Blood and Honor: The Legend of Kade

[firo]

A squirt of blood raised up from the throat of a young Elven man as his throat was slashed, splashing against the wall nearest him and upon the face of his murderer. “Mmm, tasty blood.” The murderer whispered as he threw the man down into the mud. A streak of blood ran from his lips up in a diagonal form to the left side of his face. He licked his lips again then turned around to hear the footsteps of his pursuers. He was being chased, but there was no reason he couldn’t take the time to kill an innocent in an ally as the guards chased him, he was ridiculously, even by his own thoughts, good at escaping. The man ran down the alley, the footsteps of the guards’ right behind him. He kicked off a wall and grabbed a bar that stuck out of another, pulled himself atop it and leaped up to grasp an edge of a balcony across the alley and shimmied himself up. He turned around and looked into the ally at the guards, and smiled. “Thank you, brothers. I will be spreading my art and talents all over for the next week or so. I do so hope you catch the next show.” He cackled at the four men as they tried to follow his path, feebly. He stayed on the balcony casually, knowing he’d have some time before the guards made it around the building and to where he was standing. He called his murder an art, and he meant it. Not many could so gracefully take a life and enjoy every second of it, from the very thought of it to the escape. “Fel,” he thought, “Escaping is part of the art too.” He looked down to the alley and laughed, “Stupid fucking guards.”

Screams came from inside the building; the guards pushed their way past the citizens to get to Valeric. One in particular guard was leading the pack. He was a built, strong man, muscular as a Troll. Without mercy he pushed all those in his path aside, seething hatred for Valeric. “This time you’re mine, Valeric!” The man cackled in excitement, finally he was going to get that murderous escape artist, or so he thought.

Valeric was still out of the guard’s sight, but not earshot, and so her returned the challenge in a playful tone. “You couldn’t catch a cold in a snow storm, Captain!” He laughed and jumped over the balcony and grabbed an edge. The underside was curved, as if half a sphere, with decorations. He shimmied down the decorations until he couldn’t reach anymore. He would be unseen unless the guards leaned dangerously over the edge of the balcony. He clung on tightly, only his hands holding him up from a dangerous fall. The pack over his shoulder and the small pockets at his waist were heavy, and not making it easy, but he knew he had enough strength to last a while before the toll would be great enough for him to fall.

The Captain had stopped at the doorway, sending the other guards through. He hated Valeric with a passion. Valeric was the only one to escape him, and he was tired of it. The man always had an escape route, but the balcony was high up and getting down would not be as easy. He stayed at the door to ensure that once Valeric pushed passed the guards, for surely he would, he would be ready for him. He returned the conversation, trying to keep Valeric off his guard as the guards came rushing through the door, “I see you took my warning from before! I told you using my name was bad luck!” The Captain’s name was Merrian. He despised the name and preferred Captain as a greeting and any other sort of identification. He listened, but there was no reply from Valeric, “Chaotic!” He screamed. Though still no reply was heard.

The guards searched the balcony, making sure Valeric was not pressed against any of the walls that connected in the design. “He is not here, Captain!” The pointed their spears and swords in every direction to make sure Valeric could not slip past them as the captain came out.

“What do you mean, he’s not there?!” The Captain pushed onto the balcony and searched around for the murderer. “Damn it!” He stomped and swore. ‘Not again’ he thought. “How did he get away?!” He stomped again, making the balcony rumble.

The dust from underneath the balcony had shaken from the stomps, working its way into Valeric nose. He struggled for moments to hold it back, but he couldn’t and let out a low sneeze. He bit his lip, hoping it wasn’t loud enough to catch anyone’s attention.

As the Captain started to walk off the balcony, his ears twitched. He turned and walked back out, looking over the balcony’s edge. “I know you are here, Valeric Chaotic.” He grabbed one of the guards and held him over the edge, “Is he there?!” Much to the Captain’s pleasure the man yelled a conformation. “Then go get him, fool!” Enraged, he pushed the man all the way over and let go, letting him fall.

Valeric watched the man fall to his death as his head was split open. He laughed, “Trying to upstage me, Captain?! Come now, your art will never be as good as mine!” He kept his grip on the balcony, laughing, but trying to figure out how to get down.

“Keep laughing, Valeric.” The Captain had ordered his guards to grab barrels of oil from the building. Most kept some for burning braziers for light and cooking. If poured onto the edge slowly, it would grip the sphere shape and slowly trickle down to Valeric. “They call you many names. ‘Engineer of Death’, ‘Acrobat Murderer’, ‘The Nether’s Escape Artist’ and some others. Did you know this?” He started pouring the oil over.

Valeric’s ego was only boosted at this and he laughed. “You forgot Blood Drinking Maniac!” Valeric was fond of this name, merely because the Captain had called him it after vomiting from seeing Valeric lick up some blood from one of his victims. Valeric was by no means a vampire, nor demon, or any other sort of other-worldly creature. He was just an elf, same as any other, save for the fact that he liked the taste of blood and thought killing was an art. He knew he was crazy, or at least not normal, by standards. Nobles indulged themselves in wine and shows, he indulged in blood and murders, in his eyes, he was the same as them, just liked the thrill of more illegal activities. He spotted the oil running down the underside of the balcony where he hung and sighed, ‘now or never, then’, he thought as the oil began running down his arms.

The Captain held back his vomit, thinking of that night where Valeric was on hands and knees, as if ready to spring away from danger, but head down, lapping at the blood spewing from the throat of a young female mage. He regained his posture and spoke again, “I never heard anything about being fire proof.” He threw down a torch onto the oil at these words.

The fire rushed down the oil, but Valeric had let go just before it had engulfed his hands. He hit the ground with a crack and grunted a bit, but held his smirk for the Captain. “Congratulations, Merrian, you made me break my ankle. I bet this will help though.” Obviously it would do nothing for his injury, but he wanted to scare the Captain. He ran his finger slowly through the blood of the man the Captain had ‘accidentally’ killed, getting the tip of his finger covered in blood. He made sure the Captain was watching and he wiped the blood from his finger onto his tongue, licking it clean, “Mmm, thanks Merrian, he was quite the tasteful one.”

The Captain turned away, even from the other guards and vomited. This was obviously something he found quite disturbing. He stood back up and wiped the tears from his eyes from vomiting only to watch Valeric stumble quickly away and around the corner. He pushed the guards and yelled, “Well, go get him you idiots!” The Captain followed quickly behind the guards.

Valeric stumbled away and toward a building he knew he would be safe in. He thought about the Captain and began to laugh. “Stupid fucking guards.”

[firo]

An abundance of feathers exploded into the room as a knife crashed into a pillow. “Oopsie...” The young priestess, barely into the age of adulthood giggled as she pulled the knife from the pillow. “I can’t heal a pillow…” She said rather sad, looking at the knife. She didn’t like being a priestess, she wanted to be a front line fighter, to be in the action, but instead she was forced to heal wounds and cure the sick.

A knock on the door to the room where the girl was staying, was heard. “Miss Brightfairer, are you in there? Oh, Angela?” The much older voice was calling for the young girl, trying to open the locked door.

“Yes, Madam Saria! One moment!” Angela scurried around to pick up the feathers and try to stuff them in the pillow. Before she was done however the door was swung open, the older priestess starting at her. “I am sorry, Madam! I can expla-“ She was cut off by the older woman holding her hand up.

Madam Saria smiled as she motioned for silence and the young one did so, “Playing with knives again, my sweet child? Warriors use swords you know.” She only joked, knowing Angela was nowhere near strong enough to properly wield a blade, nor was she allowed using one as a priestess. “Do not worry, dear. I do not mind, do be careful though.” She cleared her throat, “You may come in now.” She spoke louder, as if to catch the attention of someone in the hall. She nodded as a young man limped into the room. “I would like you to take care of him, and let him use your room; you may stay in the upper lounge.” Madam Saria then nodded to the man and left.

Angela was pleased, it was tradition in her academy to give an injured patient the room of a priest or priestess in training and allow the trainee into the lounge. There the other priests and priestesses would give full access to the young one and the trainee would no longer be a trainee, but a full-fledged priest or priestess. Angela looked upon the man, he was tall and scruffy. His hair fell very messily over his face, wavy brown hair that covered most of his eyes, but didn’t block his vision. His face held a small beard, a thin layer of hair that covered his jaw, some of his cheeks and upper lip. All-in-all he wasn’t so bad, Angela figured he would be rather good looking with a shower and grooming. Her eyes however, caught his. They seemed, bright, vibrant, yet almost sad, as if an artist that lost his motivation for work. She could not help but lose herself for a moment in those eyes. She shook her head and eyed the rest of him, skinny, but toned, an athletic build. He had a bag swung over one shoulder and bulging pockets at his waist. She looked back at his face and smiled, “You may stay here until you feel you are ready to leave, Sir.” She pointed to a small room off to the side of the one they were in. “That’s the shower and restroom.” She clasped her hands together, waiting for the man to be ready so she could go up to the lounge.

The man looked through the hair in his eyes and limped toward the woman and tilted his head, as if examining her. He was amazed at how she caught his eyes, beautiful, a word he thought he’d never use. He wasn’t normally attracted to anyone at all, but he could not help himself to want her. She was petite, shorter than most women, skinnier too. He knew by no means was she any sort of perfect beauty the nobles would like. Her proportions were small, but he figured she would be innocent and not some cheep prostitute he would have to deal with. “Thanks miss.” He was tired from limping all this way on his broken ankle and collapsed to the bed and passed out.

Angela sighed, the man being so close to her and then just passing out. “Well geeze, you’re welcome for the room.” She was professional and stripped him down without even a blush. She threw a towel over his waist and began to wrap his ankle in bandage. It was clearly broken, and she noticed him limping when he walked. She cast a few healing spells on it and made sure the bandage was tight. “There, should be better early tomorrow.” She spoke to his unconscious body. When she was done she locked the door and closed it as she left.

“So, who was the worg child?” A voice joked behind Angela. The woman was blonde, like Angela, same body, same looks, it was her twin. “Did you touch him when you stripped him? I heard him pass out.” She giggled.

“No! You’re like a lady of the night, I swear Era!” She tried to hide her blush by beginning her walk toward the lounge she wasn’t really attracted to the man. “He wasn’t even attractive; it was only his eyes…” She thought about those eyes for a moment more, and then shook her head. She quickened her pace to the lounge. Her sister followed closely behind, they were both being accepted today.

“Thank you, Angela, for waiting.” She looked at her sister, who had stopped and looked back at Era. “I heard you declined becoming a priestess until I was ready, thank you.” She lowered her eyes and began following her sister again. Era was not a skilled with the light as Angela was. She was the jealous type and it did aggravate her, but she couldn’t be mad at someone so dear to her, and one who cared for her so much, she’d decline a promotion for her.

Angela merely nodded at her sister’s words then stopped at the door to the lounge. She sighed to release any nervousness and opened the door. Inside waited all the priests and priestesses for the two. The both were greeted, hugged, cheek kissed and celebrated. Angela was known for her sweet innocent nature, Era was less than likely to ever be a priestess if it wasn’t for her sister. The two sat down with the others and stories were brought up.

“I remember when Angela was but a little girl and she healed a deer she found in the back!” One priestess said. “Remember that time she healed little Venir after he scrapped his knee?” Chuckled another. “Era helped his brother that same day!” A priest’s voice this time.

Era had blushed at that, remembering Venir’s brother. The boy had injured his hand when they were kids, but Era couldn’t heal his hand all the way, she could only stop the bleeding. Angela was the one that healed his hand, but Era kissed him soon after. When the priests saw the boy after his injury being reported, he was next to Era and told her thank you. From then on, she was always trying to be as good as Angela. She did get better, but many times she asked for Angela’s assistance. “Yes, well, maybe it is time to rest.” She was trying to get away from the attention. Feeling guilty at her own and jealous towards Angela’s.

Angela nodded, “Yes, I agree. I need to go check on my patient.” She quickly gave thanks to everyone and scurried out of the room. Casually, now that she was alone, she walked to her old room. She grabbed a glass bowl with warm water and some towels on the way. As she stopped at her door, she knocked once and then twice, though no answer was given. She walked into the room, her eyes widening as they caught his waist.

The man was just getting out of the shower as she woman stepped in. He saw where her eyes were staring and he slowly put on his towel, starting from the back, finishing in the front to cover himself. “Can I help you, miss?” He tightened the towel so it wouldn’t fall and ran his fingers through his hair to comb it back.

She hesitated for a minute and stuttered for words. “I-I… Y-you...” She cleared her throat and calmed herself. “Forgive me, sir. I heard no answer.” Her eyes slowly traveled up his body to his face. He had shaven, leaving only stubble on his jaw and lip. His eyes were still those desirable artist’s eyes, but as he threw his hair back and she gazed upon his features, she was in shock. The bowl fell from her hands and shattered at her feet. “Y-you’re… Valeric Chaotic.” She was horrified at first, but those eyes said he would not hurt her, she didn’t know why, but she trusted she was safe. She stepped over the glass and closed and locked the door. “What are you doing here?!”

Valeric laughed, “Priests and Priestesses own this place, it is a sanctuary. I am safe here, even if they find out who I am.” He looked about, but his clothes were gone. Luckily his bag and pocket pouch were still here. “Where are my clothes? Did you take them? And who are you?” Valeric was getting inquisitive; he wasn’t used to talking to anyone, just killing them. It was the first time he spoke to a woman in a very long time.

She blushed, “I am Angela Brightfairer, Mr. Chaotic. Your clothes must have been taken by a cleaner while you were in the shower. There are some leather made clothes in the drawer behind you, if you’d like them. They should fit you.” She listens outside the door by pressing her ear t it for a moment then looks back, eyes widening again and blushing deeply. He had dropped the towel and started to work his way into the pants. She shook her head again, “There is something you should know, Mr. Chaotic. They will not keep you safe here. You are the most wanted man in the city, Captain Merrian instructed us to keep no sanctuary for you.”

Valeric slipped into the pants and began putting in a shirt, not looking to her when he spoke, “Stupid fucking guards.” He got fully clothed and looked to her, “I just need a window, I can get out of here.” He heard the voices outside the door and walked over to his bag rummaging through it and pulling out a small bomb, “Maybe I’ll make a window.”

Angela gasped and went to hold the bomb against his hand, “No! I can get you out of here.” She let go of his hand and ran to a wall and began tapping around. She found a spot and pushed against it and struggled to pull it open, but did. A small part of the wall opened to a compartment. “In here, it leads outside.”

Valeric grabbed all this things and crawled on the bed to where the secret compartment was, then turned his head to her, still unsure why he was attracted to her. “Why are you helping me?” He looked into her eyes.

Angela blushed and shook her head. “Your eyes, they don’t look like they want to hurt anyone when you look at me. They look, like an artist’s eyes.”

Valeric’s gaze shot to the door as someone knocked and called her name. He turned back to her and looked into her eyes, “My art is death.” He pressed his lips to hers for a moment then crawled into the compartment.

Angela sighed in content and closed the compartment door and sat on the bed. ‘Death is his art?’ she thought, ‘I’d let you kill just to see those eyes. I can revive those that aren’t gone for long anyway, right?’ She gasped and stood up, speaking allowed this time. “What am I thinking?!” She wiped her lips and ran to the door, to tell whoever was there about Valeric. She opened the door and Madam Saria was there, “Madam Saria! That man who was here, h-he, w-wa... w-was… he was…” She was too frightened and confused to speak.

Madam Saria raised a brow frightened for the girl, “What Angela, what was he?”

Angela shook her head, “He was feeling better, Madam, so I let him go.” She closed the door without letting the Madam respond and crawled into the bed and began to cry. She was unsure of what she was feeling. She couldn’t love a man that killed without mercy, who drank the blood of his victims. Even if she could get past it, what if he got tired of her and wanted to kill her? No, his eyes told her he would never hurt her. Even so, she was a priestess; she was not to love unless it was lasting love. Her head was spinning with thoughts and questions. Her consciousness wavered as her tears poured from her eyes; she yawned against the pouts and fell asleep.

[firo]

Valeric ran the tips of two fingers through the blood that was pooling around a torso that was severed from the lower half of the body. Valeric looked about, the torso was, for the most part, intact, but the lower half was separated into many pieces. He sighed and wiped the blood onto his tongue. He wasn’t too fond of making a mess of kills, but he wasn’t about to play clean up, the guards could do that, it was one of their friends anyway. “You are quite delicious, my friend.” He mocked the corpse as he wiped another finger full of blood onto his tongue. “If you would have just let me slit your throat like I wanted, I wouldn’t have had to use my bomb.” He laughed.

Valeric was rather skilled in engineering, or at least in making bombs. He sat over the edge of a tall building in Stormwind where the guard was patrolling the roof, much to his delight, since he could kill without the trouble of witnesses. The bomb was small, not enough to destroy a building made by the humans, but if placed right, easily enough to harm flesh. The guard was giving Valeric trouble and had even landed a few blows to his face, despite Valeric’s skills in acrobatics and flexibility. Though a young race, humans were quite annoying.

Valeric suddenly stopped licking at his fingers, the blood soaked tips still hovered in front of his lips. His eyes stared off into the distance, into the sky, focusing on nothingness. An image of the girl he had met at the priest academy flashed in his head. Why did she help him? His mind raced at such a question, and even more at another: Why did he kiss her? He enjoyed that kiss, and wouldn’t mind another, but he wasn’t about to go out of his way and ruin his artwork for it.

Valeric then stood up, cleaning off his fingers and walked along the roof of the building, looking at his kill. He preferred to slit the throats of his victims and let them fall as gravity would take them, their lying position the work of art he had so sadistically mastered. Kills like this human guard, severed limbs and broken corpses, were by no means a failed bit of art, however. He didn’t mind new styles of art when he got the chance to create it. The only problem was he had to leave a mark to ensure that everyone knew it was his, and not another random killer, since it was not his normal modus operandi. He took a hammer and chisel from the pack he wore over his shoulder and quietly carved into the roof, his family symbol, an erupting volcano. As per usual, he filled the carving with blood from his victim to make it impossible to miss, and he was done.

Valeric stepped to the edge of the building where nothing more than a small alley, about a ten foot gap, and a steep drop separated him from the next building. He stepped off the edge, pulling his knees to him and leaning to press his feet to the wall. The friction from his feet against the wall slowed his fall as he slid down the building. When he was a few yard above the level of the building across the alley, he pushed off the building jumped the gap, landing feet first on the roof to the building. The only problem to this method was, other than the small sting in his legs, that citizens were not allowed on the roofs, and landing as he did surely made a thud the residents would hear. Valeric took off running across the rooftops, staying where the roofs were level so he wouldn’t have to alert anyone to where he was. When he came to the building's edge that bordered the river flowing through the town, he turned and jumped onto the buildings trellis, climbing down the slats and through the vines until he could drop to his feet, and casually walk down the street to his next destination.

Valeric was not recognized in Stormwind yet. They knew who he was, but no one has been able to catch a glimpse of his face to make a portrait for a wanted poster. He was able to walk freely through the human town, at least as freely as an elf could, seeing as many humans didn’t like them. There was one however, that knew him well, his human friend Raine. Valeric turned down an alley in what were basically the slums of Stormwind and slipped into a crevice in a rundown building. Inside was an empty room with a ceiling low enough that Valeric had to crouch while in the room. The ceiling was actually a second story in the building, and there was only one way in. In one quick motion Valeric pulled out some lock picking tools and unlatched a small lock that was in the corner of the room, on the ceiling. He swung upon a trap door, but in doing so, he heard the click of a gun. Valeric took out a pendant that he carried in his bag, a ruby pendant with and erupting volcano design etched into it, and tossed it to the upper floor.

“Ahh, Valeric. Come on in.” The voice spoke softly. The man was Raine, Valeric’s supplier. He watched Valeric climb in, close the door and pick up his pendant. “What can I do for you today, my Elven friend?” He owned a small shop, known only to the most notorious killers and thieves. Raine sold a variety of items, from rogue tools to bomb parts. Raine often sold parts to Valeric for his ‘artwork’ bombs, as well as gave the elf advice in social matters. “And sorry for the gun, saw some guards sneaking around earlier, don’t want to be found.”

Valeric was skilled in making bombs, but there were some things he just couldn’t make, and so Raine allowed Valeric to buy those parts so he could keep working on his art. He waved off the threat of the weapon and answered quickly. “Just a few parts Raine, and an answer.” He pointed out some of the need parts to Raine and packed them up. When Raine was turned back to him, Valeric looked him into the eyes, “I met a girl. I kissed her, but I don’t know why and when I looked at her, my passion for my art faded. I felt like wanted to stop for her. Why?”

Raine raised a brow and held back a laugh, if only for the fact that he wanted to keep the place quiet. An elf, easily at least one hundred and fifty years, maybe two hundred years in age didn’t know what love was? ‘What a sad fool’, Raine had thought. “You really need to start talking to people more before you taste their blood, my friend. You are in love, fool. Stop wasting your time here, go see her again! But wait!” He held out his hand to stop Valeric, and smirked, curiosity getting the better of him. “Who is she? Some other rogue you had a rivalry with? Or someone who wanted the same kill as you, and you let her have it? Do tell.”

Valeric sighed and shook his head, if only his situation was that easy. “She is a priestess of Silvermoon, Raine.” He watched Raine’s eyes widen in shock and knew that the man had realized his situation was complicated. Just before Valeric left, Raine told him that there was a man in the library that had a job for him, he nodded and slipped out the door and back to the main streets. “In love? I can’t be in love. My artwork is my love.”

Valeric headed toward the Stormwind library, he loved killing and he thought he might as well get paid to do it when he could. On the streets, still in the slums, he saw a human woman, short, blonde and skinny. He thought he’d try an experiment, to test if he truly was in love. This woman looked like a human version of the priestess that had helped him. Valeric ran up to her and spoke with a tone as honest as he could get. “Miss, may I kiss you?”

The human raised a brow and looked at him as if he was insane. “What makes you think I would let the lips of an elf touch mine?” She mocked him and spit at his feet.

Valeric grunted, he wasn’t about to waste his time trying to socialize, he punched her in the stomach, grabbed her throat and pressed his lips to hers. He sighed as he pulled his lips away, the kiss made him feel nothing; it wasn’t something he wanted like the kiss with the priestess. As the girl hacked and tried to catch her breath, Valeric pulled out his knife and quickly slashed it across her throat. He grabbed her hair and pulled her up, taking a mouthful of her blood and letting her drop. He drank the blood that was in his mouth and cleaned himself up. “Fuck, even that was unsatisfying.” He left the body where it was and headed to the library. Along the way he saw two or three more people he could have easily killed, but his mind was far too focused on the priestess to kill and escape.

Valeric stepped into the Library of Stormwind, staring in slight awe at its size. He strode up and down the aisles looking for the man Raine had told him about. As he was looking around, a human warrior walked up to him and asked his name, “That would depend on who was asking and how much money they had on them.” This was his normal response for someone asking his name; never would he outright say it, for anyone could be a bounty hunter. One of the things Valeric was cautious about was bounty hunters, serial murderers and known assassins both had large bounties, Valeric just happened to be both.

“I am the one Raine told you about, Valer-“ The man was cut off by Valeric covering his mouth to stop his from saying the name, no threatening actions were made though, Valeric was smart, and wanted no attention. “Forgive me.” He spoke again after the hand was removed, in a whisper now. “Captain Merrian has put Silvermoon on lockdown because of you. You won’t be able to get back in, and I’m sure you would like to. We like to see the Elven population on the lower side, and seeing as you take care of that for us, we never had to do it ourselves. We want to help you get back in, and continue your art. However, there are a few we would like you to take care of as well. There is an Academy of the Light that holds a priest and his daughter that are a bit of a nuisance to one of our friends there. She would like them taken care of.”

Valeric shook his head, he wanted no part of this. “I don’t take jobs in Silvermoon. I only kill there for fun.” Valeric would not take jobs in Silvermoon, and he made it known to his clients. He would have to kill half of Silvermoon if he did, with all the racist humans. He wasn’t about to help put his race near extinction for money, the damn Trolls were doing it for free. He then raised a brow in curiosity. “What academy?”

The man smiled, hoping Valeric was indeed interested. “The one in the southern district. We have a contact there that dislikes the Head Priest and his daughter. I am sure a young woman like her tastes good.” Everyone knew Valeric obsession with drinking blood, he had hoped this would persuade him.

Valeric quickly snatched the man’s money pouch that hung from his belt. The southern academy was where the priestess he was so apparently in love with resided. “Very well. Consider the Head Priest a dead priest.” He wasn’t doing this job for the money, nor the taste of sweet blood, but to meet that priestess again. He wanted to tell her he loved her, wanted another kiss. Without another word he sprinted out of the library and through Stormwind, flipping about, jumping up and down buildings, doing what it took to get to Silvermoon as fast as possible, to see his beloved priestess.

[firo]

Valeric sat upon a branch in a tree residing just outside Silvermoon City. His eyes danced slowly back and forth, watching the guards that patrolled the rooftops and the gates. As his foot swung idly to and fro, he waited for the warrior’s promise of getting him back into the city to do his job. As his patience started to wear, he saw the guards’ patterns weakening. After a few short moments, he saw his window of opportunity. He grabbed his bag swung off the tree branch, landing on the ground and sprinting toward the city. He didn’t know what the warrior had done to thin the guards, but he doubted it would last very long, so he took his chance when he saw it. The lowered gates were only for true décor, he easily slipped through the bars. As he ran down the path to the open city, he clung to the wall and stuck to the shadows, slipping into corners and crevices when a patrol patted near him. When through the main gateway and into the opening to the city he swiftly jumped onto another trellis and climbed to an unoccupied rooftop, pausing his agile movements to stare at his new field of vision, planning his route. It was a clear shot to the academy, save for two minor details. First off there were two guards on the rooftops. The second problem was that even if he did kill those guards before they noticed him, there were patrols that would find them before he could get his job done, and if that happened, Captain Merrian would surely lock down the area tighter than usual.

Valeric crawled up to the small building opposite side the first guard was patrolling; it was the last spot he could hide before taking the path. Once on his set course he would have to take down both guards before they spotted him. His task was not easy, but his mind was on the priestess, he didn’t care if his mission was failed, he just wanted to see her. He leapt up the wall and ran his course. As he passed one guard, he didn’t bother to stop, he continued running along his path and dodged the swing of the guard’s sword. At the edge of the building he reached under his sleeve and slipped a small knife between his fingers. As he hit the edge of the building he kicked off and jumped in the air with a spin. At halfway around, he threw his arm out.

The guard rushed toward him with all his speed but suddenly stopped in his tacks. Blood began to gush from his neck, streaming out and down his armor. His eyes focused wearily on the man that had so easily shortened his life to a few more seconds. He dropped to his knees and watched Valeric complete his three hundred sixty degree spin. He fell forward and hit the ground, as the blood pooled around his body, he sighed at his last breath left, and died.

Valeric smirked as he watched the guard’s eyes stare at him and slowly close. He saw the man begging to drop to his knees, but he didn’t want to take the time to watch the man die, he landed back upon his feet and dashed off, as if the whole sequence was one delicate and planned maneuver, which is most certainly was. Valeric reached behind his back as he ran and pulled out a straight blade that was the length of the small of his back and thin enough to hide under his belt. The blade split in two, one for each hand, hilts in hand and blades stretched behind him. He bounded up the short wall and again kicked off the edge. This time the guard was patting on a small roofed building and Valeric would have been unable to dodge an attack from his target. Valeric came down onto the guard’s shoulders with a quick chuckle, before the guard could raise his sword he bent forward and slammed the blades through the chest of his target. Upon doing so, he flipped off the guard’s shoulders and dragged the blades up, slicing open the guard’s chest up to the neck and pulling out the blades. He quickly turned and wiped both sides of the blades again the man’s clothing, placed them back under his belt and took off toward the academy.

Angela paced back and forth in her room in the upper area of the academy. Her sister has asked her to stay in the academy as she went out to get her something. ‘Probably a gift for helping her’, she thought. She was getting restless and her mind kept wandering to Valeric. She couldn’t get the man out of her head, she admired his skill with a blade, his strong ability to take a life without feeling any pain at all, but she also resented it. She always wanted to be able to go out and be in the front lines of fighting, not staying back and healing. She wasn’t a sweet little girl that wanted no one to get hurt; she’d gladly take a life. She was, however, brought up as a priestess, and taking a life was reserved for enemies, thus she couldn’t stand his murders of innocents, or at least, she didn’t think she could. “Light damn him and his tricks on my mind.” His eyes kept flashing in her mind, those eyes of a lonely artist. With a quick spin, she stopped her pacing and fell onto her bed and sighed, almost grunting, angered at her indecision on what to do. Unable to get comfortable she rolled on the bed until falling off, though she caught herself on her feet. The sun shone rather brightly in the window, so she walked over and opened it, resting her elbows on the seal and looking out at the city.

Valeric ran across the rooftops at full speed, bounding and leaping off ledges and up building faces. Finally after what seemed like forever, but was only a few minutes, he reached the building across the academy. “I can make that jump…” Valeric almost doubted himself as he stared at the distance between him and the window he needed to enter. It was only obvious that this window belonged to the head priest. It was high up and much larger than the others. Right leg back, left bent, hand supporting himself on the roof, Valeric was ready to jump. His eyes focused on that window, his mind judging his movements. A long silent breath fell from his lips and then he ran, full speed, the arch of his foot kicking off the edge of the building. As he flew the air, his arms stretched out, as if diving into water, and then bent at the elbow to cover his face.

With a crash, the window shattered against his weight, cutting his arms and head, as well as leaving minor scrapes along his torso and legs. As he hit the ground Valeric rolled and pulled out his blades from under his belt. Blood began to run down his face from the cuts on his head, but it was nothing major, he just made sure it didn’t impede his vision. As his eyes darted around the room, he saw it was empty, but he heard the footsteps rushing down the hall toward the room. He walked up to the door and slammed one of the blades into the wall next to it, about neck height. The other was held in his hand so the blade pressed against the back of his arm, as if he was hiding it.

The door swung open and a woman walked in, perfect height for the trap. Valeric grabbed her and pulled her toward him, the blade cutting through her throat and taking the woman’s head clean off, all unseen by her follower who only heard a quick scream. The man following her was his mark, and despite wanting to see the priestess, he was going to toy with the man.

“If I were you, Priest man, I would start saying my last prayer.” He slammed the door shut and jammed the other blade into it, making it impossible to open. He took the other blade from the wall and licked the blood off it as he eyed his mark.

The priest seemed rather calm. Most elves he didn’t kill right away, just screamed, men and women, but he seemed to accept that he was about to die. “You should not have killed her. I know you came to kill me, Mr. Chaotic.” The priest walked over to the woman’s body and knelt down. The head was not far, he reached to close the still open eyes and sigh. There was nothing he could do with the head severed. “I do not know who sent you to kill me, but I ask, as a final request, to find out, no matter how long it may take you, and them. Not for me, but because I know they want you to kill my daughter as well.” The priest had two daughters, in fact, but he wouldn’t risk telling him that. “Nel’kaden Brightfairer, is my name.” The man stood and faced his death. “So, if any Elven heart beats in you, you will feel guilt.”

“Guilt isn’t in my nature.” Valeric tilted his head just slightly, rather astonished at this man’s calm demeanor. “But if helps before you die.. I’ll kill the asshole that hired me, I don’t really like killing kids. So I guess I should punish him for making me do dirty work.” With that, Valeric’s arm rose in a flash, the blade slicing clean through the man’s neck. With mouth open, he swallowed down some blood that gushed from the wound just before the man fell to the floor.

After the removal of his blade from the door, Valeric began to look around the room in search for clues of the man’s daughter. Before he did too much, however, it hit him. “Brightfairer… Angela!” Valeric dashed out the window and shimmied his way to the roof. He remembered exactly where her room was. As he looked down the side of the wall to determine his destination however, he saw her slouching on the window seal just below him. “Convenient.” He whispered and carefully crawled down the stone wall, being as quiet as possible.

Angela sighed, not knowing where her sister was and having nothing to do. “Oh, Angela.” She spoke to herself. “Why do you miss him?” Suddenly her eyes popped open as the sweet lips she had tasted once before slammed against her, upside down. She backed up and stared at Valeric, hanging upside down in her window. “What are you doing here?!”

“I missed you too. Amongst other things.” With a drop from his position, Valeric caught himself on the bottom of the window and pulled himself into her room. “Angela, come with me. I was hired to kill you.” He held out his hand to the priestess.

She backed up a bit, but felt no real danger. “You were hired to kill me and you want me to go with you?” She was trying to pay attention, but her fingers touched her lips gently, still thinking about that kiss. “Are you mad, Valeric?” Why was she talking to him on a first name basis? ‘You aren’t in love with this man!’ She yelled at herself in her thoughts, though she knew it was untrue.

“That’s not what I meant! Come with me, Angela. Whoever hired me wants you dead. They knew my skills, and they were able to get me back into the city. They will not stop until you are dead. I do not want that.”

Angela sighed, knowing she had no time to react, or maybe she didn’t need any. Either way, she walked to the man, and wrapped her arms around him. “Alright, Valeric. Take me.” Upon saying such, the two turned their heads toward each other and shared a true kiss.

Era stood outside the door, cracked open as she listened to them talk. She had already checked on her father. ‘You did half the job, now kill her!’ She thought to herself. She was the human’s contact. She hired Valeric to kill Angela and her father. Her blood boiled in rage as she saw them kiss. She wanted Valeric for herself when the deed was done. She thought he would teach her, after she’d tell him it was all her. But he fell for the naïve one!

As Valeric took Angela out the window and down the building and sprint away, Era watched it all. She wanted revenge, she didn’t care how long it would take, she would get Valeric one way or another, and be rid of her ‘oh-so-perfect’ sister.