RP:A Fake Contract

Part of the Of Contracts and Families Arc

Location: Lanara’s Cottage, tucked behind the Animal Sanctuary and Foundling Street in Gualon.

Synopsis: Lanara and Eli set off to track down the group known only as the Serpents of Dissidence. The meet up is successful. The captured target, successful. However, the two end up torturing a man for information. Lanara realizes that she losing her conscience; losing those morals. Regardless, the two make their escape and return, after learning a peculiar family name, who originally sought Eli, and the current contract holder.

A Fake Contract

It would be accurate to think Eli’s nerves were as solid as the foundation of a castle. Not a bit of jitters clung to his nervous system. Even when giving himself a once over in the mirror. Those crimson robes have been changed and discarded for this mission; he needed to look different incase he happened to be spotted. For now, he is dressed more like a Ranger, in greens, browns and blacks. The garb he has chosen is form fitting, and not baggy - more common in this area. Of course a hood is still raised over his head, and a half face, cloth mask covered the bottom half of his features. Even the sword that Eli had been known to carry has been traded out for short sword and a bandolier of visible daggers. Lastly Eli attaches a quiver of arrows and slings a bow over his shoulders. The assassin is ready and only hoped that Lanara had finished her preparations as well. The witch, might find herself the sudden target of the desert borns attentions. “Lana,” her name rolls of his tongue effortlessly - but those piercing eyes seek to make direct eye contact. It’s his own attempt to let her know, that everything is okay. She above all, will be safe. Within his hands are a couple of weapons, a sword, another quiver filled with arrows, and a light bow. All of which are being offered to her. “Are you ready to head off to Gualon?” He’s referring to the drop point, where she would be the person to contact the group Serpents of Dissidence. Their plan would be laid out on their travels, but if she had issues, now is the time to speak up.

The past few days seemed to blur, as the witch was still deeply distraught over the loss of her beloved lion. She had been quiet, distracted, and when she wasn’t keeping busy with the sanctuary or guild relations, she would be found with tears trickling down her cheeks. Still, she held her head high, and wiped the moisture from her face, so that others were oblivious that she had been crying. Eli, was not kept in the dark, as he slept across the hall, ate across the table, and they passed by each other a dozen times in the small cottage. Lana wouldn’t speak of what had happened to the lion, and though he may have witnessed quite a few bouts of slamming doors and crying into Taly’s pillow, she preferred to keep her emotions hidden as best she could. Showing vulnerability came at a cost for the witch, and though she hadn’t meant any offense, she had been distant. Once she stopped blaming herself, maybe she’d go to him, open up a little, and look for a shoulder to cry upon. But, as of this moment, she’s busy packing several small vials into a secretly stitched section of her leather purse. He’d come to learn that Lanara was known for keeping her promises, and so, the morning after the death of King, she had headed directly for Thalra’s shop in Cenril. The witch had purchased the necessary items from the drow, so that she could head home and brew up a truth potion, which would be used later tonight, to gain intelligence from the Serpents of Dissidence. Eight vials would be more than enough, should one shatter upon impact, or there be more than one person that she wishes to interrogate. Walking over to the mirror, she scowls at her reflection, despising the look she had achieved from the glamour spell. Everything looks as normal on the witch, save for the color of her hair and eyes, and the additional enhancements of a good push-up bra. Sleek, platinum blonde locks frame her pretty face, and a set of piercing blue eyes gaze into the mirror, as she applies a thick layer of mascara, and some bright red lipstick to her lips. Donning skin-tight leather pants, a laced sapphire corset, and knee-high leather boots, Lanara looks more like a pretty elf out for a drink, than someone capable of spilling blood. The group would never suspect this unassuming blonde to be tied up with the wanted assassin, Elioyahazer. And they also wouldn’t be privy to all the hidden pockets in her leather pants, which housed a few stiletto daggers. Stepping out of her sister’s room, she walks over to Eli, and gives him a slow nod, as she eyes the offered weapons. “I’m ready. Let’s see if blondes really do have more fun. I figure this will throw them off a little bit, just in case word of a brunette reached them from last week.” The light bow is slung over her shoulder, to rest neatly against the purse with the truth serums, and the quiver of arrows is adjusted to comfortably rest at its side. However, she ignores the sword. Magic, daggers, and her archery skills would suffice. A sword would just make things messy, and the less she had on her body, the better for her agile movements. The pair lock eyes, and Lana clears her throat, unsure what to say. He’d explain what she needed to do, on the way to Gualon, yet she feels she should give him a little pep talk of some sort. “Hopefully we will get some answers. Then we’ll both be safe, and you won’t always have to look over your shoulder.” Would he even remain in the lands, once the threat was gone? She doesn’t want to think about that, as the two head out the door and lock up the cottage.

Despite the fact that Eli hasn’t mentioned her distance since king died - he IS aware of her mood. How could he not be? When living so closely with someone, things like this become difficult to hide. She was trying to be tough and push past all of the pain. He could tell, but it bothered him that she refused to even speak of that night. Perhaps he had done something wrong by taking Kings life? Regardless, he finds himself on edge with her; just a little bit. “You look good. I doubt they will recognize you like this.” A hand waves to her frame. The joke she makes about blondes goes unanswered as it’s not one he’s ever heard of. Why would hair color decide the amount of fun you could have? When she accepts the items she chooses, Eli puts the remaining ones back in their home. When he returns he produces a smile. “Oh we will get some answers. That’s for certain.” She seemed to be ready and willing. “I’ve paid for transportation to just outside of the city of Gualon. I figured that we could discuss the plan on the way.” What Lanara might not know, is that a carriage waited for them just outside of the Sanctuary, ready to whisk them off to their destination. He gives her one final glance - making direct eye contact - “It would be nice to not worry about our safety, wouldn’t it?” He’d never known a world of peace. Perhaps it was time? Without further word, Eli reaches for that hand of hers and begins to lead her to the carriage. The driver, gives a nod, and allows them entrance. He’s a short pudgy man with a rosy complexion - and a tooth filled smile. He was all too happy to receive the coin, but nervous about the company he was sheltering. The Sandman gave him little to work with. “Thanks Hubert,” Eli’s voice is genuine, but he closes the door after Lanara climbs in. Soon the carriage is off and they could discuss the rest of their plan. A hand produces a simple piece of parchment and proffers it to her. “Within is a simple sketch of a made up man. He doesn’t actually exist and I’ve named him Gregory. He’s a wealthy merchant who lives in Cenril. Your going to attempt at striking a deal with the Serpents of Dissidence over this mans life.” Obviously, because Gregory doesn’t exist, no harm will come to an innocent person. Lana, can breath freely. “The plan, is for you to pretend to hate this man. For whatever reason you deem worthy.” The carriage shakes slightly, reminding him of where they were headed. “While you are doing this, I will be nearby in the shadows, trying to identify the leader. If I happen too, I’ll follow him once a bargain has been struck.” A bag is pulled from beneath the seat of the carriage and handed to her. It’s much heavier than one would think, and produces a sound like coins. Perhaps this was her bargaining tool? Either way, it’s offered without explanation. “This will tell us where their lair is, and he himself might become an easy target.” At that point, her truth serum would be needed. “I don’t want you to come to any harm, honestly, so I will not attack them whilst you talk with them. I want this to proceed as an everyday thing for them.” He pauses for a moment to think further. “If they do not go back to ‘base’, then I will just simply take the leader when an opportunity arises. Either way, I’d like you to head to the tavern in Gualon after you complete your deal. Once either route has happened, I will come and meet you and we will both, seek answers from his or her hide.” He’s hoping that the plan will work to their advantage. “But keep in mind, this could all just go to sideways. Be ready in case they have other thoughts on their mind.”

Lanara gives a small smile as he approves of her disguise, though of course in the back of her mind she’s wondering if he prefers blondes over brunettes. It’s foolish to think of something so trivial at a time like this, but she’s a woman, and they are prone to thinking about the most random things at the most random times. “Thanks!” The weapons that she doesn’t take are put away, and as they make their way outside, she’s surprised to see a carriage waiting. When had Eli arranged all of this? She could have taken two horses from the sanctuary, he really didn’t need to go to such lengths, but she holds her tongue. Lanara knew nothing about his way of life, or how assassin’s dealt with their affairs. Maybe a carriage was a sign of wealth? Protection? Or maybe he just didn’t want them both exhausted from the long walk to their location? Once they both have climbed into the carriage and Hubert turns to greet them with a warm smile, she looks to Eli, to hear about the plans he had laid out, and she eyes the sketch of a man. “Gregory is my target. Alright… So, he’s a rich merchant that lives in Cenril… And I despise him because he went ballistic one night, during a crime of passion, and my sister lost her baby. I lost my only chance of ever being an aunt, and I want him killed. Sounds good, believable, and I have enough gold on me to secure a hit on Gregory.” She smiles, pleased that they were working so well together. Eli and Lana really did make a great team! “Okay, so after the deal is made, I should head to the tavern. Do I rent a room? Or sit at the bar and drink?” She didn’t want to mess anything up, and as long as everything was in order, they’d pass undetected with flying colors. “Also. How do I even know of this group, in order to seek their services in the first place?”The carriage continues to bump along as they continue their discussion, and she gently folds Gregory’s picture and tucks it into her cleavage. This could all end horribly, but she was pretty sure they’d pull it off. Either way, they had to try, or live the rest of their lives in fear.

Elioyahazer reveals a bright smile over the details which she so effortlessly pours out about Gregory - she’s a natural. The story is believable. Most assassins don’t bother asking for too many details, but it’s best to have your keister covered. “You should stay within the bar, near people, until I come for you.” Eli’s words spill forth riddled with a serious inflection. “The reason for this, is that even if you believe your story has been bought, it's possible that it hasn’t been. So I believe that for your own safety, remaining somewhere crowded is your best bet. Take no offered drinks, unless it comes straight from the bottle and the barkeeps hands.” His words elude to the possibility of a tail. The group would have zero issues in tracking her to a room where she is alone and unguarded. “Once we reach the drop point, according to the book, you’ll need this,” Elioyahazer leans to the side and pulls out a small statue of a snake from a leather satchel tied to his waist; a depiction frozen in place with its tongue kissing the air. “We are heading to a place just east of Gualon city plaza to the foundling streets. To make contact, you’ll only need to stand there, holding the statue. Apparently, they will come to you, and ask ‘What is the price of silence’?” Obviously this is code. “In order to initiate negotiations, you must respond with, ‘my life’.” The directions were getting more and more complex, but if she could follow all of this, it would pay off. One way or another. After offering her the statue, Eli leans forward, and lifts part of her blonde tresses. She looks so different with this color, that even he thinks they won’t recognize her. However, there is one thing he’s sure about; he prefers her natural color. “Even though you might believe that you’re alone, you aren’t. We are being dropped off together, but I will vanish.” They couldn’t chance them spotting Eli. “I will be there without warning, should you need me.” There is no way this assassin would lose her to this group. It just wouldn’t happen. His mismatched eyes shift to her glamour spelled blue eyes, away from those blonde strands that resides within his hand. Even now, when danger is a foot, he can’t peel his mind from thoughts of her. Without further word, Eli plants a kiss upon her lips; not worried in the least. Eventually, the carriage comes to a halt, and the sandman pulls his hood up. A nod is given to Lanara, and Eli, pulls up a trap door from the floorboards. A hidden exit, planned for just this occasion. He slips through, giving her one last glance, before pulling the latch shut behind him, and vanishing from sight.

Foundling Street

Lanara is mostly silent along the journey, peeking out the small window of the carriage, which afforded nothing more than the vanishing of the sun into complete obscurity. As the cautioning words reach her ears, she lowers the threadlike curtain and turns to meet his gaze. Was he worried or merely giving her a warning as an assassin-like pep talk? She gives a slow nod, affirming that she would be careful, and not do anything foolish. The small statute is pressed into her palm, and she gives it a long once over, again noticing the serpent. Would there be any actual snakes present, at any point, on this mission? If so, all of Eli’s carefully prepared plans just may come undone. The witch was –not- comfortable around any sort of legless creature, and he’d learn that the hard way. “Okay. So I just stand there, looking pretty, until someone comes along and sees the statue. We discuss my need to have Gregory offed, and then the payment is made, and I head back to the tavern. I’ll be sure to try and blend in with the crowd, not sneak into any dark corners with strangers, and refuse any offered sipping from unknown beverages.” She grins and tilts her head to willingly accept his kiss, their lips pressed together for a moderate amount of time, and it ends all too soon. The carriage comes to an abrupt halt, and she locks eyes with Eli, for what could very well be the last time. He leaves through a trap door, and she leaves out the side, her boots making contact with the gravel, a she turns to give Hubert a parting wave. Lana glances to the left and the right of the street, before crossing to the designated corner, where she knew a member of the Serpents of Dissidence would answer her call. The statue is held in her left hand, and her tote bag is held over her right arm, along with the payment and the other necessary items she had packed prior to their boarding of the carriage. Would they come? Would it be a single member, or quite a few? A million thoughts run rampant through her mind, yet, to any bystander, the faux-blonde would seem cool and collected, as though she were waiting for the arrival of a friend on an unassuming street corner.

Even within the depths of night - the curtain of shadow - there are still strangers straggling about. Flitting from one section to another. A late night tour guided by a rather short, rosy cheeked fellow, spills out the details of the new stretch. The ebb and flow of the area is a deceitful lie, however. Within the nooks and crannies of every alleyway lays crooks and vandals seeking prime targets. Pockets lined with gold and riches for the plundering. They wouldn’t mind a few gold coins that might go missing, would they? A wealthy noble or two might find themselves short of cash when a halfling steals a woman's purse, right in the middle of her conversation. Yet, to the untrained eye these things go unnoticed. Especially to a weary traveller who happens to find his strings of fate twisted this way. Though Lanara shouldn’t be paying attention to any of this no. Instead, she should be looking for the cloaked fellow who steps out from the shadows, only a foot or two from her side. How did he get there and without her noticing? He eyes the statue curiously with his steely blue gaze. Whoever he is, a signet ring is suddenly visible, and only for moments; resembling the one Eli had presented her before. “What is the price of silence?” Suddenly that code word is announced, marking him a member of the Serpents of Dissidence. Is he alone? Is Eli nearby? Is he still safe? Whatever is happening, the man before her carries an air lethality. Perhaps it’s best to respond with the code?

The Sandman finds his footing atop the roofs nearby sound and solid. His gaze from on high fills his sights with the verbose and vehement thefts which happen along this quaint corner. It's a filthy entrance to an underground world. With this much activity, they must have a small base nearby. Once more he shifts in an attempt to get a better view of Lanara. The desert born comes to a stop, eyeing the streets once more. It's now that he catches sight of the man standing near Lanara, just before he steps out from his hiding place. Good, it looks like the interaction has begun. He hasn’t been spotted, not yet at least. He can nearly hear his own thoughts with his ears. Come on Lana, you can do this. Eli pulls the bow from his back and knocks an arrow in the dead of night. Silent as he is trained to be. Though he isn’t ready to fire, he is ready to respond to threats. His eyes flick to the other citizens looking to scout out how many others there might be. They seemed to be in luck, for Eli can only spot three. But, such calculations could be wrong. He couldn’t see all of the angles around them. Constantly shifting over the rooftops might bring too much attention to his presence. Instead, he hunkers down behind a stone chimney, watching and waiting to strike.

The blackness of the evening does little to ease the apprehension running through the woman’s mind, as she remains standing at the junction, observant of each passerby. Nobles, riffraff, and those that fall somewhere in between, scour the streets, each for a distinctive reason. Some seek coin, prowling the area for some private company, eager to celebrate at the witching hour. Others lurk in the shadows, ready to ambush a wealthy looking individual, to satisfy their greedy craving. A few parade the street, with noble intentions, desiring to enjoy their freedom after enduring the daily grind, or in hopes to break up the monotony of the week. Lanara doesn’t find her wait to be all that tiresome, and as she turns to the right, her eyes connect with a form that mysteriously manifests at her side. Had he been there the entire time? The figure is cloaked, and all she can gather about the man, is the signet on his hand that glistens in the moonlight, showcasing the serpent. His steel gaze locks onto the statue in her hand, while her faux-blue gaze peers over his shoulder, as though she were making certain it was –just- this one assassin, and that no others were lingering in the shadows. Was Eli in any danger? It’s odd that as the question leaves the strangers lips, her thoughts flit to the desert man she had come to care for, and Lanara answers with the correct response of, “My life.” Entrusting her life in Eli’s capable hands, she waits for the stranger to lead the conversation, knowing that her intuition would steer her to give the appropriate answers.

For all intents and purposes, the streets still feel decidedly free of cowardly knaves and vagabonds. Though here, it seems, danger does truly lurk around every corner. For there is more than just the three that Eli spots. Five men in total, a complete squad. Two of which have the exact same thoughts as he - they too sit within crows nests, perched high above the buildings. Only for moments does one believe that he sees something and raises an already levered crossbow in its direction. To no avail however. What he thought was there, is much too far to make judgements upon. Regardless, the assassin keeps his wary gaze on that spot for moments longer. But those thoughts shift elsewhere, along with his eyes. If this blond trollip brought trouble, he’d pin her feet to the floor and play with her for hours. He had a rather sharp flaying knife tucked in his boot which he loved. Especially when it came to making women scream. A filthy, plaque ridden grin besmirches his grotesque features at the thought. He bets she’s a noisy one. Luckily for Lanara she answers correctly, and there is no sudden show of force. “I see you’ve found our planted books. What is it that you wish to have done?” His voice is quiet and casual. More importantly, its not loud enough for anyone to hear, besides her. But now, negotiations were beginning. Once again that signet ring flashes upon his finger, evidence which Eli had once shown her.

Eli continues to watch the streets below - ever vigilant in his duties to play the role of protector. Which is strikingly odd considering how his business usually went. Generally he was looking down the shaft of a notched arrow at his target, waiting for the chance to strike. Now he stands there as a guardian, not killer. Though a sudden and swift shift alerts him to a different presence - a simple flash of light; a momentary reflection. His eyes dart in the direction, where he spots a couple of good crows nests. He ducks behind the chimney with unflinching liveliness. Damnit, was that an arrowhead that captured light? Had they found me? He takes a deep breath, calming his mind in moments. In these heart pounding moments, he realizes there are no arrows launched in his direction. No sign or signal has been given to alert the others to his presence. He wants to chastise himself for nearly botching the mission, and he would be sure to do so later. For now, he moves to the otherside of the chimney and peers around the bricks. He could see less from this angle, but it shielded him from any possible snipers lurking within the darkness. So far so good, he thinks. No more mistakes Eli, this is your element.

Lanara gives an almost imperceptible nod, doing her very best not to seem overly eager about having answered correctly. This had to appear as though she were placing a real hit on the imaginary ‘Gregory’ that had done unimaginable things to her beloved sister. Keeping it strictly business, the witch dips her fingertips into her cleavage and offers forth the folded up parchment. A hint of perfume clings to the paper, their hands touch as the assassin accepts her offering and his eyes trail over the drawing of the assumed target. Lana treads carefully, sticking to the script, “His name’s Gregory. The bastard…” Inhaling, she clenches her jaw, aiming to appear as though she despised this character with a vengeance. “The bastard got my sister knocked up, and then decided he didn’t want to be a father. He bit her to within an inch of her life. She lost the baby… The healer’s say she’ll never be able to have a kid again.” Shaking her head, she carries on, her usual honeyed tone now laced with venom, “I don’t care if he suffers, or if it’s a clean kill. I just want him dead. As soon as possible. That’s his picture. I have the payment. We got a deal?” Her gaze trails from the cloaked form, to the signet. She had done all that Eli asked, and never once deviated from their plan. Would this male see through the façade?

A once idle hands raises at the end of Lanara’s story; an effort to halt those words. He had more pressing matters to deal with than listen to this. He wasn’t here for idle pleasantries. He’s certainly not interested in Gregory’s back story. That lifted hand shifts and tilts to his jaw, tapping a single digit against his own lips in thought. For precious moments she might be left to wonder what this man is thinking. Does he believe her story? He’s more curious to know if she begins to sweat over their lapse in conversation. Truthfully, this man is studying every detail about her. From her disguised eyes, to her blonde tresses. He knows something is off, because her skin complexion doesn’t fit. Another few moments, and he sighs, hinging her looks upon the idea that she is like many females - dying her hair for those looks. “Very well.” The hand upon his own features twists towards her palm up, as if waiting for something. “I assume you’ve brought the coin required?” He looks over her frame once again, capturing the way she stands. “Once the payment is within my hands, your contract is sealed. There is no going back and Gregory will die within a week.” His tone is icy and carrying the inflection of his seriousness. She would have to trust them, because they don’t do before and after transactions. One price, up front or they walk. Once she hands the bag over, he ties it to his own waist. His fingers once again raise to his lips to release an ear piercing whistle. Two assassins step out of the alley way. The two within the crows nest climb down and now she would know. There were a great deal of them. But no attack comes, instead the group moves away, slipping out of sight down an alleyway. She might be able to relax now.

Her secret protector realizes that he’s holding his breath during that lapse in conversation. He can see that no further words are being offered to her. That his target is studying her. Were they on to the lie? But soon his attention shifts to the offered hand. He was seeking payment. That breath previously mentioned, is released, along with all of the built up tension. Good job, he wants to yell. Instead he must remain silent, and congratulate her later. Now is when Eli’s turn would come. And when that whistle comes and the assassins group up, he waits for only moments and then darts after them - scurrying like a spider over the rooftops. At this point Lanara might catch her protector in action. Get to the tavern Lana. Don’t turn back, he hopes that his thoughts were the same as hers. In only a few moments, the shadow of Eli is gone from Lanara’s sight. She had to trust him further still.

The delay from the assassin gives Lana pause, as well, as the throbbing from her increased heart rate pulses in her tapered ears. Was he buying the story? Finally, he speaks two words, reassuring the witch that the homicide would be completed, within the week. Gregory was an alias for an invisible man, there wasn’t an actual assassination order, yet, Lana feels nauseated as she feigns a half smile. “Excellent. Here is your payment...” The pouch of coins is exchanged, Gregory’s fate is sealed, and their transaction is complete. Was she supposed to hand over the statue, too? Eli had failed to indicate what she was presumed to do with it, so she places it back into her cleavage. The splitting whistle ensues, and Lana’s surveillance of the surrounding area apparently had holes, as several step from the shadows and answer to the call. She wasn’t the only being with a guardian in the dark, yet she’s relieved that their ‘deal’ was accepted and her part in this was mostly concluded. It wasn’t mentioned if she was supposed to supply gratitude to the hit man for ensuring the death of Gregory, and she have never ordered someone’s demise until this moment, so she gives a firm nod and turns on her heel. The stretch to the tavern isn’t that far, and she walks at a steady pace, being mindful of everything in the vicinity. Where was Eli? Would he safely tail them to their secret location?

Sometime later…..

It had been nearly an hour since Eli’s departure from Lanara and that dark alleyway. A full sixty minutes since she was within his sights. And now, every second that ticks by might berate Lanara’s nerves. Time might seem as though it was moving backwards, not standing still. Amidst the bar, there are orcs, mercs and plenty of ruffians who might step in to protect the unknown witch. So at least that aspect might actually feel rather safe. But in these moments shock might grip Lana. For the sandman presses his shoulder into the swinging door, and stumbles through the threshold. His left hand is gripping his right shoulder whilst blood drips from the fingertips of that dangling appendage. He’s disheveled, and bloodied. Had he succeeded? Such thoughts might escape her mind when he trips, and falls face first into the floor with a resounding thud. The bar goes silent; so silent that you might even hear a pin drop. But her assassin groans for a moment and shakily climbs back to his feet. Where’s Lanara? His eyes shift over the faces of random patrons, looking for his witch. When those gathered civilians realize that he’s not dead, they move back to their idle banter - keeping a wary eye upon Elioyahazer.

Lanara had kept mostly to herself, at the edge of the bar, her elbows propped on the counter, beside an untouched glass of bourbon. The faux-blonde hair was drawing attention of all kinds, along with that magnificent derriere, so naturally, the longer Eli takes, the less chance Lana has of remaining unnoticed. An orc keeps a steady watch, his golden gaze glued to the woman’s profile, as though he recognized her from somewhere. It’s likely, as she had frequented this tavern a few times, with Larz, though she fights not to make eye contact. She wouldn’t blow their cover, nor did she wish to be associated with those that were gathered. Accepting the desert man’s line of work was easy to digest because there were romantic feelings involved, and that whole penchant for bad boys. Yet, the witch preferred to keep a close knit circle, and the less trouble she ran with, the better off she would be. A mercenary drops onto the stool at her side, “Hey Sugar… What’s a beauty like you doing in a place like this, huh? Break up with your boyfriend?” There’s liquor on his breath, and Lana dramatically sighs, batting those curled lashes and giving in to the conversation. Where was Elioyahazer? Was he in danger? They hadn’t discussed how long it would take for him to investigate, but she was thinking around twenty minutes or less. Worry grips her heart, and she’s considering leaving this skanky bar in the dust and finding her assassin on her own… But she remains seated, flashes what she hopes is a convincing smile, and gives a half-shrug to the merc. “Yup. Things didn’t work out…So, I’m only seeking women from here on, less chance of having my heart broken.” The male is trained to discern fact from fiction, but the elf is simply stunning, and he foolishly believes the white lie. “Sorry to disturb you, Miss. If he comes around here, he’ll get a good ass kicking, that’s for sure!” He throws back a shot of whiskey, and Lana subtly glances at the door, at the precise moment that Eli makes his arrival. Blood seeps through his fingertips, his mottled eyes take in the scene, and he collapses on the filthy floor. Shooting off her stool, the witch weaves through the crowd and drops beside him, her fingers gently brushing back his hair, “You okay, Sandman?” Her voice is nearly a whisper, her expression tender, and she softly squeezes his hand, her silken skin coated in his crimson fluid. Was she supposed to pretend she didn’t know Eli? Could she –really- leave him lying in his blood amongst all these strangers? The pull was too severe to deny, and so she’s at his side, not paying any mind to the mercenary from moments earlier, who was now approaching.”This the tool that broke your heart, Sugar?!”

Elioyahazer snaps his attention to the approaching Mercenary; his sectoral heterochromia marked eyes staring straight into the sellswords soul. “I don’t have time for you.” Despite his damaged arm, the pain shooting up his appendage, Eli presses the advantage. The assassin shuffles around Lanara in an instant, severing several arteries along the man's neck, and arms. “Or any of this nonsense.” His blade shifts, and tucks back into the hidden sheathe at his waist, while the standing dead man collapses to the floor. As the others rise to come and deal with the killer at the bar, Lana and Eli vanish within illusion. The summonation of power being called from the desert borns exhausted frame. Lanara might wonder why everyone stared in awe or why none approached? That is until her beloved tugged at her frame, pulling her out of the bar entirely. The people within were spared of his wrath; stuck in some loop of magic until they made their escape. He doesn’t know what was going on, but once they are a few blocks away from the bar and well out of sight, he gasps for air. The magic fades. “Lana, I thought I said to trust no one.” He didn’t realize that he should have clarified and said speak to no one as well. He shakes his head, irritated with the night. He doesn’t really need an explanation, but he must give her one. “I got him, but clearly not for free.” He points to his wounded arm. “I’ve taken him to a safe location so that we can question him.” His eyes shift to meet her view, “You still have the serum?”

Time seems to stand still as the mercenary walks with the swagger of a drunkard, colliding against Lana, as he wags a disproving finger at Eli. It was going to come to blows, the witch realizes this now, and she rises instantly, intent on explaining and standing before her injured assassin. Her attempts are futile, as the irritated albeit wounded sandman issues one of his signature attacks. The fatality against the well-meaning man causes Lana to wince, as she hadn’t meant to drag him into their drama. He had paid, dearly, merely for trying to keep a ‘promise’ that he had made while fueled on liquid courage. Feeling fingertips on her waist, she doesn’t struggle, knowing it’s her assassin, though as they end up outside, she realizes that they had passed through some sort of illusion. Could he teleport? Everything was smoke and mirrors with a spellblade, she’s discovering, though she doesn’t complain. His words are tinged with annoyance, and she looks crestfallen. “I didn’t trust anyone. I didn’t have a single drink, nor did I dance, or even have a conversation. I was worried sick about you… It took you much longer than I expected. That man just showed up, literally moments before you arrived, and we shared a few words. That was it…” Was he jealous? Protective? The witch can’t read him right now, and she’s growing frustrated, though, as always, her heart breaks to see someone she cares for in pain. “Hey… You alright?” Reaching out, she aims to examine the wound, her fingers brushing against his blood soaked clothes. “I know we’re in a hurry, but maybe we can dip into an alley and I can heal you…” The words hang in the air, an offer she knows he’ll be too stubborn to accept. The worry in her eyes, the rapid breathing, and the way she won’t stop pawing at his arms and chest are all signs that she cares… Deeply. Lana had thought he had perished at the hands of the assassins, that instead of Greg, they had shifted tonight’s hit to the Eli. “Sandman…” What was she about to say? It doesn’t matter, as he inquires about the serums, and she’s rummaging in her satchel. Obediently, she hands forth a vial, and peers over his shoulder, wondering where the secret location was, “Can I come with you?”

Elioyahazer and his actions only add up to three logical conclusions. The first, is his already irritated state. Denoted by the struggles he had gone through to meet out this objective. Not that Lanara didn’t have any struggles herself, but here she was, chatting it up with some guy in a bar while Eli was dealing with Assassins. The second, is that this unknown man thought he had the right to approach them or even pretend to be protective. That’s what this whole blasted mission was about. It’s why Eli didn’t want her doing anything dangerous. Yet that bastard thought he could step on Eli’s toes? No way in hell. Lastly, yes, it was jealousy. She was privy to that side of him for mere moments, and now a man is dead. He doesn’t keep his sour mood for long. Not with her pawing at him like that. He couldn’t. “I’ll be alright, just need to wrap some bandages around the wound. But can we wait on that till we arrive at the house? I don’t know how long my ropes and chains will keep a skilled assassin at bay.” He’s alluding to the fact that their target might get away and escape into the night. His name is uttered and his attention moves to her chocolate hues, waiting for the words she seems so close to mutter. She doesn’t however. The vial is snatched from her with a questioning gaze. “Of course you can.” He was about to do some terrible things to another man. Hopefully she had the stomach for such things. However, his mind still lingers on thoughts of the bar, and the other group who had suddenly felt that they had the right to claim her. To end such things, Eli pulls her in for a rather commanding kiss, which reaffirms his want and need of her. Could he tell her how he felt beyond his jealousy? No. No he couldn’t. Finally, Eli begins to walk down the alleyway, making a few turns around dark corners where eventually he opens a cellar door. With another glance at Lana, he descends into the room below. Lanara, might see the man whom she had just made a contract with, bound and gagged; tied and cuffed to a chair. “How much of this do I feed him?” The vial she handed him is held out for her to see and shaken.

Lanara gives a slow nod, somewhat surprised that he was allowing her to witness an interrogation that held this much uncertainty about his future. Would he ever discover each and every one that wished to bring him harm? Would this ever truly end? The depths of the madness surrounding his entire upbringing continued to stalk him at every turn, always leading to another attack, another possible near death experience, another question that needed to be answered. And somehow, the witch had crossed paths with this desert man, their lives were now entwined, and she had become a target. The confusion about being named his accomplice went from offensive, to amusing, and now, she found it to be endearing. They were a team, forced together by the universe itself, and Lana almost smiles as he reads her mind, and understands those three unspoken words. Their lips press together in a moment of unbridled passion, each desiring the other in every way imaginable, and were they not on a mission; she’d have lured him into their shared room back at the cottage. Lana deepens the kiss, as her palm splays over his shoulder, applying pressure to the wound. A burst of cold exits her hand and seeps through the torn shirt, coating the injury with a thin sheet of magical ice, which would numb the pain and minimalize the inflammation. Slowly, she sinks back from the embrace, and follows his lead as they maneuver around the surrounding alleyways. Before long, they are standing in a cellar, and she’s eyeing the man she had earlier formed a contract with, bound and gagged. Lana is fuming, and there’s a fire in her gaze, as she kicks the hit man in his shin. “How –dare- you!” This man had desired to kill her beloved, and that doesn’t sit well with the witch. She couldn’t torture him as Eli could, but she has a moment of satisfaction as her boot makes contact with bone. The chair doesn’t sway, and the man doesn’t even manage a grunt, but she’s certain that it hurt. The witch had been kicked a few times, accidentally, giving dance classes, and she’d howl in pain every single time. The vial is shaken, and she bites the inside of her cheek, wondering if she should give an honest answer. Too much could very well kill the man, but what did it matter? He was hunting them, right? “Give him about eighty percent of the vial, if you merely seek the truth. Give the whole vial if you want to end it in about twenty minutes.” Her lethal intent is now known, as she crosses her arms, and stands at the desert mans side. Now, she’d enjoy watching him work.

Elioyahazer watches his precious witch deliver a brutal kick to the mans shins. However, Eli knew it would take much more than that. So much more to make this man talk and he had plans. The desert born pulls the gag free of their targets mouth which he reacts to by talking. “You really think I’ll drink that and spill the beans? You must be out of your mind.” Without further deliberation Elioyahazer shakes his head. “My dear friend,” his voice is eerily calm - creepy yet once again very proper. “This isn’t my first time. We wouldn’t want to be too gentle with you, now would we?” Eli pulls free his coat and tosses it to the floor, revealing all of the tools he carried. One in particular might catch Lanara’s eyes as it’s pulled free. A bone jarring strike, sends the man flying backwards with a thump upon the ground. He’s unable to stop his fall, and that hit looks like it ached to his very core. But the intention of this strike is suddenly clear. The Sandman is suddenly squatting over the hired man's chest, shoving a hose down his throat in a display of authority and power, amidst all his gurgled gasps. Finally, the cork is pulled from the vial and those murky contents are delivered to his stomach forcefully; via funnel and hose. “Good boy. I knew you would drink it.” A light tapping his delivered to his targets cheek; like patting a good dog on the head. That peculiar item is pulled slowly out from his esophagus to ensure he doesn’t spill the contents of his stomach. The funnel and hose are tossed to the ground and Eli works to put the man upright in his chair again. “Now where were we, Lana?” Elioyahazer looks to her and smiles, holding up the vial. Obviously his next words are a bluff, as she can see the remaining thirty percent of fluids within. “Looks like I got a little excited. Put too much into his gut.” The vial is tucked away in his pocket, “Would you like to question him first or shall I begin?” Either way Eli would be sure to snag the information needed.

The man glares at both of them, not even an ounce of fear in his expression as Eli prepares the tools needed for this interrogation. It all happens so fast it seems, as in the blink of an eye the chair is tipped over, a hose is inserted into his esophagus, and Eli is forcefully pouring the vial of truth serum down their captive’s throat. The male fights for air, sputtering and dry heaving, as though he were going to try and vomit the contents, rather than give them any information. Lana could care less about the man, though she’s intrigued by Eli’s composure, and she studies every one of his movements as though he were the finest specimen in Lithrydel. Was she proud of his actions? A flicker of a smirk is given as the desert man treats the hit man as though he was a petulant puppy, and he had learned to no longer potty on the carpet. “I’m a little disappointed, Sandman… I thought you all worked with cloaks and daggers. This poor excuse of a man hasn’t even tried to fight back.” Obviously, she knew he fought back, considering the wound that Eli sported in his shoulder… But her attempt to goad the male works, as he replies with the answer that she seeks. “As a matter of fact, I did fight back. I plunged a dagger into his shoulder and chest area, a few inches above his heart. I twisted for at least four seconds. I was hoping to use the momentum in a downward spiral motion to tear his organ from his…” Lana lifts an appendage and backhands the man so hard across the face that her hand stings like the pits of hell. Was she getting into torturing others, too? Perhaps, the woodland witch and the desert man truly were the perfect match. His crazy matches her crazy type of thing. “Stop. Speaking. I’ve heard enough… Sandman, if that’s what happened, in the way he said… The serum is working. You may begin your interrogation.” Lana is delighted that the serum reached effectiveness so quickly, though she seems a little downcast that the punishing of this man was subsiding. She was just getting started! Stepping to the side, she winks at Eli as he shows her the vial, which wasn’t empty, like he had implied. It would be their little secret… And if the man chose not to cooperate in any way, they’d be sure to upend the rest. Hell, knowing Eli, he’d properly force the tube into the opposite end of the man and rectally administer the fatal dosage.

Elioyahazer allows a smug smirk to smear over his features. Lana might indeed learn this trade easily. He knew it was the right decision to begin training her. Somehow, he just knew it. That back hand is delivered and the details of the fight are spilled. Lanara’s comment about the serum working aren’t ignored, but Eli responds thusly. “Well, you left out something. Didn’t you friend?” If he could call this man friend, what would Eli do to his enemies? “Do you know what happens when you lie to me or her during an interrogation?” He quirked an eyebrow in response, and rummages through his pockets to pull out a small bag. The wounded desert born pulls free a rather long and jagged piece of splintered wood. “My hands are a little shaky. It must be all this excitement,” he offers a genuine smile to their captive. “Best hold still, because I’m sure you don’t want me doing this again.” Without further words, he shows the thin piece of wood to Lanara, and moves to the tied mans hands. That sliver is tucked just under his pinky nail. “This might hurt. Just a little.” The back end of his dagger suddenly drives that wicked thing beneath his nail. All the way down. Separating the nail from bone. He can’t help but scream in agony. Interesting how something so simple can be so devastating. Their captive is drawing ragged breaths. “He didn’t mention that the ‘thing’ he stabbed was an illusion. He only sliced my arm, Canary.” Eli had to punish him. So it seemed that he would allow Lanara to further ask questions. Perhaps he was enjoying this a little? The sliver however, remains peacefully wedged in place, providing constant pain.

Lanara quirks a brow as the truth serum perhaps wasn’t as effective as she originally thought, and she shifts her gaze from the bound male to the sandman, wondering what would happen to one that dared lie under the effects of such a powerful mixture. Did assassins have an ability where they could overrule their first instinctual thoughts? Were the truths become muddled? The wooden sliver is lifted and she inches forward, to get a better look at the weapon that had hurt her beloved. Would Eli turn the tables? Yes, he’s definitely turning the tables. The splintered object is placed beneath the man’s pinky nail, and then tapped in, as though it were a hammer striking a nail. The force caused the nail to lift from its bed, and she can almost feel the pain in her own nails, as the man screams in sheer distress. It hurt like hell, and tears well in his eyes, though there’s no sympathy in Lana’s gaze. This man wanted to kill someone she had laid beside the past few weeks. There would be no exceptions tonight, even if he was just doing his job, he had messed with the wrong assassin and his lady. Eli speaks once more, and she gives him her full attention, though to be honest, when it comes to the realm of illusions, she’s a bit lost. The witch dealt with the here and now, she didn’t hide behind mirrors or shadows, and when she attacked someone it was with a spell or an object. So she replies with a nod, as though she knows what he’s talking about, and she clears her throat. He expected her to say something. “Make him talk, Sandman. His actions are unforgivable.” The dagger that Eli had rested beside the wood, which was still embedded in the male’s finger, is eyed, almost gleefully. A second later, it’s in her grasp, and she tauntingly tosses it from side to side, before driving it into the male’s upper thigh, near his groin. “I believe we said to tell the truth. I’m not sure what part of that you don’t understand…” He very well could head butt her, but he doesn’t as he’s seeing stars. Eli may not notice, but she had nicked one of his southern pearls, and blood slowly spurts from the inflicted wound. Lana ever so slowly leans back, leaving the dagger in place, so that if he were to move even in the slightest, he’d feel pain from down below, as well as in his pinky finger.

Elioyahazer, once again, watches Lanara strike the male. This time with a knife. It was a little abrupt to go to such lengths. The man might be unable to talk now, and from his contorted features he knew she had hit a rather painful area. “As you wish Lanara.” Eli cracks his knuckles and shifts his focus to the assassin. “You and I are going to come to an understanding over the next little bit. You’re going to learn that I won’t even ask you questions. I’m just going to inflict pain in several different ways. I’m going to enjoy this. Every moment. Only when I believe that you’ve had enough, will I stop and ask a question. If I feel you’re lying, we will start this charade all over again.” The sandman gets to work, and pulls the sliver out of their captives pinky. Which again causes him to jerk and tear the wound in his groin just a little more. Next, Eli takes the mans middle finger and bends it back until it snaps loudly and lays flat against the back of his hand. This method of torture continues on for nearly ten minutes - where he is relentless. His expression never changing. Always mocking their captive. Finally Eli comes to a stop, lifts another slivered piece of wood and asks a question. “Who is Jacob?” Somewhere between his painful snivelling he musters the wherewithal to respond. “Jacob is a false name. The chosen name of our Master. Its he who holds your contract. But last I heard, he was passing it on to someone more qualified.” He takes a moment to suck down a chest full of air, “But the best way to get ‘Jacob’ is to find him in Cenril. He has an underground fighting ring. Find that and you’ll easily find the host.” Once more he coughs up blood and stares at his broken fingers, which still have a sliver or two beneath them. Gods this was painful. “Good boy. Now, tell me who put the contract out on my life.” The assassin who is captive, is in tears. “It was Jacob himself. Originally you were only supposed to be captured, but Jacob believes you’ve killed too many of us and now he has a personal vendetta against you.” Eli stops for a moment and thinks. “Does that mean Jacob isn’t the original contract holder?” Their captive shakes his head. “The original is a man named Michael Krawft. Some wealthy merchant claiming to be trying to reclaim family. I don’t know more than that I swear.” The desert born looks to Lanara once more. “Do you want to end him or should I?” They obviously had no more need for his information.

Lanara doesn’t seem to be phased by the audible breaking of the man’s fingers, if anything, she watches as Eli works with a purpose. The rupturing of tendons, the popping of bones, none of it sparks empathy from the witch. She didn’t know this man, nor did she have any real use for him, beyond this interrogation. He made a living off of harming others, without knowing all of the details. The story that eventually spouts from his mouth is plausible, though she gapes at their captive with disbelief. How far, exactly, was their reach? Why did they want Eli dead? Sure, he had killed someone in self-defense at the tender age of ten, in an effort to save Jez’s life. Even if this person was one of power and wealth… After so many failed attempts, one would think they’d just give up. Let him live his life. The vendetta, instead, lingered for decades, as more and more were hired, each more qualified than the last. Would Eli ever be free? Would they have to kill every last person that is capable of killing Eli? Lana sighs, shaking her head, “Where does this Krawft live? And… If he wants to reclaim family, what does that have to do with you?” Her words ring true, as the only family that the assassin claimed to know were the ones that they had previously discussed in their time spent together. Perhaps Eli killed a member of Krawft’s family? Or it was a distant relative of some kind? Lana feels as though they’re leaving this cellar with less intelligence than when they started. Every dark alleyway led to more questions than answers. Their captive is barely coherent at this point as he’s a blubbering, pained mess. It would be best to put him out of his misery, and although Lanara enjoyed taking her frustrations out on this man, and feeling that sweet release of pent up tension, she doesn’t reach for the dagger. Letting the sandman have this kill was her gift to him, for merely talking to another man this night, when he had warned her to keep to herself. “Yours.” That single word would be all Eli would need, reassurance that the witch was his and no one else’s, and that he was more than welcome to claim this kill as one of his own. While he adds another kill to his list, Lana undoes the glamour spell, eager to return to her natural appearance.

Though Lanara’s questions are true, he’s more concerned about this Jacob. Michael clearly takes a back seat in his mind. A nod of confirmation is given to his witch and Eli steps behind their captive, twisting his head hard and fast. Ending it all in a single moment… The assassin reaches for a red rag tied to his waist and begins to wipe the blood from his fingers and face. Essentially cleaning himself free of any remaining particles of vitae. It was a messy job. At the very least, they had a direction to move in now. Find Jacob. The answers about Michael could come at a later day. “Are you alright Lana?” His voice doesn’t carry that smug tone anymore, and is displaying genuine concern. Besides the story the now dead man had weaved, Eli does find himself curious over it all. He doesn’t remember the name Krawft ever coming up. Not in any contract he had ever taken. But his eyes go wide momentarily. His hand shifts to that red jewelled amulet tied around his neck. Lanara would find that it is more than what she believed. It’s a locket, and is opened. Inside is picture of a woman that’s been magically enchanted to never fade. On the back of it, scratched letters spell the name ‘Krawft.’ What is going on here? He stands there staring at the item without words. Thinking things over. In fact he forgets that Lana is even standing there in the room.

The woman is silent as the man’s neck is broken in one fluid motion, and his head slumps forward, chin digging into his chest. It was swift, which was her intent. Shouldn’t she feel remorse? If it weren’t her truth serum, then Eli wouldn’t have gone to such lengths for the answers. This man would still be alive. She wouldn’t have this on her conscience. Right? Lana doesn’t answer Eli as he asks about her mental status, for she doesn’t know how to respond. The witch was growing more and more unpredictable each day, caring less for the well-being of anyone that wasn’t considered a close friend. This situation isn’t bothersome, the dead man sitting a few feet away is treated like an everyday occurrence, and the blood and gore was becoming second nature. Was she maturing? Seeing the unfairness in the world and trying to make things right? She’s so deep reflecting that Eli’s question goes ignored and she barely registers the fact that he looking at a locket. “I no longer seem to have a conscience…” It hits her like the speed of light, and it’s even more shocking that she whispers it aloud, though her assassin is so preoccupied that her words remain unheard. Oddly, this realization is what disturbs Lana, and she chews on her lower lip as she inches nearer to see what’s so riveting about the picture in the locket. It’s a woman. Figures. There’s –always- a woman stepping onto her turf. It’s flipped over and the engraving that stares back at them is surprising. “Krawft? Who is she? What is she to you?” Did he have a form of amnesia? He didn’t reveal all that much about his past and he claimed he was inexperienced with women, but she begged to differ. Was that a sister? A wife? An aunt? Someone close to him, that he forgotten from his youth? She grows weary, her mind a jumbled mess of unanswered questions, and he can see it in her face, feel it in her touch, that she’s going to snap if the truth isn’t soon discovered.

Elioyahazer sighs in response. “I was told that she’s my mother.” He doesn’t have any other answer to give her. For its a women he’s never met. This is supposedly the picture of the lady who died giving birth to him. “My father gave it to me as a child. But he never spoke of her. Krawft never made any sense until now.” His eyes move back to Lanara’s own gaze, registering what she just said. “Lana, you have a conscience. Look at all the animals you provide care for. Look at the icy spell you cast upon my wound. I believe your conscience is reserved for those who don’t try to hurt you or things you care about.” Finally he drops the pendant. Did Lana just seriously have a jealous moment? Eli wraps her up in his embrace. “I’m sorry I’ve put you through so much. I shouldn’t have brought you here.” Eli falls silent for a minute, just listening to her breathe and talk if she so chooses. Finally, he responds. “I think we should seek out Michael first.” He’s far too curious now to let that go. Eventually he lets go of that embrace and gathers his tools, preparing to leave. In minutes, he finds himself ready to do so. “Lets go home, and be done with this whole mess for a few days.”

Lanara swallows, not having expected Eli to actually answer, and as he states the woman in the picture very well may be his mother, she’s instantly chastised. “I’m sorry… I never… You didn’t… I should have asked you about that pendant a while ago. I assumed it was related to Jez. Forgive my foolish questions.” A feeling of shame rises in her throat, and she’s desperately trying to make those feelings of jealousy dissipate, as her assassin takes pity and pulls her into his arms. She doesn’t care if he’s covered in blood and a man just died at his hands, nor does she even want his explanation of her conscience. All she wants is this, comfort, right now. Wrapping her arms tightly about his middle, she sighs, inhaling his scent. Eli was her safe haven, even if he was the one that initially tossed her into the danger. He always brought her home. “Don’t apologize. I wanted to come along… I want to help you figure all of this out. I don’t want you to have to keep running or looking over your shoulder.” There’s a lot that she doesn’t verbally relay, but if he listens close enough, he can read between the lines. Lanara was in deep, and she didn’t want to lose their bond, in any way, shape, or form. “Let’s go home, okay? We can form our next plan there, and hopefully figure out how to contact Michael.” They part from the embrace, and Eli gathers his belongings, before they make the trek back to Sage Forest.

Elioyahazer reaches for Lanara's hand, providing additional contact. For right now, even he needed her touch too. He could read between those lines, and his own expression spoke of the same. However, the two eventually make it out of the city and to the cart that has been waiting for hours. Where they both climb into the carriage and are whisked away, back to familiar territory.