Saturos Prox
Swordmaster
The Wildcard
I'm almost incapable of lying. I'd be a terrible spy.
Posts: 351
Etruria Fame: 1
Profession: Undercover Operative
Affinity: Anima
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Post by Saturos Prox on Mar 17, 2015 17:37:45 GMT -6
“What the-!” was all Saturos had time to exhale before he felt a thin, nobby shoulder collide with his ribcage. All of the air in the operative’s lungs was rapidly forced from his chest as he was sucker punched, or rather to be more accurate, sucker tackled, and with no time to react, the teal-haired Etrurian had little choice but to continue with his fall and tumble back into the stairs with a grunt. He couldn’t help but flail as a sharp pain shot through his back, a crooked stair striking one of his upper vertebrae. Argh! Barely into the room and he’d already been sent to the floor.
Squinting through the pain, Saturos looked up, to identify his assailant, but unfortunately the light source that he had followed down the stairs seemed to have fallen off of whatever perch it had been placed on, now leaving the operative little visibility with which to see by whom exactly he was being attacked. All he could see was a pair of legs somewhat outlined against the faint glow that was coming from the other side of the room. His assailant, so it seemed. He hadn’t been expecting a fight.
The swordsman wrapped his hand around one of the two swords that hung at his waist and made to draw it, but as he did he felt the butt of the weapon strike the wall of the stairway no more than a foot or so out of its scabbard. Something else then. Thinking decisively Saturos swung his leg out in an attempt to sweep this mysterious attacker off of their feet, then quickly leapt up to his own. His injured back cried out in protest as he righted himself, but the Etrurian refused to stay grounded if he could at all help it. And now that he was erect, there was enough space to unsheath his blade. Again his hand jumped to the hilt of his falchion, then to his jian upon remembering the confined quarters he was currently in. No, still too long. He instead opted for the rondel dagger he kept holstered under his coat. The shorter thrusting blade would suffice in this situation.
In one clean, swift motion, Saturos dropped down and reached out to grab the shadowy figure by the back of the neck while simultaneously placing the pointed end of his dagger against the person’s throat. The hold left little room for escape. But doing so, he felt something he would not expect from the large man he had seen back at the mine. It was skin, yes, like anyone would have at the back of their neck, but it was soft and smooth, like a woman’s.
“Myscha?”
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Post by Charlotte on Mar 19, 2015 12:00:30 GMT -6
Contact! Charlotte smirked as her left shoulder connected with her visitor’s diaphragm, sending him backwards into the stairs. Now, she’d never prided herself on her physical prowess, but the fact that she’d leveled a man who was likely half a foot or taller than her was a serious ego boost. Maybe once she was off the isles and, well, not broken, she needed to reconsider her lack of focus on fighting.
There wasn’t time to dwell on that now, though. Wiping some of the blood from her forehead again, the thief moved to quickly maneuver around the still prone man in the stairwell. At the same time, she heard the clink of what was sounded like a hilt hitting the wall; clearly the man wasn’t intending to exchange pleasantries, which was even more reason for Charlotte to keep moving up the steps.
But nearly instantaneously, a limb shot out and caught Charlotte’s leg, sending the blonde sprawling forward, her front crashing into the rickety, uneven stairs. Instantly the wind was knocked from her, and her chin collided with the edge of one of the stairs, bringing the taste of blood to her mouth after biting her cheek. She knew she couldn’t waste time being stunned, as much pain as she was in, so the blonde tried to ignore her body’s cries to rest.
Charlotte was only able to spend a moment trying to pull herself up by her left arm, though, for as soon as she palmed the stair under her breasts, a strong, calloused hand grabbed the back of her neck while cool steel greeted the front. Closing her eyes, Charlotte braced for the worst only to be surprised when the man paused, as if unsure if he had the correct prey.
And then, she heard it: “Myscha?” Despite the blade at her neck, a sigh of relief escaped the consultant as soon as she heard the familiar voice, that damn voice that she’d learned to recognize quite easily over the past two weeks. While she wasn’t sure how or why Saturos had decided to come investigate the northern docks, Charlotte was thankful he had.
“I’d have freshened up if I knew you were coming,” the thief strained to joke, wanting to turn and confirm with her own eyes that it truly was Saturos. She supposed it was a foolish want, seeing as it was still as dark as before; she’d just have to trust her ears. “Didn’t realize you'd be in such a friendly mood.”
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Saturos Prox
Swordmaster
The Wildcard
I'm almost incapable of lying. I'd be a terrible spy.
Posts: 351
Etruria Fame: 1
Profession: Undercover Operative
Affinity: Anima
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Post by Saturos Prox on Mar 29, 2015 21:41:27 GMT -6
"I can be a bit pointed in my displays of affection, I'll admit," replied Saturos, removing the dagger from its precariously deadly position at the base of the woman's chin. The dim lamplight glinted off of the knife's sharpened edge as it silently recessed through the air, the blade tip kept away from her skin to avoid any unnecessary cuts. The swordsman stuffed the dagger back into the holster tucked under his jacket, the weapon away, his other hand losened its grip on the clump of shirt it had been grabbing in order to hold her down. Saturos cleared his throat as he lifted his weight off of the woman, then placed his rear on the nearest step. "I meant no offense, so I hope I've at least kept your dignity intact."
Saturos ran his hands down his pant legs, wiping off the thin layer of sweat that had accumulated on his palms. With the only source of light still laying on the floor behind a table leg, the Etrurian couldn't really see much of Myscha other than a dark outline that stood out faintly against the dim backlight. Well, that and her feet, which were noticably barefoot. Hmm, come to think of it, why, and how, was she up and walking around? Saturos hardly believed that Aurelian's men would just let a woman as wily as this one just walk about her makeshift prison, trusting in nothing but the basement door to keep her contained. The most probable answer was that she'd escaped her bindings just before he'd arrived, and had attacked him thinking he was a more sinister presence coming to do...well, do whatever it was they were doing to her down here. Not being able to see kept Saturos from deducing what that was just yet. Definitely interrogated, most likely bound, maybe gagged, but hopefully not tortured. Knowing the Inquisition, however, torture was not out of the question.
In truth he felt a bit guilty. Had he taken the time to get Myscha safely off the island before seeing to the return of the stone she had stolen, the woman would have most likely avoided this scenario. Unfortunately, though, Saturos had gone for the greedy gambit, betting that he'd be able to return the stolen goods without being seen with the fugitive while Myscha got herself quietly away, allowing both of them to get off scott free. Oh the hubris and the irony. He had not wanted to get his hands dirty, but now they were filthy with blood. But not his, of course. As smart and talented an operative as he was, Saturos rarely got dirty with his own blood.
"In all seriousness, I came to get you out of here, but it looks as if you already did all the hard work for me."
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Post by Charlotte on Mar 30, 2015 21:26:26 GMT -6
Charlotte exhaled with a small chuckle of relief as the Etrurian lowered his dagger from her chin and released his hold on her. Even if she couldn’t see, the moment he joked with her confirmed it was Saturos who had found her trying to escape instead of one of the men who’d brought her here. A welcome surprise, to be sure, as it meant he’d be able to help her get out of this wretched cellar.
Shaking her head as she awkwardly righted herself without her broken arm, Charlotte held back a laugh as he mentioned keeping the blonde’s dignity intact. While the young woman carried quite a dignified air, the line of work and business partners she associated with tended to require her to leave her dignity at the front door. Sure, she was a proud woman, but just because she was good at what she did, didn’t mean that people believed she did so with dignity. Hell, Charlotte hated the word itself; a lot of people respected her, but they’d never dream of saying it was because Charlotte was dignified. No, she got jobs done without question, delivered on her contracts (well, valid ones anyways), and was willing to do whatever it took to get the next bit of information or item of interest to pass along for her clients.
“Hah!” Unable to contain her amusement at what he’d said, Charlotte gave way to one pointed laugh, “you do remember you’re talking to a thief, right?”
As soon as the young woman, like Saturos, had flipped herself around, her backside now parallel with one of the steps, Charlotte stood, stepping carefully down the stairs and towards the lamp. The lamp itself falling would have caused a commotion, but to add to it their tumble on the stairs surely could have alerted someone upstairs that something was not right. Saturos being here bought the blonde some protection in her current state, at least, but time was now very limited.
“Sitting around and waiting for a rescue party isn’t my style,” Charlotte smirked as she bent at her knees, leaning her left side down far enough so that she could reach the lamp handle with her fingertips; her right side, of course, dangled uselessly the entire time. As soon as her digits curled around the thin metal piece, Charlotte straightened up, placing the lamp back on the table and lighting the room once again. She looked like a mess, but she didn’t have time to be worried about how she appeared to the teal-haired man. Instead, she turned her attention to the set of expensive leather boots that were still tied to the rickety wooden chair. Even with time not on their side, if she had a chance to bring the boots along with her, she was going to try.
Pulling the chair back to its feet, Charlotte dropped carefully to her knees. “If someone’s upstairs, they’ve probably heard the commotion,” she said as her fingers fumbled with the ropes around one of the boots in an attempt to loosen the bindings. While it would have been an easy task with both hands, it was unneededly difficult thanks to her condition. Charlotte sighed with frustration, her hand leaving the ropes and instead tugging at the boot to try and free it. She was making progress, but it was slow-moving.
“Give me a hand, will you?” The blonde glanced back at Saturos for a moment before refocusing on the boot as she slowly shimmied the heel through the bindings. She didn’t want to take too long, in case they had heard something. After all, there were still four of the bishops men and two of them, one if you were being realistic.
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Saturos Prox
Swordmaster
The Wildcard
I'm almost incapable of lying. I'd be a terrible spy.
Posts: 351
Etruria Fame: 1
Profession: Undercover Operative
Affinity: Anima
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Post by Saturos Prox on Apr 3, 2015 16:08:01 GMT -6
“Your sticky fingers and penchant for getting yourself into trouble have little bearing on your status as a lady, my dear,” regarded the teal haired operative as he strode over to the kneeling woman. "Elimine knows I've done worse, and I still consider myself as a man of dignity." The laces of her boots had been tied to the the chair that Saturos could only assume she had only minutes earlier been tied to, and she was struggling getting the knots undone. And no wonder. With the lamp returned to its original position and light now illuminating the room, Myscha’s condition became very apparent to him.
Her face, ordinarily a testament to the extents of human beauty, was covered with thick, blotchy bruises and half-scabbed lacerations that made her almost visually unrecognizable. The rest of her body looked to be in relatively good condition, at least as good as the body of a tortured prisoner could look, save for her right arm which Saturos noticed hung uselessly by her side. It was draped in the wispy remnants of what used to be a sleeve, which in turn did little to hide the bruised and bleeding skin that covered most of the limb. In truth, from where the swordsman was standing, the woman looked more like a goblin right now than she did a person, and it made him furious.
There was something about torture that Saturos could not stand. Perhaps it was hypocritical of him to think so, having just killed a man in cold blood only minutes earlier, but to Saturos it was one thing to take a life, whether it be quietly or in battle, and a whole other thing entirely to purposely inflict suffering in such a calculated manner to someone who was completely helpless. It was weak and cowardly. It also didn’t help that the victim in this instance was someone whose interests he found himself caring about.
“Let me do it,” he said complicitly as he knelt down beside her. The stone floor was wet and uncomfortable, but Saturos found himself more concerned about his rescued. The operative reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, then handed it to Myscha and gently pushed her aside. “It’s not much, but it should at least keep the blood out of your eyes.”
Even in this reduced light, Saturos’s dextrous fingers made quick work of the knotted laces. The boots slipped quietly off the back of the chair, and the Etrurian, holding both turned to his blonde compatriot.
“I can help you put them on if you'd like.”
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Post by Charlotte on Apr 7, 2015 12:10:03 GMT -6
Charlotte could have screamed as Saturos pushed her aside and handing her a handkerchief. She was frustrated, no, furious that she’d been made so useless. Sure, she’d been able to shimmy herself out of her bindings, but how could that matter when she couldn’t even untie a knot? And that look on Saturos’ face as he passed her the cloth; in the mountains, his expressions were multi-faceted, intriguing, layered, but now all Charlotte could see was pity. The blonde was not in the business in being pitied unless she intended to make a client pity her for her advantage.
But as infuriating as the situation was, it didn’t change the fact that Charlotte couldn’t untie the damn knot. Lifting the handkerchief to her forehead, she mumbled the most gracious ‘Thanks’ she could manage while resigning herself into her new role of uselessness. As she watched how quickly the teal-haired man’s nimble fingers loosed the bonds around Charlotte’s boots she couldn’t help but fume. Ah, this was the stuff of housewives and old widows, watching someone else do something so easy for her! Saturos was being kind about it, sure, but it didn’t change that she still had to watch helplessly as he freed her leather boots.
As Saturos turned to face her, newly retrieved boots in hand, Charlotte felt truly embarrassed for the first time in a long time as their eyes met. She felt no shame being naked in front of countless people, but having the Etrurian look over her in her current state was humiliating. The Bishop’s men had degraded her in every sense of the word, but they’d done so by taking her painstakingly-maintained appearance away from her. The remnants of her long, golden hair littered the floor, and from the look in Saturos’ eyes it was clear the same lack of respect had been paid to her face. She’d been beaten, bruised before, sure, but the ruthlessness of these men was targeted. They knew how to really hurt her, how to remove from her what she truly valued, and she had to wonder how four relatively unknown men knew exactly how to get to her.
Charlotte broke eye contact, looking at her knees as she readied herself to mumble out an acceptance of his offer to help her with her boots. Before she could, though, a loud creak sounded from a floorboard above them. Charlotte’s gaze launched upwards, eyes widening as whoever was upstairs moved quickly around the room before going silent. She’d been down in the cellar long enough to know what that meant.
The injured thief wobbly launched to her feet, using the chair as a support to help her to her feet. “Someone’s coming,” she said. “We need to hide.” Her speech was frantic, though it was largely out of concern for her. Charlotte had no means of protecting herself now, while Saturos seemed ready at a moment’s notice if a situation arose. Stuffing the now bloodied cloth in her pocket and grabbing the lamp, Charlotte motioned for Saturos to follow her, though if he did made little difference for the moment. Limping back to crates she’d been hiding behind, the blonde crouched back down, lowering the light coming from the oil lamp until it could barely be seen as she didn’t want it to be readily apparent that she was no longer in her bindings. Grabbing the cloth from her pocket and pressing it to her forehead again, Charlotte jumped as she heard the first creak at the top of the stairs to the cellar. Whoever it was paying them a visit would be upon them in just a moment.
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Saturos Prox
Swordmaster
The Wildcard
I'm almost incapable of lying. I'd be a terrible spy.
Posts: 351
Etruria Fame: 1
Profession: Undercover Operative
Affinity: Anima
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Post by Saturos Prox on Apr 12, 2015 16:23:09 GMT -6
Saturos’s attention affixed to the staircase as Myscha brought his attention to the loud creaking that had emanated from the floor above them, and watched from the corner of his eye as the woman weakly pulled herself to her feet, her far shorter hair swaying back and forth as her body struggled to stay upright. This wasn’t good. The operative had little worry in regards to his own continued survival, at least given how simple a matter it had been to dispatch Tweedle Dee, Elimine rest his soul, but with Tweedle Dumb still on the loose, one wrong move on his part could see Myscha severely injured, or worse. And Saturos wasn’t about to see that happen.
Myscha seemed to get the picture. Before Saturos could even look away from the staircase, the blonde haired woman had already hobbled herself halfway to the back of the room. It was impressive how fast she moved, given the intensity of the beating that had been inflicted upon her, but it was more impressive how composed she still was in the current circumstances. A lesser woman would have sobbed into Saturos’s shoulder upon rescue, and likely become completely useless, but Myscha had almost seemed annoyed to the teal haired Etrurian, as if the fact that she hadn’t been able to fully rescue herself had been more an inconvenience than anything else. He silently shook his head, a smile on his lips. A professional to the end. Saturos could admire that.
As Myscha ducked behind a crate near the back of the room there was a creak at the top of the stairs, prompting Saturos to hightail it over to a workbench just abreast of the staircase entrance. He ducked under the wooden trestle, and turned towards Myscha just in time to see the woman dim the lamp, bringing the room from a “campfire in a cave” level of visibility to a “light at the end of the tunnel”. It made it a bit harder to see, but he had already familiarized himself somewhat with the layout of the room, whereas the visitor would hopefully not be expecting an armed intruder.
The operative wasn’t sure if his female rescuee had much in the way of a plan, but his was simple: when whoever it was at the top of the stairs reached the bottom of the stairs, he would jump out from under his hiding place and place them in a chokehold at knife point. Then, depending on the visitor's identity and temperament, Saturos would either slit their throat or let them be. He cringed at the thought of taking another life in such a sneaky, underhanded way, but the situation demanded a certain ruthlessness from him. He'd just have to make up for it in the future. Surely St. Elimine would forgive him for being such a brute.
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Post by Charlotte on Apr 13, 2015 17:28:38 GMT -6
Valen was furious. After Booker and Dirk hadn’t reported back when they said they would, Valen took to the streets himself to try to find the letter and the AWOL idiots. While the letter was still nowhere to be found, even with night now upon them Valen found Booker’s body, plain as day at the entrance of an alley. Valen hadn’t needed to feel the man’s cool skin to know he was long gone from this world, though part of him had hoped maybe the clammy flesh could quell his rising temper. Booker being killed on his watch meant Valen’s pay would be cut severely for losing a resource, and Valen hated when someone messed with his coin.
Booker being dead also meant there was someone else involved, trying to help the blonde that had already caused them so much trouble. And Valen wasn’t going to let that happen.
The now raging bull charged back to the storage shed, slamming through the doors, eyes instantly locking on Tyree, who sat in the back corner, waiting as he was told. Valen stormed in his direction.
“What are you doing sitting around?!" Valen roared, stopping in front of the workbench, grabbing what looked like a pair of brass knuckles that he slipped over his already gauntleted hands.
Tyree crossed his legs. "What you said I should be doing, watching the shed!”
Valen locked onto Tyree again, stomping over and grabbing the front of his shirt, lifting the man from his chair. "Well, you’re going to find your idiot friend Dirk now, because he’s in a lot of trouble.” Valen had lowered his voice, but there was still a seething tone behind his words. “The two of you better be back up here in ten minutes, or I promise you’ll both end up worse than Blondie downstairs.”
Valen released Tyree’s shirt, dropping the man back to his chair. Tyree looked annoyed and upset, but he stood nonetheless, quickly leaving the shed presumably to search for the missing Dirk. Valen shook his head, straightening his gauntlets and storming back out, towards the cellar entrance. As soon as he saw the doors sitting open, Valen knew he wouldn’t find the blonde alone down in the cellar. That knowledge alone couldn’t stop the typhoon from tearing down the cellar stairs, though.
But of course, he entered the dark cellar, no idea if anyone was waiting for him. But when the strong arm wrapped around Valen’s thick neck, holding a knife against his skin, all Valen could do was grin. He didn't care that he couldn't see their captive or that he could very well be hanged for the way this job would end up. All he saw was a challenger that he could crush, someone he could direct his pent up rage towards. The Bishop’s man fully accepted that he could end up with a lethal gash to the throat for all his effort, but at this point, all he could see was red.
Instead of speaking or saying anything, Valen didn’t hesitate to raise his right arm, catching his attacker’s arm between the crook of where his neck met his shoulder to change the angle of the other man’s arm. At the same time, his left hand shot up to grab the wrist holding the knife to his throat, clenching his fingers around his attacker’s wrist as hard as possible, in an attempt to break the assailant’s hold on his knife.
Valen was not a man who could make a purely defensive move, though. As soon as his hand gripped around the other man’s wrist and the knife was at least off of his neck, Valen lowered his head and bit down, as hard as he could, while backpedalling his attacker towards the corner where the cellar and stairwell walls met. Valen had come ready to fight dirty; there were no codes of battle down in this cellar, that was for damn sure.
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Saturos Prox
Swordmaster
The Wildcard
I'm almost incapable of lying. I'd be a terrible spy.
Posts: 351
Etruria Fame: 1
Profession: Undercover Operative
Affinity: Anima
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Post by Saturos Prox on Apr 19, 2015 16:55:31 GMT -6
There was a sharp cry of pain as Saturos was uncerimoniously slammed into the hard corner of the stairwell. He had not expected the visitor to react so quickly, but clearly this man was no stranger to close quarters combat, and the man's counterattack had eliminated Saturos's element of surprise while simultaneously sending his knife clattering across the dark basement floor. His arm had been pulled away from his target's neck, while rough, thick fingers dug into his wrist. Now, stuck in a very unpleasant position, he was unarmed against an opponent that knew his way, violently, around the human body. But fortunately Saturos was more than just a sharp wit at the end of a blade. After all, what master of the sword would he be if he hadn't mastered his own body first? Not a very good one.
With his arms currently arrested by his opponent, Saturos only had his legs free to act unimpeded. The swordless swordsman aimed a swift kick at back of the man's knee. The idea was to drop the man low enough to gain leverage while also redirecting his attention to his striken leg, both of which together would hopefully weaken the grip he had on Saturos, allowing the latter to pull his arms free.
From there the operative's counter-offense would be threefold. The first attack would be a two-handed clap to the man's temples to disorient. The second would be a quick knifehand strike to the carotid sinus at the base of his neck, hopefully stunning him if not sending him to the floor outright. A final palm strike to the base of his skull would finish the attack, ideally sending the man stumbling forward if the previous strikes delivered to his neck and head didn't already knock him out.
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Post by Charlotte on Apr 19, 2015 21:26:09 GMT -6
A loud groan burst from Valen as his attacker slammed the bottom of his boot into the back of Valen’s knee. Even with legs as dense as tree trunks, the pain from the blow was enough send the brutish man down to his knees and to release his grip he’d had on the other man’s arms. The Bishop’s man had gained the upper hand for a moment, but now his advantage had been reversed, with the intruder behind him now controlling the high ground. Valen had been in enough brawls to know what happened when the first man hit the ground, so he braced himself for some hits.
What he hadn’t expected was for the attacker’s strikes to be so targeted. Valen had tried to get back to his feet before any other attacks came, but as hands made painful contact with his temples and neck, there was no other response then to be dizzied and disarrayed. If it hadn’t been so dark already, Valen was sure there’d have been spots in his eyes and a blur to his vision. But even stunned as he was, Valen still tried to rise to his feet, only to be met with a palm to the back of the head, causing him to stumble forward. Many men would have crumpled to the man’s impressive attacks, but it was dumb sheer stubbornness that kept Valen cognizant enough to keep from passing out on the floor.
So dazed, hurting, and still pissed, Valen turned back quickly, ignoring his body’s cries to lay down and surrender. His metal-covered right hand balled into a fist, he swung a punch in the direction he believed the other man to be, though his fist only collided with the wall. His knuckles cracked and her yelled to temper the pain, balling his other fist and throwing it again in the direction of the teal-haired Etrurian, which was soon followed by the now throbbing initial fist.
On the other side of the room, Charlotte peered around the corner, trying to tell who had the upper hand in the scuffle, but since she’d dimmed the lantern in an attempt to give Saturos some advantage against Valen, but it was making it impossible to gauge whether or not she needed to assist in some way. She had jumped when Saturos cried out after a loud slam sounded but stayed back, trying to be prudent given her condition. But she was frustrated, just sitting here in the back of the room as the two men fought, so lantern in hand, Charlotte increased the flame just enough to see Valen knocked to his knees.
Maybe this was her chance to help actually accomplish something here. Holding the lantern, Charlotte moved as swiftly as she could to the front of the room as Valen swung and missed at Saturos. Charlotte mustered all her strength as he wound up his second swing, approaching him from behind and whipping the lantern at the back of his head as hard as she could, her cries mixing with his as she did. Just as he began to rise and try to throw his final throw, the hard glass lantern made contact with the back of his head. The lantern shattered on impact, though thankfully for Valen the actual flame extinguished before it could burn him. Still, the blow from the lantern combined with the multiple blows Saturos had inflicted were enough to cause the man’s eyes to roll to the back of his head as he crumpled to the ground.
Dropping the lantern to the ground in front of her, Charlotte heaved for a few seconds as if she’d just been in a marathon. Her still functioning hand shook as she tried to see where Saturos was in the room, unable to move for fear of cutting up the bottoms of her feet even more. If only they’d had the time to get her boots on her feet.
“We need to leave,” she said in the direction she presumed the Etrurian would be in. Her voice shook, her pain and exhaustion starting to break her usually calm exterior. And while she did want to ensure the man who came to her aid wasn’t badly injured, they didn’t have time for that now. There was no telling how long Valen would be out for, so it was best for them to get away from here while they still could.
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Saturos Prox
Swordmaster
The Wildcard
I'm almost incapable of lying. I'd be a terrible spy.
Posts: 351
Etruria Fame: 1
Profession: Undercover Operative
Affinity: Anima
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Post by Saturos Prox on Apr 21, 2015 21:29:55 GMT -6
Saturos's hands were still raised in a fighting manner when the sound of a loud shatter sent Valen crumpling to the floor in front of him. There, standing behind the fallen agent, was Myscha carrying the lantern in her hand. The operative had been so focused on dodging this man's wide, crazy swings he hadn't notice that the location of their sole light source had changed, nor did he notice the lithe Myscha approaching from behind. And now it was dark, so he couldn’t see too much of anything.
He was glad for Myscha’s quick work. Saturos hadn’t expected the man to get away with much, given how much he had throttled the bulkier man’s movement with his initial counterattack, but a quick finish at the wounded woman’s hands was still preferable to an actual fight. That said, there was a bit of disappointment that he hadn’t been given the full opportunity to thrash the man himself.
“Thanks for the sa-”
“We need to leave.”
That shut Saturos up quick with an awkward silence, leaving him not quite sure what to say next. He was going to attempt to brighten the mood a bit, make a quick quip or a joke, but he could see Myscha was in no mood for the operative’s usual antics. It made sense, given all she had probably been through, but it didn’t make the situation any less awkward.
“I just need to get my knife,” was all the Etrurian decided to say as he turned his head in the direction he thought he had heard his knife fall. It was almost pitch black, but still he did not look for long, for the faint light coming down from the staircase reflected, just a small glint, off of the blade’s highly polished surface. The operative carefully tip-toed his way over the fallen brute, though not without bumping his hip into the table, then bent down and picked up his knife. Weapon safely back in hand, he prepared to sheathe it when another thought came dancing, quite maliciously, across his mind. His eyes moved to the very faint outline of Valen’s unmoving body, then back to the knife. His eyebrows silently scrunched in the darkness.
Should he?
The operative crouched down over Valen, dagger in hand, and placed the knife’s tip right at the base of the man’s skull. It would be a quick and painless death. Yet the man, face down in his own misery, was no threat to them now. Not in the slightest. In fact, Saturos could probably make a shallow cut and get no response whatsoever. So it seemed excessively cruel to the operative to kill him when he had no ability to defend himself.
And yet… alive Valen would prove a continuous threat. No doubt he would report back to Aurelian, probably get flogged for his failure, of course, but report back he would do nonetheless. Then, as further punishment, the Bishop would probably strip him of his rank, and force him to hunt Myscha down, or die trying, if he wanted not to be executed himself. The man would no doubt go after the fisherman that had helped Saturos to this basement, the gemcutter too, and probably kill both of them. That would most likely implicate Saturos. Either the fisherman or the gemcutter would mention him, and Saturos wouldn't blame them. All awful consequences. He had been very sloppy today. Too many loose ends.
There was a pause as Saturos took a deep breath. He was weighing his options, but one was ultimately the correct choice, as much as he hated to admit it. His stomach sank. This was different than a kill in battle. This was different than ambushing a man from an alleyway. This was butchery. “St. Elimine, forgive me,” he thought to himself. “I am responsible for two souls today.” There was a quiet squishing noise as Saturos quickly plunged the knife into the back of Valen’s head. He left it there for only a moment, then pulled out and wiped the bloody implement on the man’s shoulder before sheathing it. Silently he rose to his feet, then nodded to Myscha.
“Let’s go.”
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Post by Charlotte on Apr 22, 2015 12:04:16 GMT -6
After cutting Saturo’s off, Charlotte could tell by the sudden silence in the room that her request to get moving had stiffened the mood a bit. Oh, Charlotte appreciated the quips and witticisms that always seemed at the tip of the Etrurian’s tongue – in fact, his attitude even had Charlotte considering if she had the wrong impression of the ‘holy’ people. But seeing as there was an unconscious man on the floor between them, and three more of the Bishop’s men were still missing in action, the time for light-hearted conversation would have to come later. She was officially out of ways to help the man incapacitate any other visitors they might have to host if they spent even a moment too long down here, and Charlotte was in no mood to sit in the back of the room and wait as she had been before. She was anxious and wanted to get to safety, and then she could lighten her mood – well as much as the broken consultant could.
As Saturos retrieved his knife, Charlotte carefully kneeled down, swiping away some of the glass on the floor with her sleeve and grabbing her boots, which had been leaned against the wall right next to where she’d slammed the lantern into the back of Valen’s head. She still wouldn’t be able to get them on her feet as quickly as she would have liked, so she tucked the damn things under her arm. Standing again while being careful to avoid the flecks of glass, Charlotte put the bloodied handkerchief back to the wound on her forehead just in time to hear the unmistakable sound of a blade quickly passing through flesh.
Had he... Saturos had just killed the man on the ground, hadn’t he? Charlotte felt herself grow angry; they’d knocked him unconscious, so how could he just kill the man like that? Sure, he was scum, but the man had to still have his uses. She nearly said something to scold Saturos for his action, but as Charlotte thought, she came to the same conclusion that Saturos had internally. Charlotte had screwed up, and the result was the teal-haired man needing to take someone else’s life in order to keep her from getting killed herself. Gods, how could she have messed this up so badly? How could she have been so short-sighted, so blindly avaricious?
“Let’s go.” No playful banter, no, just the simple, somber acceptance that they needed to leave, especially after what he'd done thanks to her ineptitude. Charlotte didn’t speak, instead gently stepping between the shattered glass, towards and up the stairs, assuming the other man would follow. There were only a few times in her life that Charlotte had felt the urge to apologize for something she had done, especially since she usually had no shame in the decisions she made.
But now, now was one of those times. Instead, though, she simply kept climbing the cellar stairs, waiting for Saturos to direct them where to go.
[Thread End]
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