RP:To Catch a Rogue

From HollowWiki

Part of the Two If By Sea Arc


Synopsis: Zirael eats a scrumptious meal but is spotted by Elyra. Elyra suffers from a bad case of "wrong place, wrong time" and suffers the consequences as Krystan captures her and forces her into Zirael's service. The mysterious Xersom appears again and chats to Zirael, though his intentions are still unclear he seems to be on the side of the walkers.

Cove

Zirael had a lyrical giggle: high and girlish and curtailed with a much huskier chuckle, like a woman on the precipice of promiscuity. The mermaid’s white gold tail had curled around the ankle of her ‘suitor’, her long fingers pressed against his chest while her other hand cupped his stubbly cheek. “Do you think I’m pretty?” she asked quietly. “Most beautiful lass I ever did see, miss,” he answered in a husky whisper, his voice heavy with desire. “Really?” she replied, setting her lips to the side of his mouth in a teasing promise of what could be. “Will you love me forever?” A kiss. “Forever, aye,” a promise. “Will you do whatever I ask?” Another kiss. “I’d sell me own mam for you, miss,” another promise. “What a bonny boy,” she purred in his ear, arms slinking up to hook around his neck and press her damp chest up against his own hairy chest. “A bonny lad for a beautiful lass…” she whispered before her tail suddenly tightened around his ankle and her body wrenched forcibly to submerge herself and her lover-turned-victim. The man thrashed but the mermaid seemed to be still in the water. Bubbles rose to the surface in evidence of their struggle, but soon subsided. Blood stained the water.


Elyra has resorted to looting shipwrecks because most of the shops have extra guards around them for some reason. The half-elf is currently creeping through the cove, quietly making her way, using large boulders as cover. Anyone could be out here today. That is when she sees the horrific scene, some fish lady dragging a man down into the sea! Elyra quickly presses her back to the boulder, hoping that whatever that thing was doesn't come back! Perhaps coming here wasn't such a good idea?


Krystan is an ever present sentinel these days for his master, and such is proven when the would be looter finds herself standing next to the artisian of death as he watches the scene unfold before them all. The fiendish cloak he wears seems to slither about his lean form like a serpent, melding into the shadows cast within the cave so that the assassin himself seems more part of the cove itself than anything. He does not say anything, he doesn't need to. He simply allows those icy-orbs of his to fall upon the half-elf before he'd push off the wall to allow himself to be seen. A rare opportunity given to the stranger. Normally Krystan does not allow himself to be seen until it is too late, until his blade is buried within the vital organs of his prey. But, be it divine grace or just plain luck, Zirael has just begun to feast, and there was no order given to kill any who dare venture into his master's lair. The assassin was her hunter, her servant and her guardian in the times to come. For now the silent sentinel simply levels his cold gaze upon the woman who ventured here, his features hidden behind a mask fashioned to resemble someone's greatest fears. Here, he now speaks, his voice as welcoming and warm as the grave, and it is directed towards his mistress, who he knows can hear him. " We've company, master."


Zirael surfaces once Krystan speaks, her mouth and chin slick with water and blood. “Do we?” she inquired, swimming a little closer to the sandy shore of the cove. Her voice turns melodic, lustful and deadly: it’s a siren song and she intends to lure out little Elyra. “Come, come, visitor… I do so love to meet new faces and greet new people. I wish to see your face. Come out, little mouse, I promise you that Hunter and I are but the sweetest cats.”


Elyra stares at Krystan, "Huh??!!" With reflexes honed over the years of fleeing guards, the half-elf is suddenly glad that she stole these boots of speed. With a flick of her ankles she's off! The magic in the boots allows her to run much faster than she could otherwise and -hopefully- it will be enough to outrun the creepy man who just ratted her out! The half-elf really wishes that she hadn't come this particular way..


Krystan is experienced in dealing with the fleet of foot, but has also had the luxury of time being on his side. From the start of this union, the assassin took note of his new master's liar, and how easily one could enter it to try to capture her. After all, isn't that how the pair met in the first place? So precautions against future attempts upon Zirael's domain were taken, measures put into place in the forms of tricks of the trade. Traps. But in this case it seems the fleeing woman is fast, and easily passes by the first few of those placed about the cove. But her luck would see to fall short on ensuring a safe exit. Bombs are Krystan's speciality, and while setting off highly explosive ones within this place would be foolish, the assassin has placed several other kinds all throughout. Mainly specialized gas-releasing mechanisms. The fleeing wanderer will hear two clicks underneath the sand, before thick cloud of green smoke billow forth from their housing. This particular gas was made from the toxin of the drow knockout poison used by the dark elves of Trist'oth. Made from a rare, and very pricey, fungus that grows only in the deepest regions of the underdark, Krystan's ability with alchemy is shown here and now, as the billowing plumes of noxious gas surround the half-elf who rushes right into the thick of it in her hurried attempt at escape. Even if she reflexively holds her breath, the thick contents of the smoke will coat her skin, clothes and weapons, and remain unless she submerges herself in water. And, well, if she enters the water she enters his master's domain. So this leaves little option for the little mouse, who so foolishly ventured into the lions-den today. She can attempt to push through the knock-out gas, and see how far her magical boots will get her, or she can dive into the water and see how she fares against a seaborn. Either way she now becomes prey for two predators of both sea and land. His master told the foolish naive to come closer, disobedience shall not be tolerated in his presence.


Elyra isn't familiar with alchemy, she's only been a thief for a decade now, and hasn't been initiated into the darker criminal circles. The young half-elf just keeps running, holding her breath as the gas fills the air, but it isn't long before she can't hold it anymore, and she starts coughing. Her speed almost got her to safety, but when she starts to cough, it's clear that something is wrong here. The thief collapses onto the ground, hoping that the gas isn't lethal!


Zirael watched from the water in an almost bored fashion. These walkers were peculiar. Why run when you know you’ll be captured? Why waste the energy in running rather than save it for later? No matter. The girl is on the ground. “Bring her to me.”


Krystan doesn't move from his position until told, but the moment his master's words escape her lush lips the assassin he spurs into action. Within a startling few moments the servant of the seaborn stands over the unconscious woman, and lifts her up over his right shoulder with a firm grasp upon her clothing. Quick strides bring him to the edge of the shore within the cove, mere feet away from Zirael's position within the cool waters, before he places her down upon the sand and resumes his constant vigil over the Siren Queen.


Elyra is out cold at this point, passed out from the gas. The young thief hasn't built up any resistance to the most common toxins, much less -drow- toxins. The half-elf is now at the complete mercy of a carnivorous half-fish and her scary minion. If she was awake right now, she'd be shaking in terror.


Zirael pushed herself up on the sandbank, staring at Elyra for a long moment. “Am I prettier than her?” she asked her most loyal man. The mermaid looked at the girl for a moment longer before asking Krystan more questions. “What is her profession? What use is she to me?”


Krystan does not hesitate in his response to his master. "No, My Queen." He likes adding titles for her. Here he takes a few moments to study the prone woman laying on the sands. He remembers her approach into the cove, he examines whatever obvious gear is upon her person, before he'd kneel down to start pilfering through her belongings. Given his own experiences, he says to the mermaid. "Rogue of some sorts. There are many about in Cenril. She could be of use, gathering information and sent on jobs to fetch things, leaving me more time to hunt..." He didn't mind any task she had for him, but he prefers to eliminate targets, rather than go find items. "She can be used to lure more fools into your domain, unless you'd prefer to venture out and collect sailors yourself, my Queen." Foolish men within the city would gladly follow the half-elf for a midnight rendezvous, maybe even others they could use, given Zirael's talent for bending men to her will. "And if she ever becomes useless, I'll kill her myself." A statement of fact, more than a possible option.


Elyra would appear dead to the untrained eye. The toxin has her in an almost coma-like state. The half-elf's breathing is shallow and her pulse is slow.


Zirael gazed at Elyra for a moment longer, long fingers reached out to grasp her boot and give it a little wiggle before letting go. “Assuming she can serve me. She seems consumed with fear…” But having someone fear her seemed to please the mermaid, who flashed that murderous smirk to her dear assassin. The mermaid shrugged her slender shoulder, “If she wakes soon, I will ask what service she can provide me. If she doesn’t wake, then, toss her into the water. A second dinner will not hurt my figure.”


Krystan is not one to wait for someone to get their beauty sleep, not while his master wishes to see if she has found another useful pawn, or a possible extra meal. Reaching into a pouch located on his belt, the assassin rubs smelling salts upon his index and middle finger before he'd shove it below the woman's nose in a forced attempt to awaken her. This, of course, happens after he secures the woman's feet and hands to make for a more controlled interview. Using his own weight as an advantage, while assuming a dominate position atop the sleeping woman, Krystan goes to waking her up.


Dagon walks into the cove, being drawn into the area by curiosity more than anything. It was then he spotted the mermaid and her companion. He gives her nod ignoring the man, it is during the nod which he spots the half elf... He walks to the mermaid stepping over the downed man and assassin. "Hello again Zirael" he nods "Hope I'm not intruding into your home. I just heard of a ship that will be coming from the island soon, though maybe your fish kind would be interested in it."


Elyra stirs moments after the salts come in range of her breathing. When she finally completely wakes up, she finds herself bound, "W-what? Huh?!" Then she sees Krystan again, "Please don't kill me... I didn't even know there was anyone in here... I won't even tell anyone what I saw! I really don't care who you kill... just as long as it isn't me…" She is now staring at Zirael, "P-please don't eat me…"


Xersom was a figure that further manifested and grew by vision perception with his approach, but what was peculiar and odd was particularly -where- he arrived from. His boots moved along the surface of the tranquil sea, as if upon a slightly submerged platform just beneath the calm and easy rock of gentle waves. While clad in old, weathered, and faded gray hermit's robes, the man covered in an infernal litany upon his skin ere literally having been carved into his flesh was absent his usually sported old and gnarled cane. Neither boots nor sandals covered his feet, either, but they, scarred like the rest of his body, were bare and remnant of the sea against the curves of his etched flesh. Boldly, he didn't hasten or slow in his approach as he reached rock and waves of the cove's inlet, only finally waning, ebbing, and coming to cease in his gait once the soles of his bare feet touched solid rock. Intense, almost luminous green and faux eyes took in the scene before him.


Zirael watched only for a moment as Krystan set about securing their captive and rousing her into wakefulness. The mermaid’s emerald eyes shifted from Krystan and Elyra to Dagon with his useful information: a ship coming into port. “My, my… You’re a useful one,” she purred delightedly. “And if I sink this ship, do you expect a reward? Because I do reward most… generously,” the final word was a husky one. “My Hunter, tell the man, do I reward well?” But now Elyra is awake, begging for her life and this pleases Zirael greatly. Oh, no sweeter song has she heard in all her life except for her own singing voice. “Good, keep your silence. But you will do me a favour in exchange for your life. Or else my dear Hunter will have to slice you up for my dinner,” she threatened. For now, however, Xersom is not noticed. After all, he is not in the middle of the gathering nor massively involved. An observer.


Krystan watches all that transpires like a dog would watch over its master, carefully securing his prey with enough force to show her that escape is a futile gesture, while he allows those unnerving eyes of his to shift from the half elf to the approaching mage. The assassin does not move, nor offer his own greeting towards the newcomer who brings news of a possible bounty to his Queen. What does gain more attention than needed is the approach of the dark one. Even if he is merely watching, his presence is something that makes even Krystan's neck hair stand on end. Wholly vile, unnatural and seemingly a mock to all things holy, the aged man standing on water is a force that the killer isn't too sure he could handle. This doesn't sit well with him, of course, but he is the master of his own emotions, and does not show any sign of his own thoughts. Zirael speaks now, addressing the mage first, to which he answers as directed. "Rewards beyond imagination." Is his reply, before the Siren talks to the captive thief. And as to ad emphasis to her threat, Krystan uses his free hand to take a wicked dagger and bring it to the woman's throat. The razor edge of the blade is pressed ever so gently against her flesh, an unspoken promise that Zirael speaks the truth.


Elyra nods quickly, this isn't the first time someone has put a blade to her throat, "O-oh.. yes okay I'll do it.. whatever you need.. I don't care whose life you need me to ruin. I just don't want to be.. in your tummy.." She stares at Zirael's stomach, definitely doesn't look very cozy. Xersom is not yet noticed by her however.


Xersom 's faux lips, eerily flawless due to not actually being his real ones, twisted at a single corner in a smirk of amusement to the situation that unfolded before him; it wasn't a demeaning smile that was particularly to mock either mermaid or assassin, but rather in some dark reverie of times past -rewards omitted, of course. This man was no savior to Elyra however, and it was made apparent when his voice came forth. The sound was equally sinister and soothing, not seductive like Zirael's, but rather a melodic danger that was, although intoxication, blatantly sacrilegious and unnatural -infernal like the scar-carvings all over his body (sans faux face), "Interesting; reward as well as punishment. Twice the effort for the same result, don't you think?"


Zirael smiled as Elyra said she would do whatever was needed. Though the words of a woman at knifepoint were hardly to be trusted in. “Hunter, she is for you. Do with her what you will, my dear,” her tone was grand, as if she were giving him a wonderful and most generous gift indeed. The mermaid’s tail briefly flapped in the water before she grasped some sand and rubbed it against her silky smooth and light belly - that was mysteriously lacking a bellybutton – while looking at Xersom. “Different strokes for different folks is how the saying goes, isn’t it?”


Krystan replaces the dagger to the sheath in which it is housed as he recieves his reward. No sign of any emotion can be seen in those eyes, the only facial feature that shows, as he replies. " Thank you, my master." He can see that his Queen has guests, and thus offers her a way to gain some privacy. Interactions between such ancient beings is usually a matter mortals should not be in attendance for. " Do you have a task for me, master?" He asks, while he lifts himself and his new pet up to their feet.


Elyra nods, "Yes.. I will do whatever he wants then.." She sighs with relief. Continued existence is THE priority here. The half-elf turns around to see Xersom. There is definitely something off about him but the thief does the brilliant thing and keeps her mouth shut.


Xersom slowly moved his hand, causing the shoreline of the water to recede with the pull of the tide, as if it were beginning to pull back normally but just kept retreating -to beach the mer half-heartedly, with the dominant implication of an idle test. "I think it varies," he commented with wit laced in that dark, terrible, and intoxicatingly soothing voice, "My master's reward was that he didn't destroy you. Yet, although he has lived for so long, it could be wrong herein that he was imprisoned." Bare feet tread a soft path toward Zirael, provided she didn't move from her position as the waves receded, but in spite of the darkness and malevolence that just emanated from the ancient's form, there was an implication of a lack of distinct threat -or at least, intention to kill. She had his attention, not his wrath.


Zirael nodded to Krystan and told him to take his new little rogue off with him and to go scouting, but to hurry back for she would see the rogue rewarded for potential service. After all, gold was a sure way to purchase loyalty for a time and the mermaid had plenty of it. The deep help more gold than any man could ever dare to dream of. As Xersom approached, the mermaid offered him a near feline grin, watching patiently and seemingly without fear. Perhaps she sensed he had no intention of harming her right now. “How gracious of your master.” The mermaid’s tail flapped against the water again. “I am not quite so gracious, however.”


Elyra feels pretty light hearted when Zirael speaks of gold. Maybe coming here WAS a good idea? The thief traipses off with Krystan for the time being.


Xersom lofted both eyebrows in surprise, "He often lied; there were few times he let anyone keep their life," the dark voice said as the ancient approached, the tide continuing to pull back lower and lower with every cadenced step until he stood just before the mer. "You are a curious thing, aren't you? You fancy yourself a... Queen? God? Superior, regardless." A crouch, to bring him closer to eye-level with the woman.


Zirael does not seem to be alarmed by the ever fading water. Yes, it was pulling back and away from her the closer he got but she doesn’t appear to be alarmed by it. Instead, she remains beached there: cupping sand and rubbing it onto her body quite casually. “I am me,” she answered with a coy smile, “and I never fashioned any such titles. These walkers gave them to me, so they think me a Queen of the Sea or a Queen of Sirens. But I am superior to these walkers… feeble, weak-willed and so tiny.”


Xersom 's faux eyes, vivid green and near luminous by their sheer intensity, scrutinized the woman as she rubbed sand against her body casually; darkness continued to emanate from his form, as it always would, but the mask he wore and the form he coveted seemed appropriate suppressants to the alternative. The alternative, his true face, would inspire madness in the lesser-willed mortals, but nonetheless was nothing to scoff at for even the strongest-willed. It was not without that mask though, that the male scrutinized the mermaid, "Queen of the Sirens, Queen of the Sea. Curious. Perhaps superior to these walkers, yes, I could see that. But what is it you call yourself? 'Pretty?'"


Zirael seemed to cease her rubbing of sand and looked at Xersom when he questioned what she dubbed herself. “I ask people if they think I am pretty,” though she knew herself to be very beautiful. Vanity was quite an issue with these mermaids.


Xersom 's gaze traveled up and down the form of Zirael, "And your name?" He pressed.


Zirael did not seem to mind his roaming gaze. After all, she didn’t hide anything. “It is Zirael.”


Xersom 's hand reached out with the apparent intention of drawing his thumb slowly along her jawline in a dominant manner, to inspire the conflicting emotions of adoration of her form, and superiority over her, "Zirael. You are an interesting creature, surely attractive." His lips suddenly spread into a smile, "For now."


Zirael grinned that feline grin at Xersom as he touched her jawline. “For now and forever,” she retorted, “and fortunately I am far more beautiful than you will ever be, am I not?” Her own words made her giggle, that high and girlish noise like she made earlier when luring that man to his most untimely death. This act of attempted domination doesn’t seem to bother her, this instigation. Her temper may be foul, but only when it came to the important things.


Xersom did not ebb his features of a smile at the bold retort from Zirael, "Than me? Yes, more than I will ever be, I do not doubt that..." His finger trailed along that jawline, until it reached just beneath her chin, where it pressed upward, "I will make this more fun. I will throw the walkers a morsel or two; it shall be more interesting." For him. Like it was all just a game, or a play meant to entertain him.


Zirael shrugged her slender shoulder, “If you so wish,” as if she didn’t care.


Xersom 's smile faded, though not as a result of the events; it simply was too long worn on his faux face. The dark ancient's press of his finger beneath the chin of the mermaid subsided to finished as the digit was pulled away. The man stood then by ascension from his crouch with his fake stare forcing the mermaid beneath scrutiny, though observation was less so the point than what he was really doing; contemplating some decision. "I suppose it doesn't really matter whether Cenril is here or washed away, though," his sinister, yet soothing voice like some archaic sound of forboding, forbidden knowledge, crept forward with its intoxicating sound, "And now you've a peasant slave with you along with the doting one." His terrible gaze tore toward Elyra, briefly, before returning to Zirael. "So afterward, if you do manage to drown the city, eat whomever, then what?"


Zirael watched Xersom for a long moment before smiling in that coy manner again, “Then that would be telling… You want to help the morsels, you don’t get to know all the details.”


Xersom 's shoulder lifted and fell in a brazen shrug, "Very well. More entertaining, perhaps," his voice replied through those eerily flawless lips, "Do be sure to make it... interesting." With that, he turned, and was heading for departure.