The air reeks of salt and rot. The dark burlap over your head does nothing to block out the fall scent. If you would have to guess, you were in the pier area of Monsulla as the salt runoff from the mines is always amplified by the smell of the ocean and nowhere else is the smell of rotting wood so prominent.
One by one the sound of the burlap being removed from the heads of your peers gets ever closer to you and then suddenly you can see again. It is dim light, you appear to be in a warehouse, and light comes in through the slat walls and the cracks in the roof. Several torches burn and there is a brazier several feet in front of you giving off a pleasant aroma along with the basic woodsmoke.
There are ten in the line, total and you feel as if you’ve just awoken from a very pleasant dream, the last thing you remember is the previous night. And now you’re pretty sure of what is happening.
The man removing the burlap reaches the final bag and whips it aside, walking with a practiced gait, he stands behind the brazier in front of you all. His clothing is black and fine cut, practical and not gaudy. He wears a sword at his hip and a loose black hood rests about his shoulders. Appearing to be human and in his mid thirties he has a roguish brown beard trimmed neatly and tightly cropped swept back hair.
He speaks with a confident drawl, smooth and intelligent. ”Welcome Initiates, to the Shadow Syndicate.” he spreads his arms wide and bows his head slightly.
Reaching into his waistcoat, he pulls out some papers, they appear to be files. ”Yes, yes. They did say that this crop was promising, and very few would need to be weeded out. And I must say that you all have quite impressive resumes. I feel blessed by the Dark Ones to be assigned as your Commander. My name is Darkheart Joran. I am pleased that you all received my letter of invitation. And now that you've been delivered to me we can begin our initial briefing and training.”
He begins to pace about, perusing the files in his hands occasionally looking up to glance at whomever he happened to be reading about.
While the bag was still on his head Virgil will attempt to see if Dryden, his robot, was with him (or otherwise within 1500 ft) using their telapathic bond.
When the bag is removed he immiedietly checks to see if he has his mace with him, but makes no threatning moves beyond that, simply methodically observing the area.
She blinks a few times, the light form the brazier was bright. She kept still just looking at Darkheart Joran, studding him. Her body seemed still static. She focused her mind, she could feel there minds close. She readed unseen. her internal mental a physical defences went up as he talked. She showed no sign of doing anything at all, but now she could feel the minds around her, some anger, some hope, some happy some worry some cold and hard, good who was who she did not know yet, it was all a mix bag of feelings.
yes she had got the letter, the last part of a very protracted correspondence with the TSS, now she was her, the 1st step up the hill.
Well she was hoping the others with her where not fools or madmen, that was all that really mattered at the moment. Living through this and passing the tests.
She had no moved, she was still and but her mind it was out and about taking in all around her. Standing Nobly with and air on complete concentration on what was going off around her.
::What can you see Hexqin, report what happened?::
She projected to here Psicystal.
::You where taken in your sleep and placed in a locked vehicle, total darkness, unknown location. They carried us in a larger sack into here, nothing to report. Unseen faces and others. They placed you in a line witch gos left to right, you are 3ed along from the left, there is more than one TSS member here, others are unseen with in this location if they are still here Mistress.::
Its thin male voice sounded in her head.
::So you sow next to nothing::
::Correct Mistress::
::Keep a look out behind, I do not wished to be jumped taken like that again. Next time do you job better or I will smash you and make a new helper::
::Yes Mistress::
She was thinking now and what this all meant and the training talked of.
Powers she uses with no sign of use.
Conceal Thoughts 0pp
Internal armor 3 hours, 1pp
Empathy 30mins 0pp
Know location and Direction 0pp
Alexi stands quietly in line, taking in everything that he can see and hear around him. He glances at the man, Joran, and takes a glimpse of the others around him. The shadow syndicate. he thought. Well this is a nice happening.
Alexander blinks his eyes quickly as he becomes accustomed to the light. Even from darkness the dim light hits his pale blue eyes. "Surely the sack wasn't necessary," he says trying to sound cheerful, "Oh, so the Dark Ones are real? not just legend I mean. I always figured that was something just to make the people fearful." He looks around and down the line of other 'initiates'. Some strange looking characters, this is the 'shadow' syndicate after all.
You are all relieved to find that your weapons and other belongings are about your person. You don't seem to be restrained in any way either.
There is little in the way of furniture in the warehouse, the floor is packed dirt and there is a wall with a door about twenty feet behind the brazier.
Joran, not an overly tall man, barely passing the five and a half foot mark, walks down the line and lays a hand on Alexander's shoulder. Speaking loud enough for all to hear. "Tsk.Tsk. It's simply policy Master Torov. If you knew how to find us before we were sure of your loyalty, that wouldn't be very clandestine of us now would it?" With a chuckle he takes a step back. "Of course the Dark Ones are real dear boy. Who do you think started the Syndicate? Our benefactors in shadow, the Lords and Ladies of Night. Who knows? If you're strong you may even live long enough to see one of them." at the last part he cheeses a grin as if the possibility of you surviving that long was a subtle and well thought out joke.
Even before the sack was removed Rileng had taken a stock of information that was only improved with his sight and full senses returned. As tall as he was, he was not easy to intimidate, not that his lean build made him imposing as it did dignified. His unique Tian-Chelix style played well to that as well showing a functionality with style that was not as overbearing with the subtle touches tian silks and design, unlike those made on the commonly haughty chelixian outfits often worn by the arrogant people. Still he thought it best to test the waters so to speak, a few papers hardly were enough to hold all his dirty little secrets. He could feel his pouch, a safe haven for some of the more dangerous secrets and his hidden wakizashi was still in place as was his crossbow. Not that he planned such a foolish thing as an attack but one did have to be prepared should events take a turn for the worst. Let it begin then, he took a clear shot at the floor and spat upon it as he licked the inside of his bottom lip.
"Modified Oil of Taggit, mixed with a memory modifying potion, and bit of refined Pesh to counteract that after taste as well as give that pleasantness. I don't know if I should be flattered at the expensive treatment or insulted that you thought I would not recognize it. I do own an alchemy shop after all. Which is why I know better then to ignore you if you had sent a simple escort."
Lady moved at last, the others where talking, let them she had other things on her mind. She pulled out of a pouch as small stool, opened it and sat down. Flexing her Black wings to keep them from getting dirty, She crossed her legs and placed her hands on her knees. There was a polite smile on her face.
::"Well nice to meet you, and another mindmage and a powerful one at that to get past my defiances. I see the TSS is leavening nothing to chance, your here to scan and read our minds. It find the spys and Infiltrators. I like that, to be honest I would have done the same. In fact I bet you have already read that in my mind. So what is it going to be, a show of power and intimidation? some kind of "Fear me I am doom" approach to my compliance or a more civilised discussion or the benefits and porks. I bet you have some dark doom secret waiting for us all? a privet joke with in the dark ones of how simple we must seem to you. I understand that, but it lacks class, it clacks elegance and I have a feeling they are more stutal than that. You have my compliance, you know what I want. Money, power and my Familys name back. So over to you."::
He stood up a little straighter at the touch. "I suppose any number of powerful characters could have started it. But now it does certainly make sense, though many don't believe it, or scare children with it." This was making him a little uncomfortable, hopefully whatever this man had planned here did not involve too much pain. "Not sure I would meet them if I had the choice."
Froth sat still and silent as his own sackcloth is removed. He opened his eyes slowly, and as he did a rush of flickering orange and red light reflected of the nearby surfaces as the fires behind his eyes reignited again.
Even before the hood was drawn away, the figure was difficult to make sense of; he stood the better part of 8 ft tall, and his skin was undercut with massive seams of thick, corded muscle. Each one of the man's arms were as thick around as you'd expect of a human strongman's waist.
Speaking of his arms, as massive as the man was, his arms were even larger, as though he had stolen them from a greater creature. The looked like they would fit better upon some sort of giant, for besides being disproportionately thick, they were too long by half, hanging down to just past his knees, making him look like some sort of strange ape.
His skin was dark and green; not the paler green of a half-orc, but a darker shade that would look grim on even a full blooded Orc. It seemed clear that Orcish must make up a good portion of his lineage, what it was that made up the rest must be a freakish monster indeed. Even before his hood was removed, a tail-like tentacle, or perhaps a tentacle-like tail, was visible emerging from his hind, with suckers lining the underside of it. When the hood is finally drawn back, a look at his face seems confirm a supernatural origin. Aside from flaming eyes, the thick yellow tusks that would normally grace an orc's jaw were instead thin and black, like the fangs of an oversized spider. Chitenous disks seem to pepper his face, neck, and arms, like a form of scaled armour.
Once freed of the hood, he took a slow sweeping look around the room before focusing on the man before the group of inductees. His voice starts out like a low growl; a rumble that seems to start deep in the earth before finally coalescing into an audible voice. Though his voice booms, it sounds like it might even be his version of a whisper. All he says is, "Took you long enough."
Mordren would take this all in stride, sorting through her memories in an attempt to remember how she was abducted. The light of the fire the last thing she could muster.
The dim light was a welcome comfort, and indeed regardless or even in spite of her current situation she was more at ease. She would then case her surroundings, her gaze passing over the others without pause until her eyes fell on the Darkheart, where they lingered as she admired this new specimen with a mixture of nerves and excitement.
"Ho ho. A chatty bunch aren't we." Joran chuckled. "But to business." he takes out a copy of a pamphlet that seems familiar, the welcoming brochure you had all found on your person several days ago.
"Now this is the most information we TSS are comfortable with falling into the hands of the public should someone fail to comply with instructions." Joran says idly turning the page in his hand over.
"But let's do a quick review, and then expand on the expectations of the company." Joran's voice is disturbingly friendly and cheerful for the setting. He strikes you as someone who genuinely enjoys this part of his job.
"First of all, we operate in the shadows, Exposure threatens us all. Now of course this is a bit more complicated than it sounds, since even cooperative action by a state or city against TSS is not really a threat to the Dark Ones themselves or the higher ranking members of the Syndicate. It is however a threat to our business relationships and to yourselves should you jeopardize said relationships." He paces in front of you as he talks. "Might have to get you some disguise potions there big guy." he says slowing slightly in front of Froth.
"We do not fail. Self explanatory. We put lots of faith in our operatives, and we expect results. It's why we don't recruit hacks or normal men. The word of your supervisor, in this case good ol' Joran, is the word of the Dark Ones. Insubordination is a no no. We all know you're big and strong and could maybe beat me especially if you team up. I'll try not to do anything that earns that kind of ire, but some of you look like mean sons of b@%++es so if you feel the compulsion to end me, know that you end yourself as well." he chuckles and strokes a whisker.
"Onward, theft is encouraged. Hey people steal all the time, especially in Monsulla. So long as it doesn't get in way of your objectives, feel free to supplement your incomes. Just don't steal from us, I mean it's really the same as stealing from yourself if you do anyways. Prove yourself useful and we'll give you more than you could hope to steal from us. Betrayal is not ok, if you feel that you can't keep quiet talk to me after this, and we'll make sure that you can. Violate any of these and you forfeit your employment." The implied meaning of loss of employment is clear in his voice.
He looks again to the page in his hand. He stops at the end of line in front of a young man. "Like Rojjad here. This is his brochure." "Rojjad" begins to look nervous his eyes darting back and forth. Joran continues, "How can this be you ask? We all destroyed ours as instructed. Well Rojjad here decided to sell his to an information broker that happens to be an associate of the Syndicate."
Joran dropped the pamphlet and faster than most could see his hand shot out towards Rojjad's head, his finger hooking into the man's mouth. With a quick jerk he forced Rojjad to the ground, the boy rolling to his back. With three quick and brutal stomps Joran crushed the boy's windpipe. The corpse shuttered and sputtered for a few seconds before lying still.
Letting out a sigh, Joran gestured to the body. "See? Termination. Tsk. Tsk. Not a good first day for Rojjad."
The boy had been stood next to her, she looked on as he was killed and into his dying eyes as he struggled for his last breath. There was no feeling in her look. The foolish died that was a fact of life, and after all he had only been a peasant. Then she looked down at her boot, notated some of the dead boys blood had splattered onto it. She calmly took out a small fine cloth and wiped her boot clean of blood and then but the cloth away again. She then for the 1st time looked over the line.
She has a look that can be read clearly by all
Any more fools here?
She then looked back at the Dark-heart to see what he would do next.
The human with the mace gives a wry grin as he says deadpan "no I would say it is not
Rileng didn't show a reaction, that short of thing was common on this island. In fact it was for most places he had been to in his life. If that was all it took to finish the boy off then he never had a chance to begin with. As to his actions, they were short sighted and stupid. Selling information on a major criminal organization, that was asking for a death sentence. He kept observing for the moment, Joran was giving him plenty of information. Not just about the syndicate but about himself to his analyzing mind.
Virgil looks over the dead body attempting to discern if it had anything of value he could nab.
For the 1st time the Lady spoke, by her perfect pronunciation and manner you can tell she is well educated and well spoken, every word drips upper class and Noble.
"Well Darkheart Joran and others, I think the show of force has made perspectively and fundamentally clear to any with half a brain the implications of TSS rule infraction. You demand the highest level of abidances and work diligence from your operatives and wish them to take their responsibility's on pain of death seriously. You company Moto could be Our operatives do not make the same mistake twice, we kill them the 1st time' Now as workers being given the lowest level of operative rank. As stated in the TSS pamphlet. O most helpful and thank you for that. But now I think we would really like to hear what you have to say on the 'other' benefits of STT membership. Would you be willing here and now to enlighten us new members of the company, what one gets with TSS member? such as Advancement opportunity's, contact sourcing, Project backing and funding, equipment appropriation, information collection and research, training?. The full carrot along with the stick as there is always more to work then just the pay and the threat of disaplne."
This is all said in a clear reasonable and logical voice, as if asking the time of day or about a boat ticket.
Alexi watches as Joran stomps the life out of the boy. His eyes were suddenly aflame with joy, and this brooding tiefling started to chuckle. The chuckle turned to hearty laughter. While he had previously seemed like a normal individual, the air around him changed. Suddenly, he was different. By all counts he now appeared....Psychotic.
Alexi smelled the air, the dark ashen hue of his chest rising and falling. As he brought his head back down to look at their host, his composure glistened with discipline, from his strong chest and legs, to his tall, thick horns.
"You are eager." he said smiling. "But your killing is sloppy. You must let their heart scream of fear before the slaughter."
Froth continues watching, barely blinking. His face is utterly emotionless, almost bored. He eyes the display without comment or reaction, merely remaining present.
Plain and simple so far. Tell no one, don't be found out. Profit.
Alexander hadn't killed anyone before neither had he seen anyone die so when the boy was mercilessly ended it was quite a shock to him but he said nothing.
Mordren looks on, the excitement turning more into an arousal as she watched and admired the ruthless efficiency of the Darkheart's movements. In her excitement, she finds herself leaning forward as if to get a closer look at the expired recruit. Fascination and wonder plain on her face now, she barely maintains her composure.
She seems to finally become aware of those around her as they comment in turn on the violent end of poor Rojjad. Whatever comments came to mind were kept close-lipped in favor of silent admiration. If the fool thought he could get away with such things here in such close proximity to their base of operations, he deserved much worse than death for his stupidity.
Mordren once again looked down on Rojjad's broken form, and wetted her lips with her tongue, the movement slow and sensual as she took the time to enjoy the sensation of it.
She raises and eyebrow as two her fellow recruits just about orgasm themselves over the killing in front of her.
One plays with the cards ones dealt
She thinks to herself and gos back to looking their TSS overseer
Her excitement is clear, yet impatience knocks and the words of the prim and proper winged Lady ring ever more prominent in her ears, Mordren begins to contemplate how best to move things along without provoking undue attention to herself. As attention could prove the sharpest of double-edged swords.
She would skim over her fellow recruits once more. Sizing up each one in her mind and determining how best she would approach any problems should they arise. Examining the Lady on her stool would spike some small jealousy at the sight of her wings.
Then her eyes inevitably fell on the youngest in the line, and she could not hold back her smile at the sight of him. Perhaps her time here could prove more fun than she ever dreamed.
Froth's bored eyes slowly sweep from one of his fellow initiates to the next.
Wow. Far more amateur than I would have thought, given the syndicate's reputation. This may require even more patience than I had anticipated.
As she picks up the emotions of the others she looks over at the Nightmare of Froth.
Now there is something that may be of use, I'm getting confidence to the point of megalomania.
Then over at young boy.
fear, but he must have a value or he would not be at our little evil self help meeting.
Now there is something I have not seen in a long time, Yes they would pick on of her race who's gone fully to the darker side, most useful.
she looks over the others,
As long as there are no more morons here, this looks like a group that could do possibly do great and terrible things.
::Mistress, If I may, your showing signs of feeling Excitement"::
With some surprise she realised she was starting feel that Emotion. No out would signs yet, her stuff upper lip was still intact. She would have to do something about this.
::"Thank you HexQin"
She said, good to know it was doing its job.
Well is a thing that had not happened in a long time. I whole Emotion how wonderful but
And for just a moment She held the feeling and then it was gone from her mind. Very much like a tinny fly being hit buy a mountain moving at great speed.
Always best to NOT mix work and pleasure.
Once more centred again, she uncrossed and recrossed her legs, while waiting on there TSS trainer come commander to talk next. As she did, with her hand she flicked off some imaginary dust feck from her knee.
::"So what have you found HexQin?::
::"Now direct danger Mistress other than Darkheart Joran and our eavesdropper Mama. If there are others they are out of sight. I would predict range weapons trained in us, poison and magic use. Darkheart Joran seems to have done this before and lived so he probably has his us covered. Of the group the aberrant orc is threat range 4 possibly 5. There seems to be a few mages but nothing active other than the one with the construct. I also place that one in threat range 4. Female fay looks an assassin again threat range 4 possibly 5. I will update as more is learned Mistress"::
Darkheart Joran, seemed to be analyzing you all as you react to the killing. He chuckles at Lady Z's logical response. "Very good my good lady. Yes advancement hmm. Now, once you reach the level of Darkheart you will be given the opportunity to choose a path within the Syndicate. You will then advance through the ranks along your chosen path. Our assassins, killers extraordinary, our quartermasters, for those of a magical aptitude, and our spies, for the sneaky intelligent types. Though you may all be kept within your unit if you wish, just with separate objectives and foci of individual growth. You will receive, initially, a flat rate salary of 500gp per mission. You can speak to our quartermasters to purchase equipment at a fair rate. The quartermasters also act as fences for anything you may steal in the field. For the time being, contacts and projects will be provided. You've not quite reached the level of being able to guide your own projects."
He takes a breath and snaps his fingers. The door in the back of the room opens up and several nondescript men lead out other hooded figures. You count one for each of you. They force one person to their knees before you. Their hoods are removed. Men and women are before you. They seem to have been beaten, and many of them are unable to stand. Their hands are bound and they look frightened.
Joran steps aside and his voice gets serious. "The one thing you must learn today is that foremost you are an instrument, and an instrument must perform, and what binds us together, is that we are all killers here."
He points to the captives in front of you. "You all must kill one."
Virgil raises one eyebrow at the order seems a tad wasteful, but when in Rome and all that rot he goes over to the prisoner directly on the other side of the human who just had his kill and plunges a knife into the poor sap to be murdered while he was distracted by the gory display
"I'm not exactly fond of making a mess but he'll bleed out fairly quickly, assuming he's not already dead, I knicked a major artery"
Lady Zanra Zamean dos not teen look at the kneeling man in front of her, She had other things on her mind along with killing a simple slave.
She nods at Darkheart Joran and says as she hears the others getting to work.
"Thank you Darkheart Joran, that is precisely the information I was seeking."
The slave in front of her rolled his eyes back,
"The 500 gold I take it is only paid on a fully successful mission"
Swayed then slumps to the ground.
"Its good to know you have a spy path for training."
he is still.
"I am myself will be very interested in that line of training"
She dos not even bother to look down, she knows he is dead.
To the world she never even looked at the man, never even moved, she had nothing to do with his death. She was just talking to Joran. She had never even got off her stool or uncrossed her legs.
Her body shakes with adrenaline as if from a severe chill. The Darkheart's words a pleasant song now in the background as she focuses on her new prey. A young woman, human and barely of age. The girl's eyes are glazed over and she can barely move, but manages to lift her terrified gaze to meet Mordren head on.
She had to admit, she admired this one's courage. But then all the joy and excitement left her expression, leaving behind only the cruel mask of an executioner.
Such things can never last.
Immediately Mordren draws her curve blade, the flexible steel ringing with murderous intent as it departs its sheath and what little light there was reflected off the surface of the blade. With smooth and deadly discipline, she lifts the girl's chin further with the tip of the blade, exposing the soft flesh of her victim's neck.
"Do you fear death?" With each word, light footsteps carried her forward with a predatory grace. The edge of her blade sliding along the girl's neck as she closes in. A single drop of blood seeps from a fresh wound, though shallow. Instantly Mordren's free hand bursts into black flame and she lunges for the girls throat, grasping tightly. As her hold is secured, the black shadow rushes into the young girl. The force of the blow, though effort was made to be minimal, momentarily lifted the girl from the floor.
The sounds of choking, and suffocation filled her senses, sating her lust for cruel domination. She relaxed her grip enough that the girl may respond. Yet moments pass, and all that can be seen or heard is the pale visage of one who faces their end, sickened with fear.
Mordren releases her hold on the wretch, and turns away. After only a step, she whirls in a flash, severing the girl's head even as she began to crumple with her weakness. Blood spews from the wound, saturating the ground beneath and as she returns to the line, business concluded, the words, "Such a waste." could be heard under her breath.
Froth continues looking on with his absent expression as some of the other initiates start dispatching their assigned targets. He eyes the woman in front of him, and wipes a tear off her face with the first knuckle of one massive paw.
Speaking to her gently he says, "Sorry luv; nothing personal. You can close your eyes if you like. This will be quick."
He closes her eyes with one hand before dropping it down to her neck. His massive, meaty hand completely envelopes her throat as he starts to squeeze. He squeezes her neck as opposed to her throat, so that instead of choking her, he cuts off all the blood to her head. Her eyes popped back open again as the pressure kicked in, and he forced them closed again with the other hand. "Shhhhh."
Within an instant, the strength left her, an she slumped in his grip. He held his grip even after the strength had left her, giving it enough time for the force of her pulse to stop beating against his palm. When it had, he lowered her gently to the ground.
"Yada, yada, test of loyalty crap to make sure no one is a plant, or some sort of goody goody trying to slip in on the sly. Good enough?"
"I hope that these people at least needed killing. Rounding people up off the street might serve the same purpose in the short term, but it attracts unnecessary attention."
Rileng seemed to fold his arms as his hands disappeared into his loose sleeves, a common aspect of tian robes.
"I don't kill people without reason, never been so much as suspected of a crime and I intend to keep it that way. I have no solid reason to trust everyone here, so it makes no sense to commit murder in front of witnesses. Your position guarantee's support from the syndicate, someone yet to even be a recruit would not be extended that support would they? If you want tools you can make them, if you want agents you have to recruit them. Unthinking blades that do as their told without question will only cut both ways. Becoming pawns to be used by any that can fool them, a simple task for some. That boy you killed showed the same foolishness your asking of me. I am disinclined to accept your request without at very least a modicum of reason and assurance of no consequence."
He wanted the word of the syndicate, in the underworld those that did not keep their word did not last long. Regardless of power, if your word counted for nothing you would have no business and endless enemies. The syndicate kept their word from what he heard, so he would have it. Less they think to use this act against him or Joran had other more personal plans for the budding crop as he saw them. He could fully understand their motives for these deaths, not that he agreed with them. Some had already voiced their own theories. Not that he had any problems with killing, it was a matter of survival after all in one form or another. But senseless killing was just sloppy and such reasons as pleasure were childish to him. A simple bodily response easily duplicated in countless ways.
Should Darkheart Joran give even the slightest hint of a signal or hostile intent towards him, his trained eyes pick it up and he moves in a blur. His wakizashi freeing itself from it's hiding place in his wrist sheath, his robes disorienting those observing. He was not the fastest but he was faster then most and he made clever use of surprise and distraction. Something that even the most trained warriors and killers could not easily remove from their natures was hesitation. Those tiny moments that all took for granted were what he prized and strove for, they were the differences that made up life and death. Fate and destiny were all moments and he would rid himself of them while taking them from others. That moment of speed was the doom of the unlucky victim he had been presented with, his blade was not of these lands. His blade was of tian, where sharpness was an all consuming art. Skin, muscle, and even bone did not hold his blade. Something that the less refined blades of these lands could not know.
To those that bothered to look, it had seemed as if he had fallen forward and caught himself half way towards the ground. His leading leg slightly bent. He straightened, his blade already hidden once more, and took a step back in place, for a step had been all that was needed. His victim had not felt the cut much less seen it, if their ears were sharp they may have heard a whisper as the very air parted before it. But even then they would not know, they were gone from this world. Their was no mark, no blood, no decapitation. Not until someone touched the body or some small disturbance like a forceful wind came. Then the skull would split in two and blood would flow freely. He would be sure to keep out of the path, if others could not. Then they had none but themselves to blame.
Annoyance tickled at her focus as more and more of these "recruits" complained and placed wholly too much philosophy on death and the deliverance of it. She did not know how many of these children came here with prior interest in the Syndicate, but she couldn't imagine there were many considering their words were both childish and hypocritical. As Darkheart Joran stated, this is an organization. The bond we share is murder.
If you are so uncomfortable with their methods, then fall on your own blades to save others the time.
Really, what point is there in asking why or demanding protection when you are in no position to do so? Regardless of our individual skills, we were all abducted and brought here against our will. If we value our lives, simply submit and see what the future brings instead of stalling the inevitable and wasting all of our time when we could be much more productive.
However, the possibility that Joran could be yanking them along for his personal agenda was not something she had yet to rule out, and remained vigilant. Her blade still in her hand, blood dripping down from it's keen edge, she swept the dark curtain of her raven black hair aside with the other to better show her distaste. Her expression was of pity and boredom. It is a good thing for them that the Syndicate has ruled against betrayal. There are already a few individuals Mordren would love to sink her blade into. Or her teeth, as her gaze once again paused over the young human. Then to rest finally on Joran.
Two, three, four, five, six, seven... Alexander watches the bodies pile up. So many in one day but he just stood there and swallowed back that creeping fear that he might be in too deep. He wasn't physically cut to fight and knew he would end up much like the first boy if something went wrong here. But he was here and if he wanted to live then he knew what he had to do.
He picks the one who he deems to be the oldest feeling he wasn't taking as much life from one already long lived. He held out his right hand towards him and spoke the secret phrase he had learnt from the hidden knowledges of the libraries he loved to explore. Electricity leapt from his fingertips and through the skull of the man. To Alexander it seemed to last for hours before it stopped and the body fell forward to the ground. He looked to Joran, "He's dead. The lightning is weak but stops weak hearts well enough." He stepped back into line with the others with only 1 thought on his mind. Murderer. The helpless is dead. There was no going back for him now.
Alexi looks to the bound stranger in front of him. Waiting. Waiting for the tension to rise, to boil over with fear in his captives eyes. Slowly he approached, before kneeling in front of the scared man. Alexi simply looked at him, measuring his mark. He spoke.
"Are you afraid to die? You have been captured, beaten, imprisoned, silenced, and blinded. Now, you sit before us clouded in fear. I want you to breathe, deeply. Enjoy your last breath, your last sight. So I can send you to death, in terror."
Alexi stretched his back and chest, preparing to strike. He takes his familiar stance , and plunges his hand sharply into the captives chest, groping, and then tearing the still beating heart from within. Then just as the captive starts to falter, Alexi crushes the heart in his grasp.
Lady Zamean's locked eyes with Mordren as she looked at her, The lady did not blink or waver from her gaze. Mordren was looking at her form but Zanra was looking back in a deeper way, past the flesh at the feelings being formed under it. The look is cold, like someone looking at the results of a science experiment and then seeking to classify them. Then it is gone, Zamean looks away her mind moving on to other things.
::Report::
::"Seven subjects. 1st, Young human male, single swing of greatsword to right shoulder leading to death of target subject, extensive clean up needed, clean kill, threat range 3 to 4, 2ed, Older human male with construct, logical targeted knife cut leading to death of target subject, some clean up needed, clean kill, knows anatomy, threat range 3 to 4, 3ed Shadow fay female, cut then beheading with psychopathic overtones, extensive clean up needed, unclean kill, threat range 4 to 5, 4th Aberrant orc, throttling, leading to death of target subject, minimum clean up needed, clean kill, threat range 5 to 6, 5th unknown tieflings sub-race Male, no date, target subject still alive. Unknown clean up needed, no kill. 6th Human mage, targeted spell, minimum clean up needed, clean kill, 7th Male, Tiefling, Hearth removal with psychopathic overtones, extensive clean up needed, clean kill, threat range 4 to 5. Assessment, extensive clean up needed of scene, recommend magic use for clean up and body disposal estimated time 3 to 10 minuets, with out magic assistance 15 to 30 minuets, end report"::
Wile the others where thinking of themselves and their actions alone, Lady Zamean had moved on, they had been told they where to be a group
so they needed to think like one to get the best results.
Well lets get them thinking on that shall we"
::Give Verbal status report, body disposal and clean up operative 8 commence.::
As she sits looking at her darkheart, A voice comes form her belt, its thin, lifeless and crystalline in nature.
"Status report, scene clean up, 7 subjects dead, 1 subjects living, of subjects, 3, extensive clean up needed, 1, miner clean up needed, 3, minimum clean up needed, 1 living. Estimated time for clean up and clearance. Prime, use of fire and relocation, estimated time needed 3 to 30 minuets for full combustion. If physical removal from scene required, 2 operatives look out role, 4 operatives carrying and clean up, 1 operative transport acquisition, 1 operatives prisoner oversight. estimated time needed 10 to 50 minuets, end report."
She looked around at the others and at the space itself seeing into the darkness what was there.
Mordren's attention turns to the elf and the strange new voice. Her bright eyes narrow as it lists off status messages. Her attention then turns to the one survivor.
"Perhaps you misheard, but the Darkheart has ordered this man's death."
One step would bring her forward, just enough that the stubborn and she felt, foolish recruit could see her. How such a person as he was extended such an honor as joining the Syndicate baffled her.
"If you want reason, you only need look so far as there."
She raises her sword arm, indicating with her blade the fool that which he had mentioned himself lying dead on the floor.
"Reason enough to kill a stranger, no? I also highly doubt the remaining individuals here would be so foolish as to make the same mistake as he."