I had no idea the job I was about to embark on would change my life
forever, in more ways then one. I had never before realized the emptiness
of a mercenary's life. No friends, no comrades you'd not betray if the
price was right, no chance to ever be truly happy as every time you killed,
others would come after you in retribution.
I hardened by heart so many times, as I have since my first kill. If my father, the great Aleran Nightblade could see his treasured eldest son, what would he say? Would he be proud or furious?
In honesty I do not know...perhaps my father thought the same thing about whomever raised him to his adulthood...but now, whenever I wonder this I am oddly reminded of Taren de-Droka.
What has fate cast for the fox? The fox who is my enemy, my rival, my alter-ego? I have no desire to meet Taren again but I know in my heart we will encounter one another one day...fate can be a bitch, can't she?
Joking aside, I don't suppose I ever aspired to anything more then my current lot in life...but friends like Roz and Boneflower always convinced me there was more to the empty existence of a mercenary...something better waiting out there for me.
Would I be able to escape from the darkness or would I become trapped, as had Jald Nightson, never able to climb out from the trap in which I had made my home?
I had to believe in the former. I had to...I might even dare to hope that by seeing the pure evil of Davrag, Jald Nightson could one day find his way out of his current empty existence.
Or maybe Davrag will kill him.
Either way, the world will be a better place I believe.
- Eroket Nightblade
Eroket Nightblade set the small papers aside, mainly old letters for jobs, fee sortings, etc. With a sigh, the ermine mercenary reached a freshly died crimson paw up to rub his head. It was late in the night and the ermine could find no respites in sleep, no comfort save for the solitude...and he couldn't even get that.
What the hell had made him give in to her? Had he partaken of one too many drinks? Was he just completely desperate? Was it the fact Roz had them pegged as a couple? Had he just grown tired of refusing her attentions for all the years he had known her?
Damned if he knew...Eroket growled as squeezed his fist tightly, setting both pen and paper down, deciding to simply take a walk downstairs; he needed a drink...something very strong.
The ermine rose from the chair and desk and started for the door, placing his tunic on and removing the robe draped over his lithe form for his favored garments...he knew Roz would be fine with him grabbing a drink, even if he didn't leave money for it.
"Ero?" The voice was the weary voice of one just awakening from slumber, aroused by noise or absence of something that should be beside them.
Eroket turned slowly, his amber eyes meeting Boneflower's blue, the female ermine smiled at him, her eyes holding the same seductive promise as they always did. "Come back to bed..."
In response, Eroket turned from her and without a word started to the door.
"Fine!" The bitterness and harsh tone made Eroket turn once more, careful to keep his face expressionless. Boneflower folded her arms, glaring daggers at Eroket, and the ermine mercenary realized he was not the only one suffering from personal demons.
"Fine...go. Mebbe I'll take ye back and mebbe I'll get another male...'s all the same to me." She lay back down, making certain her back was to him before she tried to surrender herself back to sleep.
With a small sigh of remorse, Eroket turned again. He had probably just destroyed his friendship with Boneflower...how could he have been so abysmally stupid? An example of thinking with his heart instead of his head...he knew Boney would accompany him on the job, still...if for no other reason then a cut of the huge reward.
Eroket walked downstairs, making certain to keep his footfalls light as possible, not wanting to awaken anybeast who would be asleep at this late hour.
They were leaving tomorrow...this was dead certain, Eroket decided. He didn't want to stay in Targas a moment longer then he had to...
"Can't sleep?" The silky, cold voice cut deep to him, and Eroket turned to see the black stoat.
Seated luxuriously on one chair, leg crossed over the other, the stoat cut a cocky devil-may-care figure...and for good reason, a single glance told Eroket this beast was dangerous.
His features were handsome, his eyes the same brilliant amber shade as Eroket's...but something in those eyes repelled the younger ermine...something marked this stoat as a dealer of death, a passionless killer who killed for the sheer joy of killing...the epitome of the word 'assassin.'
"Davrag Joris, my young friend..." The stoat replied in the same cultured, intelligent voice, nodding to the chair across from him. "Do sit, I'd appreciate your company."
Eroket hesitated, the name Davrag ringing a bell...this was the creature who had threatened Boneflower...the beast who had threatened his friend. For a moment a hot rage enveloped the ermine and he wished to draw his sword and slash Davrag from gut to throat...and then he realized he carried no weapon.
"Sit." There was no mistaking the dangers in that one word...and Eroket sat across from the ebon furred killer, trying to look friendly or at least pass for it.
"Eroket Nightblade..." Eroket replied slowly, tensed for any sudden movement.
"Ahh...Aleran Nightblade's son, the prodigy of Jald Nightson and Kalis Deiran...General of the Calpathions and slayer of General Visla...I have heard of you, young Eroket...your fame spreads even to Calishan to Crimson Tears..."
"Crimson Tears?"
"Ah yes...the controlling force behind the streets...I am a...associate of Crimson Tears." Davrag grinned, revealing sharpened fangs.
"Hn...and why do you want to speak to me?"
Davrag grinned again, a paw gripped a glass of damson wine and brought it to the stoat's lips, sipping delicately before lowering it. "I like to meet my rivals..."
"Rivals?" Eroket couldn't believe what he was hearing, "We're not-" Davrag cut him off with a raised paw.
"We are rivals, boy...your skills and your father's skills make us rivals alone...if all the praise Jald Nightson heaps upon you is true then we are indeed rivals..."
Eroket swallowed hard, realizing his predicament...in the mercenary worlds, one often took the first opportunity to eliminate a helpless rival.
"Heh...don't demean me, boy...I wouldn't kill you like this...there'll be more then enough time on this little hunt, Eroket Nightblade...more then enough time for us to cross blades."
"I'll look forward to it..." The ermine tried to hide the severe unease he felt around this beast...the fear he seemed to inspire. Eroket understood exactly how he had terrified Boneflower so.
"Tell me one thing, Eroket...do you believe in Dark Forest? Or do you paint yourself in the night and howl at the moon? Maybe you beleive in nothing awaiting your soul?"
"What do you care?" Eroket was honestly confused by the question.
Davrag smiled charmingly, "I'm just wondering what afterlife I'm gonna send you to..."
"Look to your own..." Once more trying to cover fear with bravado...
Davrag laughed and rose. "Please, feel free to finish the drink...I bid you well until our next-and probably final-meeting...I'll give Jald your regards...we must be off on the hunt after all."
With a mocking bow and a laugh, he was gone...leaving Eroket to his fears and his doubts.
***
Sleep did not come easy to Jald Nightson...but sleep he did...and he dreamed.
Jald heard the cries of old enemies, saw himself training soldiers, saw himself training Eroket Nightblade and Geras Iridanis in the art of swordplay...and he relived the war...he heard the screams of the innocents, heard the children scream as the Death Watch soldiers, soldiers he, Jald Nightson had trained, cut at them with their blades.
The dream turned into a nightmare as he saw Eroket Nightblade, the prodigy and star pupil among them, destroying all he had taught, defiling Aleran's memory, becoming a murderer, a child-killer-
"This one is different!" He cried suddenly, jolted awake. He was alone, Davrag gone off on a scouting or some such...the only witnesses to his cry were the moon and the stars...
"This one...is different..." He had to believe that.
He had too...
I hardened by heart so many times, as I have since my first kill. If my father, the great Aleran Nightblade could see his treasured eldest son, what would he say? Would he be proud or furious?
In honesty I do not know...perhaps my father thought the same thing about whomever raised him to his adulthood...but now, whenever I wonder this I am oddly reminded of Taren de-Droka.
What has fate cast for the fox? The fox who is my enemy, my rival, my alter-ego? I have no desire to meet Taren again but I know in my heart we will encounter one another one day...fate can be a bitch, can't she?
Joking aside, I don't suppose I ever aspired to anything more then my current lot in life...but friends like Roz and Boneflower always convinced me there was more to the empty existence of a mercenary...something better waiting out there for me.
Would I be able to escape from the darkness or would I become trapped, as had Jald Nightson, never able to climb out from the trap in which I had made my home?
I had to believe in the former. I had to...I might even dare to hope that by seeing the pure evil of Davrag, Jald Nightson could one day find his way out of his current empty existence.
Or maybe Davrag will kill him.
Either way, the world will be a better place I believe.
- Eroket Nightblade
Eroket Nightblade set the small papers aside, mainly old letters for jobs, fee sortings, etc. With a sigh, the ermine mercenary reached a freshly died crimson paw up to rub his head. It was late in the night and the ermine could find no respites in sleep, no comfort save for the solitude...and he couldn't even get that.
What the hell had made him give in to her? Had he partaken of one too many drinks? Was he just completely desperate? Was it the fact Roz had them pegged as a couple? Had he just grown tired of refusing her attentions for all the years he had known her?
Damned if he knew...Eroket growled as squeezed his fist tightly, setting both pen and paper down, deciding to simply take a walk downstairs; he needed a drink...something very strong.
The ermine rose from the chair and desk and started for the door, placing his tunic on and removing the robe draped over his lithe form for his favored garments...he knew Roz would be fine with him grabbing a drink, even if he didn't leave money for it.
"Ero?" The voice was the weary voice of one just awakening from slumber, aroused by noise or absence of something that should be beside them.
Eroket turned slowly, his amber eyes meeting Boneflower's blue, the female ermine smiled at him, her eyes holding the same seductive promise as they always did. "Come back to bed..."
In response, Eroket turned from her and without a word started to the door.
"Fine!" The bitterness and harsh tone made Eroket turn once more, careful to keep his face expressionless. Boneflower folded her arms, glaring daggers at Eroket, and the ermine mercenary realized he was not the only one suffering from personal demons.
"Fine...go. Mebbe I'll take ye back and mebbe I'll get another male...'s all the same to me." She lay back down, making certain her back was to him before she tried to surrender herself back to sleep.
With a small sigh of remorse, Eroket turned again. He had probably just destroyed his friendship with Boneflower...how could he have been so abysmally stupid? An example of thinking with his heart instead of his head...he knew Boney would accompany him on the job, still...if for no other reason then a cut of the huge reward.
Eroket walked downstairs, making certain to keep his footfalls light as possible, not wanting to awaken anybeast who would be asleep at this late hour.
They were leaving tomorrow...this was dead certain, Eroket decided. He didn't want to stay in Targas a moment longer then he had to...
"Can't sleep?" The silky, cold voice cut deep to him, and Eroket turned to see the black stoat.
Seated luxuriously on one chair, leg crossed over the other, the stoat cut a cocky devil-may-care figure...and for good reason, a single glance told Eroket this beast was dangerous.
His features were handsome, his eyes the same brilliant amber shade as Eroket's...but something in those eyes repelled the younger ermine...something marked this stoat as a dealer of death, a passionless killer who killed for the sheer joy of killing...the epitome of the word 'assassin.'
"Davrag Joris, my young friend..." The stoat replied in the same cultured, intelligent voice, nodding to the chair across from him. "Do sit, I'd appreciate your company."
Eroket hesitated, the name Davrag ringing a bell...this was the creature who had threatened Boneflower...the beast who had threatened his friend. For a moment a hot rage enveloped the ermine and he wished to draw his sword and slash Davrag from gut to throat...and then he realized he carried no weapon.
"Sit." There was no mistaking the dangers in that one word...and Eroket sat across from the ebon furred killer, trying to look friendly or at least pass for it.
"Eroket Nightblade..." Eroket replied slowly, tensed for any sudden movement.
"Ahh...Aleran Nightblade's son, the prodigy of Jald Nightson and Kalis Deiran...General of the Calpathions and slayer of General Visla...I have heard of you, young Eroket...your fame spreads even to Calishan to Crimson Tears..."
"Crimson Tears?"
"Ah yes...the controlling force behind the streets...I am a...associate of Crimson Tears." Davrag grinned, revealing sharpened fangs.
"Hn...and why do you want to speak to me?"
Davrag grinned again, a paw gripped a glass of damson wine and brought it to the stoat's lips, sipping delicately before lowering it. "I like to meet my rivals..."
"Rivals?" Eroket couldn't believe what he was hearing, "We're not-" Davrag cut him off with a raised paw.
"We are rivals, boy...your skills and your father's skills make us rivals alone...if all the praise Jald Nightson heaps upon you is true then we are indeed rivals..."
Eroket swallowed hard, realizing his predicament...in the mercenary worlds, one often took the first opportunity to eliminate a helpless rival.
"Heh...don't demean me, boy...I wouldn't kill you like this...there'll be more then enough time on this little hunt, Eroket Nightblade...more then enough time for us to cross blades."
"I'll look forward to it..." The ermine tried to hide the severe unease he felt around this beast...the fear he seemed to inspire. Eroket understood exactly how he had terrified Boneflower so.
"Tell me one thing, Eroket...do you believe in Dark Forest? Or do you paint yourself in the night and howl at the moon? Maybe you beleive in nothing awaiting your soul?"
"What do you care?" Eroket was honestly confused by the question.
Davrag smiled charmingly, "I'm just wondering what afterlife I'm gonna send you to..."
"Look to your own..." Once more trying to cover fear with bravado...
Davrag laughed and rose. "Please, feel free to finish the drink...I bid you well until our next-and probably final-meeting...I'll give Jald your regards...we must be off on the hunt after all."
With a mocking bow and a laugh, he was gone...leaving Eroket to his fears and his doubts.
***
Sleep did not come easy to Jald Nightson...but sleep he did...and he dreamed.
Jald heard the cries of old enemies, saw himself training soldiers, saw himself training Eroket Nightblade and Geras Iridanis in the art of swordplay...and he relived the war...he heard the screams of the innocents, heard the children scream as the Death Watch soldiers, soldiers he, Jald Nightson had trained, cut at them with their blades.
The dream turned into a nightmare as he saw Eroket Nightblade, the prodigy and star pupil among them, destroying all he had taught, defiling Aleran's memory, becoming a murderer, a child-killer-
"This one is different!" He cried suddenly, jolted awake. He was alone, Davrag gone off on a scouting or some such...the only witnesses to his cry were the moon and the stars...
"This one...is different..." He had to believe that.
He had too...