Frost 34th, 4621
"Truly, Rathor?" Asked the wiry, ragged human, not of the local dialect. "You'll... You'll make this monster pay?"
"His death is my own reward," Arkash answered with a flick of his reptilian lips. "This surely isn't the first time he's struck a family like yours... This isn't the first boy he's..." He ended with a trail, there wasn't a need to stir any more pain in the man's heart. When his misty gaze met the haggard man's teary eyes, he already knew he'd said too much. "All I need is something of his belongings, a scrap of clothing, an item he kept on his person, something that's bound to carry his scent. If you have that, I can make this monster disappear."
The pained gaze of the grieving father warped with some dark, twisted fury. His nose curled below his dark brown eyes, and he reached into his bag to retrieve a smaller jacket, fashioned from burlap. That pain in his gaze lingered while Arkash flicked his tongue, swabbing the air for the smell of old blood, which was plentiful around the collar of the garment. "...Right here," he indicated with a finger to the back of the shirt. "He spat here when he was... When he was done with him."
Arkash accepted the garment with a curl of his claws and watched the human's quivering features while he quietly sobbed. "His last words will break his throat in a ragged scream," Arkash promised. "Your son will be avenged, you have my word."
To make a man disappear, for most, was no mean feat. The regular process took hours of digging, hacking, dragging, and cleaning. Removing witnesses was also a tricky part if the assassin couldn't want to wait for the correct moment to strike.
Arkash didn't fall into that trap often, however. For the most part, he erred on the side of caution and followed his target for days at a time if he could. If there was a time that he could catch his target with just one or two others, he could just eliminate them all in one fell swoop. Wasn't that morally dubious? Even more so than killing for power? In the eyes of the young Rath, men hat sided with the unhinged tyrants of the world were no better than the unhinged tyrants.
He felt no remorse for the companions of his targets, much less the targets themselves.
His most recent target, he'd been following all the way from Amoren. There was no space in the journey where he'd caught the man in a space that wasn't totally public, where he'd have to fell a few dozen others who weren't even guilty by association just to erase the stain.
Boghadar, a city built at the foot of a mountain range with plentiful flowing bodies of water to break up the streets, was to where he'd followed his target. Arkash, dressed in his fine Ententeattire, clung to sidewalks and street corners while he passively pursued his target. There wasn't even a single moment in the city where the man had wandered into a quiet street. If anything, he appeared to be checking each corner he came across. Was he evaluating his next move? Checking for the safest places to be? Did he know he was being followed?
Did he know there was a price on his head?
The light of Arkash's misty eyes twinkled while his human lips pulled in a cruel grin. Amond was his name, a practitioner of Bane and Mentalism. The order of his death was placed for his alleged abuse and murder of a young boy. He was no Veir or any level of Entente, but the family he'd attacked was foreign to Daravin, and thus unprotected by the arm of the law. The law didn't apply to the likes of Arkash.
Evil was evil, regardless of what dictators and tyrants declared.
If his target knew he was being followed, that only meant Arkash was in for a chance to crush the will of another. This man, Amond, would break in two.
As Arkash turned the corner of a quiet street, however, he saw the target slip into one of the buildings along the dirt road. it was some sort of public venue with a plain beige exterior and a green tiled roof that stretched back into some part of the city that was obscured by other houses in the row. Arkash furrowed his brow, then began his approach.
"Truly, Rathor?" Asked the wiry, ragged human, not of the local dialect. "You'll... You'll make this monster pay?"
"His death is my own reward," Arkash answered with a flick of his reptilian lips. "This surely isn't the first time he's struck a family like yours... This isn't the first boy he's..." He ended with a trail, there wasn't a need to stir any more pain in the man's heart. When his misty gaze met the haggard man's teary eyes, he already knew he'd said too much. "All I need is something of his belongings, a scrap of clothing, an item he kept on his person, something that's bound to carry his scent. If you have that, I can make this monster disappear."
The pained gaze of the grieving father warped with some dark, twisted fury. His nose curled below his dark brown eyes, and he reached into his bag to retrieve a smaller jacket, fashioned from burlap. That pain in his gaze lingered while Arkash flicked his tongue, swabbing the air for the smell of old blood, which was plentiful around the collar of the garment. "...Right here," he indicated with a finger to the back of the shirt. "He spat here when he was... When he was done with him."
Arkash accepted the garment with a curl of his claws and watched the human's quivering features while he quietly sobbed. "His last words will break his throat in a ragged scream," Arkash promised. "Your son will be avenged, you have my word."
To make a man disappear, for most, was no mean feat. The regular process took hours of digging, hacking, dragging, and cleaning. Removing witnesses was also a tricky part if the assassin couldn't want to wait for the correct moment to strike.
Arkash didn't fall into that trap often, however. For the most part, he erred on the side of caution and followed his target for days at a time if he could. If there was a time that he could catch his target with just one or two others, he could just eliminate them all in one fell swoop. Wasn't that morally dubious? Even more so than killing for power? In the eyes of the young Rath, men hat sided with the unhinged tyrants of the world were no better than the unhinged tyrants.
He felt no remorse for the companions of his targets, much less the targets themselves.
His most recent target, he'd been following all the way from Amoren. There was no space in the journey where he'd caught the man in a space that wasn't totally public, where he'd have to fell a few dozen others who weren't even guilty by association just to erase the stain.
Boghadar, a city built at the foot of a mountain range with plentiful flowing bodies of water to break up the streets, was to where he'd followed his target. Arkash, dressed in his fine Ententeattire, clung to sidewalks and street corners while he passively pursued his target. There wasn't even a single moment in the city where the man had wandered into a quiet street. If anything, he appeared to be checking each corner he came across. Was he evaluating his next move? Checking for the safest places to be? Did he know he was being followed?
Did he know there was a price on his head?
The light of Arkash's misty eyes twinkled while his human lips pulled in a cruel grin. Amond was his name, a practitioner of Bane and Mentalism. The order of his death was placed for his alleged abuse and murder of a young boy. He was no Veir or any level of Entente, but the family he'd attacked was foreign to Daravin, and thus unprotected by the arm of the law. The law didn't apply to the likes of Arkash.
Evil was evil, regardless of what dictators and tyrants declared.
If his target knew he was being followed, that only meant Arkash was in for a chance to crush the will of another. This man, Amond, would break in two.
As Arkash turned the corner of a quiet street, however, he saw the target slip into one of the buildings along the dirt road. it was some sort of public venue with a plain beige exterior and a green tiled roof that stretched back into some part of the city that was obscured by other houses in the row. Arkash furrowed his brow, then began his approach.
