Wherefore Art Thou? (Open)

[Ryuzaki]

Ryuzaki looked at the wall. It was pretty high for a city wall, and was decently lit. There were guards at the gates and guards on the wall in archer towers. The whole perimeter of the city was spotted with guards with bows, standing ready... Mostly. The assassin had identified a portion of the wall that was both not as well lit and not as well manned. From the edge of the shrubbery and scraggly trees that provided him cover, Ryu looked up at the wall, identified his opportunity, and ran. He sprinted towards the wall, threw up a climbing hook, and then was up the wall, pulling with his arms and kicking as if running with his feet. He climbed, steadily, and then flopped over onto the top of the wall, laying flat. So far, so good.

Raising his head, Ryu looked around. There was no good way down the wall - he could be seen by the guards if he jumped to the rooftops, and he couldn't descend downward, due to the well-lit gambling establishment nearby the wall. He'd drop down into the middle of that mess and then expect to waltz away? Not bloody likely.

So instead the assassin evaluated the next possibility. He could scale the guard tower, entering it, and dispose of the lone archer. That out of the way, he could descend, exit, and then blend into the city with ease. That was possible, but he worried that he would alert the archer. That would indeed be bad. With no good options and plenty of ways everything could go wrong, Ryu sighed heavily. Was Mila really worth this much? Why again was he chasing after a mage that could be anywhere in Lycia?

He couldn't explain it. Somehow, he just felt he had to. Some part of him would not let the image of the mage, fixing one of his buttons, disappear from his mind. With a low growl of a man determined, a man hell-bent on success at any cost, Ryuzaki rose, twirled his climbing hook, and lobbed it upward. Immediately after he heard it click, he was climbing, frantically pulling himself up. The distance closed, and Ryu vaulted over the edge to see the archer laying against the battlement. Dead.

There was a neat slice across the man's neck, and a note was pinned by one of his own arrows to his back. Stooping, the assassin read:

I have what you seek. I await you below.

Ryuzaki drew Shinryu. This was no longer a simple search for Mila. This had turned sinister very fast. The man hadn't been dead long... Had he been watched? How could this have happened?

Entering the guard tower staircase, the assassin heard faint footfalls below. With no time to lose, he wrapped his climbing hook on the bars of the door and jumped, letting the rope fly out from between his heavy gloved fingers. Arriving at the bottom, he followed the cloak that was disappearing out the door, and then burst onto the street, watching as the shadowy figure suddenly gained a burst of speed and sprinted up a pile of boxes, swinging onto the rooftop and knocking them over with a clatter.

Great.

The assassin sprinted into an alleyway, using the close walls to jump back and forth until he too clambered onto a rooftop. The man was running across another one, putting distance between the two of them. Ryu set off in hot pursuit, following the path the man had taken and keeping his eyes alternating between the terrain under his feet and the cloak receding from him. This routine continued, Ryu slowly gaining on the man, until the fleeing figure tripped, sprawling onto a wide rooftop. Ryu jumped, the distance closing, and swung the dark magic sword downward, aiming straight for the man's legs. He needed information, and this figure was going to oblige him.

The sharp crack of metal upon metal rang out as the man, swiftly rolling, regained his footing and blocked the strike with a sword of his own. For a brief moment, they kept the blades together, each placing pressure to try and push the other back, and then both retreated backwards as if following an unspoken, unwritten rule. They began to circle.

Ryuzaki spoke first.

"Start talking. Where is she?"

The shadowy figure froze for a second, looking genuinely puzzled, and then narrowed his eyes, looking at Ryuzaki with a mixture of scorn and cold contempt.

I know nothing about any woman. All I know about is the sword you have in your hand. The sword you stole from my master's vault... Near.

Now it was the assassin's turn to stop, briefly looking at the man, before resuming his circling. So that was it. This guy was only after his sword, after Shinryu. Well, that was a damn shame. On two levels. One, he wanted information about Mila. Two, there was no way in hell the guy was getting it back.

"You did well to track me here. You did well to anticipate my movements. So tell me, why go through the trouble to play serf to a lord? Why not use your talents to do what you desire, to equalize? Why not be free of contract or golden chain? Why bother?"

The man was silent for a while, and the two continued to circle on the rooftop.

I am no fighter for ideals. I simply kill for coin. I am an assassin, but one driven by nothing more than money. If I succeed, I earn money. If I fail, I lose money, and my life. That is the knowledge I hold going into every job. So I tell you: give up the sword and live. Do not, and one of us will die. I suspect it will be you. After all... I hold tricks, like any assassin. But what tricks do you have? A magic sword, forged in ancient days and filled with the power to inflict sickness. That I already know. Throwing knives, and a sword that splits in two. What more do you have up your sleeves, Near? Can you hope to defeat me? I will be amused to fight you, very amused indeed.

Here is my first trick."

The man broke the circle, swiping his sword upward, trying to catch Ryuzaki under his guard. As the silver haired assassin swung his sword down, he shifted his stance sideways, ready to counter. He did not counter. He was too busy staring into the eyes of the other assassin, whose hood had fallen off. Their eyes locked, the silver-haired man and the golden-haired man both boring into each other with their gazes. Then the attacker stepped back, turning, and brought his sword down in a flaming arc.

Ryuzaki dove, rolling out of the way of the suddenly-burning blade and swinging his own, cutting a low arc that was stopped by the man, who held a small parrying dagger in his left hand. So he possessed a sword that burned with fire... Undoubtedly something his employer had given him.

Give up the sword, Near. Shinryu is not yours. You do not possess its power.

In response, Ryu lunged, twisting his body and stabbing toward the man, who bent backwards and hopped, landing in a sort of crab position before springing upright. The two charged at each other and then their swords clashed, the sound ringing out once more. Time after time they exchanged blows, each one blocking or evading the other as if they could predict each other's every move. The dance continued, one blade glowing with flames and the other shining with an oddly radiant malevolent blackish indigo glow. Time after time the two swords met, and each time both glowed slightly brighter, as if feeding off of each other.

Yield, Near. Give up the sword. You cannot match my power.

[Ryuzaki]

Ryuzaki grimaced. It wasn't that the man was getting to him - he wasn't - but rather that he for once was at a loss for sharp comebacks. Just throwing out "I'm stronger than you" or "You'll never beat me" seemed so childish and so ineffectual of a response that he preferred to just stay silent. But this guy kept jabbing, kept taunting, almost as if he was trying to drive the assassin to the end of his rope, to make him angry, make him snap. Actually, that was probably exactly what he was trying to do. Ryuzaki pushed his blade forward, breaking yet another stalemate, and kept circling. The golden-haired assassin with the flaming sword did likewise.

Just surrender the sword, Near. Give me the blade and that will be the end of all of this.

Then the man lunged, stabbing his sword forward and cutting at Ryuzaki with his sword coated in flames. The silver-haired assassin refused to move, his feet planted, and at the last possible moment swiped his sword upward, catching the man's burning blade and locking it in another stalemate. But this time was different. As the two blades slammed together, both men were hurled apart as a bang echoed throughout the streets below. They rose to their feet in tandem, both looking at each other's weapon: the flaming blade was now glowing red-hot, the orange tongues of flame turned into a roaring blaze over the weapon's length, and Shinryu was now almost sucking light into it, the whole of the blade a visible shadow, darker than the night sky but with bright indigo runes slowly undulating over the whole blade.

Neither spoke. Then the golden-haired attacker pointed his sword, and a ring of flames pulsed up the blade and erupted outward towards Ryu, crackling as it shot towards him. Tensing, the assassin dove through the ring, wincing at the heat of the flames as he passed through, and then stood once more, his weapon still glowing with its fiendish light.

Give me the sword.

Ryuzaki charged, whirling the weapon up and then down, slapping aside the other man's guard and stabbing the point home straight to the assailant's chest.

But he was no longer there. As the stab had moved forward the man had rolled back and was now countering with a slash of his own, fast as a hornet and sure to sting even more painfully. The two swords met once more, both men matching strength and watching each other carefully. Inwardly, Ryuzaki's mind was whirling. Who was this man? Why did he care so much for this sword? And what had happened to make the blade glow more brightly? How was he to unleash the power of Shinryu?

The more he pondered the questions, the more he became uneasy, and imbalanced. His sense of calm under this pressure had begun to deteriorate, and his emotions, fueled by the stress of being viciously and unrelentingly attacked by a golden-haired assassin hell-bent on taking his sword, bubbled through. The assassin's eyes widened and he gave an odd gurgle-yell as he swung his sword at his foe, putting the whole of his weight behind it. This time, when the two blades clashed, there was a brief splash of darkness, and then the two blades, crossed once more, were clearly visible. But the splash of darkness was not merely aesthetic. It seemed that as Ryu had swung, the sword had spit out a dark slime, almost as if vomiting vile bile all over the opponent. The foe, stepping backwards and trying to wipe the slime off, only succeeded in smearing it in a thin coat of disgusting dark gunk all over him. It seemed almost to pulsate as it sat on his skin, slowly seeping inward.

But no effects were readily visible. For now, the man merely laughed, a dry, bitter sound, as he swirled his flaming blade.

You see? You cannot even control it. Give it up, Near.

Ryuzaki spoke, finally, his voice quiet and cold.

"Who are you? And why do you seek Shinryu so badly?"

There was another clash of swords, and both men, breathing heavily, stepped backwards, maintaining their guard. The voice rang out again, mocking in its tone, but speaking.

You could not hope to understand. You do not know my sword, Near. You may have ruined my sister's wedding, and you may have stolen my sword, but you will never be able to use it as I can. That sword calls to me. I know its power, and I know its loves. Together that sword and I fought many tournaments, caught many bandits, went on many hunts. And always, it glowed for me, glowed with its peculiar power and shone like a second sun. I don't need this damned blade, this crass fire-stick. I hold no love for it, none at all! I only want my sword. I want it back.

As he disparaged his flaming sword, its fires went out and it seemed to weigh a bit more, dragging the swordsman's hand down. Looking at it in disgust, the golden-haired assassin was shocked when Shinryu came towards him, end over end. The man caught it.

What..."Don't speak. Fight. If you kill me, you can keep the sword you love so much. Don't try to run, either, or I'll put holes in you before you can get off the roof.

The silver-haired assassin stared daggers at the man, looking straight into his eyes. For the first time, the golden-haired man showed emotion. He gulped. Then he raised Shinryu, the blade dully glowing like a sadistic night light, and Ryuzaki drew Gemini from his side. There was a soft clatter as the now-extinguished flame sword fell to the ground, discarded by the man, and then the two lifted their weapons and sprang towards each other.

There was a clash of metal, and Gemini met Shinryu in a burst of purple light. Both sent their full force into the swings, but the blades halted once more, locked again in a stalemate. Ryuzaki smiled. His wrists twisted, and then the one blade became two as he stepped backwards, retreating and bringing both twin swords into a ready position. The attacker's gaze never wavered as he assessed first the high sword, then the low one. As Ryuzaki moved in, he swung Shinryu, and there were dings as both the silver-haired assassin's swings were deflected. The indigo blade continued forward, only to be caught in an X, its edges snagging on the serrated metal of the twin Gemini blades. Ryuzaki turned, the swords spinning with him almost like rings around a planet as he advanced, using his motion and quick, subtle movements of his feet to press his opponent back and back, forcing him to defend himself over and over.

Time after time the swords clashed, and both men, smiling, but panting, continued their duel. Back and forth, the two men battled on the roof. There was much more at stake than a sword - this was a duel of the mind, of the will, of two assassins who considered themselves masters, of two men who had in this moment abandoned all doubt and shown the true power of their focused resolve to defeat the foe who stood in front of them.

As each swung, their eyes were narrowed, determined, focused. There was no hesitation, no thought of surrender, of retreat, of loss. The gold haired man struck, Shinryu whipping forward like a snake, and Ryu found one of his swords meters away near one edge of the roof. In a swift motion, he lifted the heavy sword the other assassin had discarded and continued his assault. They fought, and the balance of the larger sword forced Ryuzaki back, closer and closer to the edge, as the man continued his unceasing assault. There was no room to escape, no time to think, but Ryuzaki's eyes widened, almost twinkling with laughter, as a final strike sent him falling backwards toward the edge.

There was a clatter from the street as the other half of Gemini hit the pavement.

The man standing near the edge of the roof took a long breath and then gave a throaty chuckle.

I warned you. None can match me. Enjoy your Hell, Near.

The man coughed, once, then again. He tried to draw breath, but found himself wheezing as his vision began to blur. Sinking to his knees, he felt better, and stared in anger at the sword that had now ceased to glow in his hand.

You're not supposed to sicken me. Only my foes. But I'll forgive you this once... why would you do that to me, your true owner, the only one who cares for you?

"...because the sword's allegiance has shifted."

The golden-haired man gave a gasp, partially in surprise, and partially because of the involuntary response to having a sword stabbed through your gut.

Ryuzaki's body had shimmered back into view as he spoke, and the thrust had come too fast for the man to dodge.

But...how...

"Every assassin has tricks. You thought you knew all of mine. That was a miscalculation that cost you your life."

The golden-haired assassin, eyes flickering with fury, grabbed the hilt of the weapon that had impaled him, struggling to stand. The sword, in one final act of defiance, exploded, flames bursting out over the weapon and causing it to shatter, a final rejection of the wielder who had betrayed it. The last thing the man with golden hair saw as his body melted and charred was the bright glow of Shinryu as the other assassin picked it up from the roof.

Silence fell.

With heavy tread, Ryuzaki trudged to the edge of the roof, collecting his first Gemini Edge, and then lowered a rope to the street, descending and taking the second. Wearily, he slotted them together, and put his weapons away. Grabbing the rope to take it off the roof, the assassin paused, looking upward at the glow of the burning body, and then let the rope go, turning and walking into the shadows silently.

[Ryuzaki]

The alley was dark and still as the assassin crumpled into a heap near some boxes. Breathing heavily, he stared with wild eyes at the sword he held in his hands, a dark blade that glowed with a malevolent indigo gleam. Slowly, his breathing began to ease, and he leaned his head on the cool stone and closed his eyes, letting the blade drop into his lap and coughing quietly. In many ways, he felt drained – physically, emotionally, mentally – but perhaps most of all, he felt spiritually drained. His very core ached, as if he had been tied to a wild horse and dragged through all of the circles of hell.

The sword still glowed softly on his lap, not once flickering or dulling. It was true – the allegiance of the blade had shifted. Why, or how, was still a mystery. But Ryuzaki was the true master of Shinryu, the fel blade, and he who had possessed its powers earlier would answer no questions as to its abilities. What was this weapon, this ancient tool of Death that inflicted sickness and debilitation? From where did the foul energies flow? Many questions flowed through Ryuzaki’s mind as he sat, slowly recuperating.

Then he sniffed, the smell of roasted flesh and burning wood permeating his nostrils. As he slowly opened his eyes, he was greeted by the sight of the rooftop, now belching smoke into the night sky, as the blaze began to spread. A sigh of resignation and exasperation escaped his lips as he rose to his feet and began to slink away from the fire. Soon there would be guards, and questions, and problems he did not wish to confront.

Weary and alone, his sword sheathed in order to stifle the light of its gleaming blade, the assassin wound his way through alleys, hiding in the shadows or among boxes as watchmen stomped by. Once the loud tread of the heavy boots faded, the quiet patter of his own feet began once more, and he scuttled across lanes and snuck through boulevards.

After what seemed like a long journey, Ryuzaki climbed a ladder and seated himself in a crouch atop a flat roof near the city’s perimeter. Near the center of the buildings, he could see an orange glow – the building, probably still left unchecked as it smoldered. He took a long drink from a skin of water and blew his breath out, long and fast, in a low whistle that faded like the moaning of the wind. The sound of a bell tolled out, and the noise gradually increased as the watchmen hurried to throw dirt and sand over the burning building. For his part, Ryu did not react, except to recline on the roof and tuck his cloak over him as he closed his eyes.


The light and warmth of morning woke the assassin, who slowly rose, stretching and popping his joints. Dawn had broken over the city, and the sounds of early work were filling the air. Hungry, and ready to depart, Ryuzaki tucked his weapons away, straightened his cloak, and descended from the rooftop, emerging from an alley onto a street and then approaching a vendor, a small smile playing his lips and a coin in his hand. A few words were exchanged, and then he turned away, a loaf of warm bread and a hunk of cool cheese in his hands. As he walked through the city, he ate and listened, hearing the talk of a mysterious fire, but no one injured, and a broken sword hilt. Perhaps it was a warning of some sort, or a sign from Elimine, or even a signal of the return of Hargus.

Ryuzaki stifled a laugh. He was nowhere near as menacing or as powerful as Hargus… But he certainly had lived longer. Perhaps that was a lesson to be learned, Bandit King. He who knows to run away certainly does live another day.

Eyes sparkling with mirth, the assassin began to consider the next stop on his hunt for Mila. Where could the mage be hiding?

[Ryuzaki]

As he strode towards the gates of Tuscana, the assassin let a wide grin break across his face. The swords on his hips seemed lighter than feathers, and not one bit of his gear felt like any weight on him as he sauntered through the growing throngs of people. Victory was a strange and sweet nectar, easily intoxicating and often leading to ruin. But today, in this morning, in this moment, Ryuzaki was truly invincible. At the height of his power, in the best shape of his life… He felt like a spirit among men, a shade of the all-claiming Death.

A woman stopped him. Apparently, something was dripping from his person. A burst wine-skin, perhaps?

The assassin looked down and saw a trail of red droplets following him. His eyebrow raised and he felt inside his cloak, probing his skins and pouches. There were no punctured ones. Then by chance, he grazed the hilt of Shinryu, and he recoiled involuntarily. The hilt was icy cold, and wet. His hand came away red, shining with what appeared to be blood.

Almost in a trance, he drew the blade, looking upon its length as the normal indigo glow intensified, becoming deeper indigo and brighter. The whole length of the fel sword gleamed with wetness, and the fluid dripped off of the point in a small stream of dark red. It looked almost like blood, pouring out of a fatal cut. The assassin’s eyes widened slightly and he raised the blade, the now-horrified woman forgotten as he swung it in an experimental arc.

Crimson burst from Shinryu, a mist of droplets spraying outward from the shining purplish blade as it traveled through the air. The miasma hung for a brief second in the air before dispersing harmlessly, and Ryuzaki laughed loudly and long.

"Thank you, ma’am, for bringing this to my attention. I am most grateful to you. You see, even those touched by Death sometimes forget the great power they are given. I commend you for your sharp eyes, and bid you a pleasant day and a long rest of your life. May we never meet again, and may Death come quietly to your doorstep."

The assassin turned and began to walk away, his gait sure and the blade still unsheathed in his left hand. The stream of red followed him, marking his path in a bloody wake that divided the streets into two halves. Dark and wet, the line remained for hours before fading away into nothingness. While it existed, none dared touch it, and men and women shied away from crossing when possible.

At the gates, the assassin walked forward, before a lance barred his path.

Halt! What is your business with that weapon? It seems to be of foul origin, and we are committed to keeping vileness and monsters out of our city.

"I am leaving your city. Allow me to pass."

The guards stood firm, lances across the path and mouths set.

We shall not allow you to pass. Dispose of the weapon and you may leave in peace. You offend the decency of all with that putrid sword!

Ryuzaki raised Shinryu, holding it above his head. The guards backed up a step, lowering the lances to point at the assassin, who in turn brought his own weapon down and then tightened his grip on its hilt, pointing it at one of the guards. In response, Shinryu spit forth a thick haze of crimson, which floated towards him, seeping into the air around him and causing the man to sink to his knees, coughing. Momentarily disabled, it seemed. A swing of the sword brought a splash of the droplets onto the other, who began to vomit as the vile power overwhelmed him.

Calmly, Ryuzaki walked past them and through the open gate, never looking back and eventually disappearing down the path. All that remained in his wake was a trail of crimson that lingered for hours.

[End Thread]