirking Davrag.
Davrag personally believed Jald had no way of completing the hit on Vandashira, believed Jald would perish...in fact, the stoat killer was looking forward to it, but Davrag had other intentions...the stoat had always hungered to face Aleran Nightblade in combat...but with Aleran dead, he'd have to settle for others.
Jald Nightson was one of those on Davrag's list...the stoat was looking quite forward to the day when his blades feasted upon Jald Nightson's blood...if all went according to plan, that day would be soon.