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Blades in the Sand; Rhoane Fenn; Ahmerrad
Topic Started: Oct 9 2013, 06:50 PM (425 Views)
Brackenwood
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Dawn; one of the few times a man could go for a walk upon the winding sandstone streets of the the city without roasting alive or freezing to death, but so it was in the City of Ahmerrad neigh, in all of Baan. It was at this time, just before the sun and all its ungodly heat spilled completely over the horizon that Rhoane found himself wandering the streets, alone save for a few early bird merchants and the occasional guard patrolling the morning streets.

An assassin and thief by trade, Rhoane's line of work had taken him all across the Baan Peninsula, from one side to the other and back again, only to dump him in the capital city with no work and limited funds to draw from. Not that unemployment would be a problem for long, though. This was Baan after all, the lands were refugees were made slaves in everything but name, the land where petty nobles with no real power behind their names squabbled daily amongst themselves and who would gladly hire an assassin to take a life over the cheapest of perceived slights.

Indeed, for a man of Rhoane's talents finding work was never difficult to find and in some cases, it even came to him.

As Rhoane walked, he found himself in one of many of Ahmerrad's slum districts where refugees and the poor lived hand in hand, and were often one in the same. It was here that pickpockets, muggers, murders, and beggars congregated, a place where no merchant or noble in their right mind would go unless accompanied by a score of guards.

And that was exactly what Rhoane found.

A few block into the slum, at what could jokingly be called its village square, a man in nobles robes and at least 12 guards had managed to draw quite a bit of attention not only by their presence but by the large pouch of royals that the nobleman was waving above his head as he called out over the clamoring crowd.

Though Rhoane couldn't catch all of what was being said from his position, he heard what little he did hear. "Need....murdered.... 5, 000 royals...can get it done, quietly."
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Volksgeist
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Rhoane plunged his hand through the assassin he had hooked only to find the assassin erupting into a cloud of blue-black smoke. This wasn't good. Suddenly, a similar face appeared through the veil and he felt a foot planted on his chest, and before he knew it he was flying backward toward the second assassin who was charging with his dagger. He would have to act quickly...

Rhoane focused and attempted to reach down to the ground with at least one foot - however uneasy the contact was. If it worked, he would shadowstep backward and to the side, attempting to adjust his trajectory so that he would miss the charging assassin. He had never shadowstepped without having the ground as a reference point and his sight in the direction he was going, so there was potential for the worst, but it was a dire situation. If he managed it, he would try and tuck into a roll as he contacted the ground to recover and, if he was close to it, would attempt to snag his chakram from the air.

If the chakram wasn't around yet, it would be hook-and-spearhand number two and, if he didn't manage to miss the assassin, he would at least deliver as many quick blows as he could to his assailant.
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Brackenwood
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Just as Rhoane had expected, attempting a shadowstep without a clear line of sight proved to be a bad idea. Though the maneuver allowed him to dodge his assailant's blade, it also sent him careening into a nearby pile of ruble that had once been a building, knocking the air from his lungs and blurring his vision. He wasn't unconscious yet, but he would have to fight to keep it that way.

Meanwhile the assassin and his clone, now sure of their victory began to approach slowly, both conversing in the strange tongue that the first assassin had spoken. Whether or not their were talking to him, Rhoane couldn't tell. Though both seemed utterly absorbed in their conversation and the thought of killing their opponent. A distraction that would ultimately prove disastrous as the familiar clank of metal against stone drew nearer followed by the wet sound of a blade slicing through flesh and the sound of rushing air as Rhoane's Charkram finally found its mark, slicing through the throat of the final clone and landing only inches away from Rhoane hand.

An act of god or sheer dumb luck that, at the very least, had evened the playing field and given Rhoane a chance to walk away the victor. It was a chance he'd have to act on quickly, as the assassin in red now alone once again, was charging at Rhoane in a last ditch effort to kill him before he could reach his weapon.


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Volksgeist
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Rhoane leapt to his feet, tearing his chakram from its resting place. He shifted it to his left hand as he lunged forward, extending it outward as he ran toward his opponent, though he didn't break it apart. Instead, he gripped the central bar and angled it; it wasn't for an attack.

Aiming to parry the blade of his foe with his chakram, Rhoane would deflect the bite of his opponent's steal and, in return, reach out with his right hand, aiming for the man's throat. If he caught it, he would channel his magic into an Umbral Grip. From there, it would be easy.
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Brackenwood
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Rhoane's plan worked like a charm as chakram met dagger, sending the blade flying from the assassins hands to land somewhere in the shadows of the abandoned district.

The assassin himself barely had time to react before Rhoane had his throat in his hand, cutting off the flow of air to the mans lungs as he began to channel his Umbral grip.

The assassin fought at first, thrashing wildly and trying in vain to claw and pry Rhoane's hand from his throat.But all was for not as the mans struggling became more and more subdued and erratic in interval until at last his eyes began to roll back in his head. Sensing that these were perhaps his last moments among the living, the assassin gave up fighting all together instead, he turned his head as best to could to face Rhoane before smiling beneath his mask.

"Ebasit hissra! Meraad astaarit, talovost dar-semaa. Anaan esaam El-Sahadii!"

The words, whatever they meant, escaped the man's lips as little more than a whispered curse before all consciousness left him.
Edited by Brackenwood, Oct 27 2013, 03:11 AM.
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Volksgeist
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Rhoane cast the body on the ground and, breaking his chakram apart, he knelt down and, with a single swipe, severed the throat of his adversary. Snapping his chakram back together, he clenched it in his right hand. Defiantly, he looked up to the other assassins and spoke to them, growling:

"If one was not enough, send two this time. I will kill you all if I have to. But, if you plan on facing me, speak a damned language I can understand or I will tear your tongues out one by one before ending your lives."
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Brackenwood
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The assassins on the roof neither moved nor spoke while Rhoane shouted at them from his spot on the ground. Instead, all seemed to listen intently, completely unphased by the fact that Rhoane had just slit the throat of one of their own, save for one. As Rhoane finished his challenge, she was quick to unveil her weapon, but a swift warning from the assassin with the violet orb in his strange tongue made her reconsider. Reluctantly she sheathed her weapon and settled for glaring at Rhoane, for the time being...

After a few moments the wind began to pick up once more as the sandstorm that had blocked Rhoanes exit lifted and began to form around the assassins.
As the bodies of the assassins once more became one with the dust and faded from sight, along with the storm. Rhoane thought he heard something, like a whisper in his ear barely audible, even in the silence that had reclaimed the ghost district.

"Take the Eye, Rhoane Fenn. We will be in touch."




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Volksgeist
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Rhoane wasn't daunted by the bearing of the assassin's whip, but he was surprised that they just decided to up and leave. When the sandstorm picked up again, Rhoane shielded his eyes, and then - he was alone. He remembered the blue sphere that the other assassin had been carrying, what he assumed was how the assassin was able to create the copies that he did. Rhoane searched the dead assassin's body and, when he found the orb, he gave it a curious glance for a moment and then pocketed it. There was no doubt that it would be useful and he knew one use for it at least - he would just have to make a mental note to look into it a little more curiously than before.

The assassins gone, Rhoane was more or less relieved. He buckled his chakram back to his hip, retrieved his spent bola, and then made sure everything was in order. After he was sure he was set, he decided that three things had to be done: one, he had to move the body of the dead assassin, for he didn't want any irritating circumstances occurring because of it; two, he had to explore the ghost district, as the idea of having a hiding place where no one wanted to go was more than acceptable in Rhoane's eyes; and three, Rhoane had to find some means to get some pocket change. At the same time, he might as well inquire the lesser sort about what the hell happened.

He figured that, once he looked around and got the body out of sight, he would go back to the market at night and see if he could find any familiar faces from the earlier event.
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