RP:My Soul For a Queen

Part of the Two If By Sea Arc

Synopsis: Zirael devours a sailor as Krystan watches on from the shadows. Once she has consumed her scrumptious meal, the mermaid speaks of how she desires to destroy Cenril to avenge her people. Krystan promises to slay all who should stand in their path and in exchange, Zirael sends him off on a quest that will surely change the assassin for life.

Breathtaking Cliff

Zirael stood upon the precipice of the cliff, bare and seemingly abashed by her own nudity. Her arm draped across her chest and her hand covered her modesty. “You think I’m pretty…? A shy maid like me?” Her voice was but a whisper, so sweet it was borderline sultry. The sailor she was with had thick and long brown hair, with a stubbly chin and strong muscles about him. His hands reached for her curvaceous hips, enveloping them easily in his broad and dry hands before tugging her closer to him. “A maiden fair, aye,” he whispered huskily. “Your hair of brown,” she crooned, “is the talk of the town, my bonny, bonny boy,” with every lyric the mermaid inched closer until her lips finally brushed against his. A kiss between two lovers is no doubt a common occurrence upon this breathtaking cliff, but a mortal kiss such as this was rarer to be sure. Zirael’s long fingered hands reached up to cup his stubbly cheeks and hold his lips to her own. Yet while Zirael seemed to shine in the moonlight, while she seemed all the stronger and more beautiful: the handsome sailor faded away to nothing. His cheeks grew thinner, his skin drier and drier, literally creaking and cracking from how dry it was becoming. His flesh and size withered, his moan of passion because a muffled scream of terror until he was nothing. He was but thin skin stretched across bone and Zirael let him drop with a satisfied sigh.

Krystan watches as the life is drained from yet another one of his master's victims, seemingly to enhance her own strength as well as he own supernatural beauty. Indeed she seems more and more beautiful by the day, and with every kill her siren's song seems to pull just that much stronger even upon the assassin's own considerable will. Yet, she seems to have yet targeted him with her deadly charms. She has been honest, forward and trusting with him. A rare occurence for him, but a refreshing one that was begining to cement the hired killer's loyalty to his new Queen. After allowing her to revel in her meal, and enjoy the sights for a few more moments, the assassin makes himself known. Liek a blight upon this beautiful landscape the hunter appears, the shadows of the cliff seemingly form together, and from out of the endless darkness that they form appears the man who serves the Siren Queen. His footsteps make no sound upon the ground, his form is concealed by a cloak that seems to slither about him like a snake made out of living darkness, a fiendish article of clothing to be sure. The high collar os that cloak rises up to cover the majority of his facial features, while a hood covers the rest. Even so the man still wears a mask, made of unknown material, the surface seems smooth now, leaving only his cold and lifeless eyes to peer out from the darkness within. Some say that one's deepest fears can be seen when he wants them too, a useful gift when hunting prey. Strapped upon the man's back is a unusual item, a large gunbai, rests within arms reach. Strange symbols are carved into the weapon, while a chain runs from the bottom of the handle up into the right overlapping sleeve of the man's cloak. Within moments Krystan stands beside his master, seeming to enjoy the view with her, as a breeze passes by, blowing away the dusty remains of her latest victim over the cliff in a single pass.

Zirael stared at the stunning view, her hands dropping to her sides as the breeze billowed her white gold hair like seaweed in the water. “My home is beautiful,” her blue, oceanic home that was unending and full of secrets. “Yet these walkers defile it. Their waste goes into the waters that my people need to survive in. Our children grow up swimming in their waste and if they are fortunate enough to grow up we are captured and sold for profits. Paraded on the prow of a ship, kept in a fishbowl. I should like to do that to these humans, but that is too kind a fate for them. Their city must drown. That is the only way to purge the debt they owe,” the mermaid’s soft finger brushed briefly against the back of Krystan’s hand. “We will kill them all.”

Krystan listens to the mermaid's words while he stares into the endless depths of the sea below them. Memories of what Cenril was years ago, before the rise of Crime Lords and pirates flash in his thoughts. But now all that remains is the infested husk of his former childhood home, ever rotting at the core as even the likes of the Church has fallen into the corruption of greed and power. In a way he relates what Zirael says to his won thoughts, the waste she speaks of being equal to the flooding of drugs, prostitutes and crime that now runs rampant within the port city. So much so that he was made by it. Molded by the vile disease that lingers in the darkest corners of humanity's heart, the same corrupt longing that can warp even the most noble of men, Krystan's life was forever changed early on to the point he barely considers himself human anymore. With each life he has taken he feels as if he has lost a bit more of his own soul. Long ago he became numb to it all, emotions lost within the void that has become the center of this soulless killer. And so he stands, as the Siren Queen states her longing to seek revenge upon those who defile and disrespect her home, and people, the assassin simply says. " They will all die, my Queen."

Zirael laughed that high and girlish laugh, “Oh, I would hope so, Hunter. I would hope so,” she will not tolerate them to live. “But first, I see you wear my token so proudly. It accentuates your features, given how beauteous it is,” she flattered herself of course. “But I would give you more, my Hunter,” long fingers reach up to touch his cheek. “I would give you a mark, a permanent mark to say you belong to me and to the sea. Is that what you want…? To wear my mark proudly? To scorn the men and women who might call you kindred to serve my wholly bloody purpose?”

Krystan turns his gaze towards his master, those cold eyes never faultering once as he replies. " I shall wear your mark so that all know whom I serve, so that when my blades rend the life from thier bodies they shall know dispair and beg for forgiveness as they watch thier city become swallowed by the sea." There was no mockery in his voice. No tone to signal any falsehood, just the man's blunt honesty. He will serve this woman as loyally as any knight does their King or Queen. He even adds a bit to solidify such, by saying. " I long to lay low your enemies, and watch them beg and grovel at your feat, my Queen."

Zirael grinned that feline grin, that grin that said ‘I murder on the weekdays’. “Take the scale to the city with streets as black as tar, the city that reeks of wealth and orc sweat. There’s a man there, he’ll appraise your scale and tell you the value of it… and whatever he says, whoever he tells you to take it to, you do that. Then when the deed is done, return to me. For then… then I will have a task for you.” Krystan is a professional, and someone who prides himself on his ability to not only get the job done, but surpass all expectations while doing so. So the man nods his head in as close to a formal bow as he will ever do, even to her, and says. " It shall be done. Does this man go by a name? Or known to be in a location?" He asks, as information was always key in a hunt for a person.

Zirael shrugged her slender shoulder, “Those are the only details I have for you. After all, I am bound to the sea… these silly land names are naught to me.” The mermaid was right, she did not explore the land like Krystan could; she was bound to the shoreline and not much further. The sea and the water was where she needed to be. “You are smart, you’ll suss it out.”

Krystan inclines his head, and says. " Yes, my Queen." Before his cloak starts to slither and move, seeking out the shadows around them all. Within moments, the assassin seems to be gone from sight.