Training Thread - Maelkur

[Forte]

"Tha' moment of truth 'as arrived then." Shouted the dwarf from down the alleyway, the shadows of the falling sun silhouetting him against the outside world as he glared into the darkness at Maelkur with his singular eye, the other covered with a deep crimson eye-patch embroidered with golden thread. "Let's see which be faster ye twitchy elf, yer sword or my bullets."

To this, Maelkur offered only a sure smile and an unconcerned shrug, though his right hand moved to where his blade was sheathed at his hip. He was not guised as the wizard he normally was this day. Instead he wore the appearance of a young vagabond that had thought to attempt to rob the Necrach upon these very streets. The boy had been dirty and loathsome but with Maelkur's refined mind and a touch of magic, he turned the magical glamor that imitated the boy's face and body into a look that could even give pause to the pickiest of noble women. Though he wore his standard array of armor and clothes, his appearance claimed him to be wearing a worn suit of dark colored leather armor with a pair of plain brown breeches. The only real remarkable piece about him was the sword that was slung about his waist on an ornate sword-belt. A beautiful sword by any standards, it seemed of uncommon make for one so young.

"Yer a foolish little boy ta' think ye could take me down. Name's Thron Death-eye, fer the record. Jus' in case yer concerned about who's about ta' blast ye to Hell." Shouted Thron, nearly frothing at the mouth from Maelkur's relative indifference to being faced with the gun barrels of one who was supposed to be "Famous". Maelkur, or Quicksilver as he had come to be known as recently in homage to his lightning quick sword and spell, had become something of a local legend in this portion of the lower districts. This was the place where the losers and scum gathered, the place where the lesser gangs and pirates came to roost.

Since coming to the city, Maelkur had decided to integrate himself with the lower levels of the city under a false identity so that he would have a place of power within the city when the world began to shift. Until recently, he had been content to wait and watch but his confrontation with the Tomb King told him that the time had come to begin moving once more. Things were beginning to shift, just as he had waited for, and now he needed his own ways of aquiring information. And naturally, who better then the thieves and rogues of the city? Of course there were rogue guilds which were outside of his influence just yet-- there was little that he could do against them alone just yet and was not willing to put his own life on the line to infiltrate them. Not unless he possessed throw-away souls to put their lives on the line for him. And Quicksilver provided the most useful opportunity to do so. He was quickly becoming a favorite of the people of the lower cities for he not only provided entertainment for them in the way of calling out those that lorded over them but he never lost. Not ever.

"If you're gonna kill me, can you make it faster? I have to be--" As Maelkur spoke his sentence was cut off by the explosive bang of a pistol prompting him to draw his sword in a flash of the remaining daylight and slash through the round bullet that came for him. In a split second and with a shrill ricocheting noise, the disguised Quicksilver and Thron stood at a standstill with Maelkur wearing a crooked but sure grin and Thron wearing an expression that could not be described as anything short of abject terror. Following that moment, the dwarf pressed on his trigger three more times and sent three more projectiles at Maelkur... all three of which would miss their target entirely as the elf moved out of his firing path and charged up the side of the alleyway, his sword dragging against the ground for a moment in a burst of sparks against the stone. Drawing his second pistol, Thron tried desperately to fend off Maelkur's advance but was met with the partner to Maelkur's attacking sword-- his parrying sword. The blade knocked away the second pistol and in it's wake it's brother drove home into Thron's shoulder which threw him back and caused him to drop his first pistol. Bringing his eyes close to Thron's face as the dwarf's breath quickened, Maelkur spoke as he twisted his sword a little in the impaling wound he'd made; "Somewhere. As I was saying, I have to be somewhere. So goodbye, little dwarf."

Ripping his attacking sword from Thron's shoulder and kicking him backwards, Maelkur turned his back to wipe off the crimson liquid from his blade... and was promptly shot in the back. He'd thought that a stab through the heart would have been enough to end the boisterous dwarf's life, but he'd miscalculated-- a rare mistake. Whipping around to avoid the second shot which inevitably followed the first, Maelkur stabbed his parrying blade into the ground and used the leverage from the move to position himself in a more defensible place to protect himself from further attacks. Taking advantage of the one-in-a-lifetime chance of having caught a vampire off-guard, Thron hauled himself up off the ground and glared daggers at Maelkur as he took his full measure. The expression on Thron's face told stories about his thought process and he very clearly did not believe that Maelkur's Quicksilver disguise was a human being.

"Yer fast, I'll give ye that. But ye don't know how ta' seal tha' deal. Shoulda killed me when ye had me on tha' ground." He rumbled with a great deal of confidence back in his voice, his pistol still pointed at Maelkur as he retrieved his second one and then instantly trained it on his opponent as well. "Instead ye turned yer back. Damned idiot boy. Ye got yer head on the glory instead o' bein' on tha' fight where it oughta be."

"I only make mistakes once, friend." Stated Maelkur with a chuckle, though an edge of seriousness found it's way into his normally vaguely interested tone. "You should have shot me in the head."

"Oh, I'll do ye one better ye blighted ass. I'll shoot yer knee-caps out so ye can apologize to me 'fore I kill ye." Mocked Thron as Maelkur shifted his stance and the dwarf motioned with his handguns that his opponent shouldn't move lest he start firing again. "Unless o'course ye start with ta' groveling now."

"Sorry, I be all outta groveling." Whispered Maelkur, imitating Thron perfectly as he dashed foward-- covering the distance between them in the blink of an eye and instantly removed one of Thron's handguns from the equations with a deft swipe of his parrying sword and lunged in with a downward stabbing motion. Not as surprised this time at the elf's uncanny speed, Thron bucked backwards and fired his secondary pistol at blank range into Maelkur's chest though it did not stop the vampire's onslaught as he'd thought it would; rather it only slowed him slightly as he checked his elbow into Thron's face and slashed vertically up into the air, leaving a deep red gash across Thron's chest and throwing him backwards almost onto the street. Before the dwarf could be on his feet once more, Maelkur was upon him; kicking the second handgun from the dwarf's meaty fingers and laying the tip of his primary blade against Thron's throat through is beard. "You lose Thron Death-eye, now Thron the Disgraced."

"W-wait one minute m'boy, dun do nothin' too hasty now..." Coughed Thron, a small amount of blood flecked upon his lips as he twitched in pain from Maelkur poking his blade downward a bit to sting the dwarf for speaking. "I can..."

"If you are about to suggest you work for me, understand that I will accept nothing less then utter fealty and agreement in full to terms dictated by me." Stated Maelkur coolly, stepping out of his boyish persona of Quicksilver for a moment to show an intense cunning behind the mask. Something that he was sure Thron took notes of immediately. If Thron was to serve him, he needed to know that the dwarf was capable enough to be as cunning as he was. "Those terms being that you will follow my directions in full without fail. Do we understand each other?"

To this, Thron merely nodded sheepishly and Maelkur eased off of his throat with the sword and returned it to his scabbard before reaching down and picking Thron up by a combination of his beard and shirt, dragging him back to the alley away from his guns.

"Now. One last thing we should address if you are to work for me. An understanding that we should come to before anything else." Breathed Maelkur as he brought his eyes down to Thron's level, his eyes narrowing as glared into Thron's beady black eyes. "You will backstab me. Don't shake your head "no", I know it. Even now you plot my demise. I will tell you only this; if you choose to betray me, do not fail. For every betrayal I foil in any way, I will remove one of your fingers. For every order and direction you disobey, I will remove a finger. For every time you fail me, a finger. As it stands, one such as you is useful. Should you have no fingers, you lose that quality and become refuse. And refuse is disposed of. Do we have an understanding?"

"O'course." Murmured Thron, avoiding Maelkur's stare. That simple gesture told the vampire he was correct in the assessment that Thron was planning his downfall already. Traditional logic stated that one should never recruit those that they could not trust, but Maelkur was not concerned with whether or not he could trust Thron. The dwarf knew the terms of his indenture to the vampire and had been defeated soundly enough to prove that said consequences for his actions could easily be carried out. Ultimately the possibility of having second chances would encourage Thron to build his own network of spies and agents in the hopes of some day bringing down the human child that had so easily mastered him which put said agents at Maelkur's disposal as well for Thron, while calculating and devious, was also a coward and would not risk spoiling any plans he might have by hiding too much from the man he knew as Quicksilver. Their understanding reached, Maelkur released Thron and stepped away from him, kicking one of the revolvers back at the dwarf. "What do ye want me to call ye by? Lord Quicksilver? Master?"

"Just Quicksilver, friend. Though if you'd like to call me High King Quicksilver, I am open to it." Stated Maelkur, retaking his joking demeanor to get back into character as he clapped his hands together to clean the dust and blood from them.

"How do I contact ye?" Asked Thron, glancing one last time with his single eye at the disguised vampire as he moved out of the alley to recover his discarded weapon and gritting his teeth at the subtle jab at his dwarven heritage.

"Oh, don't worry about that. I'll contact you when I'm done."

"Done? Done with what? What is it that yer up to anyway?"

Silence responded to Thron the Disgraced question for Maelkur was already gone. Raising his eyebrow and shaking his head, Thron touched his fingers to one of his wounds and winced a little at the pain before lumbering off into the streets which were once again busying themselves and recovering from the spectacle of Thron Dead-eye fighting the relatively infamous Quicksilver. Spitting a gob of disgusting spittle and blood from his mouth, Thron glanced around and then disappeared into the crowd. He needed to find a healer and rest up before what he supposed was his new master for the time being called upon him. He didn't like the idea of being someone's servant, he'd always done whatever he felt like, but he disliked being mutilated and killed much more.

Words: 2127

24 Points to be distributed from 8 weeks of prior training in addition to this week and +2 T from mission.

40 [Starting Amount] + 24 [Prior Training] + 2T [Mission Reward] = 66 Points Total

Ws | 24
Bs | 10
S | 20
T | 12
Ag | 20
Wp | 30
W | 20

[FlyingPinkPony]

Approved and updated. You're good to go.

[Forte]

"More stories of tha' new boss takin' things over in tha' docks." Recited Thron, explaining what he and his boys had learned in the past few days. Maelkur already knew of King Zaket, the Tomb King that had claimed dominance over the Eastern Districts but the tales coming out of the docks of late had piqed his interest. The stories told of a man clad in vicious armor and wielding tremendous power sweeping in and stealing the power out from underneath those who had possessed it before. From the recounts he'd heard, the vampire-elf knew it to be a follower of Chaos. More specifically, a follower of the Changer of Ways which spoke volumes of the individual's abilities. He was a wizard, of that there was no doubt. All of the Changer's followers were to some level. And that, of course, made him dangerous. Reclining back into the large chair that he sat in, Maelkur (clad as Quicksilver the Rogue) considered whether or not the great king Zaket had met this individual yet.

The room that Maelkur dwelled in for the moment was the owner's quarters of the Lizard's Den Tavern. It, unlike the rest of the filthy building, was well furninshed and kept relatively clean. When the owner had heard the infamous Quicksilver was looking for a place to stay in this particular establishment he'd offered his very own quarters for the Rogue to use. That, of course, was customary of the proprietors in the area. They respected, feared, and loved the Rogue for his work to unify the crime guilds and houses in the area. They respected him because few others could do such work without being cut down in days. They loved him because the unification worked to cease the bloody in-fighting between the houses, to the detriment of the business owners' profits. And of course they feared him simply because he had done what he'd done. They feared the thief guilds that owned the streets and those guilds feared Quicksilver. By proxy that made Quicksilver genuine terror for them if they crossed his reach. Stretching, Quicksilver shot the kneeling Thron a crooked grin and dismissed him with a slight wave.

"You can be about your business, Thron." He said casually as he crossed to the wall where he'd hung his sword belt and effects. Thron had become Quicksilver's second in what was quickly being called the House of Silver, a small but tenaciously bold thieves' guild forming under the leadership of Quicksilver. Even the gruff dwarf had to admit that he liked the position and power that the odd human youth had given him within the guild. Quicksilver cared little for the actual functions of running the guild and left that to Thron almost in it's entirety. Thron still reported to him daily of course but decisions were left to him nearly on the whole.

"What're ye plannin' ta do Thief-lord?" Muttered Thron almost inaudibly. No doubt he had not intened the almost impromtu guildmaster to hear him, though hear him Maelkur did.

"Planning to do, my friend?" Responded Maelkur with Quicksilver's youthful voice. "I've not decided yet. Perhaps nothing. I've no care for the docks; my sights are set upon the guildhouses of my fellow crime-bosses for now. Let this monster, as they call him, do as he pleases. Though do keep an eye on him as much as possible, Thron. I enjoy keeping tabs on my... perspective competition. But for now, I have business."

"Busniess Thief-lord?" Echoed Thron, his eye running up and down Maelkur with suspicion and interest.

"Allies, of course. There are those that do not wish to be fought to death as some of the crime-lords have made quite clear will be the case. Of course that is to remain our secret. Remember our arrangement, good Thron." Maelkur flashed the dwarf a frightening grin as he crossed the room, backing up his macabre reminder of past events.

"Yessir..." Rumbled the dwarf, remembering what Maelkur had told him regarding assassination plots and his fingers. Absent-mindedly, Thron rubbed the cauterized nub where his middle finger on his right hand had once been. He'd been foiled once already and paid for it, quite slowly, with a finger. He'd decided then that he wouldn't try again unless it was a sure thing. Quicksilver had not mentioned that he would make the experience as painful as possible.

"You may have this room until I return." Maelkur whispered back to Thron as he disappeared through the double-doors belonging to the tavern-owner's room. With a curved smile, he took a few steps and then disappeared, off to make trouble for another guildhouse that opposed him.

Advancements
+3 Ws

[FlyingPinkPony]

Approved.

[Forte]

"What's it mean do you think?" Whispered a young thief who looked up upon a spectacle that had quickly become the talk of the Lower City. The Rashief Clan had long been considered one of the five great guildhouses of the Lower City, the rulers of their under-realm and masters of their craft. At their fingertips were the loyalties and blades of some of the most skilled thieves and assassins in the region. And upon the large wall of the Rashief Clan's guild house now hung Mick Tam, one of the high ranking lieutenants of the Rashief Clan-- his corpse ingloriously crucified against the brick and wood of the large building.

"I think it means that the House of Silver is finally starting to make it's move." Rumbled Nails, an older and much more experienced thief whom glanced about them quickly to see if anyone was paying attention to their conversation now that his younger companion had been so bold as to speak loudly about what the death of Tam meant about the power structure in the Lower City. With an almost invisibly light shove and a snapping nod of his head, Nails indicated to his partner that they should stray away from the scene where the Rashief Clan soldiers were attempting, unsuccessfully so far, to remove the body of Tam from the wall without separating him from his limbs. He'd apparently been pinned to the wall using steel spikes of some kind which were driven through to the heads, shoved in much further then one would expect given the height of where he was placed.

"House of Silver? You think they were behind it?" Asked the younger thief nicknamed Knives for his skill with the named weapon. He was something of an oddity in the Rashief Clan, for he was much younger then the usual enforcers but his skill with a blade could not be denied. Sadly he still possessed the naivety of youth, which was why the leaders of the Rashief Clan had paired him with the experienced and well-grounded Nails.

"Who else would be dumb enough to take out a Rashief lieutenant? Or anyone else from any of the Big Five?" Nails responded through a cough as they moved off into an alleyway, in which was a door leading into one of the many Rashief safe houses in the area. "They say that dwarf dog that works for Quicksilver's been sniffing around a handful of the Big Five's agents and contacts. Wouldn't surprise me if he approached Tam about something only to have him tell Thron to sod off. If Quicksilver is the man I think he is, there's no way he'd let something like that go."

"I dunno... seems a little aggressive for him." Replied Knives as he stole a glance over his shoulder back at the scene where the soldiers had finally managed to remove Mick's bloody remains from the wall, though the crowd had only grown since the two rogues had vacated the scene.

"Aggressive? Boy don't know nothin' yet 'bout aggresive." Scoffed Nails as he stopped and leaned against the wall as he pulled out a pipe and began to prepare to smoke it, now confident that they were no longer in ear-shot of anyone not in the confidence of the Rashief Clan.

"Whatcha mean Nails?"

"I mean that this whole business with Mister Tam is only the beginning. Word has it that Quicksilver is after the entirety of the Lower City, which means he's gotta go through each of the Big Five to get what he wants." Nail explained through a long puff on his black wooden pipe as he looked up at the taller Knives, a grim look in his cold, blue eyes. "That means a whole lot of bloodshed is to be comin'. The Big Five won't give up their ownership of the Lower City without a fight."

"That they won't my dear Nails." Echoed a voice from down the opposite way of the alley that the two partners had come walking into the space from. "That they won't. And for that, I require allies."

With a start, Nails dropped his pipe immediately and went for the disguised weapons within his coat, preparing to draw and hurl them at a target in a heartbeat as he shifted his attention to the direction of the newcomers. Dressed a fine black overcoat with a dark blue shirt and a pair of plain black breeches, it was impossible not to recognize Quicksilver the Rogue almost instantaneously for the gray, borderline silver, hair that hung about his shoulders and the ravenous golden eyes that the stories had told so much about. Drawing out a trio of long spikes from his coat and taking measure of the distance between him and his perspective target, Nails could hear his associate Knives draw his trademark weapon and felt his back press against the younger man's back as they stood in a defensive position. That, he assumed, meant that they were soundly surrounded and that there stood another opponent on the opposite side of the alleyway.

"At ease, Rashief enforcers. I have not come to fight you." Laughed Maelkur as he pretended to be Quicksilver, a pair of cutlasses strapped to his belt. After a period of thought, Maelkur had decided he enjoyed the kopesh enough that he wished to carry it with him when he was not guised as Quicksilver for he did not want a connection to form between the two. Instead, he'd popularized his image as a master of double swords just recently with the defeat of a reportedly skilled traveling swordsman. The mercenary's death was regrettable since he could have been useful to the House of Silver, but ultimately he served a much more useful purpose as a sacrificial lamb then anything else. "I have come to offer you a deal. I have heard much of you, enforcers Nails and Knives. You two are said to be some of the best the Rashief have on their payroll."

"We are. You'd have to be an idiot to attack us in broad daylight." Replied Nails defiantly.

"So I would. Which is, of course, why I have not attacked you. The only one here with weapons drawn are you, my good enforcers." Returned Maelkur with a shrug. It was true that neither he nor Thron, whom was the individual at the other end of the alleyway, had drawn weapons though it was clear that they were both armed. Quicksilver and his associates would never knowingly come into the territory of one of the Big Five without being armed. Such would be suicide. "Again, I have only come to talk. With you, naturally."

"We got no interest in whatever you've got to say, Quicksilver. Not after you murdered Mr. Tam!" Shouted Knives before Nails could respond, prompting the older rogue to give the former an elbow in the stomach. The last thing they needed to do was provoke the man whom was quickly becoming known as one of the most skilled swordsmen in the Lower City into a fight in an enclosed space. In such close quarters they would be dog meat for a skilled bladesman, even with the distance between them. Nails had heard about the fight between Thron Dead-eye and Quicksilver, how the rogue had traversed the distance between them in a split second and knocked Thron's pistol out of the way before the gunslinger could even get a shot off. Speed like that was terrifying in such a small space.

"Murdered? Mick Tam?" Replied Maelkur, his voice rife with mock surprise and manufactured horror. "I would never be so brash. We all know that, of course, nobody crossed the Rashief Clan and lives to tell the tale. Am I right, dear Thron?"

"O'course, Thief-lord. Nobody makes a Rashief bleed their own blood." Taunted Thron, a laugh rolling behind his words. It was quite clear by their manner that they had been behind Mick's killing, though they didn't admit to it right out it was painfully obvious.

"Nobody. Now! Of course, on to business..."

"You heard the kid, we don't want none of what you're sellin' Quicksilver." Hissed Nails, pulling back his throwing arm menacingly in a show that he was not afraid to fight the rumor-shrouded bladesman. In truth of course, Nails was terrified. This was an incredibly bad situation and though he knew Knives was not as concerned as he, it was only because the young thief did not understand the tactical disadvantage that Quicksilver had put them at. They didn't expect to be cornered or attacked on their own turf and had dropped their guard. That let Quicksilver put them into perfect positioning, him on the side with the ranged combatant thanks to his uncanny speed and ability to close distance and Thron Dead-eye, well known gunslinger and marksman, on the side with the knife-fighter whom didn't have enough combat sense to know how to close distance with a gunslinger fast enough to keep the accurate weapons of the dwarf from killing him where he stood. "Nor to we want to be bodies in the gutter, so speak your piece and be along with yourself."

"Ah, some pragmatism. Good to see. Your friend Mr. Tam was not nearly as accommodating." Said Maelkur with a twisted grin. "As you know, I am rapidly coming to power in the Lower City. The House of Silver gains allies with each day, some of which are even within your own house. Just because Mr. Tam refused us does not mean that others did as well. Your former superior makes an excellent example that I can, and will, kill whomever I wish within the power structure of the guilds that opposes me. But I am a fair man and am always welcoming of those whom wish to see sense and join the winning side. Should you desire such an opportunity, do feel free to come see me at the Lizard's Den. I would be happy to discuss some of the finer details of your guild in exchange for your lives and some good drink. Do think about it."

And with that, Quicksilver turned and began to leave. Just like that, the Thief-Lord of the House of Silver turned his back on one of the most deadly men in the Lower City with throwing spikes without halt or fear of doing so. So simple a fact did not escape Nails, nor did it do anything to lessen his abject terror at the situation they had just been in. The cool demeanor that Quicksilver had possessed, his absolute confidence... he was either immensely skilled, was in traffic with enormously powerful allies, or was completely, totally, and absolutely insane. In any of those cases, it made the Lord of the House of Silver incredibly dangerous and suddenly Nails the Rogue, Enforcer Elite of the Rashief Clan was thankful to simply still be breathing. Turning to look up at Knives, Nails noted that the young man was watching Quicksilver go as well which meant that either Thron had departed as well or that Knives was simply stupid. Shifting a bit to see down the other way in the alley, Nails confirmed the former of the two possibilities. Thron too had departed almost immediately though Nails had not seen which way the dwarven gun-for-hire had disappeared to.

"We're lucky to be alive, aren't we Nails?" Asked Knives, his voice barely above a whisper. It was then that Nails realized he must have looked much more shaken up then he realized and then wrangled his expression as best he could. "Don't sugar coat it for me... how close to death were we there?"

"Kid, we just stared Death right in the face. And he decided not to kill us, for some reason." Replied the older thief as he turned and pulled Knives forward down the alley in the direction Quicksilver had left in. He wanted to get off the street and into a Rashief house as soon as possible to escape more possible ambushes. He had not been aware that Quicksilver was so able to go where he pleased in the daylight without detection or opposition. That meant that the Thief-lord could be almost anywhere. Above all else, above his speed and skill with a sword and above his rapidly growing gang of followers, Nails feared that aspect of the Thief-lord the most. It meant that almost no-where was safe and that things were a hundred times more serious then he had originally assumed. It also meant that the bloodshed he had been explaining about to Knives earlier would be coming very, very soon.

Advancements
+3 Wp

[FlyingPinkPony]

Approved. And congrats you just got your +1 to word count. Now everyone should have one.

[Forte]

"Thron."

Snapping his eyes open, the lieutenant turned Thief-lord of the House of Silver's blood ran frigid cold at the sound of that voice filling his room at the Lizard's Den. It had almost been six months since anyone had seen or heard from Quicksilver in person as the rogue had disappeared some time ago with the instruction to Thron to "hold down the fort" while he was away. Since then the rapid power gain of the House of Silver had evened off and though none made any public moves against them due to the ever present myth of the former Thief-lord's return, the possibility at being wiped out by any of the Big Five grew more and more likely each day that Quicksilver did not show himself publicly. By now Thron had assumed the man... elf... demon? The thought of Quicksilver's heritage crossed Thron's mind for a moment and he wiped away the sweat from his brow as he sat up in bed slowly. At any rate, he'd thought the Thief-lord dead for nearly two months and had publicly assumed the mantle of the Thief-lord a week ago. That of course had revealed that Quicksilver was dead or deposed... and to that end they had come under attack by the Big Five. Things were grim for the House of Silver.

"Get out of bed you lout." Came the haunting voice of the former Thief-lord from... where? It seemed to come from all around him at once which only continued to frighten the already shaken Thron. There were few things that could scare the gunslinger as could the enigmatic Quicksilver. "I have a job for you, Thief-lord."

Thief-lord? Thought Thron as he slid out of bed and rapidly dressed himself for confrontation. Quicksilver or at least someone using Quicksilver's voice had just acknoledged him as the Thief-lord of the House of Silver. What was going on? For a moment Thron considered if this was some sort of trick but immediately ditched that line of thinking. It wasn't simply his voice; it was his presence as well. The unsettling feeling that always sat in the bottom of his stomach whenever he was in the same room as Quicksilver. Even though Quicksilver was widely considered a beautiful person, there was something about him that scared Thron instinctively. And that scared him more than anything else about the man.

Turning back to the darkness of his room, Thron's eyes went wide as he beheld two entities that had not been there before. One was robed in a black cloak complete with dull gilded trimming and the other... was strange. He looked the size of a human being but he wore completely dark armor but no weapons with his face concealed behind a featureless mask.

"What's this sorcery?" Barked Thron, his bravado overcoming his trepidation for a moment as he narrowed his eyes at the newcomers that seemed to have appeared out of the darkness itself.

"Save your fire, little dwarf." Responded the voice of Quicksilver as the cloaked individual shifted a little bit and turned to face Thron, revealing himself to be the owner of that unsettlingly calm voice. "I will need it."

"Been gone a long time." Remarked Thron as he leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms as he did. Many would take this as the gunslinger simply making himself comfortable, but Maelkur knew Thron just as well as Thron did. The crafty old dwarf was considering whether or not to try and draw to shoot him dead. It was written in the dwarf's eyes; he was trying to feel out Quicksilver to see if he was the real deal. Quicksilver had been the only person to ever close distance with him and remove his pistol from the equation so rapidly he hadn't been able to fire effectively on his enemy and in this enclosed space he wouldn't even have a chance to yell if Quicksilver decided to end him. But if it wasn't him... if it was anyone else... they wouldn't have a hope of dodging the bullet at this range. "Maybe we don't want ye back."

"That would be a shame." Smiled Quicksilver, ever patient with his words as he grinned from behind the cowl that was pulled around his face. Seeing Thron relax, he assumed that the dwarf had decided not to chance it but Thron knew just fine that this was the real Quicksilver sitting before him. No one else in all the realms had the same eyes as the Thief-lord. Nobody. Not even the House Lords of the Big Five or any of the crazy Chaos fanatics that had been taking to the streets lately. "Especially considering the new allies I have found. They call themselves House Balor'ai. Are you familiar?

"Sounds like a damned elf name." Replied Thron, his coarse words towards the reference of an elf not lost on the ears of Quicksilver though the elf-turned-vampire let them go. After all, he wasn't an elf anymore.

"Ever perceptive. Dark Elf, to be precise." Chuckled Quicksilver with a motion towards the masked fellow, a lithe and relatively short individual-- Thron could only guess at how many weapons were hidden on the fighter's person. He could spot three but they were well hidden. Silently he wondered just where the Thief-lord had found these new "allies" and why he thought he could trust them. "This one's name is Kedakai, I believe. He will serve you in your capacity as Thief-lord, Thron."

"What about ye?" Responded the dwarf almost instinctively. Was Maelkur being serious? Was he simply letting him keep the Thief-lord title and the House of Silver that it ruled by proxy?

"Oh, do not doubt. You are still mine just as the House of Silver is. Just as House Balor'ai is now. Quicksilver remarked with the same predatory grin that he always wore when revealing something of interest to Thron. How he hated that smirk. "Kedakai is both servant and master to you; he will follow your orders but never forget whom he truly serves and speaks for. I still have various business which keeps me from dealing with things in person here... though I assume that you will have this business with the Big Five dealt with by the time of my return."

"It'll take more ta fight a war with tha' Big Five than some daisy elves. Even if they be dark ones."

"I assure you that your estimations of their worth are inaccurate." The statement had been soft but true in every sense of the term. Maelkur had battled the Druchii before, both in life and in undeath. Mostly recently in undeath. "Grossly so."

"So say tha' I take ye back." Coughed the dwarf as he closed his eyes, moving off of the subject of the murderous elves and onto other things... more specifically his particular promotion that he'd seemingly received. "Will ye take tha' title back when ye decide to return to us?"

Silence was all that answered Thron. As he opened his eyes, both the mysterious Maelkur and his Dark Elf associate were gone with no trace of ever having been there... save for a large and brutal knife that now protruded from Thron's headboard. He hadn't heard it get thrown nor had he witnessed the move that had placed the knife there. With a reserved sigh and a frustrated scowl, Thron wondered if he'd ever be free of the frustratingly enigmatic ways of Quicksilver and his ilk.

---

Standing atop the inn where Thron kept his room, Maelkur looked out across the Lower City and grinned. He had taken some time off in his ascent to the top which had left many in the city wondering if Quicksilver had been all talk and lost his nerve. That, of course, was the furthest thing from true. He had simply discovered something that was much more important than completing and holding a foothold in the city; a rogue house of Dark Elf warriors. Having discovered that a house of Dark Elves which had gone rogue from the nation of Naggaroth, the Vampire-elf had immediately desired their loyalty. He did not want their allegiance, he wanted them to serve him. That in itself was a tall order for a house of Dark Elves, perhaps the most notorious race for inter-species betrayal and murder in all the realms. Save of course for the humans of Chaos and of his own Vampire people whom were known to kill each other on a whim. He had killed a fair share of them in his battle for dominance over their small house which had come as a great disappointment to him. They were all skilled warriors and assassins, most skilled in a style of two-blade fighting that Maelkur himself preferred-- some in the ways of the draich-blade like the elf that stood beside him. Ultimately, Maelkur had sealed their loyalty to him using means that he wished never to have to repeat thanks to the toll it took on his regenerating form.

He had spent nearly all of his own unlife and magical power to cast the spell that had bound the Dark Elves into a pseudo-undeath which connected their existence to his own. If his unlife came to an end, so too would theirs. He knew that someday he would have to face the wrath of the vengeful house of Dark Elves that hated him for their bound servitude but that day was long from now, being that their sorceresses were dead and their casters taken from them by Maelkur; consumed so that he might survive the taxing cost of such a fell spell. Sadly it was not one that he was likely to replicate-- scrolls of casting were limited in their usages and Maelkur's master had only a small supply of the powerful items when he'd been destroyed. He considered the cost to his gain and had decided he was better off in the end; after all, he had a small clan of personal assassins drawn from the ranks of the most deadly assassins in all the realms.

"Kedakai." He intoned, his voice even but quiet as he called the assassin to his side. The Dark Elf did not reply, Maelkur knew this to be because the young elf loathed his master a great deal. He wished to cut the Vampire-elf's throat and destroy him but he knew he could not. The curse that had been set upon him and his family would prevent him from doing it directly as he could not bring himself to betray Maelkur in any way and even if he were to find a way to harm Maelkur... to do so would be to end his own life and with whatever goals he possessed uncompleted. Glories unrealized. Maelkur knew this and reveled in it. He relished the idea of Dark Elves being bound to a being which they hated so; the irony of it was simply delicious. However he planned to deliver on his promise that he'd made to the leader of the Balor'ai elves; he would bring them glory and bloodshed. They served him and while they did, he would provide them with things to kill, food to eat, and glory to be had. Perhaps he might even set them upon the shores of his former homeland someday. But those times were far from soon and for now the Necrach had other plans for the assassin's blades. Handing Kedakai a piece of cloth, Maelkur nodded towards the streets. "Prowl the night as you desire. Kill any wearing that crest but no others. Do not hide the remains. Our enemies think that we will no longer retaliate against aggression; show them they are wrong."

Watching the Dark Elf disappear into the night, his great sword strapped to his back, Maelkur recalled what it was like to be at the edge of that blade and did not envy the common rabble which would find themselves on the assassin's sword tonight for they would truly have no chance against him. If not for his magic, Maelkur himself would have had no chance. But then, that was the difference between mortals and immortals. As powerful as a swordsman might be, he would ever be inferior to one with the power to wield steel and the Winds at the same time. Perhaps he would teach the elf someday. With a smirk, Maelkur turned and dropped off of the roof-- disappearing into the night. It was something to consider.

+3 Ws

[FlyingPinkPony]

Approved and welcome back. Is this a sign perhaps you'll be going back to Kedakai?

[Forte]

Probably not, no but it I felt like it was a waste to just abandon the idea of House Balor'ai entirely.

[FlyingPinkPony]

Ah no worries. I thought perhaps the new Path of the Assassin had intrigued you.

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