Fantasy Assassin's Prize

[Malhyanth]

This roleplay is for Malhyanth and Kry ​

Please do not enter this RP unless expressly invited.

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This roleplay is a fantasy roleplay based around a medieval styled world. Within it there are a multitude of races, magics, and roles to be fulfilled.​

Religions, cults, tribes, civilisations are all broad and varied, much like the types of people that live in this world.​

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The job seemed simply enough, he'd heard similar time and time again. Find the kid. Kill the kid. Hide his body, or if he so desired, devour him, however 'his type' dealt with victims that fell afoul of them. Make sure the kid was never heard from, or of, again. Amaranth had its new leaders, and seemed to be thriving; whom were they to deny the new leaders what they needed; an end to the family. The name was difficult though, and Wy'Ziot, being not of the reading type, struggled with the parchment pushed towards him.

"Vhat does it say?" The accented voice, hailing from some Western city and its surrounding homesteads and towns, was deep, gruff, and matched the appearance of the man. Broad and tall, unlike most in this area, it seemed, he towered like a giant; more so, it seems to him, then other areas he'd visited. His thick, muscular arms were crossed over an equally huge chest, like a barrel. White dreadlocks framed a pale face, the mottled eyes of ice-blue and dusky pink blinked at the man sat opposite him intermittently. Scars networked his face and visible skin like roads on the maps of the world that decorated this tavern; aptly, its name seemed to stem the addition of these unusual articles. "The Weary Traveller". So fitting.

"Can't you read merc? It says... it says Andrew Tiverion Delacroix." The guardsman opposite him seemed apprehensive to say the name loud, and so whispered it. One pale brow lifted, and a smirk, accentuated by a long, tearing scar down his face, tugged at his lip. He knew the name. In fact, he'd been in town to witness the hunt for the boy. Had been impressed by the state of the massacre he'd left behind him. Kid must have been plastered from head to foot in claret from the way the bodies had been dismembered. Made Wy'Ziot shiver just thinking of that free meal he'd scored that day.

The mercenary observed the scrawled note, memorising they way it looped and scratched at the parchment. He was not one to write things down, but knowing how something looked could become important in finding this kid. He took the note, and gently held it over the flame of the candle that lit their dreary little section of the tavern. The maid had supplied them with bread, meat and cheeses, as well as flagons of ale, and had since avoided them, hoping not to deal with them again. The mercenary tapped the wood top with a thick finger, the long, sharp fingernail tapping lightly as he thought. The fire in his other hand licked lightly at his pale as ice fingers, blackening them with soot before he let it fly, its own heat carrying it up before dropping back down. As he leant back, his cloak fell open to reveal a pale creamy grey tunic, and the bones that decorated his form; most noticeable were the childs' ribcages that decorated his biceps.

He wasn't known as one of the most ruthless mercs in this gods forsaken world without good reason. His mottled eyes narrowed as his broad, twisted grin, with its sharp teeth flashed at the guardsman. "Vhat is zhe pay on zhis one. I saw vhat 'e did to djour men. I am not going in blind to zhis one; I vant at least 'alf payment upfront for zhis one." The guard rolled his eyes, seemingly prepared for this as he rummaged at his belts and released a large coin purse, which he tossed to the table, towards the mercenary.

"Enough to maybe see you out of Amaranth." The guard mused, watching the eyebrows of the mercenary raise, as he opened the pouch and fingered through the contents, nodding his approval. "Two more of those upon completion. And we'll need proof. Then our Lord wishes you remove yourself from his lands. You're too... knowledgeable... to keep, especially as you do chose to remain outside our fold." The merc laughed, and pointed at the man, taking the coin from the table and tying it to his own belt. He travelled light, it seemed; he held nothing other than what could be stored on his waist on the belt.

"Djou know I can't join djou, Dvight. Djour men are... not prepared for me. Zhey piss zhemselves vhen zhey see me in zhe street, 'ow can I vork vizh zhem?" Wy'Ziot placed his large hands behind his head, raising his arms and grinning at the man. "I notice djou 'ave lost zhe 'ome accent. Too long djou 'ave been a slave 'ere, brozher. Amaryllis needs is prodigal son back vone day." Dwight seemed to flinch at the werewolf's mocking tone, and stood. He lifted the jug of ale to his lips, and downed it.

"Good luck, Wolf. The Lord places a great deal of faith in the abilities you have showcased. I, on the other hand, and nervous for you. Andrew Tiverion Delacroix is not to be misjudged." The albino man laughed at the guardsman.

"Ahh, yes. Djour little trainee. 'E vill not suffer. I'll promise djou zhat. Vhatever proof djou require, I'll bring it." The merc waved him off, using a sharp knife on the plate he'd been provided to skewer cheese and dried meat, and slide it off between his teeth, as he watched the guardsman pay at the bar, and then leave.

Andrew Tiverion Delacroix... if the kid was still using that mouthful of a name, he would be seriously bloody stupid. He'd be going by an alias by now, surely. And where would he go, other than as far as possible from his parents', his siblings', his courtiers', murderers? There was not a lot to go on. First thing, he'd return to the scene of the massacre. First though... the bar had a few interesting wenches, whom had seen the coin he had recently received. A fiery red head caught his eye, and she smiled coyly, though he eyes held apprehension at his size, and his scarring. He finished his meal and stood, jerking his head up, motioning he'd ordered a room. She nodded, and watched him leave, finishing her jobs before following him. She was effective for relieving his aches and pains, the stessors of his day, masterful at her art, and doting, despite what was clearly apprehension at his appearance. She took care of him, and satisfied his needs willingly, especially when three of those golden coins were placed into her hand. She was his for as long as she was wanted.

By the time morning came, the albino was alone, and his mind set to on the task at hand. He dressed, and set out, leaving a tip for the owner of the taverb in the room. Pulling his hood up to protect himself from these harsh sun rays this high on the foothills of the Amaranth Mountain range, he stalked his way into the forest that heralded the edge of the city, and the start of the long decline down into the lowlands, and onwards to anywhere in the world. Would this Andrew follow the roads, or strike it alone in the wild? The albino was pretty sure he knew the answer to that; he was a rich blue-blood. He likely knew as much about wilderness survival as Wy'Ziot did how to banquet in the Great Halls. That being very little other than how to chew!!

Arriving at the scene of the massacre didn't take long. The scent of decay filled the area, and the lack of wildlife sound was easy to follow. The site was still harrowing for those of a sensitive disposition. Wy'Ziot just felt his stomach growl. He laughed to himself, and searched the edges of the pooling blood and body parts, looking for something to suggest a direction; foot prints. Tracks of a kid no older than 18 or so, moving as swiftly as he could away from what he'd done. It didn't take long; to the untrained eye, the bloody footprints that started away from the death pit was easy to spot; to the trained eye, further into the bushes and trees, were the slightly bent twigs and leaves, the depressions in the dry dirt and loam, and the fold of plant life under foot still recovering to stand erect again.

"Gotcha..." Was all the man murmured, as he followed the haphazard route laid out like a shining beacon. If anyone was going to find the kid, it was going to be this man.

 

[Kry]

They would be hunting him, he knew that much at least, and he knew staying on the road would be a suicidal thing to do. He also knew that if he stayed in the forest it might make it more difficult for them to find him, but he also knew that if he stayed in the forest he could die to a number of things. For one he might starve, if something large didn't eat him first. Andrew wasn't completely defenseless though, he was armed with a sword he had taken from one of the previous pursuers and had done horrible things to rest with that weapon. It was the first time his swordplay training had come into practice in a real life or death situation, though for some reason Andrew didn't remember much of that fight. He did remember viewing the aftermath. It had looked almost worse than the massacre of his family and the guests at his birthday celebration.

Andrew was exhausted, but he only stopped when he happened upon a natural cave like area set in the side of a large hill. A huge tree was growing a top the hill and the large roots obscured most of the opening to the small cave. He had only found it by accident, tripping over a rock and tumbling into the semi concealed area. He thought it would be a good enough place to hide, though he wasn't sure how long he should or could remain in this small place. A couple days maybe. He felt fairly confident that anyone chasing him wouldn't find him here.

The night had been cold, but Andrew had refused to light a fire, for one someone might notice it and the other reason. The prince had no idea how to light one with just sticks and rocks. He was far back in the small area, with his back pressed to the wall and his fancy blue jacket laid over him like a blanket. There were swans on the shoulders of the jacket, or there had been at one point, but one of the swans had been ripped off at some point during his run through the woods. All of his nice clothing was ripped and torn in places, partly from the fight with those men and partly from running through briars and thorns.

The shirt he wore under that blue jack was white, or had been, now it was a dingy color, with buttons that ran down the center of it. A couple buttons near the top seemed to be missing, and the right sleeve was torn almost in a neat line up to his elbow. The tight fitting pants he wore were the same color blue as his jacket, and the legs of them were tucked neatly into knee high black low heeled boots. There were tears and rips at random places in his pants. Right now though Andrew didn't care about the state of his clothing. He cared only about surviving, he had to survive. Survive and get as far away as possible for now, and then he could mourn the loss of his family and kingdom.

Two days, or maybe it had been three days since he'd first hidden himself in this place, seemed longer to him. He hadn't eaten anything in all that time, he had no idea what plants were safe to ingest and he had no means of actually hunting any game animals. Though the thought of setting small traps wasn't a bad idea, if someone happened upon his hiding space they could fall into a trap, but he had no rope or other means of making any traps. Andrew ran a hand through his hair, short and dark that shined purple and blue with hints of green in the right light, a sigh left his lips. That hand then moved to grasp the mask on his face. He tugged, but it wouldn't budge, he couldn't figure out for the life of him why it wouldn't come off. Perhaps some kind of enchantment had been put on it, but why?

Everyone in the palace had been wearing a mask of some design or other in celebration of his birthday, as it had been a masquerade ball. It had been great and fun until the slaughter had begun. He lowered his hand, his bright blue eyes closing. He felt rather lethargic and still exhausted, perhaps he would stay here another day before heading out. Surely he would be able to find some one that was kind enough to share food with him, but not yet. For now he felt it was safer to remain hiding.

The sword he had taken lay across his lap, stained with the blood of the men he had brutally killed. They had deserved it and they would have killed him if he hadn't done it to them first. Though telling himself that didn't make him feel any less guilty for taking their lives. His eyes still closed, he sighed again. The sun had only just risen a few hours ago, this was going to be another long day.

 

[Malhyanth]

The forest sang with activity as the sun slowly rose over the areas surrounding the death trap that had been Andrew's final farewell to his kingdom. The area Wy'Ziot had noticed initially was for sure the direction he'd gone, but he looked around anyway, to ensure that there wasn't other areas that held clues. Something white caught his attention in the bushes off the grove of dead, humming bodies. Long clawed fingers reached down and collected the strange item, and raised them to the mottled eyes. Some strange looking item, but instantly, the viewer knew he was on the right path. The bloodied and dirtied swan had been damaged in the battle that had occurred here, but it was clear the owner of it was still alive. Retiring to the path he'd identified before, the mercenary viewed the way through the forest.

Heading downhill was all this kid could do. Is he headed sideways, he'd get barely anywhere. Down, to the roads that forked out into the world. That was where he'd head. He was a primped, stuck up brat, whom had no idea about this world beyond what he'd experienced before. Following the path that headed straight down, his feet were quiet, bare of shoe or boot, only wrapped around the heel and ankle with bandage, as he always travelled. His hands were similarly wrapped, around the wrist and base of his thumb. The little swan was stored into a pouch at his belt, and he continued to slowly walk his way through the undergrowth. The man took his time, checking each new track, assessed each new lead, and altered his course accordingly. His sharp, straight nose was utilised, scenting each change of direction, getting to know the kid he followed. It catalogued the scents, but usefully the main scent seemed to be death and blood; it seemed though your kid was skilled with killing, he knew little to get his blade clean. The albino could only appreciate his idiocy.

The ground below his feet started to lose its grass, becoming a little rockier. Large conifers crowned the earth sparsely. The giant albino stood, and took stock of the area. His nostrils flared on the breezes that moved past him, and he gazed about, his mottled eyes narrowing. Everything seemed to have stopped. Where had the little thing gone? "Come out little Svan." He grumbled, whistling to himself. He wondered if the kid would be brave enough to scarper from his hiding place, or if he's remain, prostrate, like a frightened rabbit. Slowly, his long legs started to carry him, gentle step by gentle step, and he paused, listening.

 

[Kry]

Andrew moved only to change his position the slightest bit, and opening his eyes. He watched the mostly obscured entrance to his tiny cave rather warily, it would be stupid to take any chances. His stomach complained at him, but the once prince refused to move. Thinking it was better to wait, if anyone was chasing him or tracking him he had to make sure they'd already come through this area and gone before he moved. Coming out to early would be dangerous, but so would staying here to long. Honestly, he was sure how long would be too long. For all he knew, his hiding place could already be surrounded and they were just waiting to ambush him once he came out.

His fingers curled tightly around the hilt of the sword, what was he supposed to do in a situation like this? Andrew grit his teeth. If he waited too long he would die here. Though to him it seemed like no matter what decision he made, it would somehow lead to his death. Death in the wilds, or death at the hands of those that had taken his kingdom. His bottom lip trembled slightly, and he moved that sword from his lap to lay on the ground next to him so he could draw his knees up to his chest. Andrew wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his head on his knees. Again he wondered what the hell he was supposed to do. He certainly didn't have the luxury to mourn his lost family or kingdom, he had to fill his head with thoughts of survival.

Mourning could come later, when he was safe. His eyes closed. He felt weak, lethargic and he knew that today would have to be the last spent in this hiding spot. He would have leave soon, for the sake of finding food and water, it had already been a few days without either. Andrew had wanted to remain hiding here at least another couple of days, but a lack of sustenance practically demanded that he leave now. Once again the young man sighed, he decided that he would wait until nightfall before leaving. Though that in itself also presented new dangers.

 

[Malhyanth]

The albino giant moved slowly, searching the area. The tracks had grown so faint, he was now relying on more animalistic senses to search the area. However the scent of decay had also abated, so wherever he'd disappeared to, the giant of a man was not going to find him. Wy'Ziot growled, and kicked at the loose earth here. He decided it best to continue on. Darkness would be upon them soon, and at that time, his other "skill" could perhaps be implimented, and then the kid would not escape. Nostrils flared as he scented ably once more, before a silent snarl wracked his features, and he started down the slope.

His bandaged feet made very little noise on the debris strewn ground, scree and loose stones tumbling down. The giant knew this way would eventually hit the traversing road that would be a lot simpler to follow. He figured the kid whom was bound to know so little in the methods of survival would head for where there was possible safety. Wy'Ziot felt if he was there first, perhaps the kid would be sold out for a kid less than if he got there after. The large albino grumbled, and drummed idle fingers against the blade at his waist. Long claw like nails scrapped over its hilt, but he decided that the kid had moved in on, and made the decision to do the same.

The walk down the forested hill side was, as always, easy for him. Wherever that kid had hidden it was effective. He had not found it, and that was a rare occurrence. Once the albino was not used to. He tapped his nails against the blade, looking around once more, before turning and sliding and stepping his way down towards the path, deciding to actually scout it, in case he lost his prey in plain sight.

 

[Kry]

As the sun set, Andrew slowly moved, with sword in hand he crept quietly to the entrance of his mostly obscured cave like hiding spot. He was crouched behind the long roots and vines that dangled down from the large tree above, peering between them into the night. He didn't see anyone, or much of anything at the moment, but he heard the rustling of small nocturnal creatures as they started to become active. For a few moments he held his breath before exhaling deeply. He had to go, and now was probably just as good as any time. If they were hunting him surely they would have given up by now. Maybe.

A moment's hesitation, and then he cautiously stepped out of the safety of his hiding place. His gaze darted this way and that, looking here and there for any immediate sign of danger. When he saw now, he kept moving, his pace a quick one. He would go to a town, he had to, it would be the only way he could get food and water. Though the town might be just as dangerous as the woods considering his situation. Andrew decided he would deal with that when it came to it. Right now he had to deal with this problem and hope he could find the road without getting lost in the dark.

 

[Malhyanth]

Glowing mottled eyes watched the boy leave from the foliage, teeth glistening in the moonlight. He'd felt that he'd missed something when he reached the road, and had turned back. This time, however, he used his best asset; his nose. The giant wolf that crouched within the foliage was tense, watching the dark silhouette move quietly through the undergrowth. If he was honest, he was impressed the kid had given him the slip. But he'd been able to work it out, and figured he'd missed a hidey-hole. It would only be a matter of time before he revealed himself. The mottled ice blue and dusky pink eyes blinked slowly, a long pale tongue lashing over the long muzzle filled with sharp fangs.

Large paws, like plates, planted firmly on the loamy earth, spreading with thick claws, like daggers, protruding from each digit. The muscled body was corded and tense as it followed the boy through the undergrowth, but the kid must of had a sixth sense that he was being watched by something more than the nature around him, and his speed started to make noise. A grin spread over the long muzzle, and he picked up just own pace. Silence followed his progress, as the woodland creatures realised a monster was in their midst.

Sneaking through, and speeding so he was in front of the lad, Wy'Ziot started to trot. His beast started to cloud his judgement, and his legs powered, leading him into a launching pounce. He burst through the undergrowth, colliding with the side of the lad and knocking him off his feet. Large paws scrabbled to find his legs, and he stood over the boy he'd knocked over, large canine head snarling in his face. "Djou are a 'ard one to find, Andrew..." The snarl formed words, and a low laugh came from deep within the barrell chest, as the long claws scraped into the flesh of Andrew's shoulders pinning him to the carpet of fallen leaves. Alert calls started to sound around them; owls, rabbits, mice, and a deer, in the distance. The werewolf grinned st the boy, fixing him with the hard stare, pure white fur glistening like silver in the moonlight. "I 'ear djou are a tough one, killing all zhose men... tell me, are djou going to use zhat blade on me too?" The Wolf lowered his head, and licked the side of the boy's neck, up to his cheek, to where the mask started.