RP:Regicide Costs a Pretty Penny
Part of the The Cenrilian Connection Arc
Vailkrin Plaza
Kasyr is seated at one of the many tables at the cafe, a cup of mint and blood tea in one hand, and a creaking leather tome in his other. The revenant, despite his seemingly casual appearance, has been rather busy poring over the contents of the book. It did, after all, contain far more data than just a singular date relevant to his investigation- as the caretaker had at least been diligent in his notetaking. As such, there had been numerous instances where he'd added further addendums in regards to certain orders made by the church, and additional details which were to accompany said deliveries. Whether it was habit, the caretaker trying to piece things together as a hobby, or even a form of insurance, in case things might go awry- the whole of it was now in Kasyr's hands. With a final sip of his tea (the likes of which finishes the cup), the kensai settles it back down to the table, and sets the book back into his pack.
Jelko, with all the silence and ease of a shadow, slips into the elegant, iron-wrought chair across from Kasyr. Clad as usual in her leathers, cut with a distinctive business flair, the masked assassin cocks her head at the vampire as arms rest folded upon the table. "Enjoyed your tea?" There's the promise of a smirk in the tone, voice pitched just loud enough to be heard by those seated nearby. A clink is heard then as one of her gauntleted hands lifts, fingers rolling a small glass vial back and forth. Although the container is empty, there are streaks of red liquid still within it. "The waitress was a sweet thing, happy to take my gold for her silence in delivering a drink from an admirer."
Kasyr , beyond the gradual narrowing of his eyes, does not budge from that spot- his posture remaining unnaturally rigid as the assassin makes her announcement. It's only when a few errant patches of skin along his throat and jaw begin to distort and dissipate that he finally stirs into motion, a brief cobweb of electrical energy arcing across his hair with an audible hiss as he grabs hold of the edge and heaves it up into Jelko's face. A motion that is made especially meaningful, when one takes into consideration that it's wrought iron, and thus subject to an additional bit of momentum through the surge of lightning that arcs into it. Hopefully, it'd provide the revenant a bit of breathing room, so to speak- at least enough that he can lurch to a stand, though his steps are more the staggering sort, than purposeful strides.
Jelko did not sit down expecting a lengthy chat with the kensai. Kasyr is far too notorious in speed and reputation for such assumptions. Thus it's with an almost casual preparedness that the assassin simply slides down out of her seat, the table sailing over her head and taking the now empty chair with it as it crashes into the cafe wall. Poised in a low crouch, Jelko flexes an upraised hand to extend the claw-like blades atop her gauntlet--their edges, normally bright with lycan-repelling silver, are now darkened with a oily substance. "You're getting slow. Perhaps it is time you retired permanently. In fact, I've been hired to ensure you do exactly that." Jelko's form tenses, a split second forewarning before she launches herself from her crouch to dash at the revenant. Her intent is clear, to close the distance as slash out with her peculiar katars at Kasyr. Although the wounds are superficial at best, no more than swift, glancing blows, it's inflicting cuts that she desires, to introduce to Kasyr's bloodstream the substance smeared over her claws.
Kasyr , though he can play evasive, does have a rather unfortunate tendency to pursue a far more aggressive method of combat- a habit he falls all too easily into as he slides -into- the strike, even despite the 'not-exactly-mysterious' substance smeared across the assassin's claws. It's with a wicked degree of ease that the revenant's shirt and skin alike part in a messy display, the wound growing all the more aggravated as the surrounding flesh sizzles away with an ominous hiss. And yet, the revenant's recklessness is enough that it's hopefully brought him a lot closer to the diminutive feline than is comfortable- something which should hopefully enable him to drive his right arm up into her gut with enough force to lift her off the ground, with an additional twist of his knuckle meant to dig the metal of his mithril mesh glove into her stomach. And hit or miss, Jelko will need to contend with proximity allowing the increasingly prodigious amount of lightning that's being generated about the revenant suddenly arcing from the intended contact point, though the danger it carries in the instance of a hit is a bit graver, given that it will further empower the revenant's strike.
Jelko's claws come to cross in front of her abdomen, a defensive stance in answer to the incoming punch. Although the reaction is not enough to deflect Kasyr's blow, it does serve to absorb some of the shock before she's thrown backwards to collide into an occupied table. The startled vampires scramble away from the assassin's flailing claws, having seen what they've done to the revenant already, and Jelko uses the moment to right herself--not that she expects Kasyr to close the distance between them immediately, for when he'd struck her, the sound of breaking glass sounded from the pockets of her vest. Where Jelko had stood seconds before is now a cloud of red mist gathering and swirling before Kasyr. "If you think the liquid form burns, try the powdered. I crafted it specially for you," the assassin taunts, having regained her feet despite the tears and burns on the front of her vest. Hands dip then to take hold of the lapels of her coat, peeling them back to reveal a lining of pockets, each bearing red-filled vials. The sneer is clear in Jelko's voice, "I have plenty to spare. Your punches will hurt you more than me, King."
Kasyr 's outstretched arm is bleeding, pockmarks of flesh fading along the limb even as the sparks swirling around the revenant grow more pronounced. And then the revenant's hopping back from the cloud, his body falling into a partial hunch the likes of which begins to set the massive sheathe on his back tilting forward- the fingers of his left hand enclosing about the hilt of the blade which rests within. Even before he's fully landed upon the balls of his feet, Vesper's great black blade is already arcing outwards, the movements deceptively quick for such a massive blade. Beneath him, he's mildly aware of the friction of his feet against the street as he comes to a sliding stop, and yet he's already lurching the blade up towards Jelko. There's no warning before the revenant's form suddenly goes surging forward, not unless Jelko's able to perceive that brief moment when all those free flowing sparks abruptly coalesce about the Kensai's figure, his blurred figure a distorted nightmare of crackling lightning which barrels through the dust and leaves bright cinders in its wake. Cinders which don't even have time to properly begin smouldering before the Kensai reaches Jelko's vicinity, Vesper sent carving up through the street with every intention of slamming it into the assassin in an absurdly alacritous strike. Really, the only saving grace that she might receive, is that it's the -side- of the blade coming up to greet her, though such a blessing is mixed at best- as should the strike make contact, the revenant's fully intent upon discharging a portion of the electrical energy he's channeled into the blade, in such a manner that it should ideally send the Assassin and her prized powders hurtling back in by virtue of a sudden and unpleasant amount of concussive force- quite akin to a thunder clap. Powdery payload and professional killer alike should ideally be sent skyward- and away from the revenant.
Jelko has more tricks up her sleeves than vials of powdered dragon blood. And so when the revenant has leapt back, the assassin matches his movement while a free hand goes behind her back to pluck a simple-looking lantern from her belt. A flick of fingers opens the lantern's door, even as the kensai blurs towards her and through the red mist, and the area is suddenly plunged into unnatural darkness--even by Vailkrin's standards. All illumination, from the cinders of Kasyr's movements to the glow of moonlight, is devoured by the lantern's interior to produce a mimicry of the Drows' impenetrable globe of darkness. Less than a heartbeat following the descending twilight, there comes the crackling of breaking glass and a burst of cold air, the source of which is revealed when light abruptly returns to the plaza moments later. Where Jelko had stood, and where Kasyr now stands with sword in hand, there is another cloud of the red mist, courtesy of three vials crushed beneath the revenant's boots. And opposite him, poised upon a lampost with closed lantern in hand, is Jelko. The assassin's normally soundless boots squeak, soles rubbing against moisture upon the lampost's metal, as she turns to regard Kasyr with a cocked head. "You missed."
Kasyr grimaces, though his choice in black pants does at least partially mask the exact severity of the wound, beyond that the first step forward he takes is quite akin to the sort of sensitive stumble an individual with a fully blistered over foot might make. By this point, especially with the failure to release any of the storm already raging about him, the revenant's actually beginning to sear the stone of the road black, a few of them cracking from the intense heat generated in the wake of his footfalls- and no doubt part of the reason that the powders efficacy is partially mitigated as it's soon rendered into a cloud of glowing ash. Asofar, by any individual's account, the altercation would be a losing one for the Kensai, and yet, he doesn't make a motion to run- merely forcing himself to continue staggering in a roundabout manner towards the castle, his right hand first moving to fumble up towards his goggles, before they dip down instead to muss about in his pockets. As a gesture, it'd be almost casual- as long as noone noticed the peculiar manners in which the surroundings shadows began to length and ripple. "'retty good." The response is light and wheezy, with a sort of rasp to it that indicates that the visible throat injury the Kensai sustained is likely not the only one.
Jelko dips her masked face in acknowledgement to the muttered compliment. "An honor, from the likes of you. However, it should not be a surprise." As she speaks, the director begins to tail Kasyr, keeping even with him by navigating the lamposts that line Vailkrin's streets. Those present in the plaza continue to hang back, either confident in Kasyr's ability to defend himself, or wary of the little assassin armed to the teeth with dragon's blood, not to mention the very real danger of by-standers becoming collateral damage around the storm-bound kensai. "The piper's come calling, and I always collect what I'm due. Which, tonight, is you." Metal hinges squeal then, the lantern's little door opening and once more devouring the plaza's light. But not before there's a flicker of movement visible upon the lampost, Jelko having lunged from her vantage point and towards the kensai, claws poised to thrust into his back upon landing.
Kasyr also hasn't discounted that a few individuals might possibly be -rooting- for the little assassin, given his recent discoveries. Nonetheless, if they're hoping to see the sordid spectacle of the revenant's corpse hitting the ground, they're about to be sorely disappointed. After all, what the revenant's fingers were doing when they reached his pocket were not sifting for cigarettes- but rather touching upon the ring upon his finger, the Kensai having chosen that moment to begin drawing upon the potent ability contained within the boon gifted onto him by Coreliant, the ring of misinterpreted sight. Though humble in appearance, its power is anything but- twisting the awareness of those who perceive the kensai so that their senses deceive them, skewing the information provided so that he seems adjacent to his position by a few feet, the divine magic allowing the 'illusion' to remain consistent despite subtle differences in environment. Which is the reason why there's absolutely no resistance when Jelko's claws rend through the perceived image of the Kensai, the image sheared through with murderous precision and landing her neatly onto the ground, adjacent to that still ominous and rippling shadow. Sadly for Jelko, objects in view may be closer than they appear- which is to say, that in practice she's actually standing in the -midst- of Kasyr's shadow, which is more or less just his Tenebrous aura, having been laced through the bricks of the street in that location. A fact that she's likely to be made rather aware of when all those bricks in her vicinity are promptly propelled towards her location- their trajectories made askew by the ring. And further aggravated by the fact that Kasyr is rapidly mulching through the foundation of the portion of the street Jelko is standing on, in an effort to collapse it on her. "... Find..A rat. Piper."
Jelko, despite being without sight in the lantern's sphere of influence, knows something is wrong. Claws found no cloth or flesh to rend, and the bricks beneath her boots are far from stable. In fact, some of the damned things seem to have reared up and begun striking her, drawing snarls of pain and rage from the little assassin as she lifts her arms to defend blindly against the assault. But any protests Jelko may voice are lost beneath the rumbling roar of collapsing stonework moments later, and the shriek of rending metal. As the plaza is once more bathed in moonlight, the source of the noise is revealed to be a sinkhole in the middle of the street plunging into the city's sewers, no assassin in sight, and her lantern reduced to a dented mess at Kasyr's feet, its enchantment broken.
Satoshi in truth hasn't fallen into the sewers--she's far too vain about her looks to let that be part of the plan. In the pitch black moments before the street collapsed, and before her lantern was broken, the disguised magus assumed an alternate form, that of a small fox, and scrambled up Kasyr's leg to take shelter beneath his trenchcoat. No way is he dropping his wife in the sewers, jerk.
Kasyr 's first action upon the dissolution of the darkness field is to kick the broken lantern into the hole in the road he made, before he makes his slow, painful foray up the hill towards the Castle. Along the way, once the crackling field of electricity in the Kensai's presence fades into a memory, a few guards move to meet the revenant- but he's quick to wave them away, gesturing back to the posts they abandoned as he gradually limps his way up the stairs.
Satoshi hopes revenants aren't ticklish, as her tiny claws carry her up Kasyr's back so that a foxish muzzle can poke out above his collar. Pardon the wet nose half-buried in sandalwood curls as the kit murmurs, "You didn't have to punch me -that- hard, jerk." A tilt of the head and flick of whiskers, before she adds in due fairness, "...But I'll still heal you, since you could have hit worse."