PLEASE NOTE THAT IN THIS FANFIC, I HAVE SEPARATED EVERY FIRST JOB FROM THEIR PROCEEDING SECOND JOBS. MEANING, KNIGHTS NEVER WERE SWORDIES, ASSASSINS NEVER WERE THIEVES.
NOW.... ON WITH THE FIC!!!!!!!!!!!!
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RAGNARÖK ONLINE FANFIC
TRANSGRESSIONS OF FATE
By: RAGNAR (that really is my name)
Chapter 09: Marus Rain-Seeker
------------------4:00 AM, Geffen.--------------
Shadow Eyes...
Marus let the dream trail away in his thoughts as he woke up. He hardly cared to try to decipher what it meant. It was always the same every time it visited him in his sleep. He had already committed every detail into his memory.
Around him, Marus was surrounded by bodies by men, women, children, monsters, demons – everyone. Their blood mingled with each other, turning the field into a black sea of death.
He found himself walking across the field, seemingly unconcerned about the grisly sight before him. The leather of his boots making sounds with every step he took. His cloak flapped behind him even though he felt no wind. The shadows that surrounded him blended with his Black Assassin's uniform, clothing him in darkness.
Marus felt different. His heart never felt so... cold. Emotions never touched him. He felt nothing even though he knew that some of the bodies on the ground was there of his doing. Marus didn't need to look at his hands to know that they were stained black with blood.
There were things about him that didn't change though. The left side of his face was still badly scarred. The crisscrossed slashes across his face that looked like the webs of a spider still blinded his left eye. Knives, his ever-present companion, were tucked at certain parts of his clothing; and his two specially-made long-hilt daggers were sheathed in one scabbard rested on his back.
He wandered aimlessly across the dead wilderness.
Lightning peeled across the far off sky, but no thunder came. The world was empty of life and he was alone.
Then, Marus saw a man fully covered from head to toe in a cloak that was seemingly made of shadows. His face can't be seen under the hood, but there was no doubt in his mind that the man was looking straight at him. He could feel the man's eyes burning through his.
The hooded man spoke, his voice was devoid of all emotions, humanity, and life.
"Look around you, Shadow Eyes."
The hood fell back.
"Behold your destiny."
Lightning cracked.
"The destiny that awaits the Fateless One."
The man's face became clear before him. He has seen it before. Even without the scars, he knew whose face it was. A thousand times, he has looked at that face.
His face.
Marus woke from his bed in the Hunter's Dream Inn. His left hand traced the scars across his face. His blind eye staring blankly into nothing as he tried to recount the days when he was used to smiling. He couldn't.
It's been a lifetime it seemed...
He didn't bother for a bath; the weather in Geffen was never humid, just cool. He just went to the bathroom to shave and to wash his face.
It's been a while since the Undead came into the city. To tell the truth, he might as well have just slept through the whole thing. To him it was slash, dodge, slash, dodge; an endless cycle of the same repetitive actions that melted together into one mind-numbing experience.
Filling the sink with water, he took out a small knife from his pants. Lathering the soap on his cheeks and chin, he scraped off the stubble of what were the beginnings of half a beard.
As he splashed the water on his face to clear up the last of the unneeded soap, the jewel on his medallion sparkled in the morning sunlight.
The medallion was a gift from a friend. The same friend he was planning to visit here in Geffen. However, circumstances regarding the bounty on his life would complicate things. Besides, Marus had a few things to do in the city before visiting anyone.
Marus put on his uniform. He would have rather worn something less conspicuous, but he was out of good clothes. Besides, he would probably need to show the uniform.
After strapping on the last buckle – his uniform was loaded with bandage like straps around his body – he wrapped himself with his cloak. The cloak was special; it was made to repel magic. The city was full of magic users and his head would make someone rich if he were not careful.
Going down the stairs, he was greeted by the usual noise that was present in an inn's common room. Drinking was hardly seen, though, as it was only in the early hours of morning.
"Good morning, sir!" the innkeeper greeted him with the usual smile, "how was your night?"
Marus just tossed the man a gold five-hundred zenny coin onto the counter before he exited through the front door.
He heard a familiar yip besides him as he walked down the dark alleyway towards his destination. He didn't need to turn around to know what made the sound.
To his right, the shadows seemed to grow larger and darker as the matyr bounded up beside him, it's aura of darkness covering every inch of its body. He could still see the uncovered muscles in the creature's body as the aura thinned and thickened at some parts, but in totality, the aura always covered it.
Marus tossed a piece of Peco-peco meat towards Arul. The matyr's red eyes glowing contently as he gobbled up the whole pound of bird's flesh in a few seconds. Marus just sat patiently on a nearby box as Arul licked his paws and teeth after the meal.
Arul was always quick at everything but grooming himself. If there is anything the matyr can't stand, it was not being able to go out with a clean coat; not that anyone would be able to see it because of its aura.
After the matyr was finally done, it looked up at Marus, its red eyes asking him what they should do next. Arul let out a whine as it waited for Marus' reply.
After thinking about it for a few moments, "Let's go, Arul. We have work to do." Marus said, patting the matyr on the head as he stood up from the box.
Arul tilted his head sideways like a bird, questioning what that work would be.
Marus took out a bloodstained strip of cloth from his pocket. He placed it close to Arul's nose so that the matyr can pick up the scent. If there were anything a matyr can track, it would be blood.
"Go!" Marus barked his command to the matyr.
Arul immediately bounded off, filled with the excitement of a hunt. Marus kept up with the matyr with ease as he ran quietly behind it.
Suddenly, the matyr stopped running. Its red eyes growing darker as it skidded to a halt beside a dingy wooden door. A growl escaped Arul's throat as he approached the door.
This must be the spot.
Telling the matyr to stay put, Marus went through the door. He knew the place. It was a favorite hangout for Geffen's toughs. The group was made mostly of runaway mages and other rejects of society. He wasn't interested in them though, he only wanted to find one of them.
When the door closed behind him, someone shouted, "THERE HE IS! THAT'S THE SON OF A BITCH WHO CUT ME YESTERDAY!"
He managed to dodge an arrow that was aimed for his head as soon as he also dodged another one going for his arm. He only walked calmly down the stairs as fireballs tried to burn him only to hit his cloak and dissipate.
He dodged a sword that was carelessly placed. He turned around, catching and twisting the Swordsman's arm to the side, giving him the chance to break the man's wrist.
As the man was clutching his hand in pain, he sent a throwing knife across the room, breaking apart an Archer's bow. Another knife pinned his hand to the wall.
It is getting too crowded, and he hasn't found his target yet.
He reached behind and drew out his twin daggers.
The one on his right hand had an eight-inch long, black, leather-bound hilt decorated with silver dragons spiraling up to the blade. The knife's blade, in contrast to the hilt, was pristinely white and razor sharp.
The other knife on his left however, was the direct opposite of the other one. Although they are of the same appearance, this one is absolutely different. Where the hilt of the first was black, this one was white. Where the other was decorated by dragons this was decorated by red snakes.
Its blade was totally devoid of any color, making it suck in the light around it; and where the first blade was sharp, this one was serrated and wickedly barbed at the back.
The symbols that make up his life, no other knife in all of Midgard can match the two that he was holding right now.
Black for Pain and white for Hope. From the time he found himself lying next to the river with no memory at all of his past, all the way to the present, these two daggers have always been his trusted weapons. Now, they are going to prove themselves again.
Arms and blades at the side, he just calmly stood there, waiting for their first attack, "I am only here for one man, stand aside... or die."
"GET HIM!!!"
Weapons at the ready, Marus prepared to let their blood spill on the floor.
Death for the guilty. Justice for the dead.
The story of his life. His purpose. The principle he wishes to live and die for.
Anyone who stands in the way of his target will have deemed his or her life forfeit.
Their lives are over.
He unleashed himself.
Hope's edge sliced through the gut of the first unfortunate who tried to get near him.
He then cut off the arm of a Swordsman who tried to take him down, before he could even scream, Pain's serrated blade ripped through the man's throat. He sidestepped an arrow that continued flying onwards until it hit another person on the chest.
An underhanded cut from Hope's razor edge split the next man's head in half while the pop-up blade hidden in the sole of his boots was jammed in another's skull.
He let himself be lost in the dance. He turned himself into the monster that people thought he was – the reason why he has a price on his head.
Monster... so few looked at him beyond that... so few.
Before he knew it, the carnage was over. Bodies lied everywhere around him as he stood on the same spot. He can feel his sweat trailing down his neck while he looked for the next fool who will try to kill him.
Focusing, he tried to find the man he was sent to kill. Knowing their type, his target wouldn't be lying there with his friends.
Marus has a special gift, one of many. He can see a person, not the flesh, but the soul. The bodies around him became dark blots on his vision, only shadows outlining their lifeless forms. He heard a whimper. Turning around, he found his target, a glowing red aura where there was supposed to be a man. Losing his grip on his ability, he started to walk towards the man.
The man was a nervous wreck now. Tears made lines from his grimy face as he threw up his hands, begging for mercy, "Please, don't kill me! I'll pay you anything! Just, please! Don't kill me!"
Justice for the dead.
The words came to him even though he never knew where they came from, "Shora Edonas, you have been found guilty of your crimes of theft, rape, and murder. I do not come to you by the laws of men, but by the laws of the Fates. And by the law, I sentence you to death."
The man reduced himself to a simpering fool. He didn't deserve to live.
He was about to drive Pain into his skull when he found himself flying through the air, the black-bladed dagger leaving his grip.
The wind was knocked from his lungs as he landed on a table. He was too careless to underestimate the Mage.
Shora's stood above him, with Pain's distinct shadow in his hand. The man's grin was ingratiating.
"Marus Rain-Seeker," Shora spat, "the most wanted man alive. You're going to make me rich. I know the bounty they put on you," his grin grew wider, "once I get the reward money, I'll probably get myself more girls."
Shora raised the black blade in front of him, "Dying by your own blade... ironic, no?"
Why do they all talk too much?
Without any second thought, he kicked the man on the gut hard enough to make him double over. A punch sent him reeling back.
Dazed, Shora let go of Pain.
Before the black blade hit the floor, Marus already unloaded his entire stock of daggers tucked in his clothes towards Shora.
Blade after blade went through the Mage's body. The sounds that came from Shora made Marus think of melons in a grinder.
Marus can hear each knife whistle through the air – see them right before they rip through the man and latch themselves onto the opposite wall and beams.
Shora's hole-ridden body flopped down on the floor as his blood oozed out. The red fluid flowing from his body went between the floorboards and into the dirt.
The man's leg was still twitching, when he dropped. Funny how Marus managed to notice certain things when he killed.
Death for the guilty...
He can hear the boots of the local soldiers running towards the building.
Marus calmly picked up Pain and collected the money he needed from the corpses around him – they don't need it anymore. Pulling up his cloak around himself, he walked out the door and into the streets, Arul's heavy footsteps following him.
Justice for the dead...
Those girls are avenged.
He has seen too many innocents die because of the acts of another.
Sometimes he wished he were innocent again.
Sometimes, he wished he never existed.
Anyway, what's done is done. The Fates have picked him for this job, and he will do it.
There are no innocents anymore, he thought ruefully.
Death for the guilty...
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WOW! NINE CHAPTERS! WE REALLY WENT A LONG WAY!
THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS GUYS! I REALLY APPRECIATE THEM.
SO WHAT DO YOU THINK? I WAS KINDA PLANNING FOR ANOTHER FIC, WHICH WAS ABOUT THE ANGEL TV SERIES – IT'S AN EXTENSION OF BUFFY, FOR THOSE WHO ARE WONDERING – BUT I KINDA DECIDED THAT I SHOULD CONCENTRATE ON THIS ONE, FIRST.
SO PLEASE... GIVE ME YOUR HONEST COMMENTS, OK? HOW'S MARUS? AND ALL THAT.... HEHE.
BY THE WAY... Pain and Hope are Marus' daggers... in case you didn't know. I WAS GONNA NAME THEM EBONY AND IVORY, AFTER THE SONG... BUT THEN, CAPCOM BEAT ME TO IT WITH "DEVIL MAY CRY" (Dante's two guns are named Ebony and Ivory)
I'm planning my moves for the Juno patch, you see... hehe (medyo late ang pRO noh?) and I'm kinda wondering if my rogue should be a strip-rogue, auto- steal rogue, back-stabber, moneygrubber, bow, or just a simple POWERHOUSE /gg.... Tips anyone?