Out of the Shadows

Subject: Out of the Shadows Sat Nov 29, 2008 7:47 pm

The swamps of the Eastern Region were, as a rule, dark and damp, most swamps are though, so that’s not what made them so unlike any other swamp of Sadhadur. In the very middle of the swamp, hidden by spells, enchantments, and the general thickness of the trees was a massive city; The Black Market was composed of different booths, each selling something different in the illegal sense. But none of that mattered as the shadow slowly stepped onto the outer edges of the black market. It was non descript, silent, hardly noticeable by the inhabitants of the city, which is exactly what the being wanted. His mistress had ordered stealth when he went out to observe the city of Black Trades, not wanting to alert the other beings that they were being observed, constantly watched by the Shades that the Mistress commanded. She didn’t have an army of the evil beings, not by a long shot, only a little more than a handful of Shades were under her command, but they were the best possible guards and assassins any ruler could possibly ask for; they were also loyal to her, as well as the Emperor of Szadin. The Shade stared at the merchants for a moment before his body of nothingness started to walk forward, though it was more a glide than a walk; a confident glide. Stepping forward into a shadow, the shade simply disappeared, falling into the shadow.

Azralon paced about the great room of her rather large fortress, her booted feet making soft *thud* noises with each step. She had sent Marklon out an hour ago to observe the city, and the damnable shade had yet to return. Not that that wasn’t normal. Marklon had an annoying habit of getting lost in the shadows of other beings, feeding off of them for as long as possible and then moving onto the next creature. Annoying little bastard she thought bitterly as she stopped pacing the room made of stone,. There were great tapestries that hung along the walls depicting different images. Some were of swamp scenery, others were of people, on in particular was of the Mistress Azralon herself; it had been wove right after she had claimed the Eastern Region as her own. The tapestries were in between windows, great windows that went from the floor to the ceiling, different colors swirling in between the panes of glass magically. The rest of the room was pretty empty save for the very large wooden table in the center of the room which was covered in papers and maps and drawings and numerous other things. As Azralon stopped pacing she looked at the figures and drawings on the table muttering under her breath, apparently there was a bandit of… things… somewhere in the swamps that were breaking the code of the Black Market by stealing from Merchants and selling the items for a lesser value. Yes, the swamps were a place of thieves, thievery was accepted and applauded if you weren’t caught, but stealing from a merchant and then slaughtering them was absolutely not allowed. She would have to see to this matter immediately, and make an example of the little bastards.

Marklon appeared next to Azralon, his dark eyes glistening with the comfort of the feedings he had just had. Mistress, all is silent and well in the Market. There were two other killings this morning, both around the same time as the others.” Sighing, she shook her head to the shade, dismissing him without even speaking. The Shade bowed slightly and turned without another word, disappearing into the shadows.

“Of course… I’m going to have to go out and deal with this right now…” She muttered darkly to herself as she picked up the scrolls and maps, making them disappear in the twinkle of an eye. Lifting her hands, the vampire disappeared in a flash of dark light, deep red outlining the edges. Appearing outside the fortress, Azralon lifted her hands, murmuring silently under her breath as her home glowed a soft red, which slowly faded into the walls of the castle. Turning brusquely on her heel, Azralon made her way into the forest alone, her stride purposeful, aura clearly pissed off.

Guest

Insects crawled through the marsh and small amphibians hid in the dark murk of the swamps. A group of frightened merchants trudged along a barely noticable path through the darkness with a small wurm, carrying their merchandice, came slowly behind them. The swamp was filled with strange noises and sights so the travelers hadn't the slightest inkling that they were being followed.

Lashel padded stealthily through the undergrowth parallel to the path, knives and poison-filled vials jingleing quietly. A faint ray of sunlight caught his right shoulder-guard and reflected just enough to cause a merchant to stop dead and look in that direction. Lashel quickly fell to his belly and stared at the bewildered traveler. A soft whisper escaped from his lips, in an almost ethereal voice, to the man. "Be on your way."

Almost as if a trance had taken him, the merchant turned and ran to catch up with his group. Lashel grinned and continued his pursuit. This continued for almost a whole day before the band had reached their destination. The Black Market of the Eastern Region. Just before the trees broke, Lashel jumped out of the foliage and pulled a few weapons and small bags of jewels from the back of the wurm, but was back in the safety of the trees before the merchants even noticed.

Back in the relative safety of darkness, Lashel emptied his catch on the ground. "A few low grade swords and daggers. A yew bow with steel tipped arrows. Ooh... What do we have here?" Lashel's eyes widened ever so slightly as he held up rubies, diamonds and emeralds, but this moment barely lasted as they were identified as nothing but colored crystals. "Damn. I might be able to get a few coins off of an idiot or two for them." After putting the items back in sacks, Lashel quickly retreated into the underground caverns to rest.

Subject: Re: Out of the Shadows Thu Jan 01, 2009 12:09 am

Azralon walked along the dirt path along the outskirts of her fortress, the long brown cloak swishing noiselessly as her small brown booted feet made soft *squishing* noises in the wet dirt. Every so often she would stop, her head tilted to the side, almost as if she were listening for some unseen force. Her eyes, the entirety of them white, scanned the ground and then lifted, looking at the tree tops while her hands rested lightly on the black hilted sword that was always at her waist. A sudden sound forced the Mistress of the Eastern Region’s head to snap to the side, her eyes focusing and then unfocusing as she looked ahead, beyond what her normal eyesight could see. There was a wurm of traders, which wasn’t so unusual in her region; what was rather unusual was the… Was that a Drow? That followed them. With a swiftness that even an elf would envy, the Mistress leapt into the dense foliage off to the side of the path, her body nimbly, expertly, racing to the caravan.

Not a sound could be heard as the Vampire of secrets crept up on the Drow and caravan, her orangeish hair swishing this way and that as her booted feet made one, and then another step onto the road, following the follower. She couldn’t very well just apprehend him right then and there, Azralon had to watch, had to quietly observe, until it was obvious that this Drow was going to kill. The only thing outlawed in the land of outlaws was the murder of merchants.

She watched him take only a few items off of the merchants, and right away Azralon knew this wasn’t the being they were looking for. Oh no, the infidel the wanted was going around stealing everything the caravan had to offer, and then brutally killing the entire party. Sighing, the Vampiric Ruler was about to turn and leave when a thought struck her; she didn’t know who this Drow was, which was weird for her, Azralon knew of almost everyone in the entire Eastern Region, it was her job to know. Frowning lightly, she stepped off of the pathway, her feet barely touching the ground as she quickly followed after the Drow, dropping into the underground caverns. As her white eyes adjusted to the darkness, Azralon stepped forward, motioning to the Drow in a quiet, yet commanding voice. “Drow, stop where you stand. I would have a word with you.”

Guest

Lashel stopped in his tracks as a female voice echoed throughout the cavern. "Drow, stop where you stand. I would have a word with you." He lay the stolen wares on the dank floor and turned around slowly. The sight that greeted him was at the least, surprising. A female garbed in brown, and carrying a sword had followed him as far as underground. With a dull thud and a few clinks, the sacks carrying the stolen wares hit the dark floor.

The woman had followed him, and it was obvious that she was not to be trifled with. Lashel's black eyes flitted across her features in an attempt to find a chink in her armor, a weakness, anything. The dank air was quite difficult for a human to breathe, but the woman seemed to have little trouble. Lashel's keen eyes widened, ever slo slightly, and fixed on her lips as his follower gasped quietly, revealing two elongated teeth. "A vampire!"

He made a low sweeping bow, arm in, to the woman, and secretly grasped two small knives, imbued with holy energy. The odd scars on his body faintly radiated a deep red aura and he spoke in the ethereal voice that persuaded the merchant to walk on the path. "How... can I help you?"

Subject: Re: Out of the Shadows Thu Jan 01, 2009 3:57 am

Azralon stared for a moment at the Drow, her pure white eyes taking in everything about him. Her hands instinctively gripped her weapon tighter as she watched the Drow’s arm go in when he bowed. She wasn’t fooled though; Azralon had been around long enough to know better than to ever let her guard down; they didn’t call her the Mistress of Secrets and admonition for nothing. Taking a step forward, her shoulders square, her head held high, the vampire smiled, fully revealing her slightly elongated fangs, “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Azralon Draylia, ruler of the Eastern Region.” She nodded her head, knowing there was no need to bow to anyone save Szadek himself. Her long orangeish hair fell lightly across her face as the vampiric ruler pulled her hood down, revealing her pure white eyes and face of complete impassiveness.

“It is my job as ruler of the Eastern region to know every inhabitant of the area, which would explain my surprise when I watched a Drow, one I had never before seen, emerge from the forest to steal a few truffles from a caravan.” She motioned to the stolen goods on the floor at the Drow’s feet. They glowed a soft green for the barest of moments as Azralon lightly picked through the bag with her mind, a small snicker crossing her otherwise impassive face. “I must say Drow… That is not the best of findings in thievery.” A thought crossed Azralon’s mind, something she had been thinking about for a while now, but decided it would be best to save such things for later as she stared at the Drow in front of her. “Tell me Drow, do you have a name?”

Guest

Lashel noticed her tightened grip and stood upright once more. Without her noticing he slipped the knives back in his chest belt and the energy faded from his scars. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Azralon Draylia, ruler of the Eastern Region." Lashel grinned slightly. "I wasn't aware that this Region had a ruler. I simply thought it was the Market."

He looked down at the bags, now glowing green and grinned at her comment. "I must say Drow... That is not the best of findings in thievery." "I agree completely, but I do not require much. The merchants came to sell and buy, so who am I to completely deny them the right?" Lashel nudged the sacks with his foot. "This is all I require... And yes. I do have a name, but you seem so content to call me Drow that it seems irrelevant to give it to you."